In addition to finding out that Tamara had been forced to watch him receive a bullet in the leg as punishment for her misbehavior, Roger learned that their visits were now limited to once every two weeks. He would have rather had the Captain shoot him with that pistol again than receive this metaphoric punch to the gut. Inside he felt rather miserable, but seeing Tamara's devastated expression as she told him the news made him decide to push his feelings aside for the moment. After all, he couldn't blame her for trying to help them escape. He would have done the exact same thing had their positions been reversed.

"And hey, the hospital food was pretty good. Dok says I'll be limping for a while, but not forever. He's not such a bad guy once you get over his bedside manner."

"Just sh… Just stop. I don't want to hear about him." Tamara was sitting just outside his cell, her knees drawn up and her face pressed against them.

"All right. Did you see I got a blanket?"

"Yes."

"So do you want to play a game?"

"No."

He sighed softly. "Well, if I'm not going to see you for a while, then will you at least talk to me?"

Tamara raised her head to look his direction, but seeing his face only made her burst into tears. Roger spent the rest of the hour soothingly running his hand up and down her back and planting kisses in her hair.

Once the jail door swung shut behind her departing form, he let out an audible groan, his shoulders slumping. Grabbing the bars for support, his forehead sunk slightly into the space between them. He wasn't quite sure how he was going to keep up the positive thinking that had gotten him this far.

Dok offered neither sympathy nor reprimand to Tamara after the incident. When she finally got up enough courage to ask about the fate of the man on the telephone, he merely harrumphed and said she didn't need to concern herself with "that malandro."

She doubled her efforts to be cooperative and do exactly as told, taking every drug or injection without comment. Now that she had been caught, and her actions had clear consequences, she wasn't willing to risk anything that would add to Roger's torment. She hated herself enough as it was.

It was clear to her now that their future was fully in Millennium's hands. Though she could hardly imagine the Major letting her and Roger go free now, his demonstration had made its point and he didn't seem like the kind of person to hold a grudge. Hadn't he also said that the doctor's reports of her were all positive? Maybe there was still a chance she could redeem herself and earn her freedom.

The only way to survive now was to believe that there was a life for her beyond Dok's lab, her lonely room, and Roger's prison. Because if there was truly no chance of escaping this dreary existence, then she didn't know how long she could keep voluntarily cooperating. What would happen then? They'd kill Roger, of course, but what about her? She didn't put it past these Nazis that she herself would be locked up or something worse. After all, they had certainly put forth a large effort in bringing her here in the first place.

As time went on, though, she began to doubt her usefulness at all. Some days all she did was sit around the lab, counting the tiles on the floor in her head first in English, then in German. All these weeks and she was still no closer to understanding the real purpose behind her presence here nor how she could make herself more valuable to Millennium. Watching Dok work alone as hard as he did, occasionally she wondered if she should be offering some assistance, like sweeping the floor or watering his plants or fetching items from the walk-in cooler.

Finally, one morning the doctor had her sit down at his desk for a discussion. First he opened her day planner and typed some notes based on the hand-written remarks inside.

"Satisfactory work with the journal," he said, handing it back to her. "I think we've reached a point where you're fit enough that I want to collect the first batch of cells from you."

"Yes, Sir." Tamara was always careful now to answer respectfully and out loud. On the one hand she was anxious to do something of value, but on the other she worried how unpleasant that something would be.

"You've done very well following all of my instructions and I think you'll be pleased to know that after this procedure, you'll get a break from lab visits for a few months."

Tamara opened her mouth and inhaled to speak, but hesitated when she realized she didn't know what that would actually entail. Under normal circumstances, it might have felt like the promise of a vacation.

"I wonder what I will do with all that extra time," she finally mused aloud.

"That is being figured out for you."

"May I ask about the procedure?"

"It's not major surgery, but it is invasive enough to require you to be put under anesthesia."

Tamara swallowed hard, remembering her nightmare. "I've never had surgery before."

"As I am aware. But this one is relatively straightforward, so don't lose any sleep over it."

Tamara was moved to one of the infirmary rooms for a few days so that she would be readily available as the doctor needed before and after the procedure. She also received a pre-operative injection that had potential side effects he wished to monitor, but other than some site pain, there were none. Despite the nicer accommodations of the hospital room, Tamara found it harder to sleep than ever.

She simply wasn't sure if she could trust the doctor. Even if this was a simple procedure, collecting genetic samples for him to use as research material, she couldn't shake the feeling that he wasn't telling her the whole truth about it. Thinking back to some of their previous interactions, had he ever lied to her before? Other than his obvious deceptions in Rio, she could not come up with an instance. His behavior had certainly been self-serving, but he had never personally harmed her, notwithstanding the questionable necessity of taking a scalpel to her intimate area during that first examination.

He had also healed Roger's leg and, as Roger told it, expressed displeasure that violence had been used as a form of punishment. But were these evidences enough that he could be trusted when she was helpless and unconscious?

Considering she had no choice in the matter, Tamara decided that she would trust him tomorrow not to hurt her, even though she still did not trust him in general. With that important distinction made, she was finally able to fall asleep.

It was early evening, and sitting anxiously in one of the chairs of the lab's "waiting" area, Tamara kept reminding herself of what Dok had said.

If you do this, then you won't have to see him again for several months.

It wasn't the greatest reward in the world, but the promise of time away from the lab and experiments and needles was still worth pursuing.

However, getting there was still going to be a little scary. The surgical suite had been lit up with its bright overhead lights all afternoon as Dok brought out various trays of equipment and fussed with monitors on rolling stands. She hugged her empty stomach. Even if she hadn't been put on a fast, there was no way she would have been able to eat that day.

