A/N: Hey everyone! I'm really sorry this chapter took a few days longer than usual to get out, but I've been really busy lately. Also, this chapter is quite a bit longer than most so far, so it took longer to write. You can thank October Sky for that, who was relentlessly pestering me about where she thought the chapter should end. In the end though, I'm very pleased with it, so thanks October! You always do such a good job of keeping me in line…
Disclaimer: I've been told I have a greater chance of being attacked by a coke machine than of ever owning Lost… :starts provoking nearest coke machine:
All The Right Reasons
Chapter 14: Testing
Everything was coming in a haze as Jack's eyes first began to flutter, then ceasing at the realization that his eyelids felt as though they were made of lead. Groaning, Jack brought a shaking hand to his forehead, brushing his fingers over his eyes as he winced to fight back the splitting headache.
All his senses seemed to be at a standstill, no single thought coming in clear. In a moment he forced his eyes open, groaning again, slowly, painfully, as the weight of it all fully registered to him. His body, ever single inch of it, was trembling with an uncontrollable force. He shook, shivered even, teeth clattering against his will.
Bringing himself to sit up, Jack felt every muscle in his body burn in protest, a dull ache soaring over him from head to toe. Shaking his head and blinking furiously, his eyes began to slowly fall into a kind of focus, albeit a hazy one. That was when his eyes fell on the figure sitting deathly still in a chair just to his front, watching Jack intently.
"Here," Henry commanded, tossing a bottle of water Jack's way as he gazed intently at him, "You're going to need it."
Taking the bottle in hand, Jack only gave half a glance at its label, somehow unfazed at seeing the now familiar dharma symbol there. An undeniable feeling of thirst ran through him, and he hesitated only briefly before hastily unscrewing the cap and downing the entire bottle of water, swallowing hard.
When Jack finished with the water he gasped for air, breathing hard and fast as he collapsed back down to the floor. Laying on his back, he saw Henry standing over him with a clipboard clutched tightly in hand. He watched as Henry made a slow walk around Jack's exhausted form, occasionally scribbling something down on his notes.
"How do you feel, Jack?" Henry asked casually, ignoring Jack's state of exhaustion. A small smile almost played at the corner of his mouth at the notice of Jack's difficulty breathing and the noticeable look of pain etched in his features.
Jack was silent, eyes clamped tightly shut and teeth clenched. He couldn't grip his mind on anything, no matter how hard he tried. He wanted to know what had happened, what the Oxymetholone had done to him. It took force to even hold that thought in his mind, and immediately an image of Kate drifted into his head. God, what had he done to her? He couldn't even remember. Jack couldn't recall if she had even been there or what might have happened since his last moment of consciousness.
Henry cleared his throat, drawing Jack back out of his thoughts. Still though, Jack refused to answer him. A burning hate was creeping through him for Henry, one that was more than double what it had been before. Just the thought that he might have done something to her because of this man made Jack's blood boil.
"Let it be known, Jack, that that was your final chance," Henry said after a moment, a sick foreboding to his voice. His green eyes bore into Jack, meeting his heavy stare, "My orders from DeGroot were of utmost clarity. I have delayed the enforcement of such an order for the sake of my own purposes. Healthy test subjects are not of the essence, so I'll say it again, Jack. That was your last chance. Anymore defiance on your part, and I will comply with DeGroot."
A breath that Jack hadn't realized he had been holding escaped from his lips then, the release almost refreshing. Kate was okay. Whatever had happened, and he still wasn't sure what, she hadn't been harmed. A kind of weight was lifted off of Jack's shoulders then. Still though, he couldn't deny the confusion of it all. Why hadn't Henry done it? Nothing about this man hinted at decency, yet he had given Jack a second chance.
"Needless to say, it would be in your best interest and Kate's to answer me," Henry said after a moment, a firm purpose in his voice, "I repeat, how are you feeling, Jack?"
Jack opened his mouth to speak, but found the words caught in his throat. His lips were dry and chapped and he felt suddenly parched, as though he hadn't had proper hydration in days. He had just drank an entire bottle of water, so it didn't make any sense. Closing his eyes briefly to clear his head, Jack tried again.
"Like I'm hungover…"Jack choked out, groaning as he did. Henry only smiled, nodding as he scribbled down Jack's response.
"Do you remember anything?" Henry asked, only looking up briefly from his notes. There was a very serious air about him and Jack had no doubt that he was very devoted to his work, as sick as that was in this case.
"No," Jack muttered, still choking on his words, voice dry.
The words had barely escaped his mouth before he felt a kind of pull and then a brilliant flash of white streaked through his mind. Like a memory, he saw himself locked in that same office type compound. There was a kind of frenzy about him, every muscle in his body tense. Jack rushed at the desk, knocking it over with a force that under normal circumstances would have been impossible for him.
All of it was fuzzy, barely visible to him but still he saw himself thrashing the room, knocking down all of the furniture and yelling a the top of his lungs. There was a kind of ferocity about him, an animalistic way that was so far from what he was that it made Jack shiver.
"How is your vision?" Henry asked, now staring intently at Jack. The man's words immediately drew Jack from his own thoughts. He found his heart beating wildly within his chest, beads of sweat building at his brow as he recognized what he had been thinking of.
"I-it's…fine…" he barely choked out, turning his head every which way as though frantically looking for something. Henry paid him no thought though and simply turned back to his notes, carefully writing everything down.
Finally, Jack's eyes landed on the half open door to the room Henry had locked him in. A flash of an image came to mind, the last image he could remember before he had drifted off into whatever state he had been in while the drug had him in its grip. The picture he held in his mind was of the room just as he drifted off. He remembered it being very neat and well kept. There was furniture, all placed cleanly throughout the room.
