The Hard Road to Truth (TaliesinxLady Alainn)

Darren went limp with relief as it seemed he would not be subjected to anything else. Aside from the cleaning up. He honestly couldn't say whether they were trying to be gentle or not because every touch no matter how light seemed to burn. He had no strength to try and carry himself back to the cell, as painful as it was to have hands holding him firmly and dragging on the floor. When they dropped him on his cot he cried out softly in pain and simply laid miserably where he had been put. He was hanging about a 1/3rd off the cot (mostly his legs) and didn't really care at the moment. In fact he was thinking about summoning up the energy needed to inch himself over until he slid to the floor when she entered the cell. He cracked an eye open an the sound of walking, taking in who it was and cringing inward on himself and hiding his face before he even registered the blanket. It was the only thing he had the energy to do and his first reaction was simply fear that she was going to change her mind and have him dragged out yet again.

When the panic died down a little and he realized what she was holding he couldn't quite believe it and gave her a wary look before closing his eyes again and pressing his face into the still cool mattress, too worn to resist whatever may come. Maybe if he didn't hurt so much and wasn't so tired he'd be able to think, but that this point he was just reacting. He took a deeper breath that sounded a bit wheezy and thought vaguely that it probably shouldn't sound like that.
 
Myleen winced at the cough. It did not sound good at all. Keeping her countenance as professional as possible, she leaned over and set the blanket on the cot by his head. "Do you want the rest of you on the bed or on the floor?" Her question came out a little too sharply but if he truly was just an animal, the tone wouldn't make any difference at all.
 
Darren's breathing increased slightly as she approached and he once again tried and failed to gather enough energy to scoot towards the wall. As could be expected he heard the tone before the words and flinched. He was slow to respond to her words as he forced himself to calm down. "F-floor." He finally muttered. "S'colder." He added in a tired, slurred mumble. He was all for cooler right now. His skin felt like it was on fire.
 
His reaction was not lost on her, but she would process this new light later. Right now she had a job to do---make her captive as comfortable as possible to see if he was still broken tomorrow. Dropping to her knees by the cot, Myleen tucked one arm under his shoulders, the other under his waist. "Move your legs." It wasn't a command or a snapped order, it was merely a statement. As gently as she could, she maneuvered herself with his body to edge him off the bed and onto the cool concrete. She helped straighten his legs, touching him as little as she could, so that as much of his body as possible pressed against the cool surface. After he was situated, she plucked the blanket off the bed and tucked it under his head.

"Get some sleep. I'll have Harry bring you water and maybe a little fruit. I'll see you in 24 hours."

Without another word or look at Darren, Myleen rocked back onto her heels and stood up. She scooped up the old blanket, knocked on the door, and then was gone.
 
Darren's eyes fluttered shut as soon as she turned away and he pressed into the floor with a relieved sigh. As wonderful as the cool floor was he had been very nervous around her, even while she was helping him. Once she was gone he could relax as much as was possible considering his condition. He couldn't seem to unwind the knot of anxiety in his stomach. Logic told him that they would probably stop now but he couldn't be sure she wouldn't come back and do it again. And so he laid there for almost another hour before he managed to drop off past the pain and anxiety.

He slept like the dead after that. There were signs that people had come in at least once while he had been out and he had not stirred at all. He had been asleep for what was probably a solid 12 hours and when he saw the cup of water on the floor in front of him he grabbed it and gulped it all down. He felt his stomach roil a bit in protest but he didn't care. The cool water was wonderful and he realized now it had been...2 days? since he had had anything else to drink.

Once the water settled a bit he leaned back against the cot and stared blankly at the wall, trying not to think too much though that was all he had to do at the moment. Thinking was scary though. Everything was really scary at the moment and he was starting to think a bit more seriously this time that death might be preferable to being locked up in here like this, burning up and not so slowly loosing the battle to hold onto himself. It's not like his life was going anywhere anyway. Without the basic thoughts of survival to fuel him he realized just how very unimpressive his existence had been since his parents had disappeared. He pressed his eyes closed against the stinging of tears, feeling them trickle down and make new tracks in his sweaty face. He tried to pull his knees up so he could rest his head on them but all the contact hurt too much and his skin was all to hot. Vaguely, he realized while all that shocking may not have stopped his heart, it certainly messed up a lot of his other systems. The slight wheezing sound he had been ignoring up until now was him and while it was hard to tell when the rest of his skin was on fire, but he was fairly sure he was running a fever too.

Oddly enough, he chuckled painfully at that until he was taken by a coughing fit. "I can only hope..." He murmured to himself. Perhaps the problem of his existence would take care of itself.
 
