Room 215, OMG Early Saturday Morning
Jul. 29th, 2006 10:14 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
izzyalienqueenJack slept, barely stirring from his half curl in the middle of the bed. And he dreamed.
Mr Harkness.
It was dark, but he could hear a voice, calling his name.
Mr Harkness, are you paying attention?
The darkness resolved into an office, the voice into an absolutely average looking man, sitting behind the desk, watching him with poorly concealed impatience. “Are you interested or not?”
“What?”
“It’s simple. You have pronounced talents and a certain moral flexibility. These we can use. And we’re prepared to reward you very well.”
“What?”
“Bring us these people.”
Long thin fingers, like pale insects, slid a folder across the desk and he took it automatically, looking through empty pages. He started to protest that there weren’t any pictures, nothing he could use to find them, and he was gone, the room gone, dissolved, spinning away and then back. There were bright lights, hearty congratulations, and he didn’t know what they were talking about; he hadn’t done anything, he hadn’t even left the office.
“…you do good work, Mr Harkness.” The voice came from nowhere, from everywhere. “Care to see?”
Simple, clean, white rooms. Pristine. Pure.
Empty.
“They were paranoid, suspicious.” A pleased smile and all he could see were teeth. “Impossible to catch, we thought.”
Not empty. Faceless figures in each one. Alien, human, he couldn’t tell.
Didn’t matter.
Pain transcended species. It was the one, true universal constant.
Indifferent, he watched and he listened. The voice was loud and clear, even over their screams. “You do good work, Mr Harkness.”
His eyes snapped open and he gasped, just once, before retreating into shuddering silence, pressing his back flat against the wall. His heart was pounding and his head was pounding and he ached but it was just a dream.
Just a dream.
Not a memory.
Isabel had been sitting on the floor, her back against the bed, reading one of the books she’d gotten from the library. At the sound of Jack’s gasp she turned around, frowning at the look on his face. “Hey,” she said quietly. She put the book down and pushed to her feet, disappearing into the bathroom for a moment, she returned with a cool washcloth, a glass of water and some Advil. “What’s wrong?” she asked as she took a seat on the edge of the bed.
He stared at her then, with a visible effort, relaxed. “Weird dream,” he whispered, managing a half smile. “No fun stuff happening in it. What are you doing here?”
“It’s the fever. It’ll make you see weird stuff,” Isabel said holding out the pills and the water until he took them and swallowed them down. She reached out and touched his forehead. “You’re burning up. Lay back down. Put this on your head. It’ll help. I’m here because Cedric was exhausted. I sent him to up to get some sleep. I promised him I’d look out for you for a bit.”
“Okay.” He took the cloth and dropped it over his forehead, grimacing a bit at the feel. “I’m not used to being sick.” And he wasn’t. Sick just wasn’t something that happened to him, at least not very often.
“Me neither,” she nodded. “We don’t get sick for some reason. At least not normally, still I know enough to say that rest and fluids are probably the best thing for you right now. Go back to sleep. I’m not going to go anywhere.”
“I don’t-“ Want to go back to sleep, he almost said, but it would make him sound like a child. “Don’t want you to hang around, if you’ve got things to do. I’m fine on my own.”
Isabel smiled, pushed him down and fixed the blankets, gently soothing a hand over his hair. “The only thing I have planned right now is taking care of you. So go to sleep. I’m going to sit here and read my book some more.”
Jack reluctantly closed his eyes, determined to stay awake. His body, unfortunately, had other ideas.
“Bring us these people.”
The voice again.
“…you do good work, Mr Harkness. Care to see?”
He wouldn’t look this time. Even if he didn’t seem to care, he wouldn’t look.
White rooms.
“They were paranoid, suspicious. Impossible to catch, we thought. But they trusted you.”
The words had changed, and he had to look.
White rooms. One for each of them.
Sam. Locked in nightmares as they sifted through her mind. Mouth a rictus as she refused to make a sound.
He flinched, curling tighter, hands clenched into fists.
Cedric. Blind and alone. Screaming voiceless as they dug for his heart.