Now though, Jack could see just from the distant doorway that the room was in shambles. All of the furniture had been tossed aside, most of it broken in some way. The door to the room itself looked as though it was reasonably more battered. Jack could see sprinkles and mounds of dirt scattered across the floor and it was then that he remembered there had been a potted plant in the room, sitting neatly in the corner.
It was only then that Jack dared to look down at his hands. He stretched them out in front of him, tipping his palms up to meet his gaze. They were filthy, dirt etched into the skin of his palms and stuck up under his fingernails. It was fresh, some of it still able to fall loosely off his skin. Jack stared horrified at his hands, eyes wide and he realized the meaning.
Turning back to Henry, Jack watched as the man's eyes followed his gaze, shortly landing on the half open door. A slow, chilling smile twisted along Henry's face, a kind of pride shining in his eyes.
"The affects of Oxymetholone," Henry confirmed, lightly chuckling at the horrified look in Jack's eyes, "Amazing, isn't it?" he mused, briefly just staring at the room as though deep in thought, "Look there where you dented the door," Henry pointed at a large indent on the door and how it was lightly hanging on its bottom hinge where it had been broken, "No man can do that. Its just unthinkable. Truly amazing…"
"So, is this what the Dharma Initiative is all about? Oxymetholone?" Jack asked, breathing hard as he panted for air. He gazed intently at Henry, laughing bitterly as he asked the question.
Henry's entire face contorted in laughter, his entire form bent over momentarily as he chuckled, looking at Jack almost in disbelief, "The Oxymetholone? That's nothing…Nothing! It's trivial…if you only knew. We are about so much more than that. So much more! All that I've accomplished here…All that Dr. DeGroot has done…"
Jack looked stunned. So the Oxymetholone wasn't their secret? Jack knew that any modern scientist would kill for the chance to know how Dharma had done it. It was a big thing. An impossible thing, by all previously believed standards. Yet Dharma had done it. And there was still more, still better. Jack just couldn't wrap his mind around it.
"The world has never seen something like the Dharma Initiative," Henry commented after a moment, looking absolutely star struck as he spoke. His eyes weren't on Jack or his notes. He was focused on some unseen thing in the distance, as though lost in thought, "And it never will again."
"John!" Locke heard his name being called as he stepped into the caves, but he kept on walking as though in a daze, "John!" It was only on the second call of his name being yelled across the caves that Locke looked up to see Sayid jogging over to him, a look of confused anger written in his features.
"Where were you?" Sayid asked, voice almost incredulous with the beginnings of anger as he met Locke with a hard stare.
"I can explain that later," Locke said hastily, looking passed Sayid as though completely distracted and uncaring.
"John!" Sayid yelled, pulling him back to reality. There was a fury burning in his eyes now, "Where were you? You were supposed to watch him! Anything could have happened!"
"I know, but Sayid this has to wait," Locke seemed rushed and this time he stepped forward, attempting to brush passed Sayid. Sayid stayed firm and Locke only succeeded in bumping right into him, "I have to talk to Desmond, Sayid…"
"Whatever it is, it can wait!" Sayid snapped, looking furiously at Locke, "Have you any idea what you risked? You left here in the middle of the night without telling anyone. And not only that, but you left him here, unguarded. Anything could have happened, John!"
"I know, Sayid, and you're right, but right now I've got to do something," this time Locke succeeded in moving passed Sayid and he didn't wait for a reply before he began making his way at a light jog over to the cave Desmond was being kept in.
"John! John!" Locke heard Sayid yelled, and wasn't at all surprised when he heard the man's rushed footsteps coming up behind him, rushing after him.
Stepping into the cave, Locke's eye fell immediately onto Desmond's hunched form and a small smile slid across his face. He felt as though a skip was in his step, and he had a distinct desire to whistle happily as he continued in his approach. He was quickly drawn from his silent joy however as he felt a hand slide over his shoulder, roughly turning him around to face his attacker.
"What do you think you're doing?" Sayid snapped, looking angrily at Locke, a frenzied confusion written clearly on his face.
"I told you, I have to talk to him," Locke said with a feigned patience, though he had never felt so rushed in his life, "It's important, Sayid…"
"He's one of them!" Sayid boomed, looking altogether ready to strangle Locke, "Anything you tell him will go straight to them. Is that what you want?"
"Sayid, he's not what you think-" Locke began, but was sharply cut off by Sayid.
"And how would you know that?" Sayid interrupted, looking on at Locke with a protective fury. Locke understood, he really did. And he wanted to be patient with Sayid. He knew that the man was under a lot of stress since Jack left. He could see Sayid's need to keep everything under control. But Locke couldn't let him overrule him on this.
"I saw something out there, Sayid," Locke's voice was touched with a new joy, eye alight with a kind of satisfaction that made Sayid falter for a moment, looking on at Locke in confusion, "Something amazing. And he, Desmond, led me to it. He isn't one of them, Sayid. I know he isn't."
"What are you talking about, John?" Sayid looked suspicious of Locke, suddenly distrusting of him. And again, Locke couldn't help but understand, despite his feelings of frustration at Sayid's behavior.
"The hatch…I made it into the hatch…" Locke's voice went suddenly quiet, everything about him in a kind of awe. Sayid had no doubt that Locke was being truthful of everything he said, yet he still found all of it hard to believe.
"The button!" Desmond's cracked voice split the air suddenly, drawing the attention of both men, "Did you push the button, brother?" The desperation in his voice could not be mistaken.
"Yes…yes, everything's fine," Locke responded, almost forgetting that Sayid was even present, "You said you would explain it…"
"You made a deal with him?" Again the anger was present in Sayid's voice, and Locke wanted nothing more than to just shut the man out, but he knew that if this was going to go anywhere, this had to be resolved.
