trans_9 | An Unexploded Shell Inside a Cell [Open]

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An Unexploded Shell Inside a Cell [Open]

She thought her life would be different by now, but she's a prisoner again. Voluntary, she guesses, which makes it a little bit different than the first time. At least she can blink on her own this time. Not that she's using her body to do much good.

Ironically, she almost always looked better when she was a more total prisoner. Without her makeup and hair clips and changes of clothes to arrange herself into some approximation of health, without even a mirror to confirm her suspicions, she looks a wreck. Dark circles line her reddened eyes; her hair is unbrushed and falls in tangled clumps over her face; chapped, bloodied lips and fingernails bitten down to the flesh speak to her uneasy transition back into captivity.

Eva's given up all attempts to look 'okay'. She ripped a man's face open with her bare fingers. She's been a long road away from 'okay' for a while now, but she spent too long mistaking her anger and stubbornness for strength and resilience to recognize it. She's wised up now.

She really wants a drink right now. Instead she has some books - selected poems by Pablo Neruda and an anthology of poetry by women poets in the Andes - and a pillow and blanket. She's curled up on the cot with the former book in her hand, but drifting in and out of sleep. Her breath comes lazy and heavy as she alternately reads, dreams, and watches the door to the brig with heavy-lidded eyes, looking for nothing.

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"You are?" Daniel repeated, surprised for a second. He hadn't exactly been either nice or gentle with her the last time they saw each other. That was on top of making a report against her, something Eva probably knew already or if not, figured out. Glad wasn't the word he'd have expected anyone to use right now. Maybe she was that desperate for company that she'd settle for him.

Daniel looked around at the cell, taking in everything, at the books she'd been given, at how Eva arranged herself on the cot like the cell was two feet smaller. Despite what he thought of her right now, he also couldn't ignore her state either. "Are they doing this to you?"

The books seemed like something of a luxury, maybe a small act of kindness, but didn't they let prisoners in actual jails have something to read too? Maybe it wasn't quite kindness at all, but something to keep a prisoner occupied and distracted. He didn't know. Even if Eva was in this cell for a good reason (Daniel wasn't going to kid himself, Eva had been so far out of line that come back and gone over it twice), that didn't mean completely trampling over her basic rights, like food. Maybe not giving her enough to eat. Daniel had never made it a habit to see the brig back at the SGC, certainly not enough to become an expert on cell conditions, but he'd also never seen anyone deteriorate so fast inside one.

"Wash!" Given that she hardly looks like she's ready to face the day at the moment, she hardly notices the grease and coveralls, except to note that he must have taken time after work to come visit her. "Oh, but you know, these jail cells are just entirely four star. This blanket's thread count must be in the tens, even!"

Then she gets a bit more serious. "I'm sorry I couldn't deliver my resignation in person. Personal conflicts arose."

Eva rolls up and off the bed to her feet with a weary smirk. Her disheveled appearance should speak volumes to Cassie about exactly how Eva's feeling. "No, not really, but it's nice of you to visit. I'm the most popular bird in the jail block, it seems."

She takes a deep breath and moves closer to the bars, so things feel more friendly with Cassie and so Eva feels less like a creature in a zoo. "Marco hasn't come back yet, has he?"

Wash raised his eyebrows. "Personal conflicts like taking a brig vacation?" he asked dryly. "Here, I brought you a pick-me-up while you're stuck."

He fished in his pockets and finally produced a flask full of plum wine, handing it to her with smudged fingers through the bars. "What was that about, anyway? You're not a bad shot, Eva. I mean, true, this is the only boat I've flown with external cannons, but it's a lot easier to fly it with you than it is without you."

"Well, I figured we'd have to run into each other at some point. Best to try and sweep up all the awkwardness sooner, rather than later." She scoots over to the near end of her cot to be able to talk to him better, but she doesn't stand.

She averts her eyes again. "I think 'I owe you an apology' doesn't quite cut it." Her voice cracks and she self-consciously rearranges the edges of her blanket. She still doesn't think she owes anything to the man she mutilated, but to the friend whose head she dunked in violence? What explanation could possibly be enough?

You don't know what it's like to be full of that much rage and so incapable of acting on it for so long, Daniel.

He mocked my pain, Daniel. Why am I always supposed to take the high road?

How dare you judge? Would you expect better of your wife?

It's all frivolous excuses anyway. She doesn't have a leg to stand on and she knows it.

