Sandy Jameson (hearseverything) wrote in commandhq, @ 2018-05-05 16:44:00 |
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Entry tags: | p: lindsey, p: mena, rachel cohen, sandy jameson |
Who: Sandy Jameson & Rachel Cohen
What: Sandy gets let out of solitary
When: Saturday evening
Where: Solitary
Rating: TBD
”I’m sorry, Miss Jameson, but you’ll be spending time in solitary.” Sandy had felt the world drop away from her when Rachel had told her that she was going to be locked away in punishment for what had happened. She’d felt a tightness around her chest that burned, made it hard to breathe, and she’d dragged her feet, a numb terror that was written across her face the whole time, even as Rachel took her to a cell and shut the door.
As soon as the door had closed, the world had gone silent. Sandy had touched her temples, pushed the heel of her hands into her head and gritted her teeth against a deafening silence that echoed through her head. Against the crippling loneliness and isolation that suddenly ripped through her and the pain of having her psychic connections severed unexpectedly. She pushed herself into the corner of the room, knees against her chest, hands buried in her hair as she rocked back and forth, for how long she didn’t know.
She had never been alone with her own thoughts, not for over ten years. Ever since her powers manifested at eight and a half, she’d not had her own thoughts to keep her company. She’d had others. The thoughts of the world around her to keep out the hissing evils of her own mind. The evils that told her that Calvin stuck with her because of their history. That Scotty wouldn’t have wanted her to try and protect him from someone that he was making friends with. That Cassidy liked Tammy better than her. That Tammy never really liked her. That Alejandro and Orla were keeping secrets. That she was worthless, that her dad had abandoned her and he’d never actually intended on coming back for her. That she was broken, that no one would ever want to be friends with her. Aidan and Dove only talked to her because they were in the same place, at the same time, they would never like her like they liked their other friends. They would never pick her, that they would never choose her. That no one really liked her but couldn’t think otherwise because she was in their heads.
Her thoughts were so loud, and she couldn’t drown them out or focus on something else. She sobbed, they wracked her body visibly and she hit the back of her head against the wall. She’d never felt so alone and she hated it. She was afraid.
Next came the screaming, the screaming to drown out the loneliness and the silence, pillow pressed against her face as if she was trying to smother herself but the camera would have picked up on the audio nevertheless.
She didn’t move from the corner for the first twenty-four hours. The food that was dropped off for her went un-eaten and ignored, a small collection of food that grew over the time she was in there. She had no idea how long it was but some time after the first day she got up and walked to the door, beat her fists against it and begged to be let out. She didn't know if there was someone on the other side, but she screamed until her voice was raw, begged and pleaded that she’d never do it again, that she’d be good if they just let her out and let her see her friends please. She hit the door until her hands hurt, bright red smears left behind as she sank to her knees with her forehead against the door, body trembling with exhaustion and fear and those sobs that wouldn’t go away even though she didn’t have any tears left to cry.
With no concept of time, she had no idea how long she stayed at the door, but her voice was a harsh croak when more food was brought to her and she asked again - her voice barely a whisper - for them to let her out. Please- please just let her out- please- she can’t be alone anymore.
They said no.
Rage took her then, the food and drink she’d been given that had been sitting untouched was lifted and hurled against the walls, thrown at the door and spilt everywhere. She overturned the bed, lost and confused and lashing out in fear, she sat amongst the chaos and curled up on her side in a ball.
It was too quiet, too quiet. There was no one. She had no one. She was alone.
What if they were all mad at her? She just wanted to protect Scotty. She wanted to protect him from someone who was only going to hurt him. Everyone only ever hurt them. What if he liked her more than them? What if they hated her now? What if they didn’t want her around after realising that having her not in their heads for a few days was a good thing?
Glassy and empty-eyed, Sandy stayed where she was, surrounded by the chaos of her own making - her mind and her actions - and she didn’t really move. She didn’t sleep, she cried and rocked on the spot, every now and then curling in on herself when the silence became too much to bear because her voice wasn’t working anymore having screamed herself hoarse, screamed until her voice abandoned her like her powers. Like everything else. Like everyone.
She was alone.
God.
She was alone.
---
Solitary wasn’t a punishment that Rachel necessarily agreed with; but she was working with limited options. It was a cruel way to treat another human being, one that she only relied on in the most extreme cases.
