Chapter Five: Lullaby by A Voice of Honey-in-Milk
Holly did not remember how she came to slumber. One moment she was being tugged and strapped into the passenger side of Tony's car, the Scarecrow getting into the driver's seat and then… nothing. Her mind felt like soup, unable to cling to the memory long. Behind it were emotions she did not want to feel and the inkling that she was currently being watched.
Her eyes had not opened more than a fraction before she felt a hand slide along her cheek, reaching under her chin to push upwards, "Subject has regained consciousness at approximately… o'three twenty, later than expected," her eyes fought against the blinding hanging ceiling lamp as they opened fully, "and appears lucid," he let go of her face speaking still into the slim recording device in his other hand, "secondary test of low-value dosage will be required to simulate previous effects of formula five-B to conclude theory." He set the device down but the little red light on it was glaring and the tape inside slowly spun still recording.
Jonathan moved about leisurely, opening a cupboard, taking out a plastic cup, and then filling it with tap water. He was humming a tune under his breath as he waited for the slow pressure to fill it.
Holly on the other hand was staring at his back, her breathing increased as did her pulse and then the pain came. Her ribs ached, she breathed out the start of a swear, "Fu—" biting her lip through the rest of it. Her head went down and her eyes closed. She moved her hands to her head… well tried to. Only now did she realize one of her hands was cuffed to an old radiator. Hues once again opened, no longer wide as she told herself this was no time to panic. She was stuck, there was no more running needed. Her free hand went to her face to rub at her eyes, her glasses were missing – though she could still see well enough without them. Maybe it was time for contacts.
A soft chuckle escaped her lips at the thought. It caused the good doctor to turn his head over his shoulder and look at her, his casual humming ceased. She could hear the tap shut off with a squeak and his shoes against the wooden floor as they came to stand before her. He crouched into her vision offering out the plastic cup, "You must be very thirsty." Holly could not decide if he was being a smartass or a doctor with questionable bedside manners. She did not take the cup; she did not trust it.
The dear doctor seemed to understand that. He raised the cup to his lips, took a small sip, and set it next to her, "Would you like a chair? I cannot imagine the floor has been very comfortable on your injury." He grabbed a cheap metal chair not far from behind himself that had been under a foldable table and turned it towards her, again at her continued taciturn he merely stared. He placed the chair near her yet he was the one to sit in it. One leg crossed over the other and his hands laced comfortably in his lap, "You know Miss Kingsley, we really will not get anywhere if you choose to remain silent. I understand your current conditions are not as comforting as they could be—"
His voice was like honey-in-milk and Holly could not stand it, she cut him off. "You drugged and kidnapped me, Jonathan."
"Yes," he did not try to deny it, "I very much doubted you'd have come willingly."
She pulled on the cuff some, looking at it wondering what kind of reach she could get out of it. Could she punch him in the face from here? He'd not done anything yet beyond the obvious – her shoes were missing but she could see what looked like red heels near a door – and he was being strangely well-mannered. Holly was walking the line between treating him like a human being and a dangerous psychopath, she knew she shouldn't have been. But she hoped, "What- what do you want?"
His eyes left her for a moment to glance to his left without moving his head, he wet his lower lip as they parted with a soft unintelligent noise before he brought his eyes back to her, "To resume your therapy." The soft smile he wore after saying that made her heart sink.
"I might have said yes to that if your cosplay kink did not make me wholly uncomfortable." The cuffing to the radiator only reinforced this image she had of him.
She watched him stare at her for a short moment, followed by his eyes flicking to the right as if something was there. He blinked with a small roll of those hues while standing from the chair towards the table. He returned to the chair with the burlap mask in his hand, "You mean this?"
Holly felt like if she insulted it again she might be subject to a very not-so-nice Jonathan anymore.
"Does it frighten you?" He was displaying it in one hand while the other gestured to it and he had leaned in just a little.
"… If I say yes will you put it on?"