His body jerked once, his nails leaving half moon imprints where they dug into his palms.
Isabel. Still alive, but the two with her were gone. Only empty shells left. Has to be Max, part of him observed, and Michael.
A guttural noise, low and sharp, escaped him. And he shuddered.
He turned.
Parker stood at his elbow.
Her eyes were vacant. No one was home. And as he turned to watch Jarod, he understood why.
“You do good work, Mr Harkness.”
And he felt nothing.
The voice was singing, and it was barbed wire tearing through his skull. ‘Let’s start at the very beginning, it’s a very good place to start…’
Loop. Repeat.
“…you do good work, Mr Harkness. Care to see?”
Shivering, he tried to press himself through the wall, body aching as he tried to escape.
Isabel felt helpless watching Jack as he struggled against the fever induced dream; although from his reactions she had a feeling it was more of a nightmare. Finally, unable to stand it any longer, she stretched out on the bed next to him and pulled him into her arms.
His entire body tensed at the touch, registering it as a threat. Someone had him. He started to pull away, when something clicked and he realised it was Isabel. He pushed against her, fingers curling tightly into her shirt, and pressed his head against her collarbone.
“Shush,” she whispered, gently running her hand up and down his back. “You’re going to be okay.” Isabel lost track of how long they stayed like that but eventually the quiet and the worry of the last few days overcame her and she fell asleep.
“It’s simple. You have pronounced talents and a certain moral flexibility. These we can use. And we’re prepared to reward you very well.”
“What?”
“Bring us these people.”
Isabel watched as he took the folder, and flinched when she saw the names it contained. The nightmare made sense. The missing time. What Jack feared that he’d done during that time. His worries about the Time Agency.
She walked up beside him and took his hand. “It’s just a dream. It’s not real.”
He flinched, violently, and raised a hand to ward off whatever had touched him before her words registered. Before she registered. Panicky, shaking, he tried to push her away. “You can’t be here.”
“It’s okay,” Isabel assured him, “It’s an alien thing. I can get into people’s dreams if I concentrate when I fall asleep. I must have dozed off. And I was worrying about you. So, here I am.”
“No, you can’t…”
The voice interrupted him. “They were paranoid, suspicious. Impossible to catch, we thought. But they trusted you.”
“Isabel. You have to go.” His voice was harsh, angry, and he grabbed her wrists, hard enough to bruise. “You can’t…” And the world shifted around them.
White rooms. One for each of them.
“…you can’t be here.” But it was too late. Helpless, he clenched his fists, then stepped in front of her. Trying to hide her. Trying to block her view.
Sam. Cedric.
Isabel.
Parker, standing empty beside them. Jarod.
“Jack, I promise you. This is only a dream.” She stepped past him, looking at each of the rooms in turn. “Why is it always a white room?” she muttered quietly. Turning back to Jack, she kept her face carefully schooled, showing only the concern she felt for him. “It’s just a dream,” she repeated. “Everyone is fine. They’re not here. The Isabel in that room, she’s not here. You and I? We’re back in your room at school. In your bed,” Isabel added with a small leer.
He was shaking his head in silent protest as he watched her; he couldn’t stop her, couldn’t make himself move. But he could listen. “Just a dream? I thought –“ Pausing, not willing to admit he’d feared it was a memory, he latched onto her last words. Used them to find his balance. “Decided to take advantage of me while I couldn’t fend you off, huh?” His smirk held more gratitude than suggestiveness, but he closed the distance between them, resting his fingers at the base of her neck.
Isabel shook her head at the innuendo, even in his nightmares, Jack was still Jack. Reaching up, she took hold of his fingers, wrapping them securely in her hand. “It’s just a dream. When we wake up we’ll be back in your room and everyone will be just fine. I promise you. And you know I’d never lie to you.”
“I know.” He glanced over her shoulder, shuddering, and deliberately turned away, focusing only on her, clutching her hand like it was the only solid thing left in his world. “Can we leave?”
“We can. Just wake up.”
Isabel blinked rapidly as she woke, immediately focusing on Jack. “Hey, sleepyhead. You awake?”
