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The injection didn't cause him to pass out this time, but Brennan still felt strange as he was taken to the room where he'd been beaten before. He was disoriented and his blood seemed to tingle as it moved through his veins.
His same guard, whom Brennan now considered his handler since he was always around, locked his arms above his head once more. Then he walked to the other side of the room and got something before returning to stand behind Brennan.
As the back of his shirt was pushed up to expose his skin, Brennan braced himself. He'd already been told what was going to happen. Jordan had informed him that he would be lashed fifty times. He'd thought there must be a better way to test the healing effects of this Messiah Strand or whatever it was called. The older doctor, who'd also been there, had simply replied, "Probably," in a matter of fact tone.
Taking a deep breath, he told himself he could handle this. Attempting escape while he was still feeling the side-effects of the drug would get him nowhere.
Even prepared, Brennan cried out as the first lash seared across his back. His skin burned from his shoulder down to where his pants had stopped the contact at his hips.
He tossed his head back tried to breathe. That had been worse than he'd expected. But he *could* get through this. Steeling himself, he bowed his head and waited.
The next snapped at his neck and ripped a path down diagonally and along his side. Brennan bit down on the material of his shirt which was gathered under his chin and used it to gag his scream. His handler hadn't found the proper strike with the first, that much was obvious now. This one had torn his flesh. He could feel the drop of blood slowly making its way along his skin.
Before he could get his breathing back under control, the next lash fell. Lurching forward to avoid the main extend of the blow, Brennan stumbled. His arms jerked harshly, almost being pulled from their sockets as the chain stopped his collapse.
He spit the shirt from his mouth in order to draw in air. His breathing was too choked for him to cry out as he forced himself back to his feet. He took in a hard breath and held it, gripping the chain so his wrists wouldn't be rubbed raw the next time. Setting his jaw in determination, he locked his legs.
He was ready this time. He wouldn't scream.
Fire exploded across his back once more, and he fell again despite his efforts, but he managed to hold back his cry. He took some pride in that small victory. He wouldn't give them the satisfaction of breaking him.
Four down.
Screwing his eyes shut, he tried to ride out the most recent pain. He got his feet back under him, and somehow stayed standing through the next seven lashes. On twelve, his knees buckled and he was unable to get back up. But at least they'd fallen into a pattern.
He'd exhale every time he felt the flesh of his back be torn, inhaling during the slight pause between. It became a rhythm. It was the only way he could breathe. The pain seemed to dull slightly, but every new welt caused revived agony. He focused on that fresh infliction, using it to distract him from the burn of the old. If he could take this one at a time, he'd make it.
So why was he still counting?
The rips in his skin were starting to overlap each other now, and Brennan wondered if his back would left permanently crisscrossed with scars. Or maybe there'd be no gaps where he hadn't been cut by the time this was over.
Emma was going to flip out when she saw his back. He knew she would look. The edges of some of the wounds would be visible even with his shirt back in place.
Emma... He prayed nobody was hurting her. He could survive this, but he didn't think he could cope if anybody touched her.
Allowing himself the distraction of thinking about Emma gave him a temporary reprieve from the torment of his own body, but it also caused him to miss one of his breaths between hits. He was forced to start laboring and couldn't let his thoughts wander.
The pain was mounting, becoming too much, and Brennan's vision began to cloud. He closed his eyes once more, keeping his head down and trying to remain limp. It was easier when he wasn't tense.
By the halfway mark, the agony was extreme. His hands were slippery with sweat as he gripped the chains. This was going to destroy him. He could feel the electricity inside him seeking release. He needed to fight back! If he let this continue, it would kill him - even if not physically, he'd be shattered emotionally.
A surge went through his body and he spasmed slightly. He'd instinctively tried to use his power, and the governor was combating the reflex. He couldn't even cause a spark with the modified version of the governor; he'd tried earlier and failed.
He instantly attempted to squelch his abilities. He needed to let himself go completely, separate himself from the pain. He made his mind think of anything else, anywhere else. He needed the escape even if it meant not breathing.
But in the back of his mind, he was still counting.
He lost consciousness right before lash thirty-eight.
-----
Fingers were being run over his back when he started to come to. Gloved, yet not latex this time. Possibly leather, expensive. They caused a slight sting as they traced over his partially healed skin which was still tender.
"Impressive," Eckhart's voice said, causing Brennan to open his eyes with a moan. He rotated his shoulder, yanking away from the man. "Did that hurt? I apologize."
As Eckhart pulled his shirt back into place - still wet with his blood, sweat, saliva, and tears - and then quit touching him, Brennan mumbled something along the lines of, "Go to hell." He'd made it clear that he didn't care about inflicting pain.
"Of that I have no doubt," Eckhart replied. "But not for a very long time, I assure you."
"Take me back to Emma," ordered Brennan.
"Not quite yet." Eckhart turned to Brennan's handler. "Cut him more deeply."
As the man drew a switchblade from his pocket, Eckhart added, "This will only hurt momentarily."
Brennan grimaced as the blade was flipped open. "Why don't you be the bigger man and test this wonder drug out on yourself?" he asked before his handler moved into his personal space.
"I have a tendency not to trust anything of Adam's these days," Eckhart answered, stepping back to watch.
Adam? Brennan jerked his head up. What could Adam possibly have to do with this?
Before he could question things further, he was forced to attempt a dodge as his handler quickly moved to slice him. The material of his shirt was cut from his shoulder across to his waist. Looking down, Brennan saw that the edges of the tear were red, but he knew the wound wasn't very deep.
