A/N: For the general setting of the story see the A/N of the prologue. As always, thank you for reading and taking your time to leave a review. I can't even begin to tell you how much it means to me.
The usual disclaimer applies (see prologue).
- Lockdown: No Place To Hide -
It is one of those moments in life you wish you could unlive, press rewind so that it never happened.
Cal knows that Gillian knows it is all fake – that he doesn't actually assail her, doesn't intend to do her any arm. In fact, the opposite is true. She is only supposed to fight him as part of their enactment. Save that the body reacts by instinct. In case of an attack, you stretch out your hands to parry it off; your pulse quickens; your metabolism slows down, saving energy for the fight-or-flight response, and your pain tolerance increases so that injuries don't foil your defense. That is the physical part. If you are an expert in reading people, like Dr. Cal Lightman, you also see the variety of micro expressions flash in the face of the person that is attacked. He wishes he could turn it off, but he can't.
It's all there in Gillian's face. The effort to convince her body that she is not facing a real threat although all the indications are there as well as the resignation when she loses the struggle and gives in to fear, if only for a moment before she pulls herself together again. At one point, their eyes meet and Cal realizes that Gillian tries to hide her fear mostly for his benefit. As if she wasn't allowed to be afraid because he came up with this brilliant plan to save her, no matter how repellent its execution might be.
He tore her blouse apart and shoved her onto the couch, throwing himself on top of her. Their enactment has to be quick and authentic; Cal can neither afford to show hesitation nor weakness. It's a thin line between acting convincing and not actually hurting Gillian, let alone the humiliation he can't possibly avoid. He tries not to let his full weight rest on her body but when she keeps pushing against his chest to fake-fight him, like she is supposed to, Cal has to increase the pressure in return to make it look real. His lips sometimes meet skin and sometimes not due to their bodies constantly moving as he pretends to kiss her throat, skipping her cleavage that under realistic circumstances would have been a part of her body any actual attacker would have given much more attention to. Moreover, Cal's legs don't push hers apart but enwrap them instead. He can only hope that the prisoner behind him doesn't notice these things. For now, he obviously doesn't, his cheers of encouragement filling the room.
Leave already, you bastard. Cal seethes with anger. He has gone as far as he is willing to go. As it is, their fight, fake or not, will leave bruises on her delicate skin already and he doesn't intend to take the matter much further. Out of the corner of his eye, Cal catches a glimpse of Gillian's wrist that is bruised because of her fight with her fiancé. Ex-fiancé, he reminds himself, but it does nothing to diminish his anger. She shouldn't have to experience violence from two men within a brief span. She shouldn't have to experience violence from anyone at all. Ever. Cal uses his rage to push himself to the limit. Do it. Don't think it over. She will understand. He fumbles around until he finds the hem of her skirt and pushes it up.
"No." Gillian's hand grabs Cal's wrist to hold him back. Another instinctive reaction caused by fear or is she still enough in control of herself to play along? Cal can't tell and he has run out of time to find out.
"Bugger off," he yells at the inmate and feels Gillian wince underneath him when she hears the extent of his fury. "Not gonna let you watch my naked ass."
Cal is showered with abuse as a reply. Nevertheless, the man follows an unwritten, disgusting codex that obviously allows Cal privacy for the rape the prisoner believes he is about to commit and leaves.
As soon as he is certain that the inmate is gone, Cal jumps up and runs to the door that was taken off its hinges, slamming it shut as far as practicable. He supports himself against the door, breathing heavily. Gillian's perfume envelops him; it seems to stick to his skin, accusing him of what he had to do. His fists hit the wooden door again and again of their own accord until his knuckles are grazed and every hit leaves smears of blood. It is a rough way to make himself pay for his deeds, but it takes the edge off his rage so that he eventually is able to turn around and look at Gillian.
She has curled up into a ball on the couch, covering her face with her hands, oblivious of all around her now the immediate threat is no longer there. Her shoulders are shaking, and first, Cal thinks she is crying but when he gets closer to her, he realizes that her entire body is trembling in the aftermath of what happened. He carefully sits down at the end of the couch, next to her legs, and stretches out a hand to calm her but when it touches her upper thigh, close to her hip, he pulls it back. His touch probably is the last thing she wants to feel right now. To Cal's surprise, though, Gillian covers his hand with hers, clinging firmly to it. Her other hand still covers her eyes as she digs her fingers into Cal's skin almost painfully.
"I just need a minute," she mumbles
It's quiet in the hallway outside of the office. The riot seems to take place in another part of the prison currently. It makes what happened even more surreal.
"I'm sorry," Cal offers, aware that there are no appropriate words to describe what he is feeling or to soften her state of shock.
"It wasn't you," Gillian replies after a brief pause. She takes the hand away from her face but still doesn't look at him. "I know why you had to do it. It was him. The look in his eyes, his voice, the knowledge what would have happened if it hadn't been for you...," her voice trails off, Gillian's expression blank in spite of everything.
