bitteraftertaste | six ♥ video

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[The feed clicks on to show a few seconds of the ceiling in Vesper's cabin. All the lights are off, so it's pretty dark, but the faint shapes of objects, fingers and hands come into view with the glow of the screen as she fumbles to get the camera pointed at her face.

It's too close to see anything much at first - an eye, a cheekbone - before she pulls it back to a good angle and the image comes into focus. She's sitting on the floor in a nightgown, and she looks awful. There are dark bags under her eyes, and her already pale skin looks corpse white in the glow of the communicator's screen. Her dark hair, which is usually incredibly neat and pulled back from her face in a perfect bun is hanging loose, and looks wild and messy. She's obviously been crying, and the first word she manages is on the tail end of a sob.]

Please, [Her voice is hoarse and emotional, eyes glazed with fever, but still focused, almost manic in her desperation and very apparent fear.]

Please stop hurting him. Please. You have to let us go. I'll do anything, just please, please stop- [She cuts herself off, choking, dropping the communicator again to draw her knees up to her chest and press both her palms against her ears, rocking nervously back and forth, almost childlike, in an attempt to block noise out.] I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. It has to- it has to-

[Her attention suddenly snaps back to the communicator, and while she doesn't pick it up again, she glares at it, almost snarling, now more like an animal than a child, although the fear and the tears streaking her face are still just as present as ever.]

How did you find us? I thought we were- You promised! We were supposed to be safe!

[Her voice breaks for what seems like for good on the last word and a defeated sob bubbles up from her chest. She folds in on herself, wrapping her arms around her legs and pressing her face against her knees, seemingly forgetting about the communicator and going back to rocking slowly back and forth, like the gesture might provide some amount of comfort, her continued speech muffled and quiet.]

I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

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[Shit.

At first, he's baffled; why didn't she say something, why didn't she mention she was sick. But then the begging comes and he's right back in that basement with Le Chiffre for a moment. It's a memory he shoves away forcefully (he'll be damned if he ever lets himself be a slave to bad memories), and he's out his door a moment later, sliding his keycard into her lock and pushing the door open.]

Vesper, [he calls, breathing shallowly. No one's mentioned how contagious this thing might be, but he does recall Banner mentioning a virile element.] Where are you? [He won't stand around waiting for an answer, though, going through the rooms systematically instead.]

[There's not an actual reply so much as just a whimper and some muffled crying, which surprisingly, is not coming from the bathroom! She's currently tucked into the corner behind her bed, nearer the window that would have been a door opening onto a balcony in the real hotel room.]

[The whimper catches his ear, and he follows the crying to Vesper's corner, closing the distance in a few long strides. He's reminded, in small ways, of Camille; there's the briefest flash of the sinkhole, and putting his jacket around her shoulders before he's back in the present, reaching for Vesper's shoulders.]

We've got to get you to the infirmary. Can you walk?

[She slaps his hand away, hunching in on herself further, somehow managing to look hurt and terrified and maybe a little angry all at the same time.] Don't touch me! We had a deal!

[So uh it is safe to say she doesn't recognize you at the moment. B(]

[God damn it. He pulls his hand back with the slap, and presses his lips together in a thin, frustrated line. If he hadn't come around to believing her before, well, this would be terribly convincing.]

Vesper, it's me, [he snaps, because he's less interested in keeping her calm and more interested in getting her help.] It's James. Wake up!

[He wonders why he isn't just throwing her over his shoulder - really wonders, and decides he's a fool not to do just that, and deal with her indignity later. So he grabs for her arm again, pulling her with him as he tries to stand.]

[She snarls and tries to pull away, thrashing violently, bringing her free arm up to hit him and push and claw her way free. There's still no recognition, although she's dimly aware that she probably won't be able to overpower this person grabbing her, which doesn't seem to deter her from trying anyway.] Let me go, you said you'd stop, you said you'd stop but I can still hear him!

[He doesn't cringe, though he wants to. It's not a moment he cares to remember, and maybe that's why he stops bothering to be gentleness, jerking her up until he can stoop, and rise with her over his shoulder, hands tight around her legs. He doesn't answer, because she doesn't hear him anyway, she hears - who, Le Chiffre's lackeys? Mr. White?

With a grim look, he starts toward the door. Wouldn't it be nice, he thinks, if White showed up? Only for a short time, a day, just long enough to kill him.]

Let go of me! [she shouts, thrashing, trying to free her legs, hitting his back with her fists, even trying to bite him, completely inconsolable and certainly not entirely rational.] Let me go, let me go! James!

[Anything after that is just angry, desperate sobs as she continues to struggle to get free, tears blurring her vision and streaking down her face.]

[She is not making it remotely easy to hold onto her, and the punching he can largely ignore - she really does need to learn how to hit - the bite gets a started sound out of him, and he jostles her on his shoulder, grunting.

He's tempted to try playing the part, and hesitates at the door, using both his arms to keep her legs from flailing.]

If you keep struggling, [he starts, putting on what he remembers of White's accent, imitating the man he thinks she thinks he is,] we'll kill him.

[It's worth a shot, because he needs to let go with one hand to get the door open.]

