Kagaku Ninja-Tai Gatchaman Fan Fiction ❯ Love's Battlefield ❯ How To Cage A Condor ( Chapter 4 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

LOVE'S BATTLEFIELD

(A follow up to "Twin Hearts" - Five to Seven months later approx.)

Chapter 4 - How To Cage A Condor

A "Battle of the Planets" Alternative Universe Fan Fiction.

WARNINGS: NC-17 - For references to Male-Male Love (Slash, Yaoi, Shononai - Referred to only. Do not read on if you do not like reading about references to male-male love and sex.). Also contains references to past Rape (NCS) (Nothing Graphic, NO descriptions, only referenced) and references to Het, (Male-Female sex - Not graphic, mostly referred to after the fact) and contains briefly described female nudity... Also contains an accusation of rape (unfounded).

IMPORTANT NOTE: Please do NOT read on if references to rape disturb you, or if you are a survivor of sexual abuse. (You've been WARNED, so please don't flame me for it!)

CONTAINS: Nudity, extreme angst, drama, love and romance, swearing, violence and drug abuse. And is also OOC, AU and NCC. (i.e. Out Of Character, Alternative Universe and contains Non Canon Characterisations, situations and events).

* Note: The "Battle Of The Planets" characters do NOT belong to me, they belong solely to Sandy Frank and Tatsunoko Productions. No copyright infringement is intended. No money/profit is being made from this fiction. It is purely for entertainment purposes only.

"JASON POV" (only)

The body was warm in my arms, smooth. Waking abruptly I groaned, Mark's name on my lips.

"No!" A very, very feminine voice spoke. "Not Mark. Try again, pretty boy." The voice sneered.

Once again the involuntary reaction at those words spiked fear within me. Again I fought it down.

Sitting up, the bed covers fell away from my chest. I gaped down in shock. Holy shit, I was completely naked under there.

Looking at the woman beside me, I could see her curves under the sheets, see her exposed bare breasts, nipples firmly erect in the cool of the room.

Stunned I stared around me.

"How? How the fuck did I get here?" I had zero memory of taking this woman to bed, my last memory was of leaving her at the door, saying good night, turning to leave, a prickling sensation in my neck and then... Nothing... Nothing at all...

"You came home with me last night, remember? You stayed to have sex, and it was damn goood too..." She purred, fondling her own breast, stroking a nipple.

Disgusted I got out of the bed, careless of my nakedness. "There's no way I stayed here voluntarily, lady. Now, where are my clothes?" Searching around with my eyes I finally found them on a nearby chair. Luckily I'd left all my weapons back at the hotel, or this could have turned ugly.

Staggering I felt dizzy, dressed only in my underpants, I fell heavily against a wall.

"Wh-what the fuck have you done to me?" I snarled, as soon as the wave of vertigo passed over.

Giggling, she reached over to a bedside table and held up an air-spray syringe.

"Coke... Good grade stuff too..." On closer examination, I could see the contracted state of her pupils, and found myself groaning in frustrated anger.

I stared at her stunned. "You stupid bitch, you could've killed me." Feeling disorientated, I reached for my blue denim jeans, and somehow managed to don them, and my socks and boots.

She rolled on the bed, exposing herself, the fullness of her breasts, the flat belly, the neat triangle of silky black hair.

Her nakedness did nothing for me; all I felt was angry disgust at her actions. She'd coerced me into having sex with her by drugging me; she was sick, ugly and sick inside her soul.

She giggled again, rolling her eyes. "No way, man, we shared it, there wasn't enough in it to OD you."

Shivering, I paused doing up my boots. "No, you fricking dim wit. I'm not fully human; you could have killed me easily. Probably the only reason you didn't is because it was a half dose."

Still, I felt light-headed and ill, way, way too light-headed and ill. It could still kill me, that much I knew, I needed medical attention, sooner rather than later, and the stuff flushed from my system.

Her eyes opened wide in surprise. "Really... I fucked an alien? Cool! So what are ya? Rigan?"

Shaking my head in disgust, I finished with the boots and stood, picking up my black t-shirt.