Across the room, she watched him and his unusual assistant as they prepared the operating area. Dok appeared to be testing some electrical equipment while he instructed the woman how to correctly lay out surgical devices and other items onto the trays flanking the operating table. She was thin and nearly as tall as the doctor, but with dark hair braided and pinned around her porcelain, freckled face. Though she wore glasses and looked sort of bookish, it was clear she was not particularly knowledgeable about medicine. Even though Tamara could not hear most of their conversation, it appeared that she usually needed to be told twice what to do. However, the two of them seemed to have a sort of rapport and the doctor seemed unperturbed at her inexperience.

At length the young woman went over to the examination area and beckoned Tamara to join her. Removing her dark tailored jacked and setting it neatly onto the exam bed, she gave Tamara a squinty smile. "We are almost ready. I'm Rip Van Winkle, by the way. Nice to meet you."

"Tamara," she said shyly by way of introduction. It was a bit surreal meeting a female in this place after all these weeks, especially one with such an unusual manner and look about her, not to mention such a strange name.

At least there was going to be another woman in the room this time.

"Did you have any questions about what we're doing today?" Winkle asked cheerfully, when she saw the other wasn't responding further.

Without thinking, Tamara blurted out the one thing that had been on her mind all day. "Am I going to be strapped down?"

"Oh no, that's not necessary at all! Were you worried about that?" The woman went to the cabinet to retrieve one of the familiar disposable gowns and a few other paper goods.

"Although, hmm… Well, maybe your arm will be tied down for the IV. That's a normal procedure, right? I think. It's not going to be so bad, though."

Tamara wasn't too sure about that, despite the encouraging tone.

"She doesn't know yet, does she?"

"Raise it by 5 centimeters."

"You have to tell her eventually."

"Obviously."

"Why are you waiting so long?"

"To avoid further complications. A little further to the left."

"Well, I don't think that's right. In case nobody else will tell you."

He didn't respond, and she felt uncomfortable with the silence which was broken only by the beeping of a heart rate monitor. So she decided to try again with a slightly different subject.

"I wonder why you didn't ask me for help with this experiment. I am a woman, after all."

"Aside from the obvious, Winkle, it's because of your advanced maternal age."

"What, I still have the body of a twenty-five year old. Don't tease, Dok!"

"A twenty-five year old demon perhaps. Not what we are looking for today."

Rip Van Winkle glanced at the ultrasound monitor just long enough to decide that she didn't want to watch the doctor manipulate the outrageously long needle. When she had asked before, as nonchalantly as possibly, he had mentioned it was twenty-five centimeters. Instead, she turned to look at their patient, whose mouth was parted slightly in sleep.

"I guess she is sort of pretty. Yes, I can see why you picked her."

"Lieutenant..."

"Of course the Major would like an attractive face. Is she German then?"

Dok hissed between his teeth. "Never mind that! How is it you know so much about this project anyway? I was under the impression that it was strictly classified."

Rip laughed through her nose, unperturbed. "Really, it was such a long time ago. We were playing Hearts or something, and Major had drunk a bit more than usual. He's just so excited, it's hard to keep a secret like that."

Though his head remained bent over his work, Dok's eyes flashed angrily up at her over his glasses.

"Oh! But I haven't told a soul! I would never betray his trust. Or yours," she added sweetly.

"I suppose," Dok grunted. "Now, if you could please concentrate on the task at hand."

Rip turned her attention back to her job, which was to run the small vacuum and carefully replace the glass flask attached to it after each sample was collected. The work wasn't very challenging, yet Dok had still made her practice the technique several times before this. It was probably the oddest job she had ever been tasked with, working so closely with the doctor with an unconscious female between them. She kept these thoughts to herself, though, and instead hummed Schumann's Der Nussbaum in her head. As usual, she imagined herself to be the young maiden in the song falling asleep beneath the soft rustlings of a walnut tree.

"Focus, Lieutenant. I can tell when you're drifting."

There was a time when she herself would have interested the doctor as much as this girl did now. It seemed like such a very long time since she had been at the center of anyone's attention.

After they had capped at least a dozen containers, the doctor took the tray containing them and left Rip with instructions to watch the patient's monitor carefully and holler if there were any changes in the heart rate pattern. He returned after a few minutes, and she watched curiously as he took tissue and blood samples from the female's left breast.

"You ate before you arrived as we discussed, correct?" Dok seemed to notice her slight discomfort. He had not mentioned this being a part of the operation, so she wasn't quite prepared for the sight of blood.

"Of course! I was just surprised is all…"

"Figured I may as well collect these while she's still out. I am almost done here."

Rip ground her teeth a little, but didn't speak up again until the procedure was finally complete and they were cleaning up.

"Dok, are there walnut trees in Brazil?"

"You never cease to ask me the most random questions," he returned, almost amused. The doctor pondered this as he pulled a sheet up over the bandaged abdomen. "Brazilian walnut, that's probably the only variety you'll find here."

"Of course, silly of me to forget!" It pleased her so much to see that his mood had improved with the completion of their task and that he was taking her question seriously.

Once the doctor was ready to wake their patient, he dismissed her to return to her regularly scheduled duties for the evening.

"You know, if I continue to help you out like this, you could start calling me Nurse Van Winkle," Rip commented as she changed out a pair of disposable gloves for her normal silk ones.

"I will never do that."

"Hmph!" she huffed, but still could not help smiling coyly to herself.

Notes:

Thanks for the nice review, M-Train. I usually do stick with just the canon characters but decided to take a risk this time and do something different!