Fic - Promises to Keep = Chapter 4
Title: Promises to Keep - Chapter 4
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: None
Word count: 720 this chapter - approx 4700 so far in total
Summary: John and Elizabeth are living on Earth when someone makes an attempt on Elizabeth's life.
Author's notes: This is still looking epic...but this one is a shortish chapter
Dr Elizabeth Weir drowned in the medicated haze of semi-consciousness, barely aware of what was going on around her and utterly helpless to do anything but fight her way towards full wakefulness. After the airman had clamped the cloth over her mouth she’d instinctively held her breath, knowing it was a futile attempt at resistance but needing to do something, anything to try and help herself. Reflex forced her to inhale after a short while, and the metallic taste of the drug stung her throat to the point of almost making her gag. Before she could even take note of the rebellion of her stomach her limbs grew heavy, her mind clouding to the point of it shutting down entirely, sending her crashing into blackness.
She was aware of being moved… or more accurately moving in something. The constant rumbling and not so subtle vibrations made her conclude it was a car.. or a van she was travelling in, and the road was rough, either that or the rear suspension in whatever it was she was in was shot to hell. Slowly her senses began to return, fleetingly at first then with some semblance of normality. She found her mouth firmly gagged, forcing her to breathe through her nose. Her eyes were watering from the stench in the back of the car, the musty stale smell irritating her sinuses. It smelt like dead dog, no worse, wet dead dog. Charming. Cracking an eye open she was confronted with the boot lid only centimetres from her face, the metal as cold and unforgiving as her captors were most likely to be. With her hands bound securely behind her she was at the whim of those who had kidnapped her, unable to reach the emergency boot release, and most likely too groggy to do anything to defend herself anyway,
Thankfully the bumpy ride slowed as the road became rougher, the car crawling through the pot-hole laden road and finally stopping. Elizabeth froze, closing her eyes and evening out her breathing to make it appear she was still unconscious. A roller door could be heard rattling open, and the boot was opened. Rough hands grabbed her under the armpits and hauled her out of the car, dragging her a short distance before someone else picked up her trailing ankles. Not bothering to be careful about the cumbersome cast encasing one of them. She forced herself to remain limp despite the pain raging through her leg, radiating up her hip and side with each movement.
She was tossed unceremoniously into a cold room, a heavy door clicking and locking as the boots were heard retreating down a hallway. It was only then she dared to move, gingerly testing her fingers and toes to see if they all still worked properly. Her head throbbed as the drug wore off, made worse by the chilling cold of the concrete floor. Slowly she sat up, finding her hands still bound and her mouth still gagged. There goes screaming for help…She remembered something John always told her about survival situations. ‘What have you got and what do you need’. What she had was a cold concrete room with no windows, almost like a cool-room or temperature controlled storeroom with no furniture apart from a wooden chair and some old pallets thrown into the corner. There was a tattered blanket that smelt like the same wet dead dog that the car had reeked of. There was no way in hell she was using THAT for warmth. What she needed was a way out, and gingerly she made her way to the door, carefully trying to turn the handle. It refused to budge, confirming her earlier conclusion that the room had been locked… from the outside. She thought John would have been proud of the way she examined every detail about the room, inspecting each panel seal, the door lock, and even the roof. With great effort she pulled one of the slats from the pallet, holding it clumsily in her hands and giving it an experimental swing to judge its balance. It was crude, but she felt a little less vulnerable with it. With a sigh of frustration she hobbled back to the chair and flopped down, determined to wait until her captors graced her with their presence.
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: None
Word count: 720 this chapter - approx 4700 so far in total
Summary: John and Elizabeth are living on Earth when someone makes an attempt on Elizabeth's life.
Author's notes: This is still looking epic...but this one is a shortish chapter
Dr Elizabeth Weir drowned in the medicated haze of semi-consciousness, barely aware of what was going on around her and utterly helpless to do anything but fight her way towards full wakefulness. After the airman had clamped the cloth over her mouth she’d instinctively held her breath, knowing it was a futile attempt at resistance but needing to do something, anything to try and help herself. Reflex forced her to inhale after a short while, and the metallic taste of the drug stung her throat to the point of almost making her gag. Before she could even take note of the rebellion of her stomach her limbs grew heavy, her mind clouding to the point of it shutting down entirely, sending her crashing into blackness.
She was aware of being moved… or more accurately moving in something. The constant rumbling and not so subtle vibrations made her conclude it was a car.. or a van she was travelling in, and the road was rough, either that or the rear suspension in whatever it was she was in was shot to hell. Slowly her senses began to return, fleetingly at first then with some semblance of normality. She found her mouth firmly gagged, forcing her to breathe through her nose. Her eyes were watering from the stench in the back of the car, the musty stale smell irritating her sinuses. It smelt like dead dog, no worse, wet dead dog. Charming. Cracking an eye open she was confronted with the boot lid only centimetres from her face, the metal as cold and unforgiving as her captors were most likely to be. With her hands bound securely behind her she was at the whim of those who had kidnapped her, unable to reach the emergency boot release, and most likely too groggy to do anything to defend herself anyway,
Thankfully the bumpy ride slowed as the road became rougher, the car crawling through the pot-hole laden road and finally stopping. Elizabeth froze, closing her eyes and evening out her breathing to make it appear she was still unconscious. A roller door could be heard rattling open, and the boot was opened. Rough hands grabbed her under the armpits and hauled her out of the car, dragging her a short distance before someone else picked up her trailing ankles. Not bothering to be careful about the cumbersome cast encasing one of them. She forced herself to remain limp despite the pain raging through her leg, radiating up her hip and side with each movement.
She was tossed unceremoniously into a cold room, a heavy door clicking and locking as the boots were heard retreating down a hallway. It was only then she dared to move, gingerly testing her fingers and toes to see if they all still worked properly. Her head throbbed as the drug wore off, made worse by the chilling cold of the concrete floor. Slowly she sat up, finding her hands still bound and her mouth still gagged. There goes screaming for help…She remembered something John always told her about survival situations. ‘What have you got and what do you need’. What she had was a cold concrete room with no windows, almost like a cool-room or temperature controlled storeroom with no furniture apart from a wooden chair and some old pallets thrown into the corner. There was a tattered blanket that smelt like the same wet dead dog that the car had reeked of. There was no way in hell she was using THAT for warmth. What she needed was a way out, and gingerly she made her way to the door, carefully trying to turn the handle. It refused to budge, confirming her earlier conclusion that the room had been locked… from the outside. She thought John would have been proud of the way she examined every detail about the room, inspecting each panel seal, the door lock, and even the roof. With great effort she pulled one of the slats from the pallet, holding it clumsily in her hands and giving it an experimental swing to judge its balance. It was crude, but she felt a little less vulnerable with it. With a sigh of frustration she hobbled back to the chair and flopped down, determined to wait until her captors graced her with their presence.