by K Alexander
"Don't move them too much, okay? I don't think the plasters will hold."
"All right. Thanks." Ryan is thanking her for more than the poor first-aid, and she smiles as she starts the SUV.
"Sure. Where are we going?"
"White Sulphur Springs."
------
On the way Claire puts on the radio and chats to Ryan about everything and nothing, trying to keep her awake and alert even though the soldier assures her more than once that she is fine. Though she is doing most of the talking, she does garner some interesting facts from the woman's short replies, like that Ryan plays classical guitar and that she used to present martial arts and self-defense classes at the local gym. Her own conversation is light and touches on her family and upbringing, and though the soldier seems inattentive and vague she is sure that Ryan is hearing every word and paying close attention.
As they drive into White Sulphur Springs Ryan sits forward and pulls a folded piece of paper from her pocket, unfolding it to read a section with a concentrated frown. At the first telephone booth she asks Claire to pull over and gets out, not even bothering to lock the door. The doctor watches her as she struggles to get a coin from her pocket with her damaged hands and slips it into the slot, speaking for barely a minute before she hangs up and gets back into the car. She gives Claire directions and they pass through the CBD, turning into a street opposite a meadow. There is a large white structure on their left and Ryan instructs Claire to pull into the parking lot, opening her door as the SUV stops and reaching into the bag momentarily.
"We're going in here."
"All right." Claire gets out and locks the door, then joins Ryan as they approach the building. A sign on the gabled roof says "The White House Center", and it appears to be a long strip of medical specialist rooms. Ryan passes the first and the second, and then walks into the third door. Casting a glance at the bronze plate (A. Chavez / P. D. Wentworth) she enters. Ryan is standing at a small reception area in the empty basic waiting room, speaking to the receptionist quietly. When Claire approaches she hears the last part of the blonde overly made-up woman behind the desk.
"… afraid we do have a policy with regards to walk-ins, you know."
"I understand that." Ryan's voice is calm and Claire can't figure out how the woman can be looking straight at the soldier's ashen face and not ease up. "But I do have to see doctor Chavez immediately. It's an emergency."
"I appreciate that, but I can't just… "
Interrupting smoothly and forcefully Claire steps forward. "Excuse me, and you are?"
Flustered, the receptionist blinks furiously. "Miss Rhoda van…"
"All right, Rhoda. We are accordingly aware of your policy… " and as she speaks she reaches for Ryan's left hand and begins to unwind it, "but the fact is that we do have a medical emergency... " when she has the lacerated hand unwrapped she casually drops the bloody bandage on Rhoda's table, ignoring the woman's sudden shift backwards, and pulls Ryan closer. Without needing prompting the soldier carelessly drapes her gruesome limb over the edge of the desk, "… and we would really appreciate your assistance on this."
With her eyes fixed on the ugly gaping cuts over the knuckles Rhoda gets up so fast that her chair skids backwards. Trying to maintain some sort of dignity she pulls down the front of her jacket gravely before she nods. "All right. I'll tell doctor Chavez you're here." When she appears around a corner on the right to an unseen door Ryan turns her head and studies Claire with a small grin.
"You're wicked, doctor Walsch. That was first-rate."
Claire smiles and shrugs cockily. "I'm used to snotty admin staff. What now?"
"Now we wait."
8.
It is five minutes before Rhoda reappears, and to Ryan's skilled observation it seems as though her lipstick is a slightly different shade. Sitting down at the desk she fluffs her hair before she sticks a pencil under the gory bandage and discards it in her bin pointedly.
"Doctor Chavez will see you now."
"Thank you." Getting up they step around the corner and approach the open door. When Ryan walks in and the large swarthy man behind the desk sees her face he rises quickly, his eyes wide, but before he can say anything Ryan catapults over the desk and smashes her fist right into his face. His head snaps backwards, forcing him back onto his chair, and even as he raises his hands to his face to cradle it his black eyes are wily above them. Ryan checks to see that the door is closed before she sits down in the seat next to Claire, her tone conversational.
"Hello, doctor. I didn't recognize the name, but I do recognize the face. Were you expecting me?"
"No." He carefully prods his jaw, rolling it around slowly before he lowers his hands. Before they can touch his desk Ryan's right hand is up, Victor's pistol pointed at his face.
"Don't."
"I wasn't going to do anything." He sneers at her. "I would be stupid to hide a gun in here."
"I couldn't presume to guess at the level of your stupidity, but just in case … " she gets up to stand behind him, "open the drawers. Let's check together."
He pulls open each drawer and she runs a quick hand through them, assuring herself of the contents before she slips back into her seat.
"So. Chavez. Let's have a quick talk."
"You really can't make me." He tilts his chin up arrogantly. "What, are you going to shoot me? That'll help."
"I can do worse things than that." Smiling unpleasantly Ryan cocks her head at him. "But I forget. You know about that."