"Doing what to me?" She blinks, then shakes her head. "Oh, this? This is what happens when you don't wash or brush long hair for days." She laughs a bit weakly. They've been treating her fine here; she's just let go of the delusion that she's alright, and with it let go of her compulsion to look the part.

"No. Hardly. But I'm pretty sure I was looking for excuses to lose it on the field, and that's the dangerous part."

Oh, well, that changed things.

"Anything in particular that made you go looking for that excuse?"

Daniel didn't smile at her. Maybe the glib answer would've done the trick before, but Daniel wasn't laughing now. His fingers curled and flexed on the bar. It felt old enough, rough. Used. How many people put their hands on these bars? How many people had been in this cell? And what had they done to get inside? "Maybe I can talk to Leon about a shower or something for you." The brush was probably out of the question.

He found it hard to look at her. It wasn't entirely because of her current appearance. Daniel found he couldn't look at her and not see her tearing another living being's face off in front of him, or see him shooting the man twice. What was just sickening was that Daniel had looked into her eyes and read it crystal clear; she got something out of it. Maybe even enjoyed causing that much suffering and violence. Daniel had seen it before in the Goa'uld. She might even have gotten off on the power trip too. She had the same eyes.

Jesus, why hadn't he stopped her sooner? It happened so fast, and maybe he still hadn't shaken off what Jack once called the 'Civilian in the Headlights' mode yet, but Jack would've stopped her before it got further. So would Teal'c and Sam, so why hadn't he? Maybe he was just as much to blame. Inaction and ignorance was no excuse.

"No, it doesn't really," Daniel said mildly. It was the same clipped tone Daniel retreated to when Jack did something so incomprehensibly short-sighted or wrong that Daniel was either out of words or didn't care to waste them on him.

But no matter what arguments they got into, Jack had never, never done anything like this. And if he ever did, Daniel thought, or at least, he hoped he'd act differently, like show some remorse. This wasn't an argument that had blown out of proportion, maybe said some things they shouldn't have, and it wasn't an accident. Sorry didn't erase what happened. And it didn't spare the man the suffering. Even if the cultist had somehow had the pain blocked, it didn't make it right. They weren't animals. They weren't like this.

Daniel leaned in, pressing a cheek to the bar. He forced himself to stare at her, blue eyes cold. "Just tell me something. You were planning on taking those measures all along, weren't you? When I asked you to help me, and you agreed, you just wanted somewhere private if it came down to- to that," he couldn't bring himself to say it. Daniel licked his lips and pressed on. He had to know. "You didn't want to treat him from the start. You were counting on this happening."

Edited 2011-09-05 23:16 (UTC)

Shortly after being released from the med bay, Kang had gone looking for Eva. He needed to talk to someone about what had happened on the battlefield with Kali and Crucible, and she was one of the few people who he trusted completely, and would understand why he was as shaken up by it as he was.

He hadn't expected to hear that she'd landed herself in the brig, though. Immediately upon finding out, he'd come over, more worried about her than he was his own issues. They could wait.

He stood outside the bars, looking her over, and snorted, "I don't know what you did, but I don't think being locked up in here is good for you. You look horrible." He knew a good deal more about Eva than most on the ship, and her years in captivity.

Cassie did notice Eva's current state and it broke her heart. The person who stood before her was a far cry from the confident, poised woman whom she had come to know. She tried to force a light-hearted smile, but her heart wasn't in it. She was far too worried to be able to put on the superficial show of calm that she was trying to maintain. "You've had a lot of visitors then?"

She shook her head. "No, I haven't seen him yet. I'll be sure to talk to him as soon I find him." Cassie bit her lip and closed her eyes as she thought of Marco. He was not going to be happy to hear of this development. She'd have to figure out some way of breaking the news to him, but she wasn't sure what the best method of broaching the topic might be. She didn't want to see him hurt or upset if she could avoid it. "I'm sure that he'll want to see you when he returns though."

"Eva, I don't understand, what happened? Why are you here?" Cassie hadn't seen Eva since they'd been separated during the last mission and she couldn't imagine what might have happened between their separation and now that had landed her friend here. Eva hadn't wanted to talk about it over the omnicom and if she still refused to speak about it, then Cassie would let the topic drop, but she had to ask one last time.