His soft smile grew into a sly one, he was very aware she did not enjoy his current facial expression, "It doesn't scare you, does it? Tell me Kingsley, what was it you saw that night that caused your syncope episode?" She was once again silent, her brows faintly knitted together. He did know that most hardly understand medical terminology, it was simply a habit he would have to curve around her if he required a reply, "Caused you to faint."
Holly looked away from him, taking a moment before replying, "I don't remember."
"It will not bode well for you to lie to me."
As she brought her eyes back to him he had crossed a leg again and was rubbing his thumb over the burlap mask which now rested in both hands on his lap. He was looking at it rather than her.
"If I tell you, will you let me leave?"
He spoke in a phlegmatic manner, "If you do not tell me I shall rip it from your very nightmares as I lace your veins with my toxin." His eyes slowly lifted to her.
Holly swallowed. Her instincts told her that he was serious, "Antlers." Crane rose a single brow at her remark and she clarified, "I saw black antlers growing from your skull and then…" The back of her mind screamed at her to stop, overwhelming dread crept up her spine and the room smelled like candy for a moment, "… and then," she could honestly not recall, "I don't know. Darkness? I woke up as your mass terrorism was still happening in the narrows."
"What kind of antlers?"
"Uh… they were short and still getting larger, but I think elk antlers."
He seemed a little confused as if making his mind up if she was lying to him or not. Taking this new information the man stood once again, "You should drink that water." His hand gestured to the cup lazily as he walked away. Setting his mask back upon the table he picked up another object. Her cell phone. He was scrolling through something on it. With the phone still in hand he picked up the recorder and brought it to his mouth so he could be heard clearly by the microphone, "Subject's hoplophobia may be a result of other fears; return to generalized ligyophobia hypotheses…"
"You know if you called me a patient instead of a subject, I might be more inclined to feel at ease."
He ignored her, "…and explore the possibility of keraphobia stemming from elafiphobia, account given of visual distortion during first exposure: Antlers." Jonathan clicked the recorder off setting it down. However, he continued to look at her phone, his thumb tapping on the screen a couple of times before setting that face down. Everything he did from the moment she woke held a lack of urgency to it. Wherever she was it would likely not matter how loudly she screamed, it would not matter if he had her phone on or not because no one would be looking for her. Holly felt alone suddenly. There was Tony but he knew she often got busy and besides her visits, they never spoke. There was Salvatore and as royally pissed as he might be he'd just send a hit on her rather than really look.
The woman had no one else. It made her feel utterly defeated and that realization made her slump against the radiator. She was alone – just like she'd always been. Just floating along and just enough to fit in never making real ties. Her uncuffed hand finally took the water and sipped from it. He was right, she had been parched. Slowly at first and then she just tipped her head back chugging the liquid down until there was no more.
"Have you finally concluded that you're not leaving?" Her head nodded, "Good. Now will I have your cooperation, or do you still require the cuffs?" She held out her wrist as best she could as if to ask him to unlock it, "Oh no, not yet. Not until the effects of that kick in." He pointed to the cup she just chugged from.
Holly threw the cup at him as hard as she could. She fucking knew it had something in it. That little sip he took must not have been enough to do anything to him. Jonathan dodged the flying cup with a graceful lean of his upper half, "Now, now. No need for that. As much as I'd have liked to gas you again and marvel at how you manage to force yourself into an unconscious state," That's why her head felt like soup – the man had sprayed her with toxin when they got into the car, "my canister is currently empty and my little safehouse here seems to have been raided by lowlife scum looking for drugs and other electronics to sell. So, I've given you a benzodiazepine they overlooked instead. Cannot have you making a fuss along the way."
Casually Jonathan went back to humming his tune under his breath, picking up the cup to slowly refill it with tap water and wash it out for use. He was feeling a bit thirsty himself. Holly found herself slipping into drug-induced sedation and being pacified by a voice like honey-in-milk faintly singing.
A/N - The tune I envisioned Jonathan humming: Patient is the Night (feat. Chris Isaak) By Over the Garden Wall, The Blasting Company, & Chris Isaak.