"What?" With narrowed eyes he sits forward and stares at her. "What are you talking about?"
"You know what experience I have with getting information out of people, Chavez. I heard you making comments on that once or twice. A subject you seem to like."
"Impossible. You were always unconscious when I came in."
"Sometimes." Her smile is ferocious. "If I were you I'd rethink the dosages on somebody like me. But let's not split hairs. You know I'll do whatever I have to, to get what I want. Make it easy on yourself."
The man's deep-set black eyes are vicious as he looks at her. "I hope they kill you slowly when they find you."
"I'll be sure to write and let you know." She glances around the room. "Get your suturing equipment. You may as well be useful while you talk."
"What a set of balls you have, letting me near you with a sharp object right after you threaten to torture me." He doesn't move from his seat. Getting up Ryan walks around the table and sits down on the edge of it.
"Are you left- or right-handed, doctor?"
"Right. What's the… " He jerks back as she suddenly reaches forward and grasps his left hand with hers. "No, don't, wait… "
"Oh. You still want it?" Dropping it in his lap she gets up. "Get your kit, Chavez. I'm waiting."
He shuffles around like an overgrown sulky child, his lower lip pouting slightly as he gathers what he needs. Taking Claire by the arm firmly Ryan moves her from her chair.
"Sit here."
When the swarthy doctor sits down Ryan pulls the other chair closer to him and grasps the pistol in her left hand, pointing it straight at his face. With a resentful glare he begins to unwrap the bandage around her right hand, taking off the plasters and grinning slightly as he spies the extent of the damage. When he reaches for the syringe she shakes her head.
"No. I have no idea what you've put in that. Leave it."
"It's local anesthetic, but suit yourself. I'll enjoy this."
Claire sits in his chair as he works, and she can see from his vigorous motions and Ryan's unflinching face that he is as rough as he can possibly be. While he is cleaning up the gashes she prods his forehead with the barrel of the gun.
"Tell me about DEX."
"I don't appreciate that gun in my face."
"I don't appreciate your face in my gun. Tell me about DEX."
He picks up the curved needle. "Who told you about that?"
Losing her temper she snatches the needle from his hand and drives
it into his thigh. "I don't want to play games with you, asshole. No questions. You just answer what I ask." Smacking away his hand as he tries to reach for the protruding object she glares into his dark eyes. "Okay?"
"Okay! Okay!" He bares his teeth, his eyes filling with tears from the pain. "I get it."
"Good. Now get another one of these. I don't want your blood near me." She waits until he is back with a clean needle. "DEX."
When he drives the hook into her flesh he looks up, expecting to see a flinch, but her face is expressionless. With a sneer he begins to suture the first wound. "DEX05, actually. No idea what it stands for, something electronic and boring." He scrapes the needle against the open bone on her knuckle. "Sorry. I don't know the whys or whens, all I know is what I was supposed to go in and do ..."
"Start by telling me what DEX is."
"In layman's terms, a miniature electronic transmitter and receiver, meant to send electronic signals interpretable by a neural system."
If Ryan is startled by his answer she doesn't show it, but Claire frowns and sits forward on her seat, her blue eyes confused. The soldier clenches her jaw as the doctor roughly finished the first wound and starts on the second, jabbing the needle into her bone almost immediately. When she speaks her voice is level.
"What were you doing at Fairwater?"
"I came in to test your neural responses periodically. We weren't sure where the problem was ..."
"What problem?"
He looks up, his eyes sadistic. "You, mainly. I told them it'd be faster to just eliminate you altogether, but no."
"Let's keep the personal comments to a minimum - your opinion is irrelevant."
"Whatever. There seemed to be a problem with the signal, or your reception of it. Scrambled messages and violent behavior under unacceptable circumstances, and some of the functions seemed to be interfering with your nervous system. Those kinds of things."
"Who was in charge of this?"
"The project?" He gives her a cocky glance. "Yeah, that's what you are- a project. The main guy was General George Turner."
He jabs the needle into her hand too deep and this time she smacks his jaw with the barrel of the gun. "Don't keep doing that."
"Sorry." Jerking his head away he continues his work. When Ryan looks at Claire the blonde doctor is sitting on the edge of the seat, her eyes puzzled as she leans over the table. Shrugging slightly Ryan prods him again.
"Was this an US army project?"
"No. Separate faction." He begins on the third gash. "Not sure how much the army had to do with it."
"What was the function of the DEX?"
"I told you that already."
"Practical application."
"In your case, receiving commands in the field, tactical advice, tracking, that kind of thing."
"Tracking?" For the first time her voice is louder than usual. Chavez looks up.
"Yeah. Tracking. Following your movements. Tracing your location. That's the part that seems to be screwing with your nervous system."
"Where is this thing now?"
