Posted 2024-06-02; Beta'd by Eeyorefan12

Bella sat in the small room she'd been escorted to; if she ignored the small barred window, it resembled a dormitory. Instead of books, there was a set of cards, a small ball, and a few pebbles. A toilet and a sink sat in a recessed nook.

"You'll only be here until the roster's done. Then it's recreation and dinner. You can meet the other women then." Garvin, the guard from the sherooz's office, had escorted her here and had locked the door when he left. She knew, because she'd tried to open it several times.

She sat on the bed, stilling the panicked thoughts with a mental rehearsal of what she'd seen and heard of the place so far. Garvin had called it Kolash, though he'd quickly corrected it to The Southern Research Institute.

Bella was concerned he'd been right the first time. Kolash, Carla had explained to her one sunny day in the archive, was an obscure, colloquial term for hell.

Bella shivered. The room was unheated. It wasn't as cold as outside, but it wasn't much warmer. She pulled the bed blanket over herself.

There were four main levels to the building, the top one containing mainly offices, including the sherooz's. The third floor where they were now was where the women were housed and apparently took their meals. Beneath them, staff and soldiers had their residences, and below that were the kitchens, storerooms, and the courtyard—the latter of which the women were permitted to use. The levels below ground, through which she'd been escorted when she'd first arrived, were off limits. Garvin hadn't mentioned them, but she'd gathered what she could with her eyes and ears.

At the south end of the women's floor was a partially enclosed balcony, centered around a rusted floor grate. Even with the mullioned door to the balcony closed, Bella could hear Demia's cries. The livestock were housed nearby then. And if they'd kept Demia—Bella felt her throat close again, thinking of home. "No, stay calm," she told herself, wrapping her arms around her stomach. "Crying won't help." She took a deep breath in and slowly released it, counting to four.

The quiet that had marked rostering was coming to an end. She became aware of quiet grunts and moans which then began to increase in volume. An occasional snarl or yip was punctuated by the clank of metal. She'd already put a name and a memory to the strange gurney she'd seen on the walk to the sherooz, and now she had an acute understanding of at least part of the research being conducted at Kolash—and why it had its name.

— o — 0 — o —

The guard who unlocked her door didn't say anything, merely leaving it ajar. On edge in general, and even more so after listening to the not-so-distant noises, Bella waited until she heard the calm babble of women's voices before emerging from her cell.

She was furthest from the common area, walking almost half the floor length before coming upon the gathering of women. Clad in denim dresses like hers, they gathered around a large urn. As she glanced over the crowd, she was startled by their bare—and unmarked—necks. She touched her choker, making sure it was in place. The women appeared more human than Sabellian, so much so that it was striking.

A tall woman did a double-take at Bella. "Peer at that," she muttered. Approaching, she nodded. "You're new. What do they call you?"

"Bella." Listening to the rough voices, she sensed honorifics didn't have a place here.

The woman grasped Bella's hand, holding it up and peering at her clawless fingers. "Weaver's threads!" She dropped her hand and looked at her face. "Where've they been keeping you?" She eyed Bella's stomach.

"And you are?" Bella asked.

The woman chuckled. "This gashte place will strip the manners right out of you, won't it? I'm Sihana. Come, meet the others."

Quickly, Bella was introduced to the dozen or so women, the last of which barely acknowledged her presence.

"Don't mind Yeta. She dropped a few days ago. She'll be back to herself soon enough."

Almost all the women were visibly pregnant.

Several of the women were rubbing their stomachs or backs, a few their bruised necks, where—

"Bit sore, Jana?" Sihana asked one of the women.

"I'll say," Jana muttered, taking more liquid from the urn. "Have some," she said to Bella. "The mother's tea is always good. I wish I could say the same of the food."

"At least there's a lot of it," another woman said. "You shouldn't complain."

"I suppose I'm used to being fed now." Jana shrugged, looking a little abashed. "Better than most of us have had, hmm?"

Bella accepted a cup of the tea from Sihana, warming her hands and relishing the heat as she sipped it, sitting down in one of the room's chairs. Nearly at term, her eyesight had improved as much as it ever would, and it was enough to see that Jana's neck wasn't just sore—it was bruised several times over in a familiar four-point shape. On her own neck those marks formed a scar.

