―
"The emotional qualities are antagonistic to clear reasoning."
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
―
WHEN SHE OPENED HER EYES, all Galina could make out were blurry figures- blurry figures against a dark and brooding background.
Her eyes were obscured by a smelly and dirty piece of cloth that seemed to distort her vision into some twisted nightmare. She tried to open her mouth to let out a strangled groan at the pain that pounded through her head, but she was gagged and immediately choked on the piece of fabric.
Her heart began to race as she struggled against the chair, crying when she realized that her hands were bound tightly on the arms by coarse ropes and that her feet were similarly secured. If she had doubted it before, she no longer would; her wrist was most definitely broken.
"Ah, you are awake, yes?"
The antagonistic voice forced her to regain some composure as she tried to level her breathing. Without warning, the sack on her head was ripped off, followed soon after by the fabric wrapped around her mouth.
Although it took her a few seconds to adjust to unfiltered sight, she looked down in horror to find that she was only wearing her undergarments. She looked at her right wrist and saw that it was bent at an awkward angle and that the skin surrounding it was coated with matted blood.
She couldn't see it but she could feel the blood that was coating her hair and she tasted the metallic sting in her mouth and spat on the ground.
She quickly analyzed her surroundings, trying to figure out where she was, but to no avail. The room was surely to be in an abandoned building because the walls were rotting and the room smelled primarily of wet mold. The only sounds she could hear were the persistent drip-drip of water trickling behind her.
When she zeroed in on the person in front of her, the one that had called to her, she froze and felt any semblance of calmness pale just like her face.
"Oksana," Vladimir said, kneeling down in front of her and brushing his fingers against her bruised leg. "You sure have grown into a gorgeous woman."
Galina didn't want to show any fear, but being face to face with the leader of the organization that had captured her was too much. Her lips trembled as she took in his aged face which was covered with well-deserved wrinkles and patchy facial hair. His hair was much greyer than she remembered and when he smiled wickedly at her, all she could see were cigarette-stained teeth.
"That is not my name," she spat, fighting against her binds.
"You will always be Oksana Sokolova in my eyes." Vladimir's amusement as he tipped his head rivaled that of a child who had just recently gotten away with a nasty trick. "We have looked so long for you, Oksana."
"I thought they killed all of you," Galina barked as her fear slowly morphed into rage. "The raid. I-"
"Ah, so they thought," he snickered, running his fingers across his mustache. "They killed the majority of us- yes- but you remember Demetri?"
How could she ever forget?
Demetri with his stark brown hair and hooked nose was the one that was in charge of the chemical aspect of her experiments.
The one that tortured her on end with samples and shots and blood draw.
The reason she could no longer bear children.
Vladimir enjoyed the way her face contorted in horror at the mention of his partner. "Demitri, Alexei, and I were the only ones left. Over the years we have been recruiting. Our numbers are not as great as they once were, but they are sizeable."
"What is it you want from me?" Galina questioned, noticing the way Vladimir's eyes were gleaming with anticipation.
"To continue on with our legacy," he put simply, standing up slowly and circling the chair like a shark who's just spotted his prey. "You are our only perfect specimen and we have found it hard to recreate what we have accomplished with you. Since Mycroft burned all of our research, we knew that we had to find you eventually."
Galina- even though she should have been paying attention to the situation she had found herself in and plotting ways to escape- could only process one simple phrase.
"You have more children," she gasped, feeling her eyes pool with tears. She could recount every single detail of the eight years she spent imprisoned. It was cruel and it was humiliating and her heart cracked at the idea that it was happening to more children.
"More than you can imagine." He seemed to take great pleasure at her misery. He loved the look of panic and terror in her green eyes. To him, Galina was her most radiant when she was horrified. "Oh, Oksana. Mycroft should never have let his little birdie out of her cage."
Galina gritted her teeth. All of her life she had either been kept by men who treated her like an experiment, or men that treated her like a wounded bird needing protection.
However, through her time at 221B Baker Street, Galina had learned that she was in fact not a bird.
She was a hawk.
"I will not help you," she said definitively, urging him with her eyes to just dare to challenge her.
"You will have no choice."
"I choose death."
Vladimir chuckled as he took a handful of her hair and yanked her head back painfully. "Too bad that is not an option."