"What thing?" He finishes suturing the last big gash and clips off the thread. "DEX? You want to know where DEX is now?" She sits back as he begins to laugh rudely. "That's rich! You… "
Suddenly Ryan shifts closer to him, right up against him, and though Claire can't see her hands between the two of them she can see Chavez's face as his laughter cuts off mid-stream and his dark eyes widen and begin to bug out. Ryan's face is so close to his that he can see the dark rings around her bright irises before she leans in and hisses in his ear.
"It took them an electronic current and many very long needles to even come close to breaking my spirit. It took me one little needle to break your silence, and it will take me one twist of the wrist to break the rest of you. Do you want to do this like civilized people, or would you like some practical experience for your next conversation?"
He nods quickly and anxiously, and Ryan shifts against him once more, her motion eliciting a slight moan from him before she sits back and lifts her left hand, the pistol now securely in the other.
"I got blood on your shirt. Sorry. You were telling me about DEX."
Morosely he takes the needle and begins to sew up the gashes in her left hand. "DEX. It's in your head."
"What?" She jerks upright and he stabs the needle deep into the muscle by accident, but she doesn't seem to notice. Pulling it out, he takes a deep breath and begins again.
"It's a miniature electronic disk planted in your head. Behind your ear on the right side."
She lifts her hand slowly as if to touch her head, then, realizing that she still has the gun clasped in it, she lowers it slowly again. "Who put it there? When?"
"Turner, at that Somalia affair."
"Who sends the commands?"
"I don't know that." Chaves starts on the second laceration. "When we were there working on you Turner was in control of that, too."
"How do they come through?"
He grins at her. "You know that, Ryan. A signal that goes directly to your inner ear. Or as you would call it, the voice of God."
Her hand is clenching around the hilt of the gun. "How deep is this thing?"
"About half an inch, maybe a little less."
When Ryan turns her head to look at Claire the anguish in the green eyes is devastating. She gets up and approaches the soldier, her face concerned, but Ryan shakes her head. "Please go and make sure that Rhoda's still as blank as usual." As the blonde walks out Ryan catches the black glance Chavez shoots her. "Hey. I call it like I see it. I would have said something worse if there hadn't been a lady in the room."
"A lady, huh?" He begins the next suturing with a vicious jab to her hand.
"Yeah. You probably don't know what they look like. As far as I can see you prefer the smutty kind."
"Last I heard you did, too." He smirks. "Quite the legend."
Claire, coming in on the last exchange, raises her eyebrows and leans against the table behind Ryan. The soldier doesn't appear to notice her.
"Can you take it out?"
"I'm assuming you mean DEX." He finishes the last of the sutures and takes a critical look at her hand. "That should do. Just don't move them too much - you'll tear it. Or actually, do. It'll hurt and I'll like the thought of that. Yeah, I could probably take it out, but it would be better if that were done in … "
"Fine. Let's do it." She waves him out of the seat with the gun. "Give me something to wrap my hands with, and then you get together what you need."
He tosses a roll of sterile bandage on the table and Claire picks them up, approaching Ryan. "Sit down." Her voice is soft. When the soldier complies she begins to unroll the white bandage expertly around her hands, tying them off tightly and maneuvering the large hands gently to make sure that they're bandaged tightly enough. "That should be fine. Be careful with them, please."
"Thanks." Ryan flexes them in turn before she leans closer and speaks, her breath warm against Claire's cheek. "Do you know how to shoot?"
"I do." At the woman's piercing stare she nods firmly. "I really do. I took some lessons… "
The rest of the sentence is unsaid but Ryan understands her. Nodding, the soldier holds out the gun handle first. When Claire grasps it uncertainly she wraps her hands around the blonde's grip, her eyes intense. "If he's going to be cutting into my head I can't keep an eye on him. I'm giving you the gun, Claire, and I want you to keep him in line until he's taken that thing out of my head. Please." Her hoarse voice is beseeching. "If you want to shoot me afterwards, then go ahead, but just let him get that thing out first. Please."
"All right." When Claire nods Ryan gets up and watches the doctor with her vivid eyes until he pulls his instrument tray closer and indicates the bed. Sitting down on it she wraps her hand in his shirt and pulls him closer.
"I've told her to shoot you if you do anything you shouldn't. Do you understand?"
"Yeah."
"And no injections." U
nwrapping her hand from his shirt she rolls over onto her stomach. "Get going."
Claire moves so that his body isn't blocking her view, but grimaces as she begins to comprehend what he will be doing. He wipes the area just under her right ear thoroughly before he grasps the scalpel. "Don't jerk." When he begins to cut into her she is motionless. Behind him Claire closes her eyes for a moment against the sight of the blood welling up, and then moves again so that his body is once again blocking her view. When he glances backwards at her she lifts the barrel and cocks her head. With a grin he continues, speaking to her as he does so.