This instance, unfortunately, qualified.
Any progress she’d made with Sandy was now going further back than square one. The trust would regress, and Rachel would be lucky if she could ever get Sandy to listen to her ever again. Solitary was not a decision to make lightly. If Sandy had been at least honest about the incident with Syreni Jones, Rachel may not have chosen this route; instead, Sandy may have been given a punishment like what she had given Orla Applegate. Lots and lots of extra training, unpleasant cleaning duty, and perhaps twenty-four hours without access to her powers. But lying and roping Orla into that lie – that was the tipping point.
It wasn’t just Sandy who was going to lose in some trust in Rachel. The reverse was just as true.
She was grateful when the time rolled around. Rachel was obsessively looking at her watch, waiting for the exact second she could leave her office and head towards the brig. The second hand clicked on with maddening slowness, and all the while Cal’s angry words rattled in her brain. Rachel had a thick skin – she had to – but things, lately, were taking their toll. Coming face-to-face with Connor after so long, and then Jett Danvers, along with all the normal (normal, she scoffed) stresses of the job; it was a lot.
None of that mattered. It couldn’t matter. Not when there was a job to do, not when it was this job. The personal had to be shoved aside. The agents, their safety, and their success in the field; these were the things that mattered. That had to matter, just not to the point of emotional investment. That was the line, the one that was starting to blur. If Rachel wanted to continue being successful at this job, she needed to avoid investigating Grey’s complicated and missing history or Sandy’s (evidently correct) tip about abusive Handlers in other facilities. She had to care, but not too much. This place, and the people it housed, were not a replacement for family.
“There was a lot of commotion, but she didn’t hurt herself. Just be aware, the room might be a mess.” The attendant of the brig handed her a clipboard – signing off on Sandra Jameson’s release from confinement. Rachel nodded as she handed it back, but didn’t say anything in response.
She headed to Sandy’s room, key ready, and quickly unlocked the door.
A shaft of hallway light cut across the room. Sandy, balled on the floor, with a tear-streaked face, was in the middle of a chaotic mess. The attendant was right; the room was a disaster. Uneaten food had been thrown across the room, staining the walls (not uncommon in here) and the bed was upturned. Sandy had clearly pounded her small fists against the wall. It wasn’t unusual to see this sort of sight upon opening an isolated room, but that didn’t make it any more pleasant to witness. Again.
Rachel opened the door wider. “Sandy,” she said quietly. “It’s time to leave.”
---
It took Sandy a moment to respond, but she turned her head to look at Rachel and her expression was that of a young woman who was heartbroken. After thirty seconds, which seemed an agonisingly long time, Sandy got to her feet. Her hands were a little bruised and bloodied, but she ran towards Rachel and flung herself at the other woman. She didn’t speak, she tried but all that came out was a weak, whispery croak and she hid her face in Rachel’s shirt, clinging to the other woman as she broke down and started crying all over again.
She felt dizzy and sick, her legs barely held her up and she’d staggered over to Rachel. Her fingers twisted in Rachel’s shirt as she clutched to her, her shoulders and whole body wracked with sobs.
She couldn’t say anything, and her powers were still off so she couldn’t communicate to Rachel how grateful she was for the door being opened. She just clutched at her because it was another person - human contact. Sandy had never been truly alone her entire life. Her father had been around after her mother’s psychotic break. Then she’d been alone in a city surrounded by people but it had only been for an hour or so, maybe a little longer, and then after that, she’d never been alone. She’d never had to sleep alone, eat alone, be alone.
Evidently, she didn’t handle it well.
---
Rachel couldn’t speak when she saw the bloodied knuckles. When Sandy began running towards her, Rachel half expected the young Super to push right by her and run out into the hallway, charging to escape the brig. Instead, Sandy collided with Rachel, her arms going around the Handler, leaving Rachel utterly shocked. Standing statue-still, the Handler peered around the hallway, her shock and discomfort evident to anyone who might have been passing. Fortunately, there wasn’t exactly a run of Supers being put in or taken out of Solitary tonight.
Sandy didn’t need her powers turned back on for Rachel to know how grateful she was to see another person again.