As his horrid fingers were trailing down her neck, she spotted something in the corner of the room, high up on the walls, that made her heart race.
Nestled in between two metal pipes was a tiny camera, almost invisible if you were not looking in the exact angle she was. She could see that it was off, but she recognized it immediately as a government-issued camera.
Her captors had made a mistake. In their hubris and frenzy, they had chosen an abandoned military building.
And every military building was under the watchful eye of one Mycroft Holmes.
So, tuning out all the pain and all her violent emotions, she chose her words with impeccable care and consideration.
"So..." she began, her eyes wandering only briefly to the camera. "What is it you are going to do?"
Vladimir claimed to be a smart man but he paid no attention to her and her wandering eyes. "We have been waiting a long time to continue what we started. We want to show you what we have been working on. After that, it is back to Mother Russia."
"So, we are going back to Russia?" Galina gulped, hoping that by repeating his words slowly and deliberately, by some miracle the camera would spring to life, but it didn't. However, she did not lose hope. "When?"
"So curious маленькая птичка (little bird)," he chuckled, roughly shoving her head down as his nails dug into her shoulders. "We can sort that all later but there are some things that need to be taken care of immediately. You know you killed two of my men back there and we can not have that."
It all happened too quickly for Galina to process. One second his hands were on her shoulders, and a second later his fist connected with the corner of her jaw. Her mouth had been open when he hit her, her teeth unwillingly clamped down on her tongue. She let out a howl as blood spluttered out of her mouth.
Before she could recover, another blow connected with her nose and for a second all she could feel was shock and the blood flowing like a waterfall out of her nostrils.
She subtly looked in the direction of the camera and breathed in deeply as she lifted her head.
"I am okay," she shouted in between the bubbles of blood. "It is okay, I am okay."
"You okat, eh?" Vladimir cackled, pulling a knife out from behind his back. "Let us see just how much you can take."
He kneeled down and cut the ropes that were tied around her ankles and, taking advantage of the situation, she delivered a quick kick at his jaw.
"Ah! That is more like it!" he shouted cheerfully, rubbing his face before he cut the ties around her wrists. "Now we are having fun, yes?"
Galina growled as she ran toward him, trying to grab the knife from his large hand, but he laughed once again as he kicked her feet out from under her.
"Can you take this?" he grunted, repeatedly delivering blow after blow at her stomach until she was sure her it would be covered with disgustingly deep purple bruises and some minor internal bleeding.
"I can take it," she cried, gasping as he pressed his foot down on her neck. "I can take it! I can take it!"
She knew she would be rescued, it was only a matter of time, so she was sure that no matter what the cost and what the pain, she would be able to absorb it and disperse it like she was taught to.
She was sure that she knew everything she needed to keep her alive.
She might not have been faster or stronger, but she was smarter and Galina Ivanov would always prevail under the trembling thumbs of men who considered themselves above her.
Vladimir was hellbent on showing her- that after everything was said and done- that she could, in fact, not take it.
♖
The atmosphere in Mycroft Holmes' office was grim as he, Sherlock, and John all puzzled over where Galina could have been taken to.
They had made their way over to Mycroft's office after Sherlock- in a fit of rage and desperation- completely destroyed his flat. Every corner of the flat was fair game and he tore every inch of it apart as Rosie cried in a panic behind him.
Mrs. Hudson had heard the commotion and took the baby away while John tried to calm Sherlock down, which earned him a swift slap on the face.
Sherlock's fury and worry did not taper off in their new setting as he continued to scream profanities at his brother all the while John tried to maintain some semblance of unity.
"Well, have you found a damned thing yet!" Sherlock barked, shoving Mycroft's landline off his desk. "I swear your dwindling life span has made you less competent by the second!"
"You make it sound as if I'm merely pulling a rabbit out a hat like some fancy trick," Mycroft countered, tapping incessantly on his keyboard. "We are running all facial recognition on all operating cameras and we haven't found anything yet."
"Look harder," Sherlock growled, with eyes that spoke of all the growing threats he was trying hard to repress. "Find her, now!"
"Sherlock, for goodness' sake, pull yourself together!" Mycroft shouted, not remembering a time when Sherlock had ever looked so ravenously blood-thirsty. "What on Earth has gotten into you!"
