(no subject)
Title: Sample
Author: sinemoras09
Characters: Adam, Hank, mentions of Yaeko
Rating: R
Word count: 1,653
Spoilers: none
Summary: Adam has to give a semen sample. Gen-fic. Angst. Written for un_love_you, prompt #10: "I'm broken." (LOL not crack, I swear!! XD)
---
They push his head underwater. Adam struggles. Two, three minutes pass, and darkness starts to rim the corners of his eyes. Reflexively, Adam's mind throws back to his childhood. He thinks of his mother's hands, the sound of hoof beats and the smell of rain. So this is what it's like, Adam thinks. This is what it's like to die.
Water fills his lungs; it feels like he's being born.
*****
They throw him back into his cell. Wet and dripping, Adam pulls his legs up to his chest and leans heavily against the concrete wall. He's not healing. Blood oozes out from underneath his bandages and sweat stings his eyes. Above him, the neon EXIT sign glows softly from outside. Ironic that his window should face the inside corridor of Primatech's lab. Adam sags, lacking the strength to crawl back into his bunk.
The door opens, and a square of light fills the room. Adam blinks his eyes and slowly moves his head. "Who's there?"
"It's Hank." Adam's eyes focus and he sees Hank kneeling beside him. "How are you?"
"I'm not healing," Adam says. "What did they do to me?"
Hank pulls out his stethoscope. He places the bell over Adam's heart.
"They were testing a new protocol," Hank murmurs. He finishes listening, puts the stethoscope over his neck. "They wanted to see if your abilities can be compromised. They reduced the amount of oxygen in your cell, then they pumped your body full of neurotoxins. Your body's overwhelmed. You sustained too many injuries in too short a time, and the toxins in your blood are keeping you from healing. I'm going to give you the antidote now."
Hank puts a tourniquet around Adam's arm and swabs the skin with alcohol. "I told them you could die," Hank says. With his thumb, he pulls Adam's skin taut, then inserts the needle. There's a flush of blood, and the IV goes in smoothly. "It's the only reason they let me see you."
Minutes pass. Adam pulls off a bandage, and he sees the margins of his wounds beginning to close. He closes his eyes as his skin starts to knit back together; he can feel the bruises on his face start to dissipate, the cuts on his arms and hands. His muscles don't ache quite as badly, and Adam hoists himself up on the bunk: he's surprised to see Hank still crouched in the corner, watching.
"You okay?" Hank asks.
"A little better, thank you," Adam says. Hank nods and starts to pack up his equipment. He touches the IV and examines the lines.
"It should take a couple hours," Hank says. "Just make sure this doesn't kink, I'll be back to check on--"
The IV needle pops out of Adam's hand. The skin seals shut, nicely.
"Well I guess we won't be needing that," Hank says. He picks up the needle and stands by the door. "You gonna be alright?" Hank asks.
"I think so," Adam says. "I just need a little rest, is all."
Hank nods. "Good," Hank says. He pauses at the door, then turns. "I'm not supposed to tell you this, but they're planning to withhold your feedings. They want to see if your nutrition status affects your abilities."
Adam rubs his arm, slicks back his still-wet hair. "I'll be sure to hoard my food, then," Adam says.
"I didn't hear that," Hank says, and he closes the door.
The lock clicks into place, and Adam is left crouching on the bunk. His cell is cold. Peeling off his wet T-shirt, Adam curses silently that The Company heads didn't think to provide him dry clothes, and that he didn't think to ask Hank to swipe a pair of scrubs from the men's locker room. This is probably part of the experiment, Adam thinks. He winds the thin blanket around his shoulders and leans against the wall.
*****
The room buzzes. Adam opens his eyes.
"You're next," someone says, and rough hands yank Adam to his feet. He's handcuffed, a taser to his back; The Haitian stands by, watching.
A man in the white lab coat hands him a cup. "We need a sample," the man says.
"I used the toilet already, you'll have to wait," Adams says, and he hands the man the cup.
"We need a semen sample," the man says. He pushes the cup toward Adam's chest.