"I had to, Sayid and it was for the best," Locke spoke calmly, trying to reassure him, though knowing it wasn't going to be easy, "He showed me a different way into the hatch. You need to see it, Sayid. You'll understand-"
"I'll understand nothing, John!" Sayid yelled, eyes alight with fury as he looked from Locke to Desmond, "He's one of them and doing anything he says is completely mad! What were you thinking, John? It could easily have been a trap, or worse…"
Locke was about to respond, knowing that he had to do whatever it took to make Sayid see, but he was cut off by Desmond's voice.
"Whatever it is you think I am, I'm not," he spoke calmly, quietly, the most collected words he had heard the man utter yet. Up until this point, he had been in some kind of wild frenzy, unable to say anything clearly. Now though, there seemed to be the tiniest bit of assurance in his voice, "I crashed here, just like you did, brother…"
"He's telling the truth, Sayid…" Locke pressed, eyes bearing down onto Sayid's rigid form, watching as the man looked absolutely unsure.
"So he's shown you the hatch," Sayid began, this time taking on a new angle. If there was one thing he knew, it was that there were thousands of reasons this man couldn't be trusted, no matter what Locke had brought himself to think, "What makes you think your hatch doesn't belong to them?"
"I can't…I can't prove anything, Sayid," Locke began, eyes distant as he carefully chose his words. The smallest of smiles was playing at the corner of his mouth, dancing in his eyes, "We were all brought here for a reason. When I saw that hatch, when Boone and I began to dig it up, I found my purpose, Sayid. Desmond is connected to that hatch and he's connected to my purpose here. It's fate, all of it."
"You took a risk, John, a risk!" Sayid hissed, looking furiously at Locke once again, fuming, "It might have cost you your life…"
"And what is life worth without purpose?" Locke countered, looking thoughtfully at Sayid. For a split second, Sayid looked as though he was lost in some other time, distracted by another place. In that brief moment a look of scarred pain flashed through his eyes, but it was gone in an instant only to be replaced by anger.
"And what about the rest of us, John? Your life wasn't the only one at stake!" Sayid shouted, anger boiling within him and blazing in his eyes, "If something had happened, if you had let him lead you into a trap, it would have cost us all! You risked the lives of every man, woman and child here, John and you had no right! And now you ask me to believe you, to listen to you tell me who this man is, a man you don't even know!"
"Why is this so hard for you to believe, Sayid?" Locke asked, voice suddenly gentle. A newfound peace washed over him, and he couldn't explain it, but he was sure without even thinking about it that in the end, he would convince Sayid.
"Because when I find a door with no handle on an island in the middle of nowhere, an island with polar bears and things that pull a tree out of the ground by its roots, the last thing I would think to do is open that door…" Sayid's voice was suddenly low, no longer shouting. The anger and the betrayal were still clear in his tone, but it was as if he had taken on a whole new demeanor, "Tell me John, what makes it so easy for you to believe?"
"It's never been easy, Sayid!" Locke yelled suddenly, raising his voice for the first time during the argument. He paused briefly, breathing hard as he clamped his eyes shut. He struggled for the right words, "All that time I was digging up the hatch, every day I wondered what I was doing. It's like when you're young and your parents tell you to do something. You know you have to do it, but you just don't know why. And that killed me for so long, just not knowing. Because knowing that I had to just wasn't enough. But that's when I had faith, Sayid. Faith that even though nothing seemed to be going right, that it was all going to work out in the end. And it did. I don't know how I can prove it to you or explain it to you, Sayid. You're just going to have to have faith…"
There was a long pause as a silence washed over the cave. Not one of the three men dared to speak, none of them really knowing what should be said. Sayid couldn't think straight, couldn't grasp any reason for what he was considering just now. How could he even think of giving in to Locke's faith? Everything he had ever learned and experienced in the Republican Guard told him it was foolishness, that this hatch was not to be meddled with. The hatch had never been his doing in the first place. It had been Locke's idea to unearth it and Jack's idea to blow it open. But suddenly, Sayid found himself ultimately in charge of its fate and that wasn't an idea he liked.
"Take me to your hatch, Locke…" the words barely escaped his lips, a huge part of him not wanting to voice them. But he did, and when they were said he was sure. He would go to the hatch and he would see for himself.
It seemed as though hours had passed since Jack had awoke from the grip of the Oxymetholone, the traces of the drug still biting at the back of his mind. He had no way of knowing how long he had actually been sitting there, watching as Henry tampered with this and that in the exam room, but it had been a while. And still Jack could feel that presence, the sickening grip it had on his mind. It was like a deadweight, pulling him down and making his limbs feel as though they were made of lead.
Jack had simply sat there, watching Henry at work, and wondering where any of this was going. He didn't want to think of it, didn't want to know what the man was up to, but he couldn't deny that there was a part of him that did. It was the part of him that held tightly to Henry's words, remembering his mention that the Oxymetholone was only the beginning.
"Do you know what I'm doing, Jack?" Henry spoke up for the first time in what felt like an eternity, the thickness of his voice dropping hard against Jack's ears, sounding almost foreign amongst the silence. When Jack made no move of responding, not even a shake of his head, only a blank, steady stare, Henry pressed on.
"I study pain, Jack. On an intellectual scale, naturally, but do you know what I've found?" Again Jack made no move to respond, and Henry simply smiled, allowing the shallow grin to spread across his features, "Anticipation, Jack. All aspects of pain come down to one thing. Anticipation. You know that I am about to do something. You've known that for the past hour and a half, perhaps even longer than that. You knew even better what was to happen to you when you made the deal with DeGroot for Kate. And that's what makes it all the more natural in the end. That you knew of it, you anticipated it. Pain is always so much worse on the body when its knowingly given."