After leaving her guest, Agent Smithers headed up the many levels of the building to her office. She had a mound of paperwork to catch up on-- detailed forms about the prisoner, status reports, expense reports, inventory lists-- she was not looking forward to the long hours ahead of her. Thank goodness tomorrow was Sunday. Though government agents technically never stopped working, nothing was required of Myleen on her one day of rest a week. She had fought long and hard to have the right to take the day off if she chose and because of her religious background and excellent work ethic she had eventually won. A smirk played about her lips as she set the coffee pot in her office to percolating. Even if she did want to practice her religion, she couldn't. The Amish didn't take too kindly to their young folk leaving the community. The coffee brewed and steaming in a mug, she set it down on her desk and pulled on her sweats and hoodie before turning on her computer to tackle the waiting forms.

Time elapsed. Myleen paused every now and again to stand up and stretch. Once she got up to lower the blinds on the window and turn on the desk lamp. Another time to refill her coffee cup. She did not leave her office until her eyes flickered open some hours later from an unscheduled nap. Her muscles complained of their cramped position. A walk sounded wonderful. Perhaps she should check on Darren to see if he had been given his water. On second thought, perhaps she should fill a pitcher and leave it with him. This was more agreeable to her and she padded downstairs into the small cafeteria to raid a tall glass pitcher from their stash. Filling it with fresh water, she balanced it firmly in her hands and brought it down to the maximum security ward where a wracking cough greeted her upon her arrival.

"That doesn't sound good," she mused as Harry unlocked the door for her.

"He's been doing that a bit," Harry responded with a curious look at her apparel.

"Hm... fetch the doctor. We can't have him getting sick and dying on us, can we?"

Harry nodded and closed her inside the cell before sauntering off to find the prison doctor. Myleen sat down on the floor in the little bit of space between Darren and the door and refilled his cup with water. His face looked flushed. She frowned. "Did they bring you anything to eat?" she asked.
 
Inwardly, Darren sighed at the conversation as she entered the room. It seemed that she had meant what she said earlier and she intended to keep him in this place.

He cracked an eye open as she came in, becoming a little more animated as he saw that she came with water. Wishes of dying forgotten he once again snatched the cup up and gulped it down only slightly slower than he had when he had first encountered it. The icy trail down his chest and into his stomach felt wonderful and he automatically held the glass out for more. His eyes were slightly glazed with the fever but he seemed to be doing his best to sound coherent as he spoke. "No. Just the cup of water." Now that he thought about it, food wouldn't be bad either, but water had been so much more pressing in his feverish mind. Typically, there was a rather vicious growling from his stomach and he tilted his head inquisitively. "I wonder if it's been doing that all this time..." He said in a dazed curious tone.
 
Myleen poured him another glass then set the pitcher down beside her. She reached over and felt his forehead with the cool surface of the back of her hand and yanked it back in surprise at the heat. "You're burning!" The concerned words tumbled out of her mouth before she even realized they were present in her thoughts. Vaguely she wondered if this was a little magic trick and instantly regretted not transferring her anti-magic accessories to her sweats pockets. She was completely unprotected. But perhaps... Darren's glassy eyes seemed too realistic to be a trick. If he was ill....

"Do elves eat chicken?" she asked.
 
"Well yes." Darren responded rather placidly to her worry over his fever. He had been shocked for who knew how long yesterday, his whole body was burning up. He didn't know why she was making such a big deal over his head.

"Huh?" His look of confusion deepened at her question and he looked at her as if she had asked if the sky was blue or something. "Not if we can avoid it." He paused for a moment and added, quietly and looking a little sad, "Or at least I don't and my parents didn't..." He had been fairly young when his parents had been exiled from their court. He wasn't the most knowledgeable of his own kind.
 
"Thought as much." Myleen frowned, her mind racing through other foods that might lessen a fever. Oranges? Melon? The cell door squeaked open to admit the burly prison doctor. His short-sleeve shirt showed off a plethora of tattoos printed on his muscular forearms and even his bald head showcased a rather large tattoo of a mermaid. Though he appeared more like a bouncer, his friendly smile suggested he had bedside manners enough to be a physician.

"So this is the dying prisoner, is it?" he chuckled. Myleen's brow rose questioningly at Harry. He shrugged his shoulders and locked the three inside the small space. The doctor grunted as he squatted next to Darren and proceeded to unpack a stethoscope and a digital thermometer from his bag. Myleen watched curiously as he worked.

"Open your mouth for me and hold up your tongue, son. There we go. Close your mouth now. I'm going to unbutton your shirt to check you out. It'll be cold, but with as fried as your skin is, I bet it'll feel good," the doctor kept up the conversational tone as he hung the stethoscope around his neck and leaned in to listen to the elf's heart. "You're all right there." He removed the thermometer and whistled softly at the reading. "You've got a good fever there, son. Let's listen to your lungs now, eh?" The stethoscope travelled over the elf's stomach and chest as the doctor had him breathe.