"Partly, part Terran, part Spectran too..." I replied absently, shaking out the t-shirt.

"You're Spectran?" The giggles were gone, her voice dripped with venomous hatred. The emotional force of which hit me hard, like a physical blow, sending me stumbling back against the wall.

"Oh God..." I moaned. The pain of her furiously crashing emotions was nearly agonising.

"You fucking bastard!" She shrieked, and was on top of me before I knew what had hit me, raking at my face and chest with her fingernails, screaming obscenities. The gist of which was that her parents had been killed in a Spectra attack a few years back, leaving her orphaned and destitute, and now she hated all things Spectran, which left me with a furious naked woman straddling me. At one time that might have been a fantasy of mine, but not this time, this time I really feared for my life, or for hers, more to the point as, even weakened by the cocaine in my system, I could hurt her all too easily.

Far too damn easily...

It was simple really, to subdue her. All I had to do was grab her wrists, and haul her back towards the bed and toss her on to it. "Stay there!" I growled. "I'm fucking out of here. Count yourself lucky I don't call the police. There's a law somewhere I'm sure about drugging people against their will."

Ignoring her venomous glare, I dragged the t-shirt on over my head, feeling it sticking to the blood from the wounds her fingernails had caused on my chest, and shrugged into my black leather jacket.

"Ciao baby..." I saluted her as I moved to the door. Her screaming obscenities followed me out as the front door swung shut behind me.

In other circumstances I would have felt compassion for her. Left alone, destitute, forced to earn her keep by selling her body, hooked on drugs, falling into a never-ending vicious circle. But all I really felt right then was angry. Deeply furiously angry, at her, at the fates, at being used once again.

Going down the steps, I stumbled, as dizziness swept over me again, only saving myself from falling by clutching at the stair rail.

Jesus Christ, I so needed medical attention.

Holding on to the stair railings for grim life, I managed to make my stumbling way down the stairs to the ground below. Staggering outside, I cried out as the bright light of day hit me in the eyes, and fell back against the outside wall, fighting to stay upright. The symptoms were getting worse; if I didn't get help soon, I'd drop into a coma, and after that, die. Cocaine was deadly to hybrids, in any dosage, really. A hybrid, such as myself, would be a damn fool to go even a light-year near the stuff. Even while imprisoned by Zoltar, the men raping me had given me a Rigan drug, which they knew would be effective enough on me, as any Terran drug would have killed me far too soon.

Groping for my wallet, I realised it was missing. Shit, she'd probably robbed me also. This meant I was ID less, and penniless and in need of medical attention. Christ, I was so very fucking dead...

There was some change in my pocket, I could call the Chief, let him know where to collect me.

Decided, I stumbled down the street, looking for a pay phone.

Several blocks later, I leant heavily against a wall and coughed painfully, tasting blood. Not good.

The world span around me, and I slid gracelessly down the wall, to lie on my side on the pavement, everything a blur of coloured light.

"Hey mister, are you alright?" A male voice asked.

"He looks bad. Shit, look at them scratches on his face." A female voice this time.

I groaned and tried to get up, only to fall back down in a heap.

"Help me?" I gasped, coughing again painfully, once again tasting blood.

Hands steadied me, felt for my pulse.

"Someone call an ambulance." A calm, mature female voice requested.

I could hear the pipping of dialling, a pause, then a male voice asking for an ambulance, and giving directions.

I tried to focus, without success, everything was too blurred and spinning too giddily.

My efforts to focus, ended with me coughing violently again, leaving me feeling weak and exhausted. God, but I didn't want to die without seeing Mark again.

"Mark?" I asked aloud, needing him.

"Mark what?" The calm female voice asked.

Shaking with effort, I clutched at her. "H-husband... M-Mark... C-call him..." I gasped, breaking off coughing, and letting her go weakly.

"Mark must be his life-mate." Another female voice piped in.

Ten brownie points, sweetheart, I thought sardonically.

"Can you give us a number, sir?" The calm female, holding my hand by now, asked.