Sherlock scoffed at him as he pushed himself off the desk. "How can you say that? The woman you practically raised is off somewhere and you can't even seem to find her! I now believe that you truly do occupy 'a small position in the British government'."
"Mate, calm down," John urged, seeing the way Sherlock's hands had balled into fists. "He's trying his hardest."
"No, he is most certainly not!"
Through all the commotion that had followed the news of Galina's disappearance, Sherlock's mind could barely think straight. He knew that Galina was capable of altering his mind and captivating his pure attention. She was also the one that could quiet all the racing thoughts and bring him true peace.
However, what he currently felt was nothing like the annoying joy and confusing admiration he had felt for her.
Sherlock Holmes had finally realized what true fear was and it was entirely corrupting and overwhelming. Before, when his friends' lives were in danger because of his own actions, he was never afraid- nervous perhaps but ever afraid- because he was always in control of the situation.
He could always think ahead, predict actions, analyze thought patterns, and come up with several different ways altercations could play out both to his benefit and detriment.
But he was not thinking clearly and he could not formulate any way to articulate just how painful the strain of not knowing was.
He felt like John Watson.
No, worse-
He felt like Jeff Lestrade.
"Alright, alright," John said, holding onto Sherlock's elbow as he regarded Mycroft. "You said you're checking all cameras?"
"John, some of us are not as slow on the uptake. Must I repeat it for you?"
"Oh come off it," John muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. He would eventually add this encounter to the infinite list of times when he had managed not to punch a Holmes. "Are you checking the ones that are off as well?"
Mycroft's face drained of all color and John felt slightly morose. Sherlock had been outwardly showing all his panic and turmoil, not bothering to hide it, and exemplifying the very reason why his brother always referred to him as the emotional one of the two.
John hadn't stopped to realize that perhaps Mycroft was just better at hiding his blinding sentiment. The fact had proven to be true due to the simple fact that Mycroft had overlooked.
A secret Russian terrorist cell?
Of course, they wouldn't be hiding in plain sight.
It took a few more strokes of the keys and both Sherlock and John felt their breaths come through more easily when Mycroft let out something between a sigh and a laugh.
"Got her," he said proudly as John and Sherlock hurridly positioned themselves behind him. "I'm tracking the coordinates now. It's a live stream so we can't see what has happened but hopefully, we can gather some information."
Sherlock had taken and deep breath and had his eyes closed as he found his mind become more and more coherent until he heard a gasp.
When he shot his eyes open, he found that John had turned him around and was preventing him from looking back at the screen.
His eyebrows furrowed in dreadful anticipation. "John."
"You don't want to look..." John whispered adamantly but Sherlock would not have it.
He pushed John away and whipped his head around.
Perhaps John was right and perhaps Sherlock should have listened because when his eyes landed on the screen- if it were anatomically possible- his heart cracked.
Sherlock understood that the man on the feed was speaking, but all he could focus on was Galina's barely dressed body, that was littered with cuts and bruises, and her right wrist that was bent in a way a bone should never be bent.
The man grabbed her hair and the fingers that were on her neck were dangerously close to the one place no other man should ever have the privilege of touching. He was biting his lip so ferociously that he felt a trickle of blood slide down his throat.
For some reason, the man began to untie her, and Sherlock felt a swell of pride as he watched Galina kick him square in the jaw and launch her petite body at him as soon as she was untethered from the chair.
The man, however, having no injuries and built like an ox had the upper hand. Sherlock had to watch as the coward delivered kick after excruciating kick to the weakened woman who would have in any other circumstances beat him bloody.
And then, he saw her lips moving and he willed his eyes away from her battered frame and tuned back in.
Her voice was hoarse and strained as she continuously yelled one single phrase that seemed to encourage the man to continue his relentless assault.
"I cam take it?" Sherlock questioned, turning to Mycroft. "What does she mean she can take it?"
"Just think about who she's trained to be, mate," John said. His voice was even and his face was stoic. John Watson really was the perfect soldier. "It's a message to us. She's telling us not to be rash. She wants us to think ahead and plan because she can endure it."