"Oh. Right," Adam says. He studies the cup, then glances up as the Labcoat Man leaves the room. Adam taps the cup against his thigh, then sits heavily on the bench. If he cooperates, he can be back in his cell quicker. If he cooperates, he'll be back in his room in time for Hank's morning rounds. Hank felt sorry for him; ergo, Hank will probably sneak him alcohol. Bloody good it does me, I can't get drunk anymore, Adam thinks, but it's still something to look forward to.
Like his cell, the room is cold. The walls are gray; the tile floor is white, pristine. He can feel the cold metal of the bench through the seat of his pants; goosebumps prickle his arms.
"Really setting the mood," Adam says, and he sets the cup down.
He wonders briefly why they'd want a semen sample. Maybe Adam's sperm is better than other men's. Maybe they can swim faster. Adam doesn't know. He picks the cup up again, turns it over in his hands. He thinks of the last time anyone's touched him like that. His tenth wife, Trina, had found him standing in the den, turning the pages of an atlas. She didn't know his secret. He was going to tell her--he planned on it, was plotting out the words in his head--when she grabbed him by the shirt and yanked him against her.
Then he was captured. Then they locked him up in the cell.
Someone bangs on the door.
Adam shoves the cup between his legs. "I'm working on it."
They bang louder.
"I said I'm working on it!" Adam says. He can hear them walk away. "God help me...."
His penis is doughy under the fabric of his pants. Adam kneads it roughly, willing for it to stand. "Come on...."
At this point, Adam would rather spend more time at the dunk tank.
Adam stands up; he paces. Absently he bangs the little cup against his leg as he walks. The room is only slightly larger than his cell, except that there's no window, only a bright fluorescent light which buzzes faintly in the background. He's reminded of the mountains, the cold air and the way the sun glinted against the frost-blue horizon. He remembers the sound of tin pans clanging together, the burnt-out smell of fire and charcoal; Yaeko's face as she cooked soup over the flame.
Yaeko. Adam hasn't thought of her for a long time.
Adam sits back on the bench and closes his eyes. He imagines Yaeko sitting by his feet. She would lean against his leg, the wisps of hair touching his armor--
No, he wouldn't be able to feel her hair under the armor. He'd be wearing a robe. It would be cold and they would have to sit close to keep warm.
Adam swallows, tilts his head up. His breathing is strained; his muscles tense. He thinks of Yaeko's eyes, that wide-eyed way she looked at him, the way she felt in his arms. She'd crawl up on his lap, and she'd feel so warm, and she'd kiss him on the mouth, and she'd press up against him, and she'd smell so good, and, and, and, and--
Adam comes, gasping and spurting all over his lap. He fumbles for the cup, trying to aim. His hands are shaking when he scrapes the cup against his legs.
They bang on the door. "You done?"
Adam doesn't answer. The door opens. A shadow falls over Adam's face, and he looks up, sees the Labcoat man's silhouette against the square of light. He snaps on a latex glove and takes Adam's cup.
"This'll do."
Adam is too weak to protest when they lead him back into his cell.
*****
Adam is curled up on his cot when Hank enters his cell. Hank sets his bag down. "Christ, what happened?" Hank says. He checks Adam's pulse. "No one told me they were testing you today. Jesus. What'd they do to you?"
Adam watches Hank listlessly as Hank pulls out his stethoscope, starts listening to his heart and lungs. "Deep breath," Hank murmurs, but Adam doesn't breathe. He stares at the floor, his eyes glazed over.
Hank taps Adam's reflex points, looks at Adam's skin for signs of trauma. When he's done, he rocks back on his haunches and examines Adam's face. "What happened to you?" Hank asks.
Adam turns to face the wall. "I had to wank for them," Adam says. He draws his knees up to his chest. He feels like he's going to cry.
Hank folds his hands in his lap. "You okay?" Hank asks.
Adam nods, still not looking at him. "Yeah," Adam says. Hank rummages through his medical bag.
"Here," Hank says, and he pulls out a small tin of saltines. "For when they decide to withhold your food."
Adam still stares at the wall. "I'm rather hoping I'll just starve to death," Adam says.
Hank sighs, then sets the package on top of Adam's night stand.
"Get some rest," Hank says. "It's going to be a long day tomorrow."