Swallowing, I tried to concentrate, but it was too much. Consciousness was beginning to fade on me.

Hands shook me gently and awareness snapped back. "Stay with us, sir. You can't pass out now..." Her voice steadied me, anchoring me for a moment. Sirens sounded in the distance, coming closer.

Things faded in the distance, then the next I knew, multiple hands were touching me. I cried out and fought back against them, far too weakly, coughing painfully again.

"Steady on sir, were trying to help you." A male voice, cool, his emotions projecting calm control.

Relaxing, I felt them lifting me on to something soft, stripping away my jacket and t-shirt. A needle was pressed into my vein as an IV line was attached. Struggling to focus, and talk, I managed to grate out at last: "D-Don't, not, n-not hu-human..."

Someone draped a thermal blanket over me, another calmly took my pulse: "It's okay sir, this is a general saline solution, it wont hurt you, no matter your genetics. The doctors will genetic screen you in the hospital, before treatment..." Relaxing, I let them continue, the sooner they got me to hospital, the sooner the drugs could be flushed from my system.

They asked me questions: My name first. "Jason." I told them.

Then they asked, calling me by name: What had I eaten that day, or in the past twenty four hours, what had I had to drink, what drugs, if any, had I ingested or injected, and etc., and etc., and etc?

I told them everything I could, including about the girl and her shooting me up with Cocaine against my will. They tutted and clucked about that, calling into the hospital with their findings.

Somewhere between that point and them actually loading me on the ambulance I lost consciousness.

My last thoughts were of Mark...

*

"Jason!" An unfamiliar female voice.

"Jason! Come on now, it's time to wake up."

My body refused to believe her, completely.

"Jason. Come on now, you can rest again once we know you can wake up..."

She was persistent, I had to give her that.

Slowly, painfully, I reluctantly prised open my eyes.

She was blond, pretty; the white starched uniform suited her neatly.

"That's the way... Can you tell me your name and where you are right now?"

I stared up at her stupidly. She'd just been calling me Jason for what felt like hours, and now she wanted to know my name? What the f...?

"J-Jason, my name's Jason. I-I'm in hos-hospital." Resisting the urge to be sarcastic was easy, I felt to damn freaking ill to even try that.

"That's good Jason. You can rest now..."

Good, I'd intended to anyway. I allowed myself to drift back off again, to sleep this time.

*

Awareness rushed back in. Groaning I opened my eyes. I was in some sort of ICU ward, IV lines running into my arms, monitors around the bed, things attached to me, some of which I really didn't want to know about...

"You're awake?" Another female voice stated, somewhat unnecessarily. I lifted a questioning eyebrow at her, and she blushed a little, a petite brunette this time.

Married man, I reminded myself.

"I'll get the doctor..." She disappeared from view.

I stared morosely at the ceiling, trying to remember all the events of the past few days.

The doctor returned with the nurse. Grim faced, he stared down at me for a moment, before beginning a clinical, uncaring examination of me and of my vitals.

Finished he stood back. "You've been lucky, it's the rare hybrid who survives after taking Cocaine." He said coolly, his tone slightly supercilious, annoying the fricking heck out of me.

"As I told the paramedics. I didn't 'take' it; I was 'given' it, against my will. I'm not a fucking idiot." He frowned at my word choice, then shrugged it off.

"Be that as it may, young man." His tone was at least a little less lofty and arrogant. "As with all cases like this, I've had to inform the authorities. They are waiting to question you. Can you handle that right now?"

Nodding, and shrugging, I said it was okay. What choice did I have really?

The doctor left, returning a minute later with a stocky, ruddy-faced man, dressed in a suit.

"Detective Symons." He introduced himself, coming to stand by the bed.

Charmed, I'm sure, I thought sardonically, quirking a non-committal eyebrow.

"Now Jason, let's start with your surname, shall we?" Oh God, not another arrogant SOB. Two in one morning was enough for anyone.

"Jones..." I told him. "My name is Jason Jones..." He looked sceptical, but wrote it down anyway.

"Care to tell me how you came to have Cocaine in your bloodstream, Mr, um, Jones?"