Slowly, Rachel put her arm around Sandy’s shoulders and held on tightly. The young woman was sobbing into her shirt and twisting her fingers as her entire body shook. In an effort to comfort, she finally put her other arm around Sandy and held her tightly.
She didn’t move. Didn’t say a word. Just held onto the young girl and embraced her tightly, her non-verbal way of expressing that Sandy was no longer alone.
“Come on,” Rachel whispered quietly, “Let’s get out of here.”
---
Sandy just nodded, clearly reluctant to let go, just in case Rachel disappeared and left her alone. She knew, logically, that wouldn’t happen, but she wasn’t exactly feeling rational right now. She stood where she was, just soaking in the presence of another person after having been separated for a few days.
It took her a little longer to relinquish her hold on Rachel. If later asked, she’d say that nothing happened and that she definitely, definitely didn’t cling to the older woman as if she were the only port in a storm. She swallowed, trying to calm herself down but her breath was still coming in uneven hiccups, hysteria still holding onto her even as she released her grip on her handler.
“O-kay,” she managed, the strain of speaking hurting her dry, raw throat. She moved away from Rachel, curling her arms around herself as she hugged herself tightly and looked at the floor, trying to control her breathing but failing miserably, using her shoulders to dry her tear-stained cheeks.
She swayed slightly on the spot, waiting for Rachel to take the lead, feeling a modicum of anticipation as to what would happen when they moved out of the nullifying field, trying to brace herself for her powers returning. She chewed the inside of her lower lip, resisting the urge she had to reach out for Rachel’s hand, digging her fingers into her upper arms to keep herself from reaching out. The pain from where she’d beat against the door keeping her grounded as they headed to the exit.
---
Rachel didn’t try and push Sandy into letting go, or into moving forward. Of her own accord, Sandy disentangled and stepped away, wrapping her arms around herself as though she was suddenly adrift again.
She could see the anxiety still swimming in Sandy’s eyes. Unable to resist, Rachel put her arm around Sandy’s shoulders and began to guide her towards the exit. “We’ll go slow,” she told her. “And we’ll go to the infirmary first, to get your hands looked after. And so you can eat.” Clearly, none of the food that had been given to Sandy had been eaten; rather, it was used to decorate the cell room.
She walked slowly, not wanting to force Sandy back out in the world, but wanting to put some distance between the agent and solitary. Plus, she needed to be seen by medical, and as soon as possible.
As she led Sandy, Rachel reached up with her free hand and gently brushed some of the tears off Sandy’s cheeks as she offered a small smile. “You can contact Cal, too. He can come see you in the infirmary.”
---
Sandy just about stopped herself from leaning into the touch that cleared tears from her cheeks. She hadn't cried like this in a really long time, and the last time she had, she'd hidden away until she pulled herself together. She hadn't had someone wipe her tears for years; she'd become too proud to let her friends see her cry, held too tightly to her belief, to her position within the group as the other angry one - Hotshot- the one who flew off the handle and defended her family viciously. Who just felt anger at the world, who protected what was hers. Someone who cried, someone who was weak, couldn't do that. Couldn't protect what was hers. So she had always done her best to not look weak.
But Rachel wasn't one of the Outsiders. She sniffled, her hand tracing the path that Rachel's had taken. She just nodded miserably, happy to be free from solitary but she couldn't shake the last few days off so quickly. She was caught in a loop: she couldn't stop crying because she was crying. Her breath came in little hiccups, and she leaned into Rachel as they left the building.
She winced as they stepped out of the nulification field, the sunlight - dimming as it was - caused her to blink a few times. Seconds later, as the effects of the field were gone, Sandy's knees buckled a little as the minds of the base slammed into her like a tsunami. The rush of voices and sounds hit her at once, her palms pressing into her temples as she stopped walking. She would have fallen were it not for Rachel's hold on her.
She closed her eyes, breathing in through her nose, gritting her teeth against the burning pain; against the thudding in her brain, the elephants of the facility and beyond beginning their trample through her skull.
She reached out, searching the base for the minds she needed to reconnect with; Calvin, Cassidy - both of whom she told to come to the infirmary, Scotty, Tammy, Aidan, Dove, Grey. She touched Alejandro's mind with hers, just a brush but not a connection, and she did the same with Orla. Even Rachel, she nudged the handler's mind with her own to remind herself that everything was okay. That Rachel was there.
