Chapter 7 FRACTURED

The agent lays on the sofa in her living room, reading all the available reports on the pre-clinical tests done on patients who were later used on CORTEX. She's already looked over a dozen of these things before but still can't believe her eyes.

After another long moment of trying to understand the information on the files, she puts the papers aside with the other pile of clinical reports on the mysterious last subject and her mug of coffee. Everything is left scattered on the coffee table and she sighs in frustration. She doesn't feel like going through that crap anymore. The 'ice bath' and the 'shock therapy' were enough terror for the night. Probably even for her entire life. All that information left her with a bitter taste in her mouth, and a burning sensation inside her chest. None of this seems fair.

"This is monstrous," she says, to no one in particular. She really just feels the need to voice it out loud. "How could anyone do this? Is this doctor even human!?"

She sighs, exasperated. Awful, is the only word she can think of while processing what she's just read. That, and the combination of it with 'extremely'.

So, in short, she found it all extremely awful.

"Yeah, he is human," someone says from behind the sofa, at the front door of the apartment. "Isn't that the main source of monstrosity? Humanity."

Cathy doesn't need to look to know who it is, Tanya is the only other person with keys to the apartment since they are housemates. Plus, Kidman has already gotten used to how disturbingly silent her friend can be. Even if it's annoying at times, Tanya's light feet do reflect her personality. And Cathy likes that.

"You know, maybe you should have chosen a spy career instead of medicine. You have a natural talent." Cathy says while staring at the ceiling. "I didn't notice you until you spoke, and you know our door is usually loud..."

The other woman chuckles softly.

"I called someone in to get it fixed, like two weeks ago. The door's been silent since." Tanya sounds amused. "I can't believe you didn't notice."

Cathy sits up only to look at her. Tanya is struggling to take her heels off while carrying three shop bags. Geez, I forgot to go grocery shopping... the agent remembers, a bit ashamed and hurries to go help.

"I assumed you didn't notice that there was no food in the fridge since you're fueled specifically by coffee," Tanya reaches up to let her long, black hair loose. "But us, mortals, still need to eat. And, of course, I have to make sure you don't starve yourself to death."

"I'm so sorry about this. I really forgot it was my turn to do the shopping."

"I'll forgive you..." Tanya sighs.

"I promise that I won't..."

"Once I take a long shower," Tanya cuts her off. "And just so you know... You're cooking tonight."

"Wha-what!?" They make it to the kitchen and Cathy begins putting things away. Stowing everything. "Come on, you know I can't cook. I can't even make instant noodles!

"Well, you better make sure to cook something edible anyway." Tanya walks through the door, and back to the living room. Cathy sighs, looking at all the vegetables and fruits. She really has no clue what to do.

"I'll just order pizza," she mumbles. She hears Tanya laughing as she makes it to her own room. And just before walking in, she looks back.

"Don't even think about it," is the only thing she says before disappearing inside her room.

Cathy shrugs.

"Chinese then," she walks back to the living room in order to retrieve her cell phone from the coffee table. She dials her favourite Chinese restaurant's number and is waiting for someone to take the call when she notices a file under the table. It has tons of notes written in red and is at least seven pages long; three times longer than any other file she had read so far.

"...hello?" The restaurant clerk is almost screaming on the other side of the line. "Hellooo?"

Kidman kneels down to pick the file up.

'OAK, MALVA; age:18; sex: female' is written on the top of the first page, and right next to it there's a big red handmade note: 'patient is highly uncooperative, and doesn't respond to a great part of used stimuli'.

"What... is this?" Cathy stammers with wide eyes.

"Hello, miss? Is everything okay?" The clerk is still on the phone despite the long silence. "Are you going to order something?"

"What?" Cathy gets up. And she holds the file as she starts making her way back to the kitchen. "Y-yeah, I need to... make my order... Hum..."

"What would you like?"

Cathy takes a deep breath as she gathers her thoughts before placing her order and hanging up. Her eyes never once left the paper she had in front of her.

All those notes. They were sickening.

'patient did not respond to ice stimuli'

'patient did not respond to electric stimuli'

'patient did not respond to any pain stimuli'

'it's been four days since the patient was locked in the dark room, and it never once made any sound'

Malva can feel everything around her, but still can't move her body.

Her chest hurts really badly and she feels cold; so cold she could swear she's lying on a bed made of pure ice. And it's annoying, she thinks. Not being able to move or talk, even though she opened her eyes a whole while ago. Her body won't move much, so all Mal can see is the ceiling and that beautiful expensive crystal chandelier she had been admiring before.

Yeah, it really is annoying. But at least not boring. The position Mal is in allows her to watch the time pass by in a way she would never experience back at the hospital. The way sunlight comes in through the window and reflects on the ceiling, the way it slowly comes down the walls while losing strength... It makes everything around her grow darker. And colder.

How long has it been? She asks herself after a while. There's no more light. Four? No. Maybe, five hours?

Still, no one came to check on her.

Maybe you slept for too long, said the voice in her head, in a playful tone. Maybe you are still asleep.

Maybe you should shut the hell up. Mal responds, oddly sour.

I'm sure you would love that.

Probably. Mal blinks, amused by their banter. But not for long.

What a twisted little mind, It sounds entertained now too.