His eyes popped open, and he blinked. She had her arms around him and his hand was clenched in her shirt. He let go, but made no move to pull away. "Yeah," he answered, but it was husky, barely audible. "Yeah," he tried again, and it was stronger that time. "You okay?"
“I’m fine,” she promised, squeezing him gently. “How about you?” Isabel lifted her hand to brush against his forehead. “Your fever’s broken.”
"I feel," not good, definitely not good, but, "less bad. Head doesn't hurt as much." Jack closed his eyes briefly under her touch, realising that he felt better, that she must be right. He didn't hurt any more. Didn't feel like his skin was two sizes too small. Very softly he said, "I'm sorry you got pulled into that."
“No apologies needed,” Isabel assured him. “I didn’t mean to get into your head like that.” She smiled ruefully, “I should have realized when I started to doze off, being so close to you, and being worried about what you where dreaming, that pretty much guaranteed me a trip into your head. I’m sorry.”
"No. No, don't. Don't be sorry. I'm not." He placed one hand against her cheek. "Thank you for coming to get me. I don't know how you did it, but I'm grateful you did."
“I told you how Max can heal? Well dreamwalking is my special power.” Briefly, Isabel gave Jack an explanation of the hows and whys of dreamwalking, ending by saying, “I try not to do it to my friends. It’s too much of an invasion of privacy.”
Jack nodded in understanding. "That's what you did for Parker, that time before the mummies." He closed his eyes, yawning, and snuggled closer to her, feeling genuinely sleepy – as opposed to lethargic and exhausted from being sick - for the first time in days.
“Yeah, something like that.” She could feel him relaxing against her and she smiled. “Go back to sleep. I don’t have to be anywhere,” Isabel checked her watch, “for a few hours yet. So I’ll stick around.”
"Okay." One arm loosely circling her waist, he let his eyes drift shut, yawning again.
Carefully Isabel reached out and set the alarm on the table next to the bed to wake her in time for the basketball game. She smiled down at Jack, already relaxed and asleep, then closed her own eyes and fell back into a dreamless sleep.
[ooc: pre-played with![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
time_agent]
Mr Harkness.
It was dark, but he could hear a voice, calling his name.
Mr Harkness, are you paying attention?
The darkness resolved into an office, the voice into an absolutely average looking man, sitting behind the desk, watching him with poorly concealed impatience. “Are you interested or not?”
“What?”
“It’s simple. You have pronounced talents and a certain moral flexibility. These we can use. And we’re prepared to reward you very well.”
“What?”
“Bring us these people.”
Long thin fingers, like pale insects, slid a folder across the desk and he took it automatically, looking through empty pages. He started to protest that there weren’t any pictures, nothing he could use to find them, and he was gone, the room gone, dissolved, spinning away and then back. There were bright lights, hearty congratulations, and he didn’t know what they were talking about; he hadn’t done anything, he hadn’t even left the office.
“…you do good work, Mr Harkness.” The voice came from nowhere, from everywhere. “Care to see?”
Simple, clean, white rooms. Pristine. Pure.
Empty.
“They were paranoid, suspicious.” A pleased smile and all he could see were teeth. “Impossible to catch, we thought.”
Not empty. Faceless figures in each one. Alien, human, he couldn’t tell.
Didn’t matter.
Pain transcended species. It was the one, true universal constant.
Indifferent, he watched and he listened. The voice was loud and clear, even over their screams. “You do good work, Mr Harkness.”
His eyes snapped open and he gasped, just once, before retreating into shuddering silence, pressing his back flat against the wall. His heart was pounding and his head was pounding and he ached but it was just a dream.
Just a dream.
Not a memory.
Isabel had been sitting on the floor, her back against the bed, reading one of the books she’d gotten from the library. At the sound of Jack’s gasp she turned around, frowning at the look on his face. “Hey,” she said quietly. She put the book down and pushed to her feet, disappearing into the bathroom for a moment, she returned with a cool washcloth, a glass of water and some Advil. “What’s wrong?” she asked as she took a seat on the edge of the bed.
