CHAPTER TWO
There seemed to be no hope. Jenkins could not devise a way out of the cell, and the henchmen continued to take Cassandra in and out, all the while her screaming and reappearing with new wounds. Sometimes they'd inject her with things, sometimes they would tear at bits of her skin and lay potions beneath. He felt helpless, and even though she continually tried to lighten the mood {when she was conscious}, he still could not get over the sound of her screams. In just these few days, his feelings toward her had become closer. She was a kind of ward, a responsibility, but now more than that. She was his friend.
"Just give her to me! Stop throwing her on the ground like some kind of rag doll! Do neither of you have a sympathetic bone in your overgrown bodies?!"
Jenkins picked Cassandra off the floor and put her on the cot, careful of her head and noticing the bloodstains up and down her legs. Before he could inspect them more closely, her eyes fluttered open and she spoke:
"I'm ready for McDonalds now."
"I don't think we have access to that kind of food, Cassandra."
"No, Jenkins, I'm a filet o fish…. get it?"
"What are you talking about?!"
"My legs. I'm surprised you couldn't hear the screaming from here. They flayed my legs in spots and put some kind of medicine on the open parts. Stung like you can't believe."
"This is unconscionable. Simply unbelievable. How could they do this to you?"
"I don't know, Jenkins." Cassandra's kidding nature was suddenly gone. "I only wish I knew why."
"What gives you the most pain?"
"Well, my legs hurt a lot, but the puncture wound on my neck from earlier in the week is throbbing. I don't know what that means."
"Well, if you will permit me, Miss Cillian, I'm going to make a request on your behalf."
He pulled himself up to his full 6 for 4 inch height, straightened his tie, and bellowed at the camera.
"We've been here for 4 days now. There is no end in sight. You feed us next to nothing, but keep giving us water. I now DEMAND that you give me the first aid kit and pain medication necessary to treat this young woman as she tries to heal from your little experiments. And I mean THIS INSTANT!"
He looked back at the cot, and Cassandra looked….almost afraid.
"I'm sorry, Cassandra, I didn't mean to frighten you. That particular bellow was for our captors, not you."
"Oh I know…. still…. impressive… Mister Knighted Bigshot."
She smiled and he almost smiled back at her.
Seemingly out of thin air, the cell door opened, and a pouch was slid in. The henchman was gone before they even got a look at him in the low light. Jenkins scrambled for what he left behind and immediately sought out any medication that might help Cassandra's pain. He found it in the form of Dilaudid, which surprised him, but he took no time to ponder why they would give her such a powerful drug. He simply snapped a tablet in half and handed it to her with one of their now copious bottles of water. Hydration was a thing for these bastards, as Mr. Stone might observe.
"Here, Cassandra, this will help. We'll give it at least 20 minutes to work, and then I'm going to try and treat your legs. How is your neck?"
"My neck hurts. What's the drug?"
"Dilaudid."
"Ooo! Fun times, comin right up!"
In the 20 minutes it took for the medication to work, Jenkins told Cassandra a few stories about the old days. He enjoyed watching her face and exclamations as he carried on a bit in his musings, hoping her pain would lessen.
"Well, Mr. Jenkins, there are about 4 of you now, so I'd say the med kicked in."
"Yes, Miss Cillian, let's get to work."
He was embarrassed for a moment, but quickly conjured the thought of comrades in battle as he shimmied her blood-stained tights off (her boots had been abandoned days ago). He nearly gasped at the sight of her pale skin quite literally torn apart methodically, once on each calf, once on each thigh. There was a kind of maniacal precision to it. He treated each wound with ointment and bandages. During the worst of it, she still cried out, and he found himself humming an old Celtic song he'd learned long ago. He even held her hand on occasion, in between treating leg wounds. She grasped back tightly, pressing her pale lips together, creating a barely discernible line in her already deathly pale face. Her eyes crinkled in pain.
"OK, Miss Cillian. I think I've done what I can here. Can you get some rest?"