The connection was left open, Sandy wanting to say something to Rachel but not being able to find the words. She just leaned closer to Rachel, letting the other woman support her and swallowing her own pride because she knew that her legs wouldn't carry her. Her head was spinning - now not just from not eating or drinking for the last four days.
[I don't feel good] she said to Rachel, trusting that Rachel wouldn't let her fall.
---
Rachel halted as soon as Sandy did. The young woman was pressing her fists against her temples. As much as Rachel wanted to lead Sandy back under the protection of the power nullification, she didn’t; Sandy was going to need to readjust. Shitty as it was, it was better to rip off the Band-Aid now than to draw the whole thing out. When Sandy swayed, Rachel strengthened her grip on Sandy’s shoulders.
She would keep her steady. There wasn’t much she could do to help, not really, beyond being patient.
However, it took her by surprise when she could feel Sandy – not physically, but mentally. It was an odd sensation, but really nothing about psychics should have caught her by surprise anymore. Rachel momentarily straightened up, her surprise evident. She masked it quickly and maintained her firm grasp on Sandy’s shoulders.
I don’t feel good.
Rachel nodded. “You didn’t eat or drink, so I’m not surprised.” There was no judgement in Rachel’s voice. “If you want, we can head back inside. I’ll get you some water and something to eat. It might help you face all of this – ,” she gently touched Sandy’s forehead. “Make you stronger.”
---
Sandy grimaced when Rachel suggested she go back in, back into the silence. It was a lot to process, a lot of noise after a few days of being disconnected and isolated but she would rather have that than being alone. Rather be inundated than cut off from everything. She didn’t even know how she would have talked to someone if she didn’t have her powers, if someone had come in - like Rachel had - she might have just clung to them, too, desperate for that interaction. Desperate to know that someone was there. She had never understood just how much a part of her her abilities were until they were taken away from her. Until she was stripped of everything she knew and everyone that she loved - again.
She might not have been an empath, but the thoughts that strayed from Sandy’s mind into Rachel’s - I’d rather die-don’t put me back in there please- I can’t handle the silence- please please please don’t do that to me again- I hate it - utterly by accident indicated her desperate need to just not be locked up again.
[No,] she responded firmly, though her xpression belied the tone of her mental voice. She just shook her head and set her jaw. [Can I go back to my room? Or do we have to go to medical? I don’t really want to. I just want to sleep...]
---
I’d rather die—don’t put me back in there please—I can’t handle the silence—please, please, please don’t do that to me again—I hate it.
It was like all the words tumbled into Rachel’s head – they just weren’t her voice. Or her thoughts. And certainly, it had nothing to do with her feelings about the situation; it was all Sandy. She could hear the desperation in the Super’s voice. The rest of Sandy’s words came to Rachel in a similar tumble, all mental. Would she ever get used to that?
Her hands still on Sandy’s shoulders, Rachel stepped in front of her. “We won’t go back in there, then. I don’t ever want to bring you back there,” she hoped that her sincerity was clear, regardless of the stoic firmness of her expression. “But you can’t go back to your room. I have to take you to the infirmary to get you checked out. As soon as they release you, we’ll get you back to your room, okay? You may need to stay the night, but you’ll be allowed visitors, and your powers won’t be nullified, and you can sleep there as much as you need.”
Gently, she put her arms around Sandy’s shoulders and pulled her into another embrace. “I won’t take you back inside solitary, but I need to get you to medical. We need to have your hands checked out. I’ll stay with you as long as you want, alright?”
---
Sandy just nodded miserably, eyes closed as Rachel hugged her again. She flexed her hands against her sides, not immediately reaching up to take the comfort that was offered but she did eventually, curling her arms around Rachel’s waist and whilst she wasn’t actually reading the other woman’s mind, she did nudge it gently with her own. Like a small thank you that she wasn’t about to say out loud. She did have some pride, after all.
And sleeping sounded good. And not going back into solitary ever sounded good too. And she had already reached out to Cal and Cas so they’d probably meet her there and then she’d be safe and she’d be okay to sleep because her boys would be there. And when she was better, and let out of medical, she would go and see Scotty and make sure that he didn’t hate her.
But first she needed… she needed to lie down. Because her legs were about to give.