Author: sinemoras09
Characters: Adam, Hank, mentions of Yaeko
Rating: R
Word count: 1,653
Spoilers: none
Summary: Adam has to give a semen sample. Gen-fic. Angst. Written for un_love_you, prompt #10: "I'm broken." (LOL not crack, I swear!! XD)
---
They push his head underwater. Adam struggles. Two, three minutes pass, and darkness starts to rim the corners of his eyes. Reflexively, Adam's mind throws back to his childhood. He thinks of his mother's hands, the sound of hoof beats and the smell of rain. So this is what it's like, Adam thinks. This is what it's like to die.
Water fills his lungs; it feels like he's being born.
*****
They throw him back into his cell. Wet and dripping, Adam pulls his legs up to his chest and leans heavily against the concrete wall. He's not healing. Blood oozes out from underneath his bandages and sweat stings his eyes. Above him, the neon EXIT sign glows softly from outside. Ironic that his window should face the inside corridor of Primatech's lab. Adam sags, lacking the strength to crawl back into his bunk.
The door opens, and a square of light fills the room. Adam blinks his eyes and slowly moves his head. "Who's there?"
"It's Hank." Adam's eyes focus and he sees Hank kneeling beside him. "How are you?"
"I'm not healing," Adam says. "What did they do to me?"
Hank pulls out his stethoscope. He places the bell over Adam's heart.
"They were testing a new protocol," Hank murmurs. He finishes listening, puts the stethoscope over his neck. "They wanted to see if your abilities can be compromised. They reduced the amount of oxygen in your cell, then they pumped your body full of neurotoxins. Your body's overwhelmed. You sustained too many injuries in too short a time, and the toxins in your blood are keeping you from healing. I'm going to give you the antidote now."
Hank puts a tourniquet around Adam's arm and swabs the skin with alcohol. "I told them you could die," Hank says. With his thumb, he pulls Adam's skin taut, then inserts the needle. There's a flush of blood, and the IV goes in smoothly. "It's the only reason they let me see you."
Minutes pass. Adam pulls off a bandage, and he sees the margins of his wounds beginning to close. He closes his eyes as his skin starts to knit back together; he can feel the bruises on his face start to dissipate, the cuts on his arms and hands. His muscles don't ache quite as badly, and Adam hoists himself up on the bunk: he's surprised to see Hank still crouched in the corner, watching.
"You okay?" Hank asks.
"A little better, thank you," Adam says. Hank nods and starts to pack up his equipment. He touches the IV and examines the lines.
"It should take a couple hours," Hank says. "Just make sure this doesn't kink, I'll be back to check on--"
The IV needle pops out of Adam's hand. The skin seals shut, nicely.
"Well I guess we won't be needing that," Hank says. He picks up the needle and stands by the door. "You gonna be alright?" Hank asks.
"I think so," Adam says. "I just need a little rest, is all."
Hank nods. "Good," Hank says. He pauses at the door, then turns. "I'm not supposed to tell you this, but they're planning to withhold your feedings. They want to see if your nutrition status affects your abilities."
Adam rubs his arm, slicks back his still-wet hair. "I'll be sure to hoard my food, then," Adam says.
"I didn't hear that," Hank says, and he closes the door.
The lock clicks into place, and Adam is left crouching on the bunk. His cell is cold. Peeling off his wet T-shirt, Adam curses silently that The Company heads didn't think to provide him dry clothes, and that he didn't think to ask Hank to swipe a pair of scrubs from the men's locker room. This is probably part of the experiment, Adam thinks. He winds the thin blanket around his shoulders and leans against the wall.
*****
The room buzzes. Adam opens his eyes.
"You're next," someone says, and rough hands yank Adam to his feet. He's handcuffed, a taser to his back; The Haitian stands by, watching.
A man in the white lab coat hands him a cup. "We need a sample," the man says.
"I used the toilet already, you'll have to wait," Adams says, and he hands the man the cup.
"We need a semen sample," the man says. He pushes the cup toward Adam's chest.