"In the days before you arrived, I had this very conversation with Kate," Henry continued on, not failing to notice the growing tension in Jack's demeanor, or the fact that his hands were now unconsciously balled into fists at his sides, gripping at the sides of his chair, "But do you know I hardly believe she heard a word of it? Anticipation, Jack. It bred fear in her and it ran deep," again Henry's lips twisted into a lazy grin, watching for Jack's reaction. It came instantaneously, at first nothing but a warm glint glowing in the depths of his deep brown orbs, but soon settling into a blazing inferno, flashing angrily within his eyes.
"She wasn't like you, Jack. She had no motivation to cooperate, not after DeGroot was finished with her. Within two days, it was as though she hardly had the will to keep herself alive. The only noticeable change came with the pain. She would cry out then, yelling something terrible. I believe I mentioned that fact to you the first time we met, didn't I Jack? The way she called for you when the pain came," Henry laughed then, an unmistakable grin spreading across his face, a strange satisfaction dancing in his eyes.
Henry hardly looked surprised when Jack all but leapt up from his seat, the chair sliding back several feet from the harsh movement. Jack couldn't explain the fury of thoughts storming through his head, but found himself blindly recalling the anger that had coursed through his veins just before he had been injected with the Oxymetholone. He saw himself pressing Henry roughly against the wall as he had then. Every muscle in his body ached for action, for something to be done. It was like a violent pull in the back of his mind, a burning anger soaring through him.
"How could you do that to her?" Jack shouted, fighting at the hot tears that burned at him and the surge of violence that had rushed over him, "How could you do that to anyone?"
"It's my duty, Jack," Henry replied calmly, a collective peace about him as he gazed at Jack almost in bewilderment, "Surely as a doctor you must understand that! Science is life. Science is everything. It must be advanced at all costs…I was simply doing what had to be done…"
"She never did anything to you!" Jack's voice boomed in disbelief, echoing through the depths of the room, "She's a good person…"
"Even if that were true, its beyond the point, Jack," Henry replied, looking altogether as though he knew something Jack didn't. Jack thought briefly to Kate's mugshot, and he couldn't help but wonder if somehow Henry knew, "There are two kinds of people in this world. Those who are ordinary, and those who are extraordinary. Now, obviously, ordinary men must be bound by ordinary laws of society and nature. But the catch that many fail to see is that the extraordinary bear no boundaries…"
"So you think you have the right to hurt people because you're smart?" Jack yelled in disbelief, looking horrified at Henry.
"Not at all! Far from it, Jack. The extraordinary, no matter how brilliant, cannot just go around killing on a whim," Henry looked almost shocked at Jack's statement, "However, if an extraordinary man must take the life of another for the sake of preserving his brilliance, then it is his duty and his right to do so. Take for example a man like Sir Isaac Newton. Do you imagine that if he had to choose between making his discoveries on optics and integral calculus or the life of a single human being, he would choose to save the man's life? No, he would have pressed on with his discoveries, sacrificing the one life for the sake of the world."
"This is sick…its wrong!" Jack yelled suddenly, fury blazing in his eyes as a look of shock registered in his features, "Who do you think you are?"
Henry only laughed, "If you're implying that I'm calling myself extraordinary, let me assure you I'm not. I'm brilliant perhaps, but I'm nothing compared to Dr. DeGroot. He is an extraordinary man, unlike any for centuries. I only act for him, work as his instrument. The pain I caused Kate, that was all to preserve DeGroot's own discoveries…to give them life. Everything that has happened here, it was all in the name of science, Jack…"
And Jack was lost in a stony silence, completely transfixed on the horror that was engulfing his mind. This man, this sick, conscienceless man had gotten his hands on Kate. All those nights, all the time that he had wondered what had happened to her, what they were doing to her, Henry Gale had had her all along. And he had been the one to hurt her. Not like DeGroot did, but what difference did that really make in the end? He had taken a person who had never done anything to him and caused them pain. And here he was about to do it again, only this time to Jack.
Stealing himself from his thoughts, his dread, Jack attempted to speak but again the words caught in his throat. He gasped, finally able to say something, "Do whatever you want to me…" Jack submitted, voice coming out in a strangled sob. His entire body shook, an unthinkable anger coursing through him, biting at his very consciousness, "Just leave her alone…don't ever touch her again. Don't even look at her again…"
"I'm glad you see it that way, Jack…" Henry voiced, practically beaming as his hard stare bore into Jack, "Now that we both understand one another, I think it's a good time to get started with the real reason you're here."
Jack watched as Henry turned his back to him, making his way toward the shelves of vaccines. He felt a shiver of dread run down his spine, chilling him all over as he watched Henry study each of the jars, reading over the labels. Finally Henry reached up and picked a bottle off the shelf. Jack only half watched as the man reached for a syringe and began filling it with the clear substance inside.
"I expect you're familiar with Ketamine?" Henry asked as he fumbled with the syringe, moving back and forth between the shelf of bottles and his work desk.
Jack nodded, somehow finding his voice, "Common form of anesthetic…" his voice came out raspier than intended, calmer than his outward demeanor might suggest. On the surface, every inch of him was trembling and if he was thinking properly, he'd be beating himself up for letting Henry see his fear.
"Very good…" Henry commented, continuing with what he was doing and not bothering to turn back to Jack, "Depending on your position, you may also have heard of a closely related substance, Ayahuasca…"
"Its some kind of hallucinogenic that's trafficked to the US from South American countries…I know it was a major problem for a while because of a side affect it had…" Jack responded, searching his mind for any knowledge he had of the drug. He felt like he was an intern again, just out of med school trying to answer an impatient attending.