Dean poked his head around to check on current occupants in the pokey. His eyes widened upon recognizing a certain face behind the bars. Shit, she looked like she'd been through hell. And he was something of an expert on the place. Granted it'd be more like first day in hell, but still. Hell.

"Do I wanna know?" He asked as he brought his forearm up to lean against the bars to peer in on her.

Edited 2011-09-05 23:14 (UTC)

"I don't need you to advocate to him for me," she says, suddenly sharp. Her voice is keen and quick, like if she doesn't take responsibility for herself now she never will. Like a decision she only has a second to commit to before she changes her mind. "I got myself into this situation, in all meanings of that phrase. My report to the Captain. My bad decisions. My temper, my hands. Me."

And Christ, that hurts her to say. To have had all these decision, all these things she could have and should have done differently, and to have no one to blame them for but herself. To not be the one having things done to her, but doing them. The attacker instead of the victim, the villain instead of the sainted damsel in distress.

It would be so much easier if she could blame someone else. At this moment, she's not sure she'd say no to having a Yeerk to blame. She almost wants to tell Daniel that this is what they made her, but that, too, is the coward's way out. Her destiny wasn't set in stone when she was captured, but she's the architect behind the life she's designed in the wake.

She stares for a good long moment before shrinking back again. She's ashamed of herself, hollow and sick inside, and Daniel's gaze is too much a task to meet for too long. It's like staring into the sun.

"I don't know what to tell you, Daniel. I don't...I don't entirely know. I know I was hoping...and then I didn't. And then I went ahead and did it anyway, so what the hell. I don't have an answer for you." She doesn't know how to explain how hungry she'd been for that sort of bloodshed, how much it scared her, how she had balanced that rage and vindictiveness with that utter horror at herself.

But the cultist's life, his body, had been forfeit to her the instant he attacked innocents, and there was that starving part of her that saw nothing but the most glorious and tempting of punching bags. She turned the cultist into some vessel to pour all that burning hate and pain into, thinking in some way it would bring her release, and when it brought only more hate and pain, she didn't know what to do. Didn't know what to make of it.

For one horrifying moment, she'd been the only thing in the room that mattered. Not the cultist, not Daniel staring in shock. After years of being an afterthought, after the years of recovery training herself not to be a footnote in her own life, she'd made something about her. And it still hadn't felt good.

"I didn't plan. But I looked for an opening," she confesses.

Edited 2011-09-06 02:49 (UTC)

"I imagine the years of torture and slavery had something to do with it," she says, totally flat.

"Sure. But you must have had an opportunity to go off on someone before. And as far as I know, you haven't, at least since you've been on this ship. So I was wondering if something in particular set you off."

"Things on the ship got a little messy. I made some calls I shouldn't have and turned myself in," she says, keeping it vague. She'd rather keep Wash's respect than lose it. "It's probably best I'm not behind the cannons, honestly. I'm sure you'll find someone to replace me."

She takes it, then holds it close to her chest. "Thank you. I'll probably be putting this to good use sooner rather than later."

It's not nearly enough booze for her to keep herself in an oblivious drunken state until her sentence ends, but it'll take the edge off a little. If she can't binge she can at least imbibe.

"I haven't, actually. This was that rare, once in a lifetime opportunity."

And God, what did people expect from her? Her whole life was stolen; all she was left with was this damaged tableau of a family, a body that doesn't work right and a mind that feels a far cry warped and distorted from what she used to be while the Yeerks mostly got off scot free; then she got whipped up onto a spaceship, into another war, one where she doesn't have to be a puppeted body and a bystander but a warrior, and people expected her to keep her head?

She realizes her fists are clenched.

"But, you know, rip off one nose and everyone's a saint."

Goliath brings her no drinks, but her book collection is about to get a little larger.

The gargoyle enters the brig with a few more books under his arm, pausing only slightly at Eva's state in holding before approaching her cell to crouch at a better speaking level.

"I heard you were here. I did not hear why."

"It is a rather dramatic departure from normal interrogation procedures." Usually waterboarding, for instance, came a little before 'rip someone's nose off'.

"So... what? Now you're a monster who needs to be locked up before she lashes out at someone else?"

Daniel absorbed everything she said quietly, watching her eyes even when she looked away. 'This situation'. Funny how you could compress everything into two words, as if she'd gotten a parking ticket. Just another miracle of the English language, understatement, and Eva trying to distance herself from her own actions. Did she even regret hurting that man now? Or did she regret that she'd given in, or that now she had to answer to her son?

