Starring:
Date: March 1, 2010
Summary:
Having exhausted her distractions, the earthbender faces her imprisonment once more.
"Texas Funeral"
Common Area — Building 27, Governor's Island
What goes up must come down goes the mostly immutable law, not taking into consideraton crazy things like thousands of gallons of high thrust rocket fuel and escape velocities…even though she'd no doubt argue that orbit is nothing but a perpetual state of falling, 242 miles up. A handful of good nights' sleep, and a few days of doing what she had been working on before being captured got Alex into a better place mentally, but today is a bit of a crash day. Unable to do much more of her work without very specific data and technological resources, her mind has once again turned to dwelling on the past.
In the effort to escape those sort of thoughts, she's retreated to the bunkroom, in the hopes of catching some shuteye while still in the proper head space. Seems though she won't be able to keep up that relative peace today, however. The disturbed, nightmarish images return; while she doesn't start to outright scream today while napping, the agitation is a rather turbulent mental disturbance ina sea of otherwise mundane, bored thoughts.
Meanwhile, back in the TV lounge, Matt is spending some more time balanced on a difficult edge. Too much telepathic listening and he'll feel nauseated - though at least he can blame that on the drugs he's supposedly being dosed with - but too little, and he might miss the one little piece of information that changes everything.
When the first wave of someone else's near-panic pushes its way into his consciousness, he winces, fingers digging into the nearest armrest as he pulls himself up to his feet. Who is it this time? At least it's coming from the beds this time, not the middle of a service hallway… but he has to look casual about it, like he was just getting tired himself, not chasing down a specific target. With his head throbbing all the while. Finally, he makes it to Alexandra's bedside and tugs at her pillow so her head will loll the other direction. "Hey. Heeeeey."
She must be under pretty deep; the pillow tug sends her lolling in just the direction he wanted. Her hair is fanned out messily under her head; beads of a cold sweat dot her forehead. Both greetings are met with stone-cold impassivity; whatever's going on inside her head this time is just as severe as the first time Matt tried to make an introduction. If he did elect to dive deeper, he'd realize that his greeting isn't so much ignored as it is just…not heard. There's a lot of rumbling and roaring going on inside her head, banging and things of that nature.
We've got to stop meeting like this, Matt thinks to himself, without a trace of humor. A quick glance around: no, there are no nosy guards nearby, as far as he can tell at least. Pressing his fingers into her temples, he pushes with his thoughts this time— if he can't cut through the noise this way, then he's doomed to have it ringing in his own ears for what could easily be hours on end. Not a pleasant way to spend the evening.
What Matt finds inside her head isn't exactly pleasant. It's not quite one of the nightmare visions that Peter unknowingly pushed into her head. Rather, this is something entirely of her own construction…and it's a small miracle that she's not screaming out loud. The scene looks relatively normal, even if it is a funeral of sorts. The people in attendance don't look like family or friends, however; they all look like AP agents, some with faces very familiar to those in the barracks. Cody's there, as well as Justin. There's Jo, and a bossman of sorts in Agent Hamm. A few people around look like normal, upstanding American citizens; women with children, but without a husband in sight. There's a hole in the ground, a nice big one. Suspended above it is a metal crate…vaguely coffin-shaped, but mostly just a thick steel, welded box. The outsides are marked with various random weapons markings. But it's not the outside that matters, much.
From inside, there's a panicked screaming, mixed with occasional sobs when the screaming ends. The metal reverberates with the thumps of fists and heels on the inner surfaces. Someone is in there - and still alive. Three guesses who it is, and the first two don't count.
He saw something like this in a movie once. Fortunately, the woman in the movie was able to bust her way out, even after her coffin was covered up with dirt. Unfortunately, the woman here has to deal with metal, not just wood.
Matt tries to say something to the other onlookers, only to find himself abruptly without a voice. Only when he turns back toward the crate does it return. « Hang on! » Well, that's a start, anyway - if she can hear him from the inside - but how can he convince her to get out? Maybe he should just pull out now and try dumping a bucket of water over her in the real world…
Whether she hears him or not is hard to say. The banging from inside the coffin continues, even as the box begins to get lowered toward that hole in the ground. It's held up by the shovel blade of the very same backhoe that dug the hole, with heavy chains looped around the teeth of the bucket. They rattle and drag loudly against the sides of the metal tomb. Things progress rapidly from there, however. The coffin is lowered smoothly into the hole; the chains are unattached. They fall into the hole and land on the metal lid with a tremendous clash…enough of one that it causes the woman to finally scream in her bed. An ear-piercing wail of terror echoes through the bunk room, and Alexandra brings herself to sitting bolt upright, gasping heavily for breath.
As if the spike of second-hand panic wasn't bad enough on its own, the sudden transition from sleeping to waking is enough to send Matt reeling backward, scrabbling for a handhold to avoid falling on his ass. Even after he finds one, he ends up wrenching his arm pretty badly as it's momentarily forced to support nearly his entire body weight. "Whoa," he says, standing up straight again, "you're all right now, right? You need anything?" Glass of water, air sickness bag?
"I…well…nightmare…" Alex manages to gasp out between breaths. Hair is plastered to her face and neck, and her face looks flushed of color. Maybe rightly so, after that. And just think, Matt only got a peek! "Think I'm ok now…that I'm awake." The bags are back, though, and so are the bloodshot whites.
Matt runs a hand through his hair. It's getting a little long lately, he should see about getting a hold of some scissors at some point. "Yeah, I kind of figured. Next time let me know, maybe I can do something ahead of time?" Emphasis on the 'maybe'; he's never tried getting a waking thought to continue into a dream state, it might just fall apart.
"O…ok. Thought I was over this, honestly. I'd been feeling…better, if there is such a thing in here, the last few days." Slowly, the color is returning to her face, and takes a moment to collect herself in bed there. Hair is gathered up from her neck and forehead and pushed back into place; she scoots up on the thin mattress so she can rest her back against the wall and pull her legs to her chest as well. "You…saw what was happening then?" she asks, turning huge puppy dog-esque eyes on Matt, looking a little more concerned for what he saw, rather than what she experienced.
Wandering over to a chair nearby - because sitting down on the same bed would send all the wrong sorts of signals - Matt pulls it closer, with a jarring squeal of metal on tile, and lowers himself into it. "A little bit, yeah. You seemed a lot better the other day— any idea why it would've started getting worse again? Did they mention anything about changing your drugs?"
When he pulls that chair over, she finds herself wincing a little at the squealing and squeaking. "Well, no. Not that they mentioned at the very least. But there's not much for me to do anymore, with regards to keeping my mind occupied. I sort of worked myself out. Not much more I can do now, without access to a few very specific resources."
"Well, that's probably it, then— nothing left to distract yourself with." Matt leans back, rubbing his eyes - the lockup has been rough on him, too, it's just been more low-key about it. "I need to check back with someone, make sure he knows just how bad it's getting in here." And figure out whether the danger to the prisoners has gotten to where it outweighs the danger to those still on the outside.
"Oh…ok. If you're, well, planning anything, I want in. Well, I mean, I want out, but you know what I mean. Just keep me informed…please?" She keeps looking at him with those puppy dog eyes, but before too long, she's sliding her legs out of the bed. "For now, I think I should probably take a shower or something, to get some of this nightmare sweat off." And with that, both of them are heading off in their own directions.