Henry laughed, that same menacing smile stretching across his face. Jack couldn't quite see him though, for Henry still had his back turned to him, "Yes, its highly illegal in most countries and can be very dangerous if taken in improper doses. Its traditional use is by natives of the Amazon as a religious sacrament. As you know, Jack, any chemical substance extracted from plants is very fragile and easily molded. Needless to say, it made a perfect material for DeGroot to test his theories on the control of hallucinations. Through his work, he has managed to mutate it into what I have called salvia divinorum. Its named for its properties as a dissociative and its basic use of sensory deprivation."
Setting down the bottle and syringe on his desk, Henry moved toward Jack, ignoring the other man's wide eyed look. If anything, it amused him. It always entertained him to see people react who didn't share his beliefs in science. He knew that as much as Jack was a man of science, a doctor at that, he still didn't understand. Henry laughed at the thought. Jack actually thought what the Dharma Initiative had done over the years was somehow wrong.
"Before we begin, I need to get you hooked up to the BP monitor behind you," Henry said calmly, doing the best he could to dim the growing excitement within him. There was nothing like preparing for a test, especially one as big as this. It wasn't often that Henry got such a chance, "Keeping an eye on your heartbeat is crucial for what we are about to do. If I happened to overdose you, even a single milliliter, it could be fatal. In my professional opinion, your best case scenario in the event of an overdose would severe brain damage or drifting into a permanent vegetative state."
As Henry said all of this, he reached mindfully behind Jack and began lifting the wires that hung from the main screen of the monitor. Jack recognized the machine immediately, even from the corner of his eye. It was a fairly simple, and somewhat outdated model of the blood pressure monitor that was used in the ER at the hospital where he worked.
"You're going to need to take your shirt off," Jack was drawn from his speculations by the sound of Henry's voice. He felt almost frozen as he jumped to obey, moving to undo the buttons of his shirt with trembling fingers. He hastily tugged the shirt over his head, hands shaking too badly to properly undo all the buttons.
"Lean back," Henry ordered as soon as Jack was free of his shirt. Trying his best to stay calm, Jack moved to lay back in the cold metal chair, his arms resting flat against the arm rests at each side. Maybe it was only then that he noticed the thick leather restraints there, waiting to be fastened. He swallowed hard, eyes darting quickly off into the distance.
Jack tried to keep still as he felt the wires being fastened loosely to his chest, held securely in place by tiny strips of medical tape. His entire frame shook, trembling beyond his control. Clamping his eyes closed, Jack did all that he could to avoid thinking of what was coming. Anticipation, Jack; all aspects of pain come down to anticipation. As hard as he tried, he couldn't drive Henry's words of warning from his mind, couldn't escape the inevitable truth that Henry was right. It did breed fear, a fear so deep that it was like nothing Jack had ever felt.
There was an idle hum sounding just behind him. Turning his head, Jack saw the machine come to life and he realized that Henry had started it up. He heard the steady sound of his heart beat on the monitor and the thin green line bouncing up and down the screen in a healthy pattern.
He was so consumed in his own thoughts, eyes fixed on the screen of the BP monitor, that Jack hardly noticed as Henry began to secure the restraints of the chair around Jack's arms, tightening them with the metal buckle. Jack's arms tensed as the smooth nylon of the straps tightened around his biceps, inwardly wincing. Before he knew it, Henry was standing back in front of him, syringe in hand.
"And here we are, Jack," Henry broke the silence suddenly, a sickening calmness to his voice. A wide smile played at his lips, stretching across his face, "The moment of truth. Are you ready?"
Henry paused only a moment, but simply let out a low chuckle, as though he hadn't expected a response from Jack anyway. He closed the distance between them then, reaching out and gripping Jack's arm.
The first thing Jack felt was a prick, a tiny, almost unnoticed prick at his skin. It was followed by a light tingling that soon grew into a idle sting. Jack felt the needle being pulled roughly from his arm and was dimly aware of Henry stepping away.
And suddenly it swept through him. It started in his arm, just were the needle had been, but soon spread in a wild sensation down his arm, moving up his shoulder and through his torso until it drifted down to the tips of his toes. It was like a cool chill at first, washing over him as he shivered ever so slightly between trembling. But all at once it became lukewarm, slowly heating up until it felt like a soaring burn beneath his skin.
It gripped him like a pull at the back of his head, jerking him in a way that felt like a physical body behind him, tugging him back. But somehow, he was dimly aware that he hadn't moved. It came on without warning. His body began to twitch, throwing him into a near seizure as he gripped at the seat, trying control the violent jerks and twists.
There was a jolt of pain, like a burst of electricity shooting through him. It scorched beneath his skin, biting at him with a stinging zap. Jack groaned at the ache of it, clamping his eyes shut and breathing hard. He gripped at the seat, body jerking uncomfortably.
The pain soared to an utmost high and in that split second it was as though his skin had burst. He felt that same pull, only this time it came in a flash. Everything in the room began to spin until it was nothing but a white blur. That was the last thing Jack saw before he let out a piercing cry of terror, eyes gripped with a burning pain.
Kate seemed almost in a trance as she sat hunched in the corner of the cell. She had her arms pulled up tightly to her chest, her arms wrapped securely around her knees. Her knuckles were white from the intensity of her grip. She bit her lip, eyes clamped tightly closed as she rocked herself back and forth, hot tears burning at her.
Everything about her was distant. Her eyes looked gone, the one time sparkle of life within her emerald orbs now only the tiniest of flickers. The warmth of her skin, the natural blush and sun kissed tone having long since vanished, only to be replaced with a pale, washed out look. Kate's hair was a tangled mess, falling down in a lazy tumble over her shoulders.
He was gone. They had taken him from her and she was alone again. Just as she had been before. Kate could feel a phantom presence around her, the feel of his hands on her shoulders, his fingertips brushing her cheeks. It fell on her like a whisper, washing over her in such a way that she could have sworn it was real. So much of her wanted to believe that it was real, that he was really still there with her.