"Where is she?" Sherlock barked at Mycroft, watching as he typed away on his phone. "Mycroft, where the hell is she?!"
Mycroft tucked his phone in his coat pocket as he calmly turned to his brother. "It's an abandoned government facility that specialized in agricultural research just outside of London."
"Agricultural research?" John scoffed. "As if any of us are buying that."
"I'm going," Sherlock stated definitively, moving around the desk and grabbing the concealed gun under Mycroft's desk.
Mycroft was unaware Sherlock even knew it was there.
"Are you insane?! You think that you are a better choice for bringing her back than my trained military team?" Mycroft yelled as he shot out of his chair, losing any semblance of indifference he possessed.
"You heard the man, Mycroft!" John shouted, his neck burning from his rage. "They're going to do...things to her and then they're going straight back to Russia. Your team will take what? Twenty-minutes to assemble, five to suit up, and ten to get there?"
Mycroft blinked stupidly at him. He and his brother mocked John far too much but somehow he had forgotten that John's tactical and military intellect was still very present and just hidden under layers of useless sentiment and knowledge.
"Bloody hell, we're wasting even more time as it is!" Sherlock yelled, tugging at the roots of his hair, even with the gun still tightly held in his hand. "Let's go!"
"This is why we don't form attachments, Sherlock. They prevent us from seeing things logically."
Sherlock growled at his brother, tucked the gun into the pocket of his coat, and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. "Don't you think I know that? Don't you think I am severely aware of that one tiny fact? And does it seem, brother mine, like I give a damn?"
"You don't know who you are dealing with," Mycroft sneered, trying to pry Sherlock's somehow awfully strong hands away. "We need to be sensible."
Sherlock finally released Mycroft and turned to John. He pulled the gun out of his coat and held it out to him. "Are you ready for war, soldier?"
John fumbled for a moment, but then stood at attention and grabbed the gun. "Always."
Mycroft was still yelling at them about what a terrible decision they had made, but all of his pleas were subsequently ignored.
"Do you know where we're going?" John asked as they entered the elevator, looking curiously at Sherlock who had somehow managed to crack a smirk. "Sherlock? You know I don't like it when you smile like that."
"I don't know where she is-" Sherlock produced a small cellphone from his pocket and dangled it in the air. "-but Mycroft does."
♖
Galina once again awoke with a throbbing headache and the sudden urge to empty out the contents of her stomach- unsure if there was actually anything in it. She didn't know how long she had been held, whether it was two hours or two weeks. All she knew was that the periods of dark oblivion left her with a cruel sense of detachment from time and space.
"Блядь (Fuck)," she mumbled, trying to open her eyes to find that only one of them would fully open, the other one being glued shut by a thick layer of blood and severe bruising.
With one working eye, she looked down to see that, instead of a chair, she was strapped down to an uncomfortable metal slab- like the ones Molly Hooper kept in her morgue.
She turned painfully to her right to see a terrified man strapped onto a similar table. Unlike her, he wasn't badly beaten. She could only make out a faint cut on his lip and a bruise on the side of his neck. Although he wasn't physically hurt, she could confirm that he was beyond a doubt terrified that he was going to die by the hands of some Russians experiencing a psychotic break.
She heard someone clear their throat and she groaned as her eyes landed on Demetri who was holding a thick syringe in his hands.
Demetri- surprisingly enough- had always been the calmer and gentler soul. He didn't enjoy seeing Galina in pain whenever he conducted chemical experiments on her, and for the most part, he had treated her with great kindness.
However, his boyish good looks and his charming smile could not deter from the fact that- like the rest of them- he was a cold-hearted criminal.
"What is that?" she managed to squeak. Apparently, Vladimir's foot on her throat had caused severe damage to her vocal cords.
Demitri blinked repeatedly at her as he flicked the tip of the syringe.
"Ah, Oksana, so happy to see you are awake," he said, smiling as his eyes flickered down her barely clothed figure. "Господи блядь (God damn), Alexei was right," he whispered, trailing his finger down across her collarbone. "Very beautiful."
"Не прикасайся ко мне (Do not touch me)!" she spat, thrashing against her restraints as she tried to forget how disgusting she felt under Demetri' touch. "I asked you a question. What is in that syringe?!"