"Well?" Myleen asked, trying to keep her eyes from travelling over Darren's chest along with the stethoscope.

"It's nothing too serious," the doctor concluded. "Elves don't have as strong a body as humans do and a good thing, too. If they had their magic and strength, well, we would be the ones sitting in a cage right now." He patted Darren on the shoulder. "You'll be right as rain by tomorrow evening, I'll wager. He needs liquids mostly, can you get an IV drip in here? No? Then make sure he drinks at least 8 ounces of water every half hour for the next 6 hours. I'll leave a bottle of medication with you. I want you to add one, and only one, drop into each glass. And if he's scheduled for more sessions any time soon, lower the amount of physical affliction by a third, ok? His body is still figuring out what to do with itself. And get him something to eat, too! His stomach is growling enough to be mistaken for a lion."

Myleen stood up with the doctor and leaned in to whisper, "I take it he's not the first elf you've come across."

"Of course not!"

"How many?"

"That is confidential." He turned to go.

"Wait! Are elves intelligent beings? Like humans?"

The doctor lowered his voice to match Myleen's and answered with a spark in his eye, "Of course they are!"

Harry unlocked the door. The doctor marched out. The door clanged shut. Myleen poured another glass of water, squeezed a drop of medication into the liquid, and held it out for Darren.
 
Darren's fuzzy brain was a bit overwhelmed at the interesting dichotomy presented by the doctors appearance versus the smile he displayed. The doctor was probably the first person he didn't feel quite so afraid of in his whole mess. Not that it mattered much either way. He was silent and pliant for the whole examination, going just a bit 'away' to cope with the dark thoughts he could hardly escape in this place. Just the casual mention of the possibility of more sessions made his stomach churn so much he wanted to vomit, even though there was nothing much in it too throw up.

He thus did not look particularly enthused at this next glass of water and almost considered turning it down but his mind could come up with all too many unpleasant scenario's of how that would end. So he raised a shaky hand to take the drink, almost dropping it and making a most unpleasant grimace as he held it up to his face. His stomach rebelled and he only got about a fourth of it down before he set the cup aside hastily to muffle a few cough like gags.

Once he was fairly sure he wouldn't throw up he finally gave in to his impulse and pulled his knees up to his chest, hiding his face and looking the perfect picture of depression and misery. He made no move to grab the water again and already had his shoulders hunched as if to ward off a blow.
 
Curious at Darren's reaction to the medicated water, Myleen held up the bottle to read the ingredients. The short list made her chuckle. "Cheeky man." To Darren she said, "I think you'll want to try to drink more of that. It's mostly painkillers and some nutrients." She tucked the bottle in a pocket and knocked on the cell door. "I'll go find something for you to eat. I want that water finished by the time I get back, you hear?"
 
Darren didn't lift his head, but the roiling in his stomach decreased rather quickly at the mention of painkillers. Those were the best words he had heard this entire time. He almost let her leave without saying anything, but he was still quite terrified that even one wrong word would have him back on that table. "Yes..." He made sure it was definitely loud enough for her to hear, though still mostly a whisper.

He waited until she was gone before picking up the glass and gingerly taking another sip. It went down a bit easier this time and after a few more careful sips he was starting to feel the effects. He still hurt a lot, but the edge was taken off and that was wonderful. His stomach eased a little, but not entirely. It was enough that he was able to get most of the water down by the time he heard the door opening again and he hastily gulped down the last 8th. He still gagged a little but it was not nearly as bad as the first time and it was entirely worth it to not be in trouble.
 
"Harry, I'm going to be in and out quite a bit today," Myleen informed the guard when she returned from raiding the cafeteria. One arm tucked around a brown paper grocery bag settled nicely against her hip and a thick novel balanced from her fingers. Her free hand motioned to the cell door as Harry unlocked it and tugged it open. "Why don't you just leave the door open? He's not going anywhere anytime soon and if he does, I'll tackle him and bring him in again. If you're really anxious about us, you can hold onto my tranq gun, ok?" Harry scratched his chin thoughtfully and rolled his eyes in the direction of the elf.

"Doug takes over in an hour. I don't mind being a yo-yo until then. I feel better with that.... thing... safely locked up."

"Men!" Myleen scoffed. "Why is it you can never trust a woman?"

"It's not that, Sir," Harry countered.

"Ma'am," Myleen corrected with an annoyed expression and gestured to her casual apparel with her free hand. "I'm off duty today."