He stared at her then, with a visible effort, relaxed. “Weird dream,” he whispered, managing a half smile. “No fun stuff happening in it. What are you doing here?”
“It’s the fever. It’ll make you see weird stuff,” Isabel said holding out the pills and the water until he took them and swallowed them down. She reached out and touched his forehead. “You’re burning up. Lay back down. Put this on your head. It’ll help. I’m here because Cedric was exhausted. I sent him to up to get some sleep. I promised him I’d look out for you for a bit.”
“Okay.” He took the cloth and dropped it over his forehead, grimacing a bit at the feel. “I’m not used to being sick.” And he wasn’t. Sick just wasn’t something that happened to him, at least not very often.
“Me neither,” she nodded. “We don’t get sick for some reason. At least not normally, still I know enough to say that rest and fluids are probably the best thing for you right now. Go back to sleep. I’m not going to go anywhere.”
“I don’t-“ Want to go back to sleep, he almost said, but it would make him sound like a child. “Don’t want you to hang around, if you’ve got things to do. I’m fine on my own.”
Isabel smiled, pushed him down and fixed the blankets, gently soothing a hand over his hair. “The only thing I have planned right now is taking care of you. So go to sleep. I’m going to sit here and read my book some more.”
Jack reluctantly closed his eyes, determined to stay awake. His body, unfortunately, had other ideas.
“Bring us these people.”
The voice again.
“…you do good work, Mr Harkness. Care to see?”
He wouldn’t look this time. Even if he didn’t seem to care, he wouldn’t look.
White rooms.
“They were paranoid, suspicious. Impossible to catch, we thought. But they trusted you.”
The words had changed, and he had to look.
White rooms. One for each of them.
Sam. Locked in nightmares as they sifted through her mind. Mouth a rictus as she refused to make a sound.
He flinched, curling tighter, hands clenched into fists.
Cedric. Blind and alone. Screaming voiceless as they dug for his heart.
His body jerked once, his nails leaving half moon imprints where they dug into his palms.
Isabel. Still alive, but the two with her were gone. Only empty shells left. Has to be Max, part of him observed, and Michael.
A guttural noise, low and sharp, escaped him. And he shuddered.
He turned.
Parker stood at his elbow.
Her eyes were vacant. No one was home. And as he turned to watch Jarod, he understood why.
“You do good work, Mr Harkness.”
And he felt nothing.
The voice was singing, and it was barbed wire tearing through his skull. ‘Let’s start at the very beginning, it’s a very good place to start…’
Loop. Repeat.
“…you do good work, Mr Harkness. Care to see?”
Shivering, he tried to press himself through the wall, body aching as he tried to escape.
Isabel felt helpless watching Jack as he struggled against the fever induced dream; although from his reactions she had a feeling it was more of a nightmare. Finally, unable to stand it any longer, she stretched out on the bed next to him and pulled him into her arms.
His entire body tensed at the touch, registering it as a threat. Someone had him. He started to pull away, when something clicked and he realised it was Isabel. He pushed against her, fingers curling tightly into her shirt, and pressed his head against her collarbone.
“Shush,” she whispered, gently running her hand up and down his back. “You’re going to be okay.” Isabel lost track of how long they stayed like that but eventually the quiet and the worry of the last few days overcame her and she fell asleep.
“It’s simple. You have pronounced talents and a certain moral flexibility. These we can use. And we’re prepared to reward you very well.”
“What?”
“Bring us these people.”
Isabel watched as he took the folder, and flinched when she saw the names it contained. The nightmare made sense. The missing time. What Jack feared that he’d done during that time. His worries about the Time Agency.
She walked up beside him and took his hand. “It’s just a dream. It’s not real.”
He flinched, violently, and raised a hand to ward off whatever had touched him before her words registered. Before she registered. Panicky, shaking, he tried to push her away. “You can’t be here.”
“It’s okay,” Isabel assured him, “It’s an alien thing. I can get into people’s dreams if I concentrate when I fall asleep. I must have dozed off. And I was worrying about you. So, here I am.”
