Time Sensitive Target

Part 16 - Innocent Accusations

I studied the criss cross patterned scarring across my wrists. It reminded me of pastry, the thin little stamp cutters that sliced pleasing patterns into the dough as it was trundled along. Skin wasn't so different to dough, I supposed. I traced the still swollen outline with barely the tip of my finger, ignoring the jolt of hesitation and realising there were closer comparisons than pretty pastry patterns. 

I pictured a slab of pork; a thick, juicy, pink cut. I'd never made crackling before, but I had seen enough Nigella Lawson reruns to know the best crackling came from scoring the fat. With firm, deliberate motions you carved lines into the flesh, and then diagonally again over the top so the fat was engraved with diamonds. The thought of it was mesmerising. Again and again I pictured the knife slicing into the meat, wondering if it felt the same to do it to a human. Would I bare these scars forever?

I mentally shook myself as the question appeared, what a ridiculous thing to be concerned about. It was silly because it was vain, and because it was far too soon to tell what they would look like. And why did it matter, anyway? I chastised myself inwardly, glad of the interruption as Jase's imposing figure strode awkwardly towards me.

"Hey, how are you feeling?" He asked, assertively but passive as though the question didn't require a response.

"Ok thanks," I smiled, a now foreign expression to my mouth. It didn't hurt as much, though. The constant nagging pain across my cheeks and jaw had mostly dissipated. Still, the action was so decidedly forced my lips threatened to crack.

I watched Jase study me with critical eyes, subconsciously crossing his enormous arms as he did so. What was he looking for? Evidence that I was still attempting to permanently deprive them of my presence? Or was he just analysing the tapestry of abuse etched across my body? He was so preoccupied with whatever thoughts consumed him, he seemed to forget he had approached me for conversation. I surveyed him too. His frame was intimidating by default, he must have been taller than six foot three. Though incredibly well built, muscular and powerful, he carried it with an easy grace. His face was pleasant, but not kind. I couldn't decide if he was strikingly handsome or generically attractive, either way I'm sure he turned heads. But there was a harshness to his features, something behind his eyes that prevented him from appearing approachable. His jaw was held in a tight grimace, his mouth in a hard straight line. 

I had known nothing but kindness and consideration from him though, so I needed to take advantage of his silence and ask a few of the questions I'd been too afraid of bothering anybody with.

"Jase?" I said tentatively. It still hurt to talk. Hearing my voice seemed to pull Jase out of his stupor, and his eyes focused against mine.

"Yeah?" 

"I don't want to sound like a child asking 'are we there yet?', but have they said how long we might have to be here?" I knew the royal 'they' were only in touch with Jase. I'd heard Ant and Rob quietly discussing it, unaware of my presence. The SAS still had no communication, though from I'd deduced that wasn't entirely unheard of during missions that had gone awry. I could feel tension between the two sides of my rescue party, surely strengthened by the presence of one particular person. I chased the thought with a hard swallow as I braced myself for my next question.

Jase's brow furrowed deeper, he looked irritated. A swell of anxiety lurched in my stomach, had I annoyed him? Was I pestering? Have I made him angry? 

"As soon as I know anything I'll brief everyone. As I understand it, we're not going anywhere within the next couple of days. That could change at any point, of course." He looked dismissively around the room for a moment, the subject closed as far as he was concerned. I nodded in acknowledgement and bent my head, telling myself to forget about the other question burning in my mind. 

Jase's weight shifted in front of me as he exhaled loudly, not quite a sigh, but a statement of it's own. His expression had softened.

"You haven't asked anyone that yet, have you? You don't sound like a child. I wish there was more I could tell you... believe me. But all I know is that for now we are safe here. And you are safe, I hope you know that. And... feel that," His last sentence was a loosely committed question. He must have felt it was too rude to ask outright, but he still wanted confirmation I felt safe in my current environment. I appreciated the gesture, but the answer was too complicated for me to contemplate. 

"Thank you. Can I ask... sorry, I'm not sure how to ask this and I don't know if I'll want to hear the answer but I have to..." I stammered over the words. Even though every syllable felt like a stab in my chest, I still needed to form the sentence. "Why did you bring him with us?" 

As soon as the question was out there in the open, I regretted it. It hung in the space between Jase and I, my poor choice of words digesting in his ears. I had accused him outright. Why didn't you say 'we'?  

"I'm a soldier, Paige. I'm given an order and I follow it through. It wasn't my call to make," his eyes were even harder than before, a stormy grey that promised to burn a hole right through me.

"I'm sorry I didn't mean you, I meant we- why did we have to... I didn't mean to insinuate it was you- I- I'm sorry," my hands were shaking. I clasped them together tightly. I trusted that he would walk away if I had angered him, but the deep anxiety that I'd offended someone who could snap my neck quicker than I could currently get a word out of my mouth was all consuming. 

Jase scratched the back of his head and nodded slowly in response. 

"The order came from above me, sorry," he eventually replied. I couldn't read anything about his demeanour. Was he angry at me? Was he lying? Was he sorry? 

"You know," he continued, breaking the uncomfortable silence. "If you remember anything, or heard anything that you felt was useful, that might be a big help." Jase placed his hands on his hips, his veined muscular arms reminding me that if I wasn't being a big help, the best thing for me to do would be to not ask uncomfortable questions. 

"I remember a lot... but I don't know what could help, I'm sorry," I shook my head. I'd heard dozens of snippets of conversations, Hackney- al-Raheem, had mused out loud about several things, sometimes even showing me correspondence or images or strange things. None of it had made sense to me. It was probably stuff he couldn't have shared with his little lackeys, and he knew none of it would be worth anything to me. So in between torture sessions, on a few occasions he would talk at me about whatever he was looking at or working on. I was always too out of it to care, it couldn't have been more irrelevant to me. 

"You remember a lot? Things you overheard, or saw?" Jase pressed. His pose had changed somehow. His large hands had been lazily rested on his hips, but now he looked rigidly tense. It dawned on me that this must be why we were still here. al-Raheem wasn't giving up what he needed, and we probably weren't going anywhere until Jase had it. 

"Uh yes, yes. Overheard and saw, I guess. I'm not sure, there was a lot of random stuff. I don't really remember specifics, sorry," there were half threads of information or fragments of images that came to mind, but it was all jumbled amid memories of the atrocities I was doing my best to supress. Jase's tone was making me nervous. 

"Well you either remember a lot, or you don't. Which is it for you?" Now it was his turn to sound accusatory, though unlike me Jase's was deliberate. 

"I mean I... I can't be sure of-" the door swung open and Cairo trotted in with Ant close behind. I felt like I'd just been rescued all over again. The air felt so thick with tension it was difficult to breathe.