"Oh. Right," Adam says. He studies the cup, then glances up as the Labcoat Man leaves the room. Adam taps the cup against his thigh, then sits heavily on the bench. If he cooperates, he can be back in his cell quicker. If he cooperates, he'll be back in his room in time for Hank's morning rounds. Hank felt sorry for him; ergo, Hank will probably sneak him alcohol. Bloody good it does me, I can't get drunk anymore, Adam thinks, but it's still something to look forward to.
Like his cell, the room is cold. The walls are gray; the tile floor is white, pristine. He can feel the cold metal of the bench through the seat of his pants; goosebumps prickle his arms.
"Really setting the mood," Adam says, and he sets the cup down.
He wonders briefly why they'd want a semen sample. Maybe Adam's sperm is better than other men's. Maybe they can swim faster. Adam doesn't know. He picks the cup up again, turns it over in his hands. He thinks of the last time anyone's touched him like that. His tenth wife, Trina, had found him standing in the den, turning the pages of an atlas. She didn't know his secret. He was going to tell her--he planned on it, was plotting out the words in his head--when she grabbed him by the shirt and yanked him against her.
Then he was captured. Then they locked him up in the cell.
Someone bangs on the door.
Adam shoves the cup between his legs. "I'm working on it."
They bang louder.
"I said I'm working on it!" Adam says. He can hear them walk away. "God help me...."
His penis is doughy under the fabric of his pants. Adam kneads it roughly, willing for it to stand. "Come on...."
At this point, Adam would rather spend more time at the dunk tank.
Adam stands up; he paces. Absently he bangs the little cup against his leg as he walks. The room is only slightly larger than his cell, except that there's no window, only a bright fluorescent light which buzzes faintly in the background. He's reminded of the mountains, the cold air and the way the sun glinted against the frost-blue horizon. He remembers the sound of tin pans clanging together, the burnt-out smell of fire and charcoal; Yaeko's face as she cooked soup over the flame.
Yaeko. Adam hasn't thought of her for a long time.
Adam sits back on the bench and closes his eyes. He imagines Yaeko sitting by his feet. She would lean against his leg, the wisps of hair touching his armor--
No, he wouldn't be able to feel her hair under the armor. He'd be wearing a robe. It would be cold and they would have to sit close to keep warm.
Adam swallows, tilts his head up. His breathing is strained; his muscles tense. He thinks of Yaeko's eyes, that wide-eyed way she looked at him, the way she felt in his arms. She'd crawl up on his lap, and she'd feel so warm, and she'd kiss him on the mouth, and she'd press up against him, and she'd smell so good, and, and, and, and--
Adam comes, gasping and spurting all over his lap. He fumbles for the cup, trying to aim. His hands are shaking when he scrapes the cup against his legs.
They bang on the door. "You done?"
Adam doesn't answer. The door opens. A shadow falls over Adam's face, and he looks up, sees the Labcoat man's silhouette against the square of light. He snaps on a latex glove and takes Adam's cup.
"This'll do."
Adam is too weak to protest when they lead him back into his cell.
*****
Adam is curled up on his cot when Hank enters his cell. Hank sets his bag down. "Christ, what happened?" Hank says. He checks Adam's pulse. "No one told me they were testing you today. Jesus. What'd they do to you?"
Adam watches Hank listlessly as Hank pulls out his stethoscope, starts listening to his heart and lungs. "Deep breath," Hank murmurs, but Adam doesn't breathe. He stares at the floor, his eyes glazed over.
Hank taps Adam's reflex points, looks at Adam's skin for signs of trauma. When he's done, he rocks back on his haunches and examines Adam's face. "What happened to you?" Hank asks.
Adam turns to face the wall. "I had to wank for them," Adam says. He draws his knees up to his chest. He feels like he's going to cry.
Hank folds his hands in his lap. "You okay?" Hank asks.
Adam nods, still not looking at him. "Yeah," Adam says. Hank rummages through his medical bag.
"Here," Hank says, and he pulls out a small tin of saltines. "For when they decide to withhold your food."
Adam still stares at the wall. "I'm rather hoping I'll just starve to death," Adam says.
Hank sighs, then sets the package on top of Adam's night stand.
"Get some rest," Hank says. "It's going to be a long day tomorrow."