"Not that I need to explain myself, but since you have always been my favorite, I will share. It is a modification to the drugs we gave you back then," he explained, wiping an alcohol swab against the crook of her arm. "I have been perfecting it during my time of hiding about in sewers like a dirty rat."
Vladimir, who had been hiding in the shadows, appeared with Alexei.
Vladimir was supporting Alexei's weight and Galina smirked triumphantly when she saw that Alexei's knee had to be supported by a brace.
However, her microscopic amount of pride vanished when she felt the needle get plunged into her vein and her blood suddenly felt like it was on fire, burning her from the inside out.
"Argh!" she screamed, threatening to further damage her voice as the pain began to spread to her brain.
"Tell me about the man next to you," Vladimir demanded, taking a seat beside the table. When she did not respond, he snapped her fingers in front of her face. "Oksana, you have grown far weaker than I had hoped. Pain is only an illusion, маленькая птичка (little bird). Focus."
Galina turned her head to look at the man who was regarding at her with wide eyes. She scrunched up her face and cried with unbearable pain as she took the man's emotions in.
"He is scared," she strained, feeling her pulse rate increase just like the man beside her. It was a dumb but heroic move when Galina willed his fear away, focusing on absorbing it herself. "H-he's panicking..."
Vladimir smiled wildly as he smoothed down her hair. "Excellent. Still as sharp as ever."
"This is what you wanted to show me?" she spat, writhing against the table. "You have proven nothing! Do you not understand? Telepathy does not and will never exist!"
Vladimir frowned and looked over to Alexei, nodding his head curtly. Galina knew exactly what was going to occur the second Alexei pulled out his knife and plunged it into the man's stomach.
Both Galina and the man himself screamed in agony and she could almost feel her own skin tearing apart at the intrusion.
"Now, now, Oksana," Vladimir cooed, patting her hand as Demetri revealed a metal contraption in the shape of a helmet and began putting it on her head. "Do not be brave. Let the man suffer. We need you at your best."
"At my best?" Galina groaned, already formulating an incredibly idiotic but heroic plan in her head. "Think again."
Her back arched off the table as she took in all the man's pain, relieving him of some but not all of it. If she had been closer, if she could hold his hand, she could have made it all go away but the pain was too strong.
Demitri put a similiar contraption on the man's head before turning back to Galina to attach several wires to her forehead and her temples. When she twitched her head to the side, he held her down by her throat. "домашнее животное (Pet), you will not like what Alexei will do if you break this."
Once it was securely fastened to her head, he turned just out of her sight, leaving her with only the sounds of several switches clicking on.
That was all it took for a jolt of electricity to zap through her body and cause her to begin convulsing.
"Tell me, what you hear?" Vladimir asked the enthusiasm in his voice was highly evident.
Galina's body was still twitching but she managed to articulate herself. "A Russian fool who needs to work on his English- Блядь (Fuck)!"
Alexei had twisted her already broken wrist and she swore she could hear her bones cracking even further.
"Do not be difficult, Oksana," Vladimir said, clicking his tongue on the roof of his mouth. "Focus. Do you not want his pain away? Yes?"
Galina looked to see Demetri holding a vial of morphine in his hand and twirling the syringe with the other.
"Give it to him!" she screamed desperately. "Do it- Иисус (Christ)!"
Alexei had further twisted the knife in the man's gut.
"Tell me what you hear!"
Galina tried to concentrate, to focus, but her mind was too numb from the pain. She licked her chapped lips as she forced out a lie. "He wants you to stop!"
Vladimir raised his eyebrows and looked over to the man. "Sir, yes?"
"Y-yeah. She's right!" the man pleaded, but Galina could see the sweat dripping from his forehead and the way his jaw twitched when he said it.
Galina had been trained very well. They would never be able to tell if she was lying.
The same could not be said for the man.
Alexei shook his head at Vladimir, and the older man began to lose his composure. "Oksana! Why do you make him suffer?"
She screamed, yet again, when Alexei plunged the knife down into the man's thigh.
Galina could not hold it back any longer and burst into disgusting sobs. The man's pain, her own pain, the stinging in her mind, the fire in her veins- it was all too much.
But then, she felt it.
No, she heard it.