Although it seems to remain quiet outside for now, they need to leave. The risk is too high that other inmates come up with the idea of checking on the female prison psychologist or – even worse – that one certain inmate comes back to claim his right after he gave Cal the advantage.
"We have to get out of here," he gently reminds her.
Despite her condition, Gillian reacts, proving Cal's estimation of her strength of character to be true another time. She is not to be underestimated, no matter how bad the situation. She straightens herself with a start, letting go of his hand. Then she stands up, pondering on something for a moment before she takes off her high heels and pantyhose.
"I can't run in those," she explains, referring to her shoes. "And I would slip and fall if I ran wearing my pantyhose."
Gillian didn't turn away when she took off her pantyhose, obviously doesn't care about decency considering she already is standing in front of him half-naked. Her blouse is ruined – most of the buttons gone, the silky fabric torn. Only now, Cal notices the paste colors of her bra, the lace adorning it. He also notices there are more bruises here and there on her upper body. They are not fresh, already started to fade. Most likely more fallout from her fight with Alec. For a split second, the chronological disproportion of the situation hits Cal. He is attracted to Gillian and did think of situations when he would see her like this, minus the violence and the crude circumstances, of course. This is not how it was supposed to happen.
Cal takes off the top of his overall and the white cotton shirt every inmate wears underneath it.
"Here," he gives the shirt to her. "Put this on."
Gillian takes off her blouse and Cal turns away to give her some privacy, his naked upper body combined with her state of divestment suddenly feeling awkward, but she stops him.
"Hey," she touches his arm, her gaze lingering on his tattoo for a moment. When she makes eye contact, he sees a fierce determination. "I won't let what happened allow to influence...," Gillian searches for the right word, "...us. And neither should you."
Her statement is unexpected. A declaration in the middle of all this mess to assure him of her friendship and trust. Hearing her words, Cal realizes how much he actually needed to hear them. After all, he is the one who is supposed to get both of them out of this situation alive, but he also is the one who had to assail her in the process. And that diminished his self-confidence and has the potential to endanger them as a consequence. She is a psychologist and knows those things. Her face tells him, though, that it wasn't Dr. Gillian Foster, the psychologist, who just spoke to him. It was Gillian, his friend and confident, who wanted him to know so that their fragile, newly found bond doesn't fall victim to the circumstances.
Gillian's words are the impulse that sets them in motion. Cal puts the top of his overall on again, Gillian his shirt, casting her ruined blouse aside. Without her heels, they are not the same height anymore but still on an equal footing. She does not have his training or experience in close combat. Yet, her will to survive is as indomitable as his.
Cal takes her by the hand as they slip out of the room.
As opposed to the office, the light in the hallway is very bright. It illuminates every corner, the destruction evident. Damaged furnishings are lying all over the place, silent witnesses of the earlier outburst of violence. There are sounds of yelling and fighting in the distance. Apparently, the guards gave up this part of the prison and retreated into another section. Cal tries to recall the layout of the building. He memorized it when the mission started. Thus he knows that there is a disused emergency exit not far away from where they are right now. If they can make it there, he hopes to break the door and get Gillian out.
She quietly follows him as he leads her down the hallway round several corners. Just once, she holds her breath when they come across a body lying motionlessly on the ground. One of the guards. Cal bends down to check his pulse. There is none. Albeit there are no visible wounds, the man is dead. Probably a broken neck. Cal shakes his head so that she knows there is nothing they can do and pulls Gillian away from the body.
Suddenly, there is a crashing sound, much closer than the other noises. It's origin comes from one of the rooms they are about to pass. The doors are all wide open. Then they hear a woman whimper. Along with the layout of the building, Cal received information about the inmates and the staff beforehand. Only male prisoners, only male guards and staff except for one female cook maid. Visiting hours were already over when the riot started so that there should be no female visitors caught in the middle and the kitchen is located not far from here. Chances are that it was the cook maid whose whimper they heard. The crashing sound starts again, accompanied by more whimpering and a male voice that makes them stop dead in their tracks. It's the inmate who broke the door to Gillian's office. Judging from the sounds and his words, there is no doubt left that he found a surrogate to satisfy his perverted needs but hasn't gotten to her yet. Obviously, the woman is hiding or locked herself in somewhere.
"We have to help her," Gillian whispers.
Cal wants to. Every fiber of his body is tense and ready to fight even if the parameters haven't changed. The other man still is twice his size and he still would lose the fight. Close combat isn't much help when it comes upon street fighting against a much stronger opponent. The difference between the earlier situation in the office and now being that he would have fought with the prisoner regardless because it would have been about saving Gillian. Still is. And if Cal decided to help the other woman, he would risk that. He can't do both. Gillian might think so since he managed to prevent that harm was done to her. It is always about weighing the odds though. He can't save everyone. And as cruel as it is, Cal is not willing to reduce Gillian's chances of getting out unharmed. He shakes his head, no, giving her hand a tug to pull her away, but she doesn't move.
"I can't protect both of you," Cal speaks under his breath.