As the man prepared to take another strike, Brennan shoved himself forward and head-butted him. Hard. He knew he'd just hurt himself worse than his handler, but he did cause the other man to stumble back.
Prepared, Brennan instantly shifted his weight back, grabbing the chains at his wrists and using them to help swing his bound feet up together in a smooth motion. He landed the kick directly to the man's chest.
When he stumbled, Brennan swung himself once more, knocking his handler's legs out from under him and taking him to the floor. Brennan grinned, feeling the man's pockets with his toes in search of the cuff key.
Off to the side, Eckhart applauded. "Like I said, you are very impressive, Mr. Mulwray." He nudged Brennan's handler with his foot. "Get up. I expected better from you."
Quickly rousing, the man shoved himself up before his pocket was able to be picked, looking none too pleased with Brennan. In a fast motion, he placed his foot on the chain between Brennan's ankles, securely keeping his feet in place. Then he reached around and wrapped his arm about Brennan's neck, twisting his head and covering his mouth with his hand.
Locked against the man's body, Brennan was immobile. It was also a position in which it would easy for the other man to snap his neck if he tried any further stunts. Knowing he didn't have permission to kill him yet, Brennan attempted biting the hand.
The switchblade, which had been retrieved when the man had gotten up, was swiftly stabbed forward, imbedding itself in Brennan's stomach. His handler held him more tightly as his body jerked, the hand over his mouth still silencing him.
Brennan's entire body tensed impulsively, and he fought against the hand which prevented him from sucking in the much needed air. He could feel the full length of the blade impaling him, held firmly into his body, the other man making no move to release him. There was a metallic taste in his mouth, and he wondered if the blood was his or if he'd succeeded in biting the hand. For a second, he thought he was going to die right there.
Waiting for Brennan to still, his handler finally drew the blade back, twisting it as he pulled it free. Brennan's body spasmed, and he waited again before releasing him.
Brennan's only sound was a pained gasp. He couldn't even scream. He stared at the blade which was sheathed in his blood. His eyes locked in place even after his handler moved from his sight. His body wouldn't respond to him at all.
Eckhart had just taken this experiment to a level which truly scared him.
-----
Gentle hands replaced the rough ones before he could collapse, and Brennan felt himself being helped to lie down. His eyes still wouldn't focus.
He knew that two men had taken him back to his room, since he hadn't been able to walk, but everything else was a blur. Somebody brushed his damp hair back from his forehead.
"Brennan, please look at me..." Emma pleaded, her voice afraid.
His head was resting in her lap, and he tried to respond to her. He knew he could still see, but nothing was registering. He trembled uncontrollably. "I fought back..."
Removing her jacket, Emma draped it over him. "You're in shock." Her tone held a forced calmness as she continued to attempt to soothe him. She was also trying to stop the bleeding.
"Adam," Brennan managed to choke out, thinking about Eckhart's words. Emma said something about how they'd be rescued soon, and he didn't have the strength to tell her that wasn't what he meant. He didn't even know what he meant.
Did he actually believe Adam was in some way a part of this? Responsible. He decided his clouded mind was falling perfectly into Eckhart's deception. He forced himself not to doubt Adam. Adam was his friend. Adam was going to fix this. He'd never be involved with Eckhart.
Would he?
-----
Emma kept Brennan's head cradled in her lap as she absently ran her fingers through his sweat-damp hair. The bleeding had stopped, but Brennan was in bad shape. She could still feel his slight shaking, and his breathing was continuing to get worse.
"I'm scared, Em," he said weakly.
She continued stroking his hair. Her other hand was locked in his, both coated with blood that was nearly gluing their intertwined fingers together. "So am I." Over the past hour, his condition had steadily deteriorated.
"I should be showing signs of improvement by now." Instead he felt as though he were dying. "I don't think I'm going to heal."
She squeezed his hand more firmly. "Maybe you just need more time."
"Or maybe Eckhart crossed the line." Brennan closed his eyes and didn't have the strength to open them again. Perhaps they'd discovered the extent of the drug's usefulness.
"It could be something we're just not seeing," suggested Emma, refusing to believe he might be fatally wounded. "Maybe it's like our powers and there's a trigger or something."
Brennan shifted position but never opened his eyes. His breathing had grown too shallow for him to be getting enough air. "I can't stay awake any longer," he told her.
Emma suddenly stilled. Could it be that simple? "Then maybe you don't," she speculated, trying to form a theory. "What if that's the answer? I mean, the last time you healed, you were unconscious, Brennan."
"So I just let myself pass out and I wake up better?" He blinked his eyes half way open and turned his head to look at her.
"Maybe," she answered nervously.
He rested silently for several minutes before shaking with a pained laugh. "Ironically, I think I'm too afraid to sleep."
"It's okay," she said softly. "I'm not going to let anything happen to you, Brennan." He'd lose consciousness soon regardless of whether it was intentional or not.
With a small moan, he settled himself back as comfortably as possible. "I know it's wrong," he said after a minute, "but I'm glad you're with me, Em. I wish you weren't, but I don't know if I could handle this on my own."
"It's okay," she said again, watching him start to drift. If given the option, she didn't think she'd be able to leave him. "Just sleep now."
With a soft sigh, he surrendered and let the exhaustion claim him. He only hoped she was correct in believing he'd wake up again.
-----
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