Waking up is hard to do

[got_burned]

[Note: This is seriously backdated.]

It's dark. Dark and enveloping, in the same way that water is wet and drowning. It's no comfort, no help, because there's something profoundly wrong with it being dark

Comments

FINALLY getting around to Maddy intro, holy crap.

[maddyhbic]

Madeline Westen, for a lack of a better word, had been feeling frazzled lately.

Well... more frazzled than usual. Michael had up and left again, leaving Sam in that usual job of looking out for her. And as usual, she let Sam know she hadn't forgotten about the sun room and occasionally forced him into going to partner stretching with her, much to his annoyance.

She was by herself today though. She figured forcing Sam into doing Aqua Aerobics with her might be pushing it. She dried off her hair with a bright purple towel from the house as she finished dressing herself in the locker room after class. She checked the clock on the wall. Sam wasn't picking her up for another ten minutes.

Maddy sighed and leaned against the mirror on the wall. She began to fish through her bag for her pack of cigarettes when the lights began to flicker on and off.

And she feels a sudden pull behind her.

[got_burned]

Michael resists looking too closely at the state of his car as he moves to open the trunk, ignoring the resumption of the pounding in his head and chin from the earlier impact.

It only takes a moment, but the trunk opens to reveal nothing but a continual blackness.

It's empty.

He slams the trunk lid shut with more force than is strictly required, a distinct glower on his schooled features.

[maddyhbic]

Madeline wonders if she's bumped her head or something as the lights come back on and there's a solid feeling on her back again.

Because the locker room has suddenly changed into a mirrored elevator that isn't quite moving yet.

Maddy's suspicious, but she presses the button for the lobby anyway.

[got_burned]

Where in the living hell is Fiona?

He turns that scowl on the building his car landed in front of: the hotel she'd said the oddest things about earlier. About how it doesn't let people leave.

Someone has gotten to her, like they're trying to get to him. And he's not playing this game any more. He moves around the car again, reaching in through the passenger window to open the glove compartment and find his sunglasses-- yes, they were put right back there too, it appears-- then he hooks them into the collar of his t-shirt, tucks the Charger's keys into his jeans pocket and stalks toward the imposing building.

[maddyhbic]

The doors on the elevator open and Maddy is more confused than before. How the hell did she even go from a gym in Miami to a hotel anyway?

Every frazzled nerve she had just increased. And she needs a cigarette as soon as possible.

As quickly as she can, she's going through the lobby and out the doors. She'll get a better look later.

[got_burned]

I've spent over twenty years evading other spies, dodging bullets and making deals with people who wouldn't think twice about blowing my head off. I've jumped out of just about every kind of flying craft you can care to name, and made decisions in the name of working for my country that I'll likely regret for the rest of my life.

I've yet to come up with an effective counter-strategy to the appearance of my mother.

Michael stops dead in his tracks.

"Ma?"

[maddyhbic]

The door isn't even closed behind Madeline when she hears Michael. She spots him not long after that and is staring with disbelief.

"Michael?"

[got_burned]

There's a protracted pause, during which he's not sure if he should swear, make an incoherent sound of frustration, or both.

He manages instead to bring forth a strained, tight smile, all the while considering precisely how he's going to take apart whoever the hell is responsible.

"Yeah, Ma."

[maddyhbic]

Okay, now Maddy really needs that cigarette. "Michael, where the hell have you been? Where the hell are we now?"

[got_burned]

His hands come up, and clench briefly into fists, his expression one of clear exasperation that he's barely keeping in check-- not with her, for once, but at this insane turn of already weird events that just keeps getting weirder.

Then he relaxes and drops them, realising something, and says, slowly and deliberately, "Ma, I've only been gone for a couple of hours."

Delaying response to the second question, because he's not convinced of their precise location himself.

Whoa...sorry about the delayed response...@_@

[maddyhbic]

"A couple of hours?" Yeah, she's not buying it. Time's a tricky thing. "Michael, it's been a week!"

She doesn't really wait for a response when she starts searching her gym bag for her cigarettes.

[got_burned]

This gives him brief pause. Not this again. There's no possible way-- he still has that cut and bruise on his jaw, after all, and it's fresh.

Very patiently, he replies, "No, Ma, I just left Miami a couple hours ago. I told Sam to stop by and let you know what was going on."

[maddyhbic]

Maddy just gives him that look that says 'don't try arguing with me, Michael' as she finally finds her pack of cigarettes. "Michael, it's been a week. I know I'm getting older, but I know I'm not losing track of time."

[got_burned]

There are some battles in life that you know you can never win. Most of them involve my mother.

Michael pinches the bridge of his nose. "Alright, fine, it's been a week. How did you get here?"

[maddyhbic]

Maddy looks at him as she sticks a cigarette in her mouth. "I'm not really sure. I was in the locker room after my aqua aerobics class one second, then there was a weird power surge or something like that. Next thing I know, I'm in an elevator heading towards the lobby."

[got_burned]

Drugs like Versed have odd effects on your sense of time. You can literally not remember long stretches, even days, depending on how much of a dose you've gotten. There's a laundry list longer than my arm of chemical agents that can screw with your head. They're great for inducing confusion and disorientation, and most of them are easily administered. The only problem is finding out how and why - and when you're a likely victim yourself, it becomes that much harder.

And when my mother gets involved, you can amp that difficulty factor up to eleven.

Deep breath. "Ma, how about you and I head back inside here ... " he says, moving forward to guide her towards the building and away from the sight of his trashed Charger, "And I'll see if I can get anything out of someone at reception."