[She freezes immediately, every muscle tense for a long moment before finally just going limp, the fight completely knocked out of her with that simple statement. She's still crying, but it's more in pathetic little whimpers now as she carefully clings on to him, not trying to hurt him so much as ground herself, remember to be quiet and stop fighting. She's confused and still feels sick, but she can't let them kill him, can't bare to think of them hurting him any further, and so she doesn't resist any longer.]

[If he was a more emotional man, he might take a minute to close his eyes and exhale and feel guilty. But he isn't, he's an agent who knows to take an opportunity, and not to waste it. So he pulls the door open and walks out, letting it bang close behind them as he heads down the hall way. Now that he doesn't need to fight her, he keeps her balanced with one hand, ready to go for his gun with the other should he need to.

He'll apologize later. Now, her health, and not her emotional state, was more important.]

[She's quiet - mostly quiet - for a few minutes. It's not comfortable, and she doesn't feel safe, but the almost rocking motion of his footsteps could maybe have been soothing, under different circumstances. It's something of a distraction, anyway.]

Where are you taking me?

The infirmary. [He's dropped trying to sound like White, back to himself instead and wary of a return to struggling.] You're not well, Vesper.

[He gets in the elevator; it's safer than running into an infected maniac on the stairs.]

[She stays limp and docile, barely registering the change in scenery or what he was saying, even though she'd asked the question in the first place.]

Someone... [Had done what? She couldn't remember.] I thought we'd left.

We did. [He's having trouble following her thought pattern, and frowns at the doors, willing the elevator to move faster. It's another few moments before they open and he can start forward again.]

[She hums softly, although whether that's in agreement or what is sort of completely up in the air. She fists a hand in his shirt and closes her eyes, seemingly calmer for the time being.]

Edited 2013-02-26 19:44 (UTC)

[It's both comforting and alarming; he can't tell if she's losing consciousness or just forgetting her assumptions, and he doesn't know which is worth. So he picks up the pace, and soon enough turns into the infirmary. It takes a moment to find an empty bed - there are a lot of people affected - but he spots one, and lays her down carefully, using one hand to cradle her head as he settles her.]

[It was more like she was being lulled to sleep, really, although being moved off his shoulder and onto the bed does wake her up a little. The gentleness almost surprises her, and she frowns up at him, almost like she's actually seeing him for the first time.]

James?

[Well that's a relief. He nods, withdrawing his hand and smoothing hair off her face for a moment.]

Do you know where you are?

[She doesn't answer the question, instead reaching out for his hand, still looking dazed and more than a little confused.]

I thought- You're alright?

[He lets her take his hand, curling his fingers around hers.] I'm fine, [he promises, though his shoulder is aching from her weight and the bite.]

Vesper, do you know where you are?

[She considers, brow furrowing, before shaking her head, squeezing his hand.]

We're safe? [She eventually asks hesitantly, almost like she's afraid of the answer.]

We're safe, [enough, he doesn't add. He does pat her hand before looking away, scanning for a doctor.]

Stay here, all right? I'm going to go find someone to help you.

Alright.

[She's tired, anyway, it's not like she's going anywhere.] You'll be back?

Soon, [he says, putting up a calm veneer and breathing carefully, slowly, a measured in and out to keep himself under control. She'll be fine. He tells himself that as many times as he needs to, squeezing her hand and slipping away to find someone.]

Shut up. If you didn't want to face the disease peaking, you should have reset while it was still benign.

[Sorry Arthas, you're not getting a reply. :v]

[For the most part, Dean has been trying to physically interfere with the effects of whatever this is going around, but when he checks the network and finds this, he just reacts. He doesn't even know who she is, can't even begin to guess what room she might be in, but he can't ignore that, not while he's still himself.

He keeps his voice steady and calm, matching his expression.]

Hey. Can you hear me, darlin'? My name's Dean - you're okay. Or you're gonna be okay.

[She hunches a little further in on herself for a moment before finally reluctantly lifting her head up, staring back at the communicator blearily.]

Why is this happening? [Although whether that's a sign of clarity or further hallucination is anyone's guess, really.]

Because people're assholes - that much I can tell you, which is more'n we usually get around here. But it's okay.

[It feels nice to have someone to blame, to be able to explain it, to promise that it's being worked on; the bullshit the Admiral pulls, who knows, but this?

This he can promise will be over soon.]

What's your name? Can you tell me where you are?

[Her expression goes dark for a moment, almost pouting at him.]

Don't you already know?

[There's nothing like impatience in his reply or smile, just that sometimes humor gets through to people when nothing else does.]

I don't make a habit of asking questions I already know the answer to, sweetheart.

[Unfortunately, the disease is in the process of pretty much cooking her brain, so any sort of rationality is pretty much out the window for the moment. You'll be getting an apology after this is all said and done for, Dean. B(]

Don't call me that. You have to let him go.

[He knows, which is why he's decided not to wait on trying to get any sense out of her and is instead just walking down the hallways now banging on any door he doesn't know for sure who it belongs to; as long as they're talking, he'll hear himself on her end when he gets to the right one.

But there are eight floors to search and she might not even be in a cabin, so. He's got a ways to go.]

Give me something else to call you then. Let who go?

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