The sound of the door opening is what takes her attention away from her own thoughts. She hears footsteps, and the lights turn on. But even before the person comes into her line of vision, she already knows who it is.

Those light steps are familiar to her. They are predator-like steps.

It seems our kind host is here. The voice begins to fade. And he seems to be in monster mode. I would kill to know why he's walking like he's upset.

Vikram stops beside the bed and looks at Mal's face with his cold eyes shining as always. But as soon as their eyes meet, his lips do a little thing, almost as if a smile had been ready to form there.

He's always wearing that stoic, cold mask. Mal did already notice. She keeps thinking it might be because of the pain he was put through in the past; maybe he hasn't entirely gotten over his past with his brother and spouse. And then there are those bandages. The incident happened so many years ago, any scar would have already healed. So the only possible explanation for him to keep on wearing those is that he's ashamed of his scars. At least Mal cannot think of anything else.

But if that's the case, she finds that it's a real shame. V shouldn't be, she thinks to herself. But then again... It's hardly any of her business.

"You're finally awake," he states and touches something on the side of her chest in a place that makes Mal squirm in pain. She regrets the movement instantly since it only worsens the pain.

Mal had been ignoring said pain, but now it came at her in full force. She would probably scream her lungs out if she could, but the only sound to escape her mouth is a low, hoarse groan that strangely seems to please Vikram. "I was getting frustrated thinking that you were going to die just like the others."

Mal glares at him, annoyed by the fact he made her feel pain simply for his own entertainment. She can see how satisfied he is with her reaction, and that just angers her more.

But he's acting a bit strange, she notices.

I'm a bit curious myself. The scratching is back. I wonder what happened. Should I read his mind?

"You seem to never cease surprising me," Vikram reaches out to fix the drip attached to her right arm, but right before he can touch her, Mal's hand reaches to the side of his face and she touches his temple. And her eyes never leave his as she sees his memories and experiences as if they are her own.

The fire. The loss. His brother. The rejection. All the anger and hate.

Mal sees all the dying and also the killings.

She feels the exact moment when Vikram Von'Vern dies, the exact moment when V is born.

His mind wavers. The good memories are fading and Mal sees how deformed he feels.

"You shouldn't feel like this," she whispers.

Vikram holds her wrist tightly, in a way meant to hurt; meant to warn her that she should stop. But Mal continues.

So he fights her prodding. He empties his mind. Locks away all of his memories, except one.

The moment he woke her up. On her first morning under his care.

It wasn't my fault... she babbles, reaching out to him, squeezing his wrists and pressing down on scars that should have been old, but that feels open and new.

Mal feels the pain she made him feel. I didn't mean to hurt anyone!

She pulls her hand away from him as if his skin burned her fingers.

"I bet you didn't remember that," he says. And this time Mal sees an actual smirk form on his lips. "I have to admit. I'm curious about a lot of things related to you too, Malva. Why don't you share a bit of your story for a change? Instead of just peeking inside everybody else's?"

Mal is still thinking about what she saw inside his mind. Vikram is as dark as she is. Maybe even darker. Which means he's probably as trustworthy as she considers herself to be. And that means she simply can't trust him at all.

It's such a pity. Because Mal really wants to. Trust him, that is.

"You'll lie to me...eventually," she muses in a low voice. "Like everybody always does."

Vikram doesn't say anything, just stares at her from his spot beside the bed. For a long moment, they remain just like that; silently looking at each other.

"At least you are honest about it," Mal smiles this time. Her voice is still weak. And she's pretty sure that if she tries to move again her whole body will shred itself to pieces. It's better to stay in bed; in her comfortable position staring at the ceiling.

"I'm always honest about my intentions," Vikram offers, almost contemplatively. Mal just sighs.

"I suppose I can share my past with you. I looked into yours after all." She was no longer looking at him. She felt tired and helpless. For obvious reasons, it never pleases her to have to recall her past. To make matters worse, in the last two days, that was all she had been doing. "But if you want to know me that badly, you should sit down."

Mal glances at him briefly.

"Or simply lie down," she whispers, in a way Vikram shouldn't be able to hear. "It would be more comfortable that way."

You must be feeling really lonely to actually suggest sharing a bed with the enemy, Mal. The voice sounds distant this time. Not lonely... You're just afraid to be alone, right? I haven't been able to read your thoughts clearly. Are you trying to block me?

Just ignore her. Mal repeats in her mind as the voice gets quieter and quieter. Just ignore her.

She barely notices Vikram moving from his spot until he sits down on the other side of the bed. He doesn't bother about taking his shoes off. The next thing Mal knows, he is lying beside her.

"What... are you doing?" She manages to say. V is lying in the same position as she is - staring at the ceiling, but his hands are interlaced together over his stomach.

"What did you do, Mala?" He asks and closes his eyes, ignoring her previous question. "What makes you feel so guilty, that you're haunted in your sleep?"

Silence.

For a minute, and then two.

Mal keeps looking at his resting profile, thinking about a way to answer his question. It's a difficult question because she doesn't remember much about what happened that day. But she still wants to answer.

"They say..." Mal starts slowly, and he opens his eyes. "They say I killed them. My parents. The cops said I murdered them both in cold blood."

"Did you?" Is the only thing he says in return.