As Bella and Zuar had traveled north, she'd let herself hope that his answer about their destination had been a lie. The evidence before her pushed away room for both doubt and hope. The women here were being bred—for what exactly she didn't know, but the rumors Edward had relayed and dismissed months ago were her reality now.

Even if the researchers' ultimate purpose was good, and she didn't see how it could be, it involved a secluded military fortress and women kept behind locked doors. Was this why she'd been kidnapped to Aristea in the first place? If she hadn't been rescued upon her arrival and taken in by the Cullens, would this have been her fate all along?

She sat back in the chair, thinking of the rusty grate on the covered porch and Demia's cries.

"They don't always lock our doors at night, do they?" she asked.

— o — 0 — o —

Part of Bella anticipated rescue. It was like an itch—one she knew was unlikely to be scratched. Even so, in the first days at Kolash, she watched and waited, hoping for help and learning the patterns of her keepers. The yellow-and-grey-clad assistants and guards had predictable routines. After a week, the itch faded, replaced by grim resolve. Edward had been badly hurt. He might not be able to come for her, or he and his family had been prevented, either by weather, or lack of a trail, or more political elements. Would the committee permit it? Or the council?

Would Edward care about that?

No, he wouldn't—of that she was certain. But she knew that it would take significant impediments to keep him from trying. He wouldn't be foolish. He could be gathering help and resources, or waiting for the right time.

The right time, Bella suspected, would be when a good number of the building's inhabitants were at rostering. Already, she'd explored the dormitory floor and the atrium where they were allowed to roam fairly freely—though rarely without supervision. The helpers and guards were always nearby. Even so, she'd found a few unobserved minutes in which to explore the covered porch and its grates. The opening led to a passageway near the stabling area. She'd begun hoarding bits of food in a spare pillowcase she'd snatched from the storage room. Also tucked away in her makeshift bag was a dull table knife.

It was predicting rostering that was difficult. The women said it was usually weekly, but to Bella, there didn't appear to be a set schedule.

"Rostering" as the sherooz had politely called it, was a euphemism for an activity conducted in the privacy of the small medical cells. The women called it "clanking", and as Bella sat in her room, listening to the sounds around her, she could see why. The hisses, growls, and eventual groans were accompanied by regular metallic thunks. The metal bed with the protective cage in the center she'd seen on her way in was almost identical to the 'plant stand' she'd seen all those months ago in the Hatzis's conservatory. Edward had explained then how it had been designed to keep the male party from damaging the female during matings—most likely ones that were forced or coerced in some way.

But it was supposed to be obsolete—something shameful from the past.

On the sherooz's orders, she was exempt from this rostering and grateful for it. Still, she couldn't help wondering why even the pregnant women continued to be subjected to sexual activity. It had always been made clear to her that once a woman was seeded and then had conceived, nothing further was required.

Sihana had reacted empathetically to Bella's exclusion. "Your match left or something?" she'd asked.

Not eager to open up that can of worms, Bella had smiled wanly. "Something like that."

As it was, she felt ill, not because of what was happening in the rooms around her, but because a persistent nausea had been building since Edward's initial departure. At first, she'd dismissed it as nerves—who wouldn't? Now, the nausea was a steady companion, that and its close friend dizziness.

She lay in bed, thoughts spinning, wondering how or when she could leave, why the women were here, and why she had been so deliberately excused from the activities they had all been engaging in—apparently willingly. Or maybe they were just resigned.

The door to her room unlocked with a click, anonymous footsteps padding away. They always locked the doors at night and other times when the women were to be in their rooms.

She exhaled, standing carefully and moving towards the little common room where the other women were already gathered.

Sihana waved Bella over to the spot she'd saved. Bella made it without displaying too many signs of dizziness—at least she thought so.

"What's wrong?" Sihana asked.

"What?"

"You look like you're about to fall over."

"Oh." Bella poured herself a cup of tea. "I must be tired."

"You should tell the sherooz."

"Of course." Bella looked around the room, eager for a new topic of conversation. "Where's Yeta?"

"I don't know." Sihana frowned.

Jana walked into the room, quietly murmuring to one of the women and earning a surprised response.

"Really?"

"Oh, well, there you go," Sihana said.

Bella looked at her.

"You didn't hear that?" The Sabellian women found what they called her "poor" hearing fascinating.

Bella shook her head. She was a curiosity to them, but they were kind enough. Her hearing she didn't mind discussing.

