The Moon Dragon

Chapter Six

The Doctor's rimless glasses reflected the computer screen, obscuring her eyes with running numbers and white light. It was frustrating Sylvia. She wanted to see what color the lady's eyes were. She knew she had seen them before at some point, but she couldn't remember what they were. They kept shifting in technicolor in her mind. Maybe they were green, or bright auburn, like her hair. Maybe they were black; iris, sclera and all. Maybe Sylvia was wrong, and the Doctor didn't have any eyes.

The Doctor seemed to see Sylvia watching, and spun in her seat to smile back at her.

It was such a kind, motherly smile. It was a smile that said you are something I don't understand yet, but I will, it said you're safe, I'll take care of you, it said hello, look at us two creatures, human and beast, looking at one another. Are we so different, after all?

Yes, Sylvia wanted to snarl back. You're keeping me here. You're why I'm scared, always. You don't understand me because you have never ASKED.

But she couldn't say anything, not with this dragon mouth with more teeth than words.

The Doctor's attention was drawn away as another of the scientists called to her.

"We're all headed home for the weekend, Doctor. Are you checking off sometime soon?" It was the scientist with the short-cropped hair and the winged eyeliner, pausing while she and the clipboard-lady headed out the stupid, taunting, evil, unreachable sliding door.

The Doctor slid her glasses onto the top of her head, but her back was turned away from Sylvia. "Hmm, I'm hoping I'm close to a breakthrough here. Figured I'd stay over the weekend, my husband and kid will probably be overjoyed to be rid of me for another two days."

They both laughed, well-mannered.

"Alright then. Best of luck, we'll see you on Monday, goodnight."

Then the door slid shut again, with an elongated hissssss-click as it locked shut. The scientists turned left down the corridor and were gone.

The Doctor stayed where she was for what Sylvia guessed was another few hours, before she left the same way, the lights blinking out, plunging the room and the cell into darkness.

Like every other night, Slyvia didn't move from where she was curled in Her Corner, twisting into a ball with her chin resting on her tail, its furred end tickling her nose. The darkness was the only relief she had started looking forward to, day by day. The blinking red light of the observation camera in the corner-ceiling of the room felt like it was still penetrating her eyes even as she closed them. A small price to pay.

She dreamed of the moon again, as she did every night. She dreamed of Grace, standing under the light of the same moon, calling Sylvia's name as she ran, searching for her on the ground when Sylvia was above, just as unreachable. Grace was screaming for her, but no sound was coming out. She didn't look scared, she looked furious. Sylvia was the one who was scared.

She woke up as the lights came back on, with a profounding ache in her chest for her best friend.

Everyone at home probably thought she was dead, by now. Maybe they should. She was as good as dead, anyway.

The Doctor entered the room alone. Her fiery hair was in a loose bun, lab coat as pristine as ever. Her glasses were perched on her nose, and as Slyvia's vision adjusted to the sudden light, she still couldn't take the chance to see the Doctor's eyes.

The other scientists never showed themselves, as promised. That meant a few things.

One, the location they were in -this weird, high-tech high-security science location- was far enough away from anywhere else for the scientists to live on-location, going home on the weekend. Today. Saturday. That was the first indication of what day it was since she had first woken up, completely disoriented, in the lab.