A/N The team put their plan into action, while Liz finds her strength in the most unlikely of situations. Standard warnings – this chapter is nasty, if mostly implied rather than graphic. I own nothing. I'd also like to take this opportunity to say how grateful I am to all of you for the wonderful feedback, it means so much :-)
"Absolutely not." Red's voice cut through the dingy room like an anvil. His declaration was followed by silence which Samar eventually broke.
"I understand your reluctance. But we've done the research. The only way a prisoner is ever released from a level ten facility alive is for medical care that can't be provided on site."
Red fixed her with a hard stare, his voice descending to a deep growl. "You're talking about inducing a seizure that could very well kill her. I appreciate your success in locating her, but this proposal is unacceptable."
Unacceptable? He could throttle the woman with his bare hands for suggesting it. He needed them to be better than this. He hated them. He hated himself more.
Samar held his gaze. "She was shot – they'll need to do a wound check. They have to keep her alive to use against you. If she's seriously ill they will medevac her to another facility, and that's our window. The pilot will be one of ours. We need a doctor who can administer the medication and monitor her until she arrives at the secure hospital wing. Find someone who can do this, and we'll get him in. It's basically the same strategy used by the CIA to extract assets like Xiaoping Li from high security camps and prisons, but with a few modifications."
Red sucked in his cheeks and shook his head bleakly.
Ressler folded his arms. "It'll need to be someone with military training, preferably with a background in law enforcement. Someone who can pass as a prison doctor. And for the record, I'm not happy about it either. She was my partner. I don't want to do this to her any more than you, but it's a solid plan."
"Once I have their information I can set up a profile for them, credentials, IDs – say the word and I can get it done in less than three hours." Aram tried to smile encouragingly. "In the meantime I'm working on a dossier proving a conspiracy to falsify evidence in Assistant Director Cooper's case."
Samar looked uncomfortable. "Unfortunately we're reliant on the prison schedule for physician visits. Our window's in ten days' time."
Ten days.
Red stared at the moth-eaten green and brown carpet until Mr Kaplan stepped forward and stood beside him.
"I know what you're thinking, Raymond. There are significant risks, but I can say that I consider the risk of an out and out assault on the facility to be greater. I suggest Kevin Stanton - he had a distinguished military career as an army medic and is more than capable. Although it's unlikely he'll want to agree to this."
Red bent down and retrieved the tea cup from where it had fallen on the floor hours earlier and placed it back on the table thoughtfully. "Stanton's a good man" he said, almost to himself. "And he owes me a favor."
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Liz jumped when her cell door clanged open. She remained seated on the floor, drawing her knees and arms up around herself to protect her modesty as far as that was possible given that she'd been left without a stitch of clothing. The night had been a bleak exercise in adaptation. She quickly found that the metal bench was impossible to sleep on; thrashing in her sleep, she had ended up rolling off agonisingly onto the concrete floor twice before deciding the best option was to sleep not on the bench, but under it. There, she discovered, it was slightly warmer, as if there was heat transfer from machinery in the room below. With the bench above her, she felt less exposed and managed to sleep several hours despite the powerful ache in her shoulder.
The bed in the lake house was so soft. Goose down pillows. The sheets some impossibly high thread count. I never noticed the care he must have taken. Never thanked him.
Now she looked up to see the warden, and did her best to remain expressionless. She may not be able to do much to hide her body from this man, but she needed to hide her mind. There was something in his manner that unsettled her, perhaps because he seemed almost friendly.
Perhaps because he seemed familiar.
Given the way he'd been looking at her she'd mentally prepared herself for him to touch her sexually, but so far he hadn't, his meaningful glances and occasional touches of her arm the only indicator that he might think of her in that way.
He nudged the cell door closed with his boot and lent against the wall, considering her in silence for a while before speaking.
"How did you sleep, kitten? How's the shoulder?"
Locking me in. Checking on me. Kitten. Lizzie.