Her entire body shook with a fear she hadn't known she possessed. She thought they had beat it out of her long ago, whittling her down until she was this fragment of a person, half of what she had been before. There were times she could swear she didn't even remember her own name. Times she forgot what it was like to feel the pain. Times when she could scarcely feel anything.
It was then, as she was lost in her own misery, rocking back and forth on her knees that she first heard it. It was barely audible at first, coming in at only a faint whisper or a distant sound. She could only begin to make it out, but soon it was so agonizingly clear to her that she only wished she could drown it out.
A scream. A single blood curdling scream that was so terror stricken, so wrong that Kate's breath caught in her throat. For that single agonizing moment that she first heard it, she couldn't breath. She couldn't blink. She could only listen and wait in horror at what it was. It was so base, so animalistic and feral. There was a wildness to it, a terrible familiarity. Yet it was so distant that she couldn't place it.
When it came again, it was fuller this time, more pronounced. A shout of pain, of the worst kind of agony. It was deep, cutting at her ears and piercing the air. And suddenly it rang clear to her. In that single instant, she knew. It was him. Him. Jack.
The realization hit her with such an intensity that she could scarcely breathe. Her lips parted, as if to speak, face contorted in a kind of agony and she cried out. Her body was wracked suddenly with a fit of sobs, doubling over as the hot tears fell in a torrent down her cheeks.
"Jack…" her voice came out in a harsh whisper, cracked and broken, "Jack!" she yelled now, pounding her fists against the cold concrete of the floor, voice cracking as she continued to yell between sobs, "Jack! Jack!"
And still his pain filled shrieks met her ears, his yells piercing the air. Her mind was in a panic, picturing his face, seeing an image of him as he yelled. She couldn't imagine it, couldn't rationalize any kind of picture in her mind of what he might look like now. She just couldn't see it, couldn't begin to place Jack in such pain.
The yelling went on, seemingly never ending. And she thought of her time out of the cell and the things they had done to her. An image of a short, stalky man with pallid skin and haunting green eyes. She remembered the blinding pain he had caused her, the sound of her screams as she yelled for her life. As she yelled for Jack. That had been when she still believed he was coming for her.
And now the sound of his own screams bit at her consciousness, piercing into her very being. She cried, tears streaming openly down her face, burning salty tracks as they fell. And she continued to rock, body wracked with a fit of sobs as her mind drifted, trying to block out his cries. She knew she never would.
It came on in a sudden burst of hit, exploding through him and shaking him to the very core. Jack felt his body fall back, writhing as he hit the cold cement floor. Every inch of him was alive with a kind of dill ache that soared through his senses, capturing his very being.
Jack was dimly aware of his surroundings, but it was the strangest thing for he felt as though he were in the same room, only now there was nothing in it. He saw only a blank whiteness, standing starkly in his line of vision. Parts of the room even seemed to spin, nothing ever staying still, but moving painfully fast.
A new kind of movement caught his attention, almost dulling the pain as suddenly his mind could focus only on what he saw. It was like a standstill in his senses, even his mind starting to freeze over in a kind of dreamlike state. The pulling at the back of his head seemed almost to vanish, though its presence was still painfully clear to Jack.
The blur in the corner of Jack's vision began to slowly take shape, becoming more visible with each passing second. It soon transformed into a solid figure, one that somehow still blended into the vast space surrounding Jack. It was then that he recognized the figure as that of Henry, moving just to Jack's right.
Everything came in a dull haze, though parts were completely clear. His mind felt heavy, the obvious affects of being under the grip of a drug. He watched as Henry moved forward, a tiny flickering light coming from the man's hand. Jack's eyes gripped immediately to the faint glow, holding his gaze to it as he saw what it was. It was a plain wax candle, supported in an old fashioned brass holder.
Jack was still, muscles tense and frozen as Henry continued to approach, stopping only when he was right in front of him. He felt hands grip harshly at his shoulders, as though trying to hold him firmly in place. His hands were no longer tied, nor was he bound to the chair. All of his limbs were completely loose, held down only by the very real threat of the man standing behind him.
Though he couldn't explain how he knew, Jack realized suddenly that there were several other men standing behind him. He could see even more out of the corner of his eye, though he dared not turn his head to look. He hardly glanced with his eyes, keeping them straight ahead on Henry and the flickering of the candle.
It had a menacing glow to it, its warmth somehow flooding him, though the flame itself was about the size of a dime. It very presence brought beads of sweat to Jack's brow and he couldn't explain the obvious sense of dread that washed over him the longer he kept his gaze on the flame, its fire lighting up his eyes.
Everything seemed silent, yet utterly noisy all at once as the hands on his shoulders slipped down his arms, now holding onto his wrists. Another pair of hands moved to Jack's left arm and pulled it roughly behind his back, pinning it there. Jack tried to fight him off at first but received a painful cuff in the ear from the man to his right.
Jack watched as Henry set the candle out on the table before him. Henry nodded to the man at Jack's right, a sudden coldness washing over his features that had never been present before. That sick gleam of amusement was gone. Just an out of place seriousness that sent chills down Jack's spine.
Without warning, he felt the muscles tense in his right arm as the man lifted it from the table and began pulling it forward. The man's intentions because suddenly clear and Jack immediately tried to jerk away, only to be pulled roughly forward again. This time yet another pair of hands held him down, gripping him almost in a neck lock.
Again Jack fought against his captors, this time more desperately as he saw his fingers nearing the flame of the candle. A wide grin spread across Henry's face as the man brought Jack's hand to hover just out of reach of the flame, its dull heat warming the skin there. With another nod, the man pushed Jack's hand down.