"You sure that thing hasn't been working his magic on you?" Harry eyed her suspiciously. Myleen arched an eyebrow. "Quite sure, Harry. If he had, he'd be long gone by now." Harry grunted as Myleen stepped into the cell and slammed the door behind her with a click.

"That was completely unnecessary," she muttered to herself. She turned her attention to Darren and lowered the bag to the floor. "I snitched a bit of this and a bit of that. Hopefully you can eat something in there." Her duty done, she tossed her ponytail over her shoulder and crawled onto the cot, leaning against the wall and pulling her feet up to make a nice spot to settle her novel on her stomach.
 
Darren was relieved she didn't notice that he had only just finished the water and was putting the glass down just as she came in the door. He ignored the bag for a moment and watched with a growing level of concern as she did not leave immediately but instead settled down and made herself comfortable.

He hastily looked away once he realized he was staring at her and looked towards the bag. He pulled it next to himself while keeping track of Myleen out of the corner of his eye. He opened up the bag and poked through it, eventually pulling out a granola bar which he nibbled at much like a rabbit, still very much aware of the other person in the cell. He was rather interested in the salad now that his stomach was starting to ease with something solid in it but Myleen was making him twitchy the longer she was there. He hunched himself into his little ball again and half turned his head to see her a bit better. "Why don't you leave this to the guards...isn't nursing me a bit of grunt work for you?"
 
Myleen looked up from her book and pushed her glasses farther up her nose to put Darren into focus. For the longest moment, she said not a word. Why was she here? She wanted the truth. So many facts and theories were clanging around in her head, and many of them contradicted each other. The longer she was in Darren's company, the more absurd the handbook's description of elves became. The doctor's words, her own nagging suspicions, the brainwashing agent's curriculum, the general's sneer.... Why was the government interested in capturing magical creatures? What did they do to deserve punishment? Even dogs swept off the streets got better treatment than this elf had gotten so far.

She passed over Darren's question to ask one of her own. "What did you do? Who did you kill? Did you charm your way into robbing the Mint?"
 
Darren felt nervousness start to clench his stomach again as the silence continued far past the point of comfort. He was hunching his shoulders to ward off a blow as she finally spoke. He froze then and lifted his head, turning his head to stare at her in bemusement for a while. "I didn't do anything. Aside from running away when....when they killed my parents." He looked away then and put his head back on his knees, sighing softly. "I mean sure...I've magicked money to survive, but that was just to avoid you guys." That was about the most illegal thing he had done, and that was after he had started being chased. "And I never bought enough anywhere to really hurt anyone." He added defensively.
 
Myleen gave him an incredulous look even as her heartstrings tugged at the mention of his parents. "You're in a maximum security cell undergoing 'interrogation' techniques commonly reserved for spies and terrorists. Come now, what mischief do you have planned?"

Her gut didn't need an answer. It was already roiling with implications that seared her conscience. Setting down her book on the cot, she slid off the bunk and knelt in front of Darren. Slowly, she reached for him and lifted his chin up with her thumb and forefinger to make eye contact with the elf. Leaning in closely lest she be overheard by any planted mics or listening devices that may be lurking about, she whispered, "I'm here nursing you on my day off to figure you out. I took on this job to protect the innocent--- not torture them." She promptly let go and sat back on her heels to pick up the water pitcher and pour him a half-glass of cooling liquid. "Your fever is going down nicely," she said aloud. "I think you'll be back to normal by tomorrow after all."
 
Darren was understandably freaking out a bit. He was still very much afraid to get sent back to that table and when it seemed like she didn't believe him he felt sure that it was all going to happen again. He lifted his head in panic as she moved in front of him, not quite brave enough to actually scramble away but enough to make it clear he was very nervous about whatever she was about to do. His heart was thudding so loudly he was sure Myleen could hear it as she leaned in, before everything seemed to stop.

What had she just said? What did that mean? He eyed her in consternation but seemed to realize some discretion was in order here. Luckily, he was quite good at acting. He took the glass offered to him and drank it slowly before leaning his head back against the cot tiredly. "It doesn't feel like it..." He was already ready to go back to sleep and he had been awake for all of an hour.
 
She chuckled, she couldn't help herself. The poor elf did indeed look miserable and currently gave off an aura mostly reserved for old, cranky men. Myleen stood to her feet and stretched. "I'm going to refill your water jug. I can't leave you with this bag, so take anything you want to eat out." She banged on the cell door with her fist. "Harry, Doug, whichever of you it is at the moment, come open this door!" Footsteps shuffled outside and the sound of keys fumbling in a lock met their ears. Myleen grinned. "It's Doug. Nice old chap, but really should think about retiring soon." She collected her items and turned to Darren once more before the door slid open. "I'm not your enemy today, Darren. You can relax. I'll be back in a little while with the painkillers, ok?"
 
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