"I'll try, Jenkins."
He sat again at her cot, finding himself humming again.
"Ah now, here's our girl! I'm so very excited to see you today, and I know we'll have lots of fun!"
"OK lady, whatever. Why are you doing all this? Why are you constantly putting things inside my skin? What do you think you're going to achieve?"
"Now now, Miss Cillian, it's no fun to spoil the surprise. After a few weeks of our concoctions, we will know the root of your magic, and there is no way around it! No one can even detect that this place exists! Our master has done wonderful things to be sure we can work undisturbed. So very exciting!"
"Can't you please tell me what you're looking for? Maybe I can help!" Cassandra tried to look upbeat, despite being restrained in what resembled a dentist's chair.
"No, no need to do a thing, Miss Cillian. You just keep being you! Today there will be no cutting, I promise. This is a mind experiment!"
Before Cassandra could say a word, a helmet was placed on her head, and images so horrible she could never conjure them herself played across her eyes. She was killing people, dismembering them. She stood before Jenkins, Stone, Ezekiel, Baird. She did horrible things to each of them. All these images continued to flash through her mind, and she began to scream. Suddenly, the image turned to her pushing a sword through Jenkins' gut. The look of sadness and abandonment in his eyes was nearly more horrifying than anything else she'd seen. Why would her brain choose him specifically?
"It's working! You, Denholm, whatever your name is, make sure the soundproofing is turned on. We don't want our unexpected knight-guest to hear her!"
"No, please, no, I'll do anything…. just don't…. NO NO NO NO!"
Jenkins awoke and turned to see Cassandra writhing on the bed in pure terror. Her eyes were open, but she could not see him. He took her by the shoulders and shook her lightly.
"It's ok, Cassandra. Cassandra, listen to my voice. You are not with them now. You're in the cell with me. You're safe with me. It's alright, it's alright."
She finally came out of her night terror and grasped Jenkins' arms.
"Sorry, Jenkins, I didn't mean to scare you."
"I'll say it until you believe it, Cassandra, but there is never a need to apologize."
"It was just so horrible. They weren't just experimenting on me, they were trying to hurt y— everyone. Colonel Baird and Ezekiel and Jake. It was just…."
She sobbed and couldn't believe how hard her chest shook as she cried out so much fear and distress. Jenkins assessed her leg wounds and took her into his arms, sitting with her on the cot while her bandaged legs dangled off the side. He rocked her against his chest and slowly rubbed one circle on her back. He was not one for physical contact with others, but to see this friend in such distress changed all of that. Again he hummed. The humming, the rocking, and the back rub eventually assuaged Cassandra to the point of sniffles, and then she stopped crying altogether.
"Jenkins," she muffled into his shirt, "thank you for taking care of me. You are a true friend."
"It's nothing, Cassandra."
"Jenkins, can I ask you to do something for me?" She seemed on the verge of tears again, and his heart hurt as he nodded.
"Stay with me on the cot tonight? Please? I know it's a lot to ask, but would you?"
Jenkins thought of his vow. He thought of Charlene. Then he thought of how Charlene would have punched his arm and given him hell for not helping Cassandra now. He also thought of his own need for comfort. In a split second, this all went through his head and he answered:
"Of course, Miss Cillian. A knight must always keep the monsters away. Slide over, we'll make this work."
Cassandra made Jenkins' coat into a longer pillow and slid all the way to the wall, her back to the cell. Jenkins laid his long form next to her, not sure what to do with his free arm. Her red hair was a bit dulled by days of not washing, but he could still pick up the slightest hint of citrus from her shampoo. He gulped and stroked her hair a few times, then laid his hand on her upper arm.
"Is this ok, Miss Cillian? Am I hurting you, Cassandra?"
"Not at all, sir. If it's more comfortable, you can put your arm on my waist."
And so the gallant knight took another watch, this time tucked close to she whom he protected, in body, mind, and heart.