"They've taken Yeta to the medical floor. She must be summoning soon. We'll see her when it's all done," Sihana said.

"When what's all done?"

"The birth, obviously."

"We won't be there?" Bella thought of Kira's labor and the way the Cullen women had supported her through it.

"Gods, no. That's best left to the sherooz and his help."

She wondered what that 'help' was, remembering Kira Lycos's delivery. Surely not the sherooz. Would one of the men need to . . . ?

Bella stared at her tea. "What happens after the baby's born?"

"We get sent home. The child—well, we know what we signed up for." Sihana shrugged, the gesture indicating apparent nonchalance.

"Of course." And just what had the women signed up for?

A wave of nausea made Bella set her cup down. The room spun. She focused on breathing, one breath in, one out, repeating the simple act—

"BELLA?"

She looked up, the artificial lights twirling. She closed her eyes. "Yes, Sihana?"

"I've called your name three times."

"I'm—I'm just a bit dizzy."

"Jana, tell them to get the sherooz—"

"No, no! I'm fine."

They ignored her, and she decided to ignore them, closing her eyes. She must have fallen asleep, because she woke to people lifting her onto a stretcher. She dozed again, coming to a few times as they jolted down the hall and stairs. Finally, she blinked awake to find herself in the sherooz's office.

"You look very pale, Miss Swan," the sherooz said.

Back to Miss Swan. She looked around the room, which was difficult, given her prone position. There was a flicker of yellow in the corner. They weren't alone.

"I'm feeling better now," she said.

The sherooz might be trustworthy, but clearly he had little say in what happened in the building. The less attention people paid to her, the better.

The yellow-jacketed attendant muttered something into his radio.

"I'll be fine," the sherooz said.

Bella, facing away from the door, listened to it open and close, watching the sherooz's expression move from neutral to concerned.

"Are you experiencing both nausea and dizziness?" He nearly whispered, wrapping the blood pressure cuff around her arm.

Bella nodded.

Briefly—almost so that she thought she might have imagined it, there was a flash of excitement in his features, the kind Bella had seen in the eyes of colleagues with a new piece of historical evidence. She was human, after all. Perhaps she was that to him: a unique specimen. His professional mask settled back in place, he gave a nod, stethoscope to her arm, then pulled off the cuff. After listening to the baby's heartbeat, he paused, his gaze on the door. "Very likely it's mate sickness," he finally whispered.

Mate sickness. The term was familiar. She recalled the thin volume Carla had accidentally left in her basket of readings.

"An old term," the sherooz said, smiling apologetically. "Mating creates a minor but mutual chemical reliance, and while most Sabellians will tolerate a separation with slight discomfort, the negative effects are much more pronounced in humans."

That meant Edward would be feeling their separation too. "How is that treated?"

"Typically, by intimacy with one's mate."

"And if I'm being kept from my mate?"

"With a donor."

She thought of the metal beds in the little rooms and shook her head. "No."

The sherooz's nod indicated he'd expected as much. "It may resolve on its own, but . . . if it doesn't, the outcomes can be . . . quite poor."

She pushed herself upright, swinging her legs over the side of the gurney. The dizziness had abated, but not the nausea. "How poor?"

"Complications during delivery. Given how close you are to term, I suspect you'll likely only experience symptomatic discomfort, but if things worsen at all, you must tell me."

Her heart sank. Clearly, the sherooz expected her to deliver here. Did that mean he wouldn't be able to help after all? "Fine."

"I'm quite serious." He lowered his voice. "Having you be unwell . . . will serve no good end."

He was right. She couldn't leave without help, and at this point, he was her only lifeline. She nodded. Glancing around, she reached for the scrip in his hand, and he handed it to her, along with the stylus.

Have you been able to reach anyone? she wrote. Do you know if my husband and his mother are alright?

When she handed back the scrip, the sherooz glanced at her questions before quickly erasing them. He looked back up at her and shook his head.

"No word yet," he murmured under his breath. "But I promise I'm doing what I can to help you."

— o — 0 — o —

Oddly, the day after Bella's visit to the sherooz, her symptoms disappeared, so much so that she was able to make use of the mild chaos caused by the other womens' visit to Yeta and explore the enclosed porch. The grate there was one she could lift.

