Work Text:
I sat on my bed, arms crossed as I watched the wall clock’s second hand march towards 12:00. It had been a few hours since Stratt had offended me with her presence. I still half-expected her to come marching through that door any second, typing away on her tablet. I glowered at the wall. My hair was dishevelled, and I was still wearing my old clothes, despite the neatly-folded flight suit that had been placed on the nightstand next to me. I’d given up on trying to escape, but that didn’t mean I was going to make it easy for them.
As if on cue, just as the clock struck 12:00, I heard the click of the latch releasing. I didn’t bother to look back. Heavy footsteps pounded on the floor behind me.
“Dr. Grace.” A deep male voice with a Russian accent. Probably one of the guards here to, you know, kill me. I didn’t respond.
“Dr. Grace,” the guard said again, louder. You know, I was really getting tired of hearing my own name. I didn’t feel very much grace in that moment. I sighed and turned around. Two large, burly men in Russian military gear flanked a man in a white coat, who I could only assume must have been the doctor.
“Dr. Grace,” the guard repeated. “Please roll up your sleeve.” He was acknowledging, of course, the long-sleeved shirt I was wearing. We both knew that it wasn’t cold in Baikonur. I continued to stare at him, keeping my hands at my side.
“You know, you don’t have to do this,” I said, staring into his steely gaze. The guard’s eyes were cold, but not angry. He knew he could easily restrain me if need be.
“Dr. Grace. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.” I watched, unmoving, as the trio moved towards me. I didn’t resist as the other guard, silent as always, planted a hand firmly on my chest and pinned me against the bed. With his free arm, he dragged my sleeve up, exposing my bare shoulder. A jolt of fear ran through me, an overwhelming urge to shield my naked forearm. But by now, my other arm was pinned to the bed by the other guard, who had a tight grip on my wrist.
Silently, the doctor stepped forward and retrieved a syringe from his lab coat pocket. The needle caught in a ray of sunlight, and I winced at its sharp reflection. As he leaned towards me, I closed my eyes. I felt a rubber-gloved hand manhandling my arm, and then suddenly, something sharp and painful. I lurched back, my eyes jolting open. The doctor looked surprised, an alcohol swab still dangling from his hands. I felt my face flush red as I came to my senses. My shoulder was slightly wet, but otherwise unharmed.
The doctor said something to the talking guard in Russian. He nodded, then turned to me. “Dr. Grace. Dr. Makashov has told me that it is less painful if you do not flinch.” I replied with an annoyed stare. The doctor–Dr. Makashov–stepped forward once again, more carefully this time. The guards tightened their grip on my arms.
“Dr. Makashov,” I said, trying to steady the waver in my voice as another nauseating wave of fear rushed through me. I tried to remember any Russian I could from Ilyukhina. The only word I could think of was водка, the Russian word for vodka. Not exactly helpful at this moment.
The doctor finished wiping my shoulder, and started towards my arm with the needle. I tried to flinch, but the guards were prepared this time. They were not going to let me go.
“Dr. Makashov, please!” I said, panic seeping into my voice. I needed to get out of here. I needed to convince him to stop. “You don’t have to do this to me! Please! Please don’t do this to me!” I whipped my head back around, towards the guard who had been talking to me earlier. “Please! Say something! Say something to him! You can’t let him kill me! Don’t let me die, please!” My voice was pitching upwards, tears spilling down my flushed cheeks.
“Good night, Dr. Grace,” the guard said, maintaining the same neutral expression.
“Huh?” I stared at him. Horror set in as I realized what had happened, horror that was growing with the small bead of blood now forming on my shoulder. My head started spinning violently as a wave of nausea hit me. “What did…What did…” I was trying to speak, but my mouth wasn’t working. My lips felt heavy and thick, like they were too big for my mouth, my tongue stumbling over the words.
“Mnkshg!” The word stumbled out of my mouth, if you could even call it a word. Dr. Makashov turned away, heading towards the door. I tried a desperate play to grab the back of his lab coat, but my arm felt as heavy as lead, the force of gravity wrenching it down before my fingers could even clear the bed. With my muscles failing me, I strained to lift my eyelids, and the last thing I saw of Earth was the blurry figures of the two guards leaning over me as my consciousness slipped away.