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Rachel Jensen stared right into the eyes of her captor. A fierce, steely gaze to show that she would never break, no matter what they try. She was less sure of that fact than she would ever admit to anyone. It was - unsettling, to stare into your own face. And with her own hands driving needles underneath her fingernails, even Rachel's perfect composure was shaking.
There were minute differences in the face of the woman in front of her of course. A small scar cutting through her left eyebrow, near completely obscured underneath the immaculate eyebrows. But Rachel knew their shape, forming them every morning in the mirror, no hair out of place. Glee filled her stomach. If she was anything like herself, the asymmetry must drive her double insane. The lipstick a far redder shade than she would ever wear, the lines between her brows a touch more pronounced, the ones around her mouth a touch less. Her interrogator was not woman who laughed. Smiled, yes, with cruel satisfaction and fascination, but not laughing. Pleasure, not joy.
They were not identical, but they were the same person. Same eyes, nose, cheekbones, teeth. Professor Rachel Jensen. The guards dragging her here had called her double only the Professor. They had none of the individuality Ian's men had, even in their uniforms. This place was not one of names and personhood. And yet, she had made a name for herself. As absurd as it felt, Rachel couldn't help the sense of pride in her core. Even in this twisted, evil world, she had fought her way to science. To the power that came with it.
Because as much as the woman in front of her enjoyed her pain, the minute twitches as another needle was driven under a nail she couldn't suppress, the way her other self's hands held hers gently as she inflicted perfectly measured harm, it was clear that this was the method not the target. The red lips were asking far too precise questions, prying for details on equations, the physical properties of the machine that had brought her here. This woman, too, loved science beyond anything or anybody.
And beyond the agony shooting up her hands to her arms, Rachel had to admit she herself was curious too. She was filing away every iota of information, trying to work out the equations her double was noting down on paper. Neatly. They had the same handwriting. Goodness, she wouldn't be able to hold a pen for weeks if she escaped. No, not if. When. She would not let this woman get to her. Rachel would escape and get back to the machine and then she would use all this to get back to her own dimension? Universe? World? That was another question to be worked out. If she didn't even know where she was how could she hope to get back?
"This would really be much easier if you cooperated. I know you want to. You know I know. Just imagine what we could achieve together. We could change the world, you and I. Nothing to hold us back." Rachel focused on the way hearing her own voice was unsettling, trying to ignore how tempting the concept was. Science without restraint, without concern of morality and unlimited funding, and a mind just like her own to work with. It sounded like a dream. She pulled her mind back to the pain in her fingers, the way the restraints pressed uncomfortably against her joints and the cruel instruments lying on the table.
"Never." She made her voice full of contempt, trying to spit the refusal into the Professor's face. She could not hide the tremor of fear and pain. Not from herself. Suddenly she understood the dejected look of Allison and Ian when she scolded them intimately. "In that case," the other woman reached delicately for a scalpel, "I'll show you how I treat traitors. I wonder just what it takes to make you scream." She ran the blade carefully along Rachel's chin, just barely scratching the skin. Tingling, not yet cutting.
"Most of them come here prepared for pain. Of course, eventually they give in. But usually there's a quicker way. Something that is integral to them, basic to their identity. Sometimes it's a pretty face," quickly and without warning she draws the scalpel over Rachel's face, from the temple to her lips, tiny drops of blood flying through the air, "my former captain rather valued his aim," Rachel tries not to sag in relief when the Professor only points the scalpel at her eyes, "and I know yours is your mind." She rests the tip of the blade against Rachel's forehead. The metal feels cool on her skin. Drops of blood are running down her chin, dripping on her collar. Rachel tried to forget what a good blouse this was.
"Unfortunately I require your mind too. So I'll have to be a bit more inventive. You know, the hands are full of nerves and tendons all rather close to the skin. If I were to cut here -" she rests the blade on Rachel's wrist, "you'd lose function of two fingers. Here, movement of your thumb. This spot severs the nerve entirely." She was moving the blade in time with her words. "I imagine it would be rather hard to program a computer or write down equations without those. So you better start talking." Just to underline her words she flicked against one of the needles still in Rachel's fingers. This time she couldn't hide the gasp. The professor's blood-red lips curled into a cruel smile.
"There's nothing I can tell you that you don't already know." The words made her cheek sting, pulling at the bleeding cut. It wasn't quite true. Rachel had been keeping her eyes on the notes of equations, calculating in her head to keep herself collected. She had been doing that at every scold of her mother, every time a teacher told her to stop focusing on maths and learn household skills since she was a little girl. No one could take science from Rachel Jensen, in this or any other world. She reckoned she had a pretty good chance to make it work if she could get to the machine here. Except she was still tied to a chair being tortured.
It was in that moment the door blew up. When the ringing in her head stopped enough she saw Group Captain Ian Gilmore standing in the entrance, holding the Professor at gunpoint. "Ian! How did you get here?" Relief mixed with confusion in her. Then she saw the small blond girl sneaking in beside him, running over to free her restraints. Allison. Of course. She must have worked it out herself. Clever girl. Rachel had taught her well.