It came so suddenly that Jack almost hadn't expected it. It came first as nothing, all pain and feeling completely escaping him as his fingers felt entirely numb. And then a white hot pain seared through him, starting at the tips of his fingers and racing up the entire length of his arm. It was as though his whole arm had been set ablaze and no effort was being put into dowsing the fire.
Jack yelled, voice coming out in a choked groan at first. It soon calculated into a full on shout of pain, his voice echoing over the vast expanse of the room. He yelled, fought, feet lashing out beneath the table, occasionally colliding with the table's legs. The pain was so intense, it sent sparks of fire throughout him.
Just as suddenly as it had started, his hand was pulled straight from the flame and allowed to clatter down onto the firmness of the table. He hissed in pain, reeling as he realized the heat of the flame wasn't dimming in the slightest. It was still there, toasting his flesh and eating away at him. Eyes clamped shut, his body writhed, the pain more real than anything he had ever felt.
He shouted again as he felt his hand numbly lifted back to the flame. The sound of his own screams pierced the air, filling his ears with the evidence of his pain and terror. It all sounded the same now, the yells blurring together as one. It sounded like an idle hum in his mind, the pain the only thing real to him now.
Everything was silent as Kate sat alone in the cell, the concrete walls feeling more consuming than they ever had before. She felt a vicious stab of loneliness, something she wasn't prone to feeling too often. While on the run, she had become numb to her need for others, for the closeness of human contact of any kind. And she'd proven as much even on the island.
But there was something about captivity, something she had never truly faced, that made her conscience want to bend all the rules. Now, laying in a broken heap on the floor, knees brought up to her chest with her arms wrapped around them. She was curled on her side, facing the wall, the pains of solitude consuming her as they never had before.
The silence all but sealed the deal, making the truth of her situation that much more real to her. Though the shadows hid it well, there were raw tear tracks like red stripes on her face, staining her cheeks. Her eyes looked swollen and soggy, only now dry after hours of crying. Everything about her appearance held the obvious signs of someone broken. Her hair fell down in a tangled mess in her face, giving her eyes a kind of refuge.
And even now, after the tears had long since gone, she could still hear the sound of her ragged breathing. Occasionally she would let out a tiny whimper, feeling almost at the verge of tears again, but finding she had none left to cry. The sound of his shouting rang ever clear in her ears, embedded so deeply in her mind that she doubted she would ever be able to escape them. They were etched into her conscious, her very being. It was all she could hear, the only thing that could break her away from the looming silence.
Kate found herself picturing his face. She saw him sitting out along the shoreline, bare feet stretched leisurely out in front of him as he leaned back on the flat of his palms. It was one of her favorite images of him, one that she remembered from a time not so long after she had first met him the day of the crash. His hair was still cut in a straight, short cropped fashion, hardly disturbed by the rugged life on the island. His face was still more cleanly shaven, only a light stubble there. He wore that same dress shirt he had been wearing since that first day, only now it was torn and spread over with dirt and grime. It hung loosely on his shoulders, buttons open down the front to reveal a kind of undershirt beneath.
It was an image Kate dug deep into her mind for, finding it almost hard to place after all that had happened. It felt distant, as thought from a different life. The Jack Sheppard that had sat so peacefully on the beach that day, toes buried beneath the damp sand as the tide lapped up around his ankles was a different man. He was changed by what had become of him since and Kate couldn't help but think she was to blame for that. For him being here. For the screams. His screams.
Kate was drawn immediately from her thoughts, the image of Jack vanishing as the sound of the metal door being opened met her ears. Her body jerked as she hastily turned herself to face the sound, eyes wide as she now faced the door. She still lay on the floor, looking up at the opening in the door when she saw him being thrown roughly through it.
"Jack!" she squeaked, voice cracking as she scrambled to her feet. It all came out in a light whimper, overtaking her voice. Kate was at his side in a matter of moments, taking in his ragged appearance as her eyes shifted over his form.
He lay face first against the concrete floor, head turned away from her. A panic washed over her suddenly and she quickly closed the distance between them. She placed a tentative hand on his shoulder, lightly rubbing her fingers against the tear in his shirt there, the tips of her fingers gracing the tiny break of skin.
"Jack…" she croaked, feeling the overwhelming need for tears all over again. He was nearly still, the only sign of life coming from the barely visible rise and fall of his chest. Without warning, He began to shakily pull himself up, bracing his body with his hands. He nearly fell back down before he had finally forced himself into a sitting position, groaning as he grimaced in pain. Suddenly, he winced as he put too much pressure on his right side and went sliding back down to lay on his back. There was a sharp intake of breath as he lay there panting, defeated.
"Oh God…Jack…" she gasped, nearly choking on her words as she took in his appearance. Kate's lips were parted, mouth left open in shock. Exhausted didn't even begin to describe the look about him. The echo of his screams resounded in her mind, ringing in her ears. It was mirrored in his face, etched into his features.
His entire body was racked with obvious pain as he trembled from head to foot. He was shaking ever so slightly, but to Kate it was all too visible and utterly familiar to her. She had seen it all before when it had happened to her. What she saw in Jack now, the pain and the fear, the complete and infinite sense of defeat. She had spent days that way, days under their control.
Reaching out a timid hand, she placed it on his face, fingers running tenderly over the rough stubble of his cheek. She met his eyes then, matching the look of fear she saw in his own. His gaze felt heavy, nearly unbearable from the very second their eyes met. But she couldn't turn away, couldn't even blink for fear of losing sight of it all.
Kate watched as he clamped his eyes tightly shut, face contorted in a grimace as he leaned into her hand, soaking in the feel of it. Her fingertips brushed along the bridge of his nose, moving lightly over his eyelids as she stroked his face with a feather light touch. Her hands shook as she did so, hardly able to keep herself under control. She felt like breaking down, sobbing without relent just at the sight of his broken form.