Didn't plan to, but she'd sure taken the opportunity when it came. So she'd essentially used him in the process, but Daniel kept the hurt and betrayal to himself and buried it under everything else. This wasn't about him.

Now that they didn't have a battle going on around them, Daniel had plenty of time to think back on what happened. He'd been going over it ever since Eva left that closet and he'd put something over the dead body and sat waiting with it. Everything Eva had said to the man, the way she'd practically paced behind him like a trapped animal while Daniel tried to talk to the man. It wasn't like you could question someone and get anything that quickly, and it was like Eva was counting on going down like that. She hadn't give him any time.

"Eva," he said. "You shot the man in cold blood where it would hurt the most, even before he got to you. Between the two of us, we had him pinned." You would have strangled him before that too, he thought. He couldn't believe the man's ranting had gotten to her. It wasn't just a spur of the moment act. Something had been going on long before he'd opened his mouth.

Daniel didn't understand it. He didn't even like shooting in self-defense, but there was a difference between self-defense, a shot or two and the enemy was dead, as quickly and mercifully as possible, and intentionally hurting someone, drawing out another living being's misery. It hadn't even been an interrogation then. It was something else. "Why did you do it?"

Being a member of Security meant that it wasn't exactly surprising for Tim to be in the Brig, as Red Robin. He did his own rounds to make sure everything was in order, while he was on duty, but he was actually slightly surprised by one of the faces he saw there. He'd only met her briefly, before, and they'd not spoken much-- but still. "Can't say I expected a herald of anonymity to be here," Red Robin said, but his voice was a little bit softer than the normal tone it carried. She looked rough, he didn't want to goad her, even if he'd gotten the impression that dry humour was her own method of coping.

"I shot him because I needed to incapacitate him. I didn't shoot him in the wrist and knee to cause pain, I shot him there because he was a threat until those points were neutralized. We could have pinned him, but he very easily could have been armed and you only gave him a superficial injury. All he'd need to detonate a bomb on himself would be one hand for one second. I wasn't going to take risks with your safety or the civilians'."

And in that, she feels totally justified. It's what came after that was clearly over the line.

She doesn't have an answer for that. Not one she can explain to Daniel, anyway. Not one that would justify what she did, using Daniel to get to her jollies off inflicting pain, dragging him into it.

Maybe she should tell him about dragging herself across the pier back at the Yeerk pool, risking her own son's life to squish the slug that had stolen her. Or about breaking Iniss' nose with a book and how satisfying it was to lord power over one of them, for once. Or about securing dynamite so her son and his friends could kill thousands of people in the downtown. What does Daniel really know about war, anyway?

"I couldn't help myself," she murmurs, then more fiercely, "no. I didn't want to help myself. That brainwashed degenerate and his kind blew up families and children to make a point to us, so no, I didn't want to help myself. I wanted him to hurt."

It made her mad when he didn't hurt.

"I looked at him and I didn't see him, Daniel, I saw, I saw a voluntary host, I saw someone who'd give their body and soul and loved ones and the safety of strangers in exchange for some temporary peace of mind, and I just didn't care if I hurt him."

She swallows hard. "And I didn't care if I hurt you, either. And...that was vile of me. All of it. Vile of whatever's left of me."

"I turned myself in, Zouichi. This isn't a precautionary measure so much as ensuring the Captain treats all cases of torture the same." She rubs her face. "It's a departure for interrogation, but I had it used on me during my own torture. So it's not like I invented the low-budget rhinoplasty."

"Oh, you do know how to flatter a lady." She groans and sits up. "I volunteered for this, you know. I could have gone the fugitive route. I'm waiting for the part where making the honest decision yields some kind of emotional benefit."

She walks up to the bars and leans against the frame of the closed door. "I heard you had a close call. I'm sorry I couldn't visit you in the Medical Bay."

"What. Happened?" She stomped forward till she was at the edge of the cell and was looking for the entrance. "Everyone is talking about you and whatever you did!" She looked angry and puzzled, like she was trying very hard to find a way to blame this on anyone else.

"What..." She let out a tight breath, "What did you do?"

"Probably not, although your soul's probably more fortified than the average Joe's to hear my gruesome exploits," she says with a smirk. "Just so you know, I'm planning on playing my harmonica during every waking hour, so your shifts will be musical."

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An Unexploded Shell Inside a Cell [Open]

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