Intelligence | PG13 | Gilmore Girls/La Femme Nikita
Title: Intelligence
Prompt: Paris finds herself somehow in Section One and a certain leader is perplexed as to why
Fandom: Paris/Madeline, Gilmore Girls/La Femme Nikita
Requested by: mrschimpf
Rating: PG13
Word Count: 773
Disclaimer: Not mine. Wish they were. Please don't sue.
Author's Note: Talk about a pairing out of left field! This was tough and required quite a bit of research, so hopefully I managed to do all right. Don't hate me for beating on poor Paris…but that was the only conceivable way to get her into Section One. And I even let her live! I was also a little hazy on the details about what happened with Paris's parents....so be gentle on me! *goes back into hiding now*
-
Paris attempts to open her eyes when she hears the distant whine of a steel door swinging open. She screws them firmly shut again when the blinding white light of the lamps overhead reflect off of pristine white walls and render her momentarily blind. She tries to scrunch her shoulders in annoyance and realizes she's tense, as if she's been drugged or beaten -- maybe both. She moves her left arm in hopes of rubbing her aching neck but cannot move.
She's bound to the chair.
She forces her eyes open now, squinting as she takes in the sight of her wrists shackled to the uncomfortable metal chair upon which she sits.
She begins to panic, her heart thudding rapidly against the cage of her chest. Her mind is foggy. Memories of what happened are just out of reach, toying with her.
If only she could just…
"Do you know why you're here?"
Paris gives up her attempt at deciphering hazy bits of conscious thought and stares at the woman standing in front of her. She blinks, the woman's dark hair and dark suit a sharp contrast to the bleak white backdrop.
"No," Paris croaks, her throat dry. She coughs and tastes the metallic tang of blood on her tongue. "I don't even know where I am."
"You, Miss Gellar, possess intelligence." The woman walks slowly around her, her heels clicking loudly. The clack vibrates off the circular room's walls, resonating twice as loud in Paris's ear. "We need that intelligence."
"Who's we? Where am I?"
"Your questions will be answered later. For now, I believe you're in a position to do as I request. Cooperation is generally rewarded."
Paris swallows, her tongue feeling like sandpaper. "Then ask me."
"What can you tell us of your parents' whereabouts?"
Paris furrows her brow in confusion and gasps at the pain she feels at the action. Her head sears, feeling as though it might burst in two. "I have no idea where they are."
The woman stops her prowl, bending close to her ear. Her breath is hot against her face. "Protecting them will only harm your chances of leaving here alive, Miss Gellar."
"I'm not protecting them!" Paris's stomach coils with anxiety. "I swear I don't know. They left the country because of tax evasion…I don't know where they went. I haven't heard from them in two years."
"Tax evasion."
"Yes. All of the money is gone. Is that what this is about? Money?"
"Your parents are not bankrupt, Miss Gellar. They share a considerable wealth, a wealth that they did not obtain by honest means."
"What are you trying to say? They stole it?"
"Amongst other things."
Paris feels sick as the weight of the woman's words sinks in. "I've spent my whole life trying to separate myself from them," she says thickly.
"What can you tell us about where they are?"
"I can't tell you what I have no knowledge of. You can play your mind games all day and you can hurt me all you want…but I won't know anything more than what I've told you."
"That can be arranged."
Paris begins to cry. She wants to hold it back, wants to be strong in front of this beautiful, dangerous woman, but she doesn't have the strength to stop it. "They're not my family. They're responsible for giving me life but they're not my family."
The woman stands before Paris now, her arms crossed in front of her chest. Her eyes are wide. Intense.
"We -- they -- have a house in southern Italy. I've never been there…I don't even know what town it's in. I only knew about it because I saw the deed…they don't know that I know."
Something flashes in the woman's eyes. Paris wonders if she's just written her parents' death sentences and finds, with a spark of cold indifference, that she doesn't care. "I hope you find them and I hope you make them pay for whatever they've done," Paris adds with a sneer.
The woman nods curtly, turns on her heel, and leaves the room.
-
Paris wakes up with one hell of a headache. Her sheets are cold, as if she's only just laid down, but she feels as though she's slept for a year. Her lips are chapped and dry and her stomach feels tender. She tries to sit up but bile rises in her throat. She falls back to the pillow.
What the hell happened?
She searches her memory, grasps at air. She vaguely remembers a chemistry exam.
She also remembers large brown eyes and the ghost of a name.
Madeline.
---