Yeah, I'm sure you want me to tell you I'm a junkie, you shit head.

"A girl gave it to me, when I turned my back on her."

The detective grunted, again looking sceptical.

"Look!" I said, annoyed. "I'm not a fucking idiot. That junk can kill me, and almost did, in any quantity, why the fuck would I give it to myself?"

He shrugged, looking a little bored, which annoyed me even further. "Some junkies get desperate for any sort of a hit they can get, no matter the risk."

Shaking my head in disbelief, it was my turn to look incredulous. "Do I look desperate to you?"

Again he shrugged. "Takes all kinds..."

Damn the man to hell!

Feeling weak, I closed my eyes, concentrating on breathing in the rich oxygen from the tubes attached to my nose. Slowly some strength began to return.

After a bit he cleared his throat. "Are you still awake?"

Frowning, I opened my eyes and glared at him. "Yeah, no thanks to you. What else do ya want?"

"Tell me about the girl. Her description, where she lives, what you were doing yesterday when they brought you in, everything."

Aw damnation...

So I told him, from beginning to end, starting with her offering to buy me a drink, ending with her scratching me after finding out about my heritage, and me leaving the apartment as fast as possible.

He took careful notes, asking me additional questions along the way.

"Now then, Mr. Um Jones..." He obviously didn't believe my pathetic excuse for a surname. "Can you produce your papers for us?"

My what? What the hell was he talking about? I must have looked confused for he elaborated.

"Your Alien National's papers? Where are they?"

My what? I didn't need those! I've never needed those.

"I was born here, I'm Terran. Sicilian to be exact, by Birth Right."

Again, he flashed me that disbelieving look. "You're Spectran. All Spectran's are required to have papers, it's mandatory, otherwise they face imprisonment until the end of the war."

Okay, now it was my turn to be incredulous. "I'm not fully Spectran, I'm mixed, I was born here, I've never had to have any papers to prove my right to be here."

Or did I normally have to have them? The Chief had sheltered me from so much, and this was the first time I'd really ever been on my own. What if it really was necessary? Holy shit. The detective's face told me the answer more than his words ever could.

"Oh God..." I breathed weakly. "I've never had any, my passport lists me as Terran, Sicilian. Born in Sicily in 2093. There's never been a need for me to be registered as an Alien National."

Not until now, anyway.

"Can you produce your passport at least?"

Yeah, now that would have to be the six million dollar question.

"No..." I sighed slightly. "No, that's back home, where I come from, I've been travelling across country for weeks now, and the girl has my wallet, she removed it from my jeans the other night."

The detective cleared his throat, frowning in thought. "Alright, that'll do for now. We'll look into your story about the girl. As for your passport, think about having it sent to you, as proof of who you are and your right to be here. We'll be back after speaking with the girl."

He stood and wandered out of the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

This was not good. No, not fricking any good at all.

Damnit!

*

The cop came back the following afternoon. They had me off the oxygen, with most of the miscellaneous connections removed as well. Their plan was to release me the following morning, providing I continued to do well.

He asked the nurse to stay in the room this time, which made me feel nervous.

He started without too much delay.

"Mr, um, Jones..." Again, that hesitation over my name.

"We've talked to the young lady in question. She doesn't deny the early part of your story. She does however, strongly deny the last part of it."

Stunned, I simply stared at him, eyes wide with shock. Probably I shouldn't have been surprised.

He cleared his throat and continued. "The young lady says that you insisted on taking her home, spinning some line about it being too dangerous out. That at her door 'you' injected her with the air-spray syringe and then yourself. She's claiming you took her by force, after rendering her helpless. In effect, she's claming you raped her, and is prepared to lay charges to that effect..."

Stunned... Jesus... If I'd been stunned before, I was totally and utterly frozen with shock now.

He looked at me in concern. "Sir?"

Shaking my head, I stared at him. "Th-that's not true. She... I... You wont find my fingerprints on the syringe; I never touched it at all, any more than I'm guessing you'll find signs of forced sex on her. I didn't do it, I can't, or couldn't. No way... No fucking way at all! I'd never do such a thing."

