adiva_calandia (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
adiva_calandia) wrote2007-01-27 08:55 pm
adiva_calandia) wrote2007-01-27 08:55 pm
(no subject)
Or, Shu Guang as it could have been. Um. Nobody kill me.
Time stops making sense very quickly when you're blindfolded.
They removed the dirty piece of fabric the first time they questioned her, and in desperation, she'd met the gaze of the man in the front of her and blurted out ten words that made him stiffen and fall, unconcious. Someone next to her had let out a snarled "Yāonǚ!" and clubbed her with the butt of his gun.
They don't take the blindfold off anymore.
She tells them that her name is Nita Callahan, she's fifteen years old, other Americans know where she is, she doesn't know anything about Jack Bauer's target, she doesn't know anything about the American government, she was here to rescue Bauer and that's all. She refuses to tell them who the others with her were, or how they got here, or how she knocked that man out. They don't believe her. They slap her, kick her, deny her food or sleep, but she won't say anything more.
She tries not to break down, but she feels tears sliding down her cheeks sometimes.
When they find the hemp rope around her wrists almost completely unraveled, they replace it with something synthetic, and it's all Nita can do to keep from crying at the hours of whispered work undone. When the new rope starts coming unraveled too, they search her for tools and finally decide to keep her drugged. No one can loosen their bonds when they can't think in a straight line, she hears them tell each other. Unfortunately, they're right. The syllables of the Speech squirm around her head and won't sit still for her to use them.
Whatever they inject into her arms loosens her tongue as well as disorienting her, and she starts to babble about someone named Ishamael, and Kit, about magic and the reassurances the air is whispering to her, the apologies from the concrete walls. The soldiers swear under their breath that it's just gŏu pì, useless crazy-talk. Nita hears them and laughs, bitterly, until one of them yells for her to shut up and backhands her.
In Milliways and New York, two days have passed.
Five days have passed in China.
Nita keeps going over and over the last thing she said to Sharpe. Get Jack back to Milliways. I have to see if anyone else was hurt by the explosion. Don't worry -- I'll be back in half an hour.
Somebody will come. Somebody has to come. Jack or Kit or Kim, Moiraine, Merriman, somebody.
She refuses to break, and she hears soldiers outside discussing killing her to get rid of the nuisance.
Somebody has to come.
Time stops making sense very quickly when you're blindfolded.
They removed the dirty piece of fabric the first time they questioned her, and in desperation, she'd met the gaze of the man in the front of her and blurted out ten words that made him stiffen and fall, unconcious. Someone next to her had let out a snarled "Yāonǚ!" and clubbed her with the butt of his gun.
They don't take the blindfold off anymore.
She tells them that her name is Nita Callahan, she's fifteen years old, other Americans know where she is, she doesn't know anything about Jack Bauer's target, she doesn't know anything about the American government, she was here to rescue Bauer and that's all. She refuses to tell them who the others with her were, or how they got here, or how she knocked that man out. They don't believe her. They slap her, kick her, deny her food or sleep, but she won't say anything more.
She tries not to break down, but she feels tears sliding down her cheeks sometimes.
When they find the hemp rope around her wrists almost completely unraveled, they replace it with something synthetic, and it's all Nita can do to keep from crying at the hours of whispered work undone. When the new rope starts coming unraveled too, they search her for tools and finally decide to keep her drugged. No one can loosen their bonds when they can't think in a straight line, she hears them tell each other. Unfortunately, they're right. The syllables of the Speech squirm around her head and won't sit still for her to use them.
Whatever they inject into her arms loosens her tongue as well as disorienting her, and she starts to babble about someone named Ishamael, and Kit, about magic and the reassurances the air is whispering to her, the apologies from the concrete walls. The soldiers swear under their breath that it's just gŏu pì, useless crazy-talk. Nita hears them and laughs, bitterly, until one of them yells for her to shut up and backhands her.
In Milliways and New York, two days have passed.
Five days have passed in China.
Nita keeps going over and over the last thing she said to Sharpe. Get Jack back to Milliways. I have to see if anyone else was hurt by the explosion. Don't worry -- I'll be back in half an hour.
Somebody will come. Somebody has to come. Jack or Kit or Kim, Moiraine, Merriman, somebody.
She refuses to break, and she hears soldiers outside discussing killing her to get rid of the nuisance.
Somebody has to come.
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Thanks, hon. Now I've got two people in my head going. 'I'LL COME. AND THOSE BITCHES ARE GOING DOWN!!1'
(But it's good writing, anyway!)
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Well done, mind you, but AUGH.
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*passes tea* I kinda want to write a rescue, now, too, because leaving it there is just mean.
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Pretty much.
*wibbles*
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You're still mean. :(
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. . . Yeah, pretty much.
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Just, y'know. Saying.
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Um. OW.
Oh, Nita.
Yes. Yes. You must rescue her. Very good.
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Damn straight somebody will come! EVERYONE will come grab her!
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And just...AUGH FLAIL. So good, damn you.
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Very good, though.
But: AUGH.
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Behrooz-in-head says :(
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*hugs and pets*