Liz tried to focus and bite back the sarcastic response building in her throat. She had to conceal as much as she could from him; she could tell he was searching for an angle on her, probing her character, fortitude and fears for a way in, and she had to avoid giving it to him. She knew from her own training, once he had it, he wouldn't let it go and they'd break her all too soon.
Break me into pieces of a much larger puzzle. Until I'm lying in front of you, it won't go together.
He sighed at her lack of response, before bringing his hand out from behind his back and throwing a grey jumpsuit down on the floor in front of her.
"Think of this as an incentive to be a bit more cooperative today."
When she didn't move he stepped forward and crouched down in front of her, raising his hand to her face. She flinched, bracing herself for the impact of a palm or a fist, but he cupped her chin gently in his hand, tilting her head until she met his eye. As he did so she noticed that he had soft grey eyes that were presently filled with what looked like genuine concern.
"Relax kitten, I'm not going to hurt you."
Lizzie, I'm not going to hurt you. I will always do whatever I feel I have to do to keep you safe.
She couldn't help but shoot the warden an incredulous glare, which earned her a deep laugh from him. "Point taken - I'm not going to hurt you more than I have to. And I'm not going to do it here. I'm not a monster."
An inhumanly cruel or wicked person.
"Of course, if you cooperate, none of this will be necessary. Now put this on." He handed her the jumpsuit and stood up. She waited a moment, foolishly expecting him to leave, but quickly realised that he intended to watch her dress.
She rose from the floor with all the grace she could muster and climbed into the jumpsuit, not too quickly or slowly, keeping her features as blank as possible.
"You seem better this morning" he observed, narrowing his eyes. "Stronger. I think it's time we stopped messing around, don't you?" He gave her a penetrating stare. "To be honest, I don't believe the interrogation wing is any place for a girl like yourself, no matter what acts of treason you've committed. That's why I've no intention of dragging you in there every day for the next six months to squeeze what I can out of you. We're going to get this done fast, kitten. That means I'm going to go at you as hard as I need to, and you're going to cooperate so that I don't have to do anything that will keep me awake at night. Do you understand?"
Liz looked up at him then, and tried to speak as evenly as possible, her eyes wide and clear. "I understand. But it won't work" she said flatly. "It won't work because there isn't anything to tell except this: I'm being framed. I am not a spy for the Russians or anyone else. I didn't even find out that my biological parents were Russian until the week I was arrested. So you're going to be disappointed."
He shook his head and sighed as she spoke. "I thought you might say that." He removed a set of handcuffs from his belt and secured her hands behind her, the bar separating them twisting her wrists at a painful angle. He placed his hand on her back and gave her a gentle push.
"Let's see if we can't change your mind."
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When the warden entered her cell on the tenth day she couldn't sit up, or bring herself to move enough to cover her nakedness. There was no point anyway. By now he'd examined every inch of her body and used it against her with chilling precision. Those kind grey eyes and calming tones were so deceptive, she thought dimly. He was a sociopath who enjoyed pretending to care about her for the extra thrill it brought to the moment he hurt her.
You've made that observation before, about someone else, said the treacherous voice in the back of her mind. She thought back to Ressler's warnings about Red, and then tried everything she could to forget, to focus on calming her mind.
My mind. My mind is still my own.
There was a certain peace to be found in knowing that she was alone, a certain simplicity and strength. As her abused body weakened, her mind seemed to grow sharper, and her resolve stronger. If she survived this, she would rain fire on the cabal, and on the warden and all those she found in their employ. She would find out what Red was hiding and discover the truth about her mother. She would clear Cooper's name. Let him be the public image of a wronged man caught in the good fight for justice. She had a different path now, of that she was sure. And it would be her own. Not the warden, not Red, not Tom or Ressler – no one would determine her future but her.
Break the body to purify the soul.
Not for the first time, she thought she was somehow being cleansed, her sins being stripped away; her father, the harbourmaster, Tom…. How lost and worthless she had felt when she lay down for him on the boat.
Do you know how filthy that makes me feel.