In fact, Bella felt so good, it was slightly disconcerting. Her energy returned. The dizziness and nausea disappeared, and she ate with renewed hunger.

Later, she visited the atrium with the others, not even needing her regular extra blanket against the cold. It startled her slightly to actually laugh at one of their jokes.

She was just as annoyed as everyone else to be unexpectedly rushed away from the fresh air and sunshine.

As one, the banished women crowded around the third floor's upstairs balcony, watching as the colonel came into view several levels below, walking with—

Bella barely held in her gasp.

The two men spoke in low tones, too low for even the women around her to hear.

But one figure below was unmistakable. His silver hair, beard, bearing—and his distinctive cane.

Mr. Othonos?

Had he come to bargain for her release? Why wasn't Edward with him?

The two men stopped briefly, the colonel gesturing around him and then up, where Mr. Othonos looked directly at her.

Bella held her breath, staring at him.

He showed no sign of recognition, though his gaze continued to trace over the assembly of women. Could he not see her?

No, that was ridiculous. If she could see him, surely he'd be able to see and recognize her. Wouldn't he?

The first needle of doubt pierced her heart. If he was here—and not to help her—what did it mean?

He'd gone to help make peace with the Kaethe, and even though he couldn't help Esme officially, he hadn't warned the council about her plans to rescue Edward. He'd helped the Cullens in every way he could, hadn't he?

Was he unable to help her? Tied by edicts? She thought of the council and its deliberations. Or had he come to spy under the guise of diplomacy?

She dismissed the idea as farfetched. Whatever his reasons, Mr. Othonos couldn't acknowledge her right now. And that meant she couldn't count on him.

Mr. Othonos and the Colonel disappeared out of sight.

Rattled, Bella moved through the motions of her day, joining the other women as they played cards, even going with them to visit Yeta again.

The new mother looked much improved from when Bella had first seen her. Smiling and talking, she nursed her healthy-sized and very Sabellian-looking infant. Bella watched the tiny claws dig into Yeta's breast.

Eyeing them, Bella wondered if the baby was why she was feeling so well—was this the nima? Was she feeling what Yeta's daughter was?

"She's doing really well." Yeta smiled softly.

"She looks it. What's her name?" Bella asked.

As one, the other women stared at her, some incredulously.

Yeta averted her gaze. "Well, she isn't mine to name, so . . ." She gave a shrug, and Bella recognized the gesture as the one all the women used when discussing their prospective infants.

Either because she'd deliberately denied what was so obviously before her, or because her mind had protectively shut out the truth, Bella had to close her mouth and breathe a few times before she could speak again. She put a hand to her stomach. "I know. I just thought you must have thought of something. Never mind."

Some of the looks around her softened, but several hardened, a few women turning away.

"Audri," Yeta whispered.

Still numb, Bella nodded.

Over the next couple of days, they visited Yeta twice. On the third day, Bella woke feeling like something was missing. When she asked one of the guards to escort her to the medical floor, the man shook his head. "She's already gone home."

"And the baby?" Bella asked.

The man stared at her briefly and then turned and walked away.

— o — 0 — o —

When Bella woke the next day, it felt like someone had covered her with a lead blanket. Shifting, she realized that the weight came from her limbs. It was an effort simply to move. Even thinking was taxing. It was like struggling to come up for air, only she could breathe just fine. Like—

"The drop," she whispered to herself.

As she walked to the common area, she monitored her movement. It seemed normal, but as soon as the other women saw her, they gave quiet, sympathetic murmurs.

"Not long now," Sihana said. She rubbed Bella's back.

No, it wouldn't be, Bella thought, gritting her teeth. Her skin prickled, as if itching. It was an itch she intended to scratch this time. There might be no one coming to rescue her, and she might be more unsafe out in the elements than she would be here, but no one was taking her child from her.

That night as she lay in bed, she listened for the sound of the last guard's footsteps. After an hour, she struggled upright and gathered her pillowcase, pulling out the little knife and sliding it into the door frame's wooden bolt slot. Every movement was an effort, every intention carried out with the grim determination that had settled over her in the last days. The lock slot was well whittled down, the result of her quiet scrapings during the loudest hours of the day. There was the slightest crunch as Bella snapped off the last of the wood holding the lock in place, quietly pulling the door inwards and stepping into the hall. With her pillowcase tied around one shoulder, she padded towards the balcony.