“No, you can’t…”
The voice interrupted him. “They were paranoid, suspicious. Impossible to catch, we thought. But they trusted you.”
“Isabel. You have to go.” His voice was harsh, angry, and he grabbed her wrists, hard enough to bruise. “You can’t…” And the world shifted around them.
White rooms. One for each of them.
“…you can’t be here.” But it was too late. Helpless, he clenched his fists, then stepped in front of her. Trying to hide her. Trying to block her view.
Sam. Cedric.
Isabel.
Parker, standing empty beside them. Jarod.
“Jack, I promise you. This is only a dream.” She stepped past him, looking at each of the rooms in turn. “Why is it always a white room?” she muttered quietly. Turning back to Jack, she kept her face carefully schooled, showing only the concern she felt for him. “It’s just a dream,” she repeated. “Everyone is fine. They’re not here. The Isabel in that room, she’s not here. You and I? We’re back in your room at school. In your bed,” Isabel added with a small leer.
He was shaking his head in silent protest as he watched her; he couldn’t stop her, couldn’t make himself move. But he could listen. “Just a dream? I thought –“ Pausing, not willing to admit he’d feared it was a memory, he latched onto her last words. Used them to find his balance. “Decided to take advantage of me while I couldn’t fend you off, huh?” His smirk held more gratitude than suggestiveness, but he closed the distance between them, resting his fingers at the base of her neck.
Isabel shook her head at the innuendo, even in his nightmares, Jack was still Jack. Reaching up, she took hold of his fingers, wrapping them securely in her hand. “It’s just a dream. When we wake up we’ll be back in your room and everyone will be just fine. I promise you. And you know I’d never lie to you.”
“I know.” He glanced over her shoulder, shuddering, and deliberately turned away, focusing only on her, clutching her hand like it was the only solid thing left in his world. “Can we leave?”
“We can. Just wake up.”
Isabel blinked rapidly as she woke, immediately focusing on Jack. “Hey, sleepyhead. You awake?”
His eyes popped open, and he blinked. She had her arms around him and his hand was clenched in her shirt. He let go, but made no move to pull away. "Yeah," he answered, but it was husky, barely audible. "Yeah," he tried again, and it was stronger that time. "You okay?"
“I’m fine,” she promised, squeezing him gently. “How about you?” Isabel lifted her hand to brush against his forehead. “Your fever’s broken.”
"I feel," not good, definitely not good, but, "less bad. Head doesn't hurt as much." Jack closed his eyes briefly under her touch, realising that he felt better, that she must be right. He didn't hurt any more. Didn't feel like his skin was two sizes too small. Very softly he said, "I'm sorry you got pulled into that."
“No apologies needed,” Isabel assured him. “I didn’t mean to get into your head like that.” She smiled ruefully, “I should have realized when I started to doze off, being so close to you, and being worried about what you where dreaming, that pretty much guaranteed me a trip into your head. I’m sorry.”
"No. No, don't. Don't be sorry. I'm not." He placed one hand against her cheek. "Thank you for coming to get me. I don't know how you did it, but I'm grateful you did."
“I told you how Max can heal? Well dreamwalking is my special power.” Briefly, Isabel gave Jack an explanation of the hows and whys of dreamwalking, ending by saying, “I try not to do it to my friends. It’s too much of an invasion of privacy.”
Jack nodded in understanding. "That's what you did for Parker, that time before the mummies." He closed his eyes, yawning, and snuggled closer to her, feeling genuinely sleepy – as opposed to lethargic and exhausted from being sick - for the first time in days.
“Yeah, something like that.” She could feel him relaxing against her and she smiled. “Go back to sleep. I don’t have to be anywhere,” Isabel checked her watch, “for a few hours yet. So I’ll stick around.”
"Okay." One arm loosely circling her waist, he let his eyes drift shut, yawning again.
Carefully Isabel reached out and set the alarm on the table next to the bed to wake her in time for the basketball game. She smiled down at Jack, already relaxed and asleep, then closed her own eyes and fell back into a dreamless sleep.
[ooc: pre-played with
time_agent]