"Are you alright?" Kate stifled a sob, voice shaking. Her eyes scanned him over, not fully trusting anything he might say about his condition. She was immediately drawn to his hands. His right hand was clutched protectively by his left, cradling it tenderly from sight, "Your hand…Jack, what happened?"
"Its just a burn…" his teeth lightly chattered, lips shaking uncontrollably as though from a chill that did not exist. Jack's eyes suddenly shifted up to meet her own gaze, and a look of utmost amazement washed over him. He looked completely caught up in the image of her, unwilling to break away his stare.
"Just a burn? Jack, let me see it…"she was insistent now, voice coming out more high pitched and vulnerable than she would ever have intended. Kate didn't wait for a response as she quickly reached out for his hand, gripping first at his upper arm to try and pry her way to it.
When he refused to relent, simply sat staring out her with that same haunted look of awe, Kate shot him a questioning glance. She held his gaze for several moments, completely unsure of what to do.
"Jack…" she urged after a moment, hoping to draw him from the kind of trance he seemed lost in. An odd look flashed through his eyes, somehow intensifying the haunted sorrow there.
"Why didn't you tell me?" His voice came out hoarse and cracked as he let out a sharp breath. A bewildered look of wonder flashed through his eyes, a dull pain etched into his features. He seemed absolutely captivated by her, waiting only for a response from her.
In that moment, in those few agonizing seconds that felt like more than a lifetime of hurt passing before her, Kate knew that he knew. She could see it in his eyes. She could see it as plainly as she could see him. She didn't ask herself how he knew, she should have guessed it would happen sooner or later, but she looked only for a reaction. Jack's gaze felt like a deep burn then, biting at her without relent. Kate felt entirely bare beneath his gaze, more vulnerable and lost than she had ever felt before.
"Tell you what?" She asked, suddenly unable to stand the weight and strength of his gaze any longer. Her eyes fell to the floor, studying it intently as her fingers nervously played with the hem of her frail white over shirt.
"You know what…" Jack was surprised at the firmness of his own voice, the harshness of it. Somehow, it wasn't what he intended but he found that he couldn't speak it any other way. It was like a fire coursing wildly through him, consuming every inch of him with each passing second. He ignored the pain of his arm, of all the scrapes and bruises and gave every ounce of his attention to her.
"I don't know what you're talking about…" Kate's voice shook uncontrollably, her voice coming out in a cracked sob. Her breaths were coming in ragged gasps, and suddenly she felt like a deer caught in the headlights. She trembled, every inch of her shaking with a fear she had known all along. Kate stole a glance at his face, her stare immediately latching only onto his eyes.
She saw it then. Everything she had feared, all that she had known, it was all there. That look of complete and utter disgust, of resentment for them. For her. And for the first time she truly saw what she had brought to ruin. She saw Jack as he was, the man he had always been. She saw him broken and defeated, the way she had brought him to. It all fell on her with such a great weight that she gasped, every part of her seeming to collapse as she fell into a fit of sobs.
Kate opened her eyes again and saw him sitting just as he had been moments before. That same stone coldness about him, the detached look of repulsion there. It was like loathing, like hate, like all the anger she could ever imagine seeing in just one man. All of it was spilling over beneath the hardness of his dark orbs.
As her chest was heaved with sobs, wracking her entire body with hot tears that spilled from her eyes, Kate felt the warmth of his hand on her shoulder. He gripped her tightly there, that same intensity about him but it wasn't enough to draw Kate from her crying. She looked up at him, gazing into his eyes through her tears.
There was a change in his eyes, a kind of softness there, a look of tenderness that had been absent before. The burning resent was still present, buried behind this gentler wave, this gaze intended for comfort. Jack's hand still lingered, feeling almost like a deadweight against Kate's shoulder as her breathing began to calm, her sobs drifting to silent tears.
"Kate, why didn't you tell me?" the softness in his eyes didn't fade, only his voice seemed almost harsh, laced with a firm frustration as it came out in a near growl. His eyes looked pained, and immediately Kate's watery gaze fell to the floor again.
And that was when she saw his hand, the one that had been so tenderly hidden before. Now though, its only refuse was gone as Jack's grip never left her shoulder. She nearly gasped at the sight of his hand, feeling a sudden wave of confusion fall over her.
"Jack…" she choked out, voice stalling in disbelief. He misinterpreted her meaning, desperately wanting an answer to his question. She shook her head, fingers making a slow decent for his once hidden hand, "Your hand…"
"What?" he asked, feeling more than a little frustrated at her insistence in avoiding the subject. It came out harsher than intended, almost barking at her.
She was unfazed by the roughness of his voice, unable to notice anything as her fingers fell softly around his wrist, lifting it up from his lap. To her surprise, he gasped then, hissing in pain at the coolness of her touch. His voice fell to a low whimper, his entire body shaking more violently than before as he tried to wrestle his arm away.
But it was too late. She had seen all that was needed. Where she had expected to find charred and mangled flesh, some kind of deep wound from the burn he had mentioned, she saw nothing. Only the same smooth pink skin of his palm and the tiny stretches of callousness from working. The flesh was completely untainted, not a single scratch or evidence to suggest a burn. Nothing.
A/N: Well, what did you guys think? I know I left off on a bit of a cliffhanger there, but don't worry, it'll be explained in the next chapter. Which will hopefully be out soon. I can't say how soon, but no more than a week, I think. Anyway, your feedback is really important to me so please don't forget to review. I'd love to hear what you thought about this chapter, and if you have any questions, I'd be happy to answer them. Thanks again for reading and keep an eye out for the next chapter!