He understands that Gillian can't accept that, identifies with the other woman because she knows exactly what she is going through right now. In situations like these, choices are not about doing the proper thing, though, they are about who survives and who doesn't.
"I'll go back to help her later," he promises to reassure her, but Gillian looks at him the way she looked at the guard who promised her the same thing. Unlike the guard, Cal didn't lie. Yet, they both know that most likely later will be too late.
There are no more objective arguments to convince her. Despite his urge to get away from this spot, Cal gives Gillian a moment to let her survival instinct gain the upper hand. Dragging her along behind him against her will would only slow them down. As expected, her posture slackens off slightly after a moment, implying that the resigned realization has sunk in, and they move forward.
"Don't look," Cal mouths when they sneak past the open door unnoticed, but she already did. Gillian saw the face of the woman behind a glass window of a door, leading into an adjoining room, and will never forget the expression of despair. The woman locked herself in, the prisoner throwing a chair against the glass again and again to break it and get in. By now, it has started to splinter.
Two more turns and there it is. The disused emergency exit. Cal can't believe that they actually managed to get there. He stops unlike Gillian who takes a few more steps away from him until she stops, too, covering her mouth with her hand to suppress a sob. She can't get the image of the woman they had to leave behind out of her head and closes her eyes in a futile effort to block reality out.
It's not difficult to discern the reason for her reaction. Cal goes up to her and enfolds her face with both of his hands, her silent tears running down his fingers as their foreheads touch and they lean on each other. Then the moment of comfort is over. Has to be. Even if they made it so far, they can't afford to lose time. Cal knows that Gillian understands and will manage to compose herself. Just as he approaches the sealed door of the disused emergency exit to find a way to open it, he hears voices and footsteps though. Several men are approaching them, and the way they talk, they are no guards.
They are trapped. The hallway ends at the sealed door; there is only one room between where they are and the next corner and since Cal can't tell how far away the men are, he doesn't want to risk taking a look around the corner. At least the door to the room is unlocked. He gently pushes Gillian inside only to be confronted with the next problem. No key. The door can't be locked. It's a small storage room. No other way out. No window. No place to hide. Only some metal racks. This is bad.
Cal's eyes frantically scour the room for anything that could be of help. Brooms and buckets are not exactly useful weapons. There are detergents, some of them containing acid, but with Gillian in the same room, he does not intend to use them. He could end up chemically burning her skin by accident. Then Cal's eyes make out something at the ceiling. A ventilation shaft. He pushes a rack of medium height under it as quietly as possible and climbs onto the rack. It sways a bit but carries his weight. He reaches up. It takes some pushing and pulling, but he is able to remove the ventilation grille. It's a small duct. However, there is enough space for a slender person to fit in.
Come up here, his gesture tells her. Albeit Gillian is aware of the situation, he can easily read in her face that she thinks he has gone crazy. She is in good shape but not well-toned and most likely never had to pull herself up into a ventilation shaft before. Either way, it is the only possible hideaway. Cal bends down, intertwining his fingers as a leg-up to show her how he plans to get her up there. Gillian looks at the door, footsteps and voices relentlessly coming closer. Then she climbs onto the rack without further ado. It sways some more but otherwise carries both of their weight. She grabs Cal's shoulders as support and puts one foot onto the leg-up so that he can lift her up. They almost fall off the rack when Gillian fails to get hold of the opening of the ventilation shaft at the first attempt. The second time, though, she succeeds. Cal lifts her up, her other foot steps on his shoulder, and then – suddenly – her weight is gone.
When she is up there, Gillian needs a moment to adjust herself, twisting and turning her body so that it fits into the small space. Cal knows that she expects him to follow her, but they have run out of time. He puts the grille back, letting it click into place, and jumps off the rack.
Gillian's heart is pounding like mad due to the physical effort and the rush of adrenaline. When the grille closes the opening of the ventilation shaft, the claustrophobic feeling of being sealed in quickly gives way to the shock that Cal hasn't joined her.
Lying face down, she is only able to see parts of the room through the grille, Cal's overall an orange blotch punctuated with stripes of silver metal. Then the door opens and three men enter the room. More orange blotches. Contrasting colors in a sea of gray.
One of the men steps forward and knees Cal in the guts without warning. Cal groans and half-collapses on the ground. A scream builds in the back of Gillian's throat, but she has the presence of mind not to let it out, her hands pressing against the grille so hard that the cold metal cuts into her fingers.
She sees the prisoner who kicked Cal lunge out again but this time she doesn't have to worry about suppressing a scream because a hand covers her mouth, a body effortlessly sliding over hers from behind like a shadow, rendering her immobile.
"Don't move and don't say anything." She hears the whispered words although she is not able to wrap her mind around their meaning. "I'm here to bring you to safety."
- To be continued -
Believe me or not when I tell you that I didn't intend to end this chapter with another cliffhanger but since it kept getting longer and longer, I thought this was a good point for a break.
Next chapter: In safety (?)