It was like an elastic band in her brain had snapped and all of a sudden she could see with perfect clarity what Vladimir had been trying to coax out of her.
"Our father, who art in Heaven, hallow be thy name..."
Galina's eyes shot open as her sobs grew heavier and more desperate. Vladimir had done it- he had truly done it. He had made the impossible happen and he had forced it upon her like some lab-rat. He had turned her into something she had never wanted to be.
She was used to being able to feel the emotion of others- so used to violating their trust and privacy in that manner- but it was never too bad.
However, being able to hear this man and be present in his mind- almost as if it were her own- was far too much.
Still crying, more so because of the violent penetration of his thoughts, she turned to the man as tears rolled down her cheeks.
"I'm sorry-" her voice cracked "-but God can not save you now."
"We did it!" Vladimir cried, shooting out of his seat and walking over to Demitri. "Comrade! Мы это сделали (We have done it)!"
Even if Galina wanted to listen to their inappropriate hoots and hollers, she couldn't because the dying man's words were still infecting her mind.
"...and lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil. Amen...Our father who art in Heaven..."
"Demitri," Alexei said breathlessly with a smile. "See what happens if you turn it up just a little more."
Demitri nodded his head enthusiastically and turned up the dials on the machine. Galina felt another shot of electricity pulsate through her and her back arched off the table yet again.
For once, she could fully understand what it was like in Sherlock Holmes' mind. There was no linear path for her to follow and various stimuli were being shot at her from all directions. It felt like someone was hosting a tiny party within her mind and they had finally gotten pissed enough to trash it.
It didn't help that she was fighting it either, wrestling with some unknown force in her mind.
Her battle with herself was over when she began to hear more than just the man and she was horrified.
She could hear Vladimir.
"Mother Russia will thank us for what we have done."
She could hear Alexei.
"Does he expect us to keep her?"
She could hear Demitri.
"We will have to take care of Alexei before returning home."
"What have you done to me?!" Galina moaned, wishing that her hands were free so she could violently tug at the roots of her hair. She would do anything to make it all go away.
And, again, she began to completely understand Sherlock Holmes and the very reason she had found morphine in the flat.
It was exhausting.
"We have made impossible, possible," Vladimir shouted, clapping his hands together.
"We are gods!"
"No," Galina mumbled, raising her head as her eyes narrowed at him with steely determination and bleeding disgust. "Not gods. You will always be remembered as the villain in this story."
Vladimir was taken aback by her words, by the fact that she had intruded in his brain. However, he could not be disappointed with himself but instead was elated at the discovery.
Somehow, this news made him even happier.
"She heard to me," he laughed, clapping Demitri's shoulder with a child-like giddiness. "We will figure out how to block her. For the time being, she sleeps when not restrained."
Demitri nodded his head curtly as he walked over to her, holding the same vial of morphine in his hands that he was supposed to had given to the other man.
Her blood-shot eyes were panicking as he prepared the syringe. "No, no! Please do not!"
"Oh, домашнее животное (pet)," Demitri frowned, plunging the needle into her vein. "Your voice is so beautiful when you beg."
Galina let out a euphoric gasp as he injected the drug straight into her system. She felt a severe and overpowering detachment from her body, almost as if she was silently floating above her own body.
She was so high that she barely registered when Alexei took his knife and cut the poor man's throat.
All she could hear were the man's prayers fading away and she wished with all her heart that God could be true, for the man's sake and for her own.
She was submissive and docile as Alexei- with blood covered hands- began to take off her restraints. Only managing to get both her feet and one hand loose before the door to the room clanked down on the floor with a deafening blow.
Galina could feel her eyes fighting with her as she tried to keep them open. Her throat was raspy, her wrist was throbbing, her head was split, but she still managed to form a smile when she saw who had come bursting through the door.
"Sherlock."
―A/N―
Okay! So what do we think?
Honestly, I'm sorry if it's utter shite- as the Brits say (I think)- but it's been a rough day.
Not rough, so much as just exhausting. Pulling a twelve-hour shift and thinking you'll have enough energy to edit a chapter was kind of ridiculous, but I hope the end result isn't too bad.
We are so close to the ending and I can't wait to see what y'all think!
I'll see y'all Friday!
Until next time & eternally grateful,
Bella.