A thousand showers couldn't wash it away, but this… oh this was exquisite.
This is my life. That is all that matters.
In what had become a standard routine, the warden stood over her, and offered her a jumpsuit for her to wear during the transfer from her cell to the interrogation wing. When it became clear that she hadn't the strength to put it on herself, he lifted her up and helped to dress her like a child, his fingers brushing over her skin as he buttoned the front, making her shudder.
"I'm sorry to do this to you kitten. I really am."
Liz kept her eyes on the floor. "Really? Because I think you love it." She whispered. "I think you get off on it."
His hands froze as he reached the last button, before sliding up, the pressure of his thumbs increasing steadily until they reached the base of her neck.
"If you'd like to find out what gets me off I'd be happy to show you." His voice was dangerously quiet for a moment before he released her and his mask of pleasantness returned. "But first, the doctor's in today - it's time to get that shoulder of yours patched up. I can't have you dying of an infection on me can I?"
When they reached the infirmary she found it to be a cold, sparse room with a padded grey examination bed, a table, a large filing cabinet and a set of plastic drawers. She saw the doctor sitting on a stool at the table, leafing through a chart. He was a middle aged man with close cropped military style hair and glasses, his coat startlingly white in contrast to the grey, drab surroundings. He looked up and smiled at her.
"You must be Miss Keen. I'm just going to have a look at your shoulder and change the dressing." He indicated the examination bed. "Sit up here please."
He watched as the warden walked her to the bed before returning to stand in the doorway, arms crossed. She hesitated for a moment and he put out a hand to help her up, before grabbing a large medical supply case and drawing the stool over to the bed.
"Right, if I could just see the wound."
She began to unbutton the jumpsuit, her fingers shaking. The doctor's brow creased fractionally when he realised she didn't appear to be wearing anything underneath. He turned to the warden. "I think we're fine here, thank you warden. I'm sure the patient would appreciate some privacy."
The warden frowned. "Come on Doc, you know better than that. I can't leave a prisoner unattended."
The doctor seemed flustered for a second before recovering. "Of course. She just doesn't look like she's going to cause any trouble."
"You'd be surprised" the warden said pointedly. The doctor turned back to Liz and she thought she saw him grimace slightly. He opened the medical kit and put on a pair of surgical gloves, averting his eyes while she slid her arm awkwardly out of the jumpsuit and pulled it back up to cover her chest.
She thought she heard him hiss under his breath when he saw the state of the bandage, but he said nothing, instead studiously going about the work of cleaning and re-dressing the wound. He was gentle and efficient. When he was done, he removed the gloves and, she noted, slipped them in his pocket rather than in the trash. He bent down into the kit and retrieved a syringe, filling it from a small vial.
"What's that?" The warden's voice echoed slightly in the room.
The doctor remained focussed on preparing the syringe. "Pain medication."
"Sorry Doc, I can't allow that. Can't have prisoners on drugs."
"I'm well aware of the regulations, warden. It's not an opiate. We wouldn't want to violate Miss Keen's constitutional rights, would we?" he said, his voice developing a hard edge.
The warden nodded warily, and Liz watched as the doctor raised the syringe to her arm. Even through her haze of dizziness she noticed his swallow, the way his hands shook slightly. She knew something was wrong, but before she could decide whether or not to protest he had injected her and, strangely, had taken hold of her hand. A moment later her eyes rolled back in her head and she began seizing violently.
The warden stepped forward sharply. "What's happening? What have you done?"
Laying her down, the doctor retrieved a pencil light from his pocket and checked her pupillary reflex. His tone was clipped and urgent. "She's having a seizure. Either she's allergic to the pain medication or she's developed encephalitis from that damned wound. I should have been called earlier. We need to get her to a hospital now."
"Absolutely not."
The doctor looked up then, and confronted the warden with a stare that was worthy of Red himself.
"Warden, you're not understanding me - I'm evacuating this patient to hospital and I'm doing it now. If I don't, she'll die."
TBC