The nurse was looking at me horrified, stepping back a pace, to be as far from me as possible. I cringed, feeling the first tugs of isolation. No, this definitely was not good at all.

The detective was actually looking at me in some sympathy. "Yeah, well we checked your stories out. Seems your story that she accosted you, and draped herself all over you at the bar is corroborated completely by the people working there that night, and by some regulars who witnessed her behaviour. No one saw her leave with you, however. The air-spray syringe has only her fingerprints on it, but she claims she wiped it off, for whatever reason, after you used it on her."

Well, maybe there was hope yet?

"And..." I prodded.

"And... No, there aren't any signs of forced penetration, not even as much as a small bruise. You, in fact, are more injured than she is, with the scratch wounds and the drug over dose."

Well, well, well, so they did look into it fairly thoroughly.

"So what now?" I asked, tentatively, not sure that I really wanted or needed to know.

He cleared his throat once again, sounding uncomfortable. "Even though there is no physical evidence on the girl, there was on yourself. The doctors found evidence of sexual activity when they examined you, and as a matter of course took swabs and tests. The DNA matches yours, and hers, proving you did have sexual relations with the woman."

I nodded impatiently at him. "Yeah, so? I already told you she drugged me and then had sex with me. If anything, I'm the victim here!" So what's new? It seemed to be taking on a life of its own, being a victim of all this shit, that is.

"We checked the girl out, she's got a rap sheet as long as my arm, and most people we interviewed seemed inclined to believe she was fully capable of setting someone up in this manner."

There was a definite 'but' coming, I could feel it, both physically, and by observing his body language.

"However, once a complaint such as this is made, we have to take it seriously. Even though the evidence is circumstantial at best, the girl has made a complaint against you, and is pressing charges. We have no choice in the matter. We have to charge you with assault and rape and you'll have to defend that in court... Do you understand all of this?"

Did I understand it? Oh my God. I could never, would never, couldn't ever hurt another in the way I'd been hurt myself. Why was she doing this to me? Spite? Hatred? A desire to hurt by hitting out?

Dazed, I stared at him, my brain reeling with shock. "But I... I could never... Would never..." My voice trailed off weakly.

This was a nightmare, of nearly the worst sort.

To my surprise, the detective touched me on my arm. "If it helps any, off the record, I believe you. The doctors told me they found evidence of past abuses on your body as well. It's hard to believe you'd participate in such an action, after what you've been through yourself. But, I'm sorry, it's not my call I've a job to do..."

Hardening himself, he stepped back and pulled out a note pad. "Jason Jones, you are hereby arrested and charged with the assault and rape of Clarissa Boyd. Additionally you are charged with drug possession and consumption. You are also charged with being an Alien National, travelling without the necessary papers or passports."

He paused for a moment, studying my dazed frozen face.

"You have the right to remain..." His voice droned on, over the rights.

I listened shocked to the core of my soul as he rattled off all the charges, followed by my rights.

Everything span about me in a confusing array of sounds and visions. Closing my eyes I tried to imagine being home with Mark, feeling safe with him, but it all felt so far away again now. I couldn't go back now, not after this. This would drag the team through the mud. I couldn't do that to them, or to Mark. It was only a matter of time before they worked out who I was anyway, and then the shit would hit the proverbial fan, big time.

I fought back the tears at the realisation that my life with Mark really was over now.

So far over that a dreadful emptiness stretched ahead of me on and on, stifling me, making me gasp for breath.

A hand touched my arm. "Are you alright Sir?" The nurse's voice floated in through the turmoil.

Shaking myself, I opened my eyes and focussed on her. "Yeah, just dandy!" I grated lowly.

The detective was watching me warily. "Did you comprehend and understand your rights, sir?"

Glaring at him, I nodded sharply. "Yeah, crystal clear. What now?"

The detective motioned with his hand and two uniformed burly men came in through the curtain.

"These men will be placed on guard until you are ready for release. Then they'll escort you to the Police Precinct for processing. One will stay inside the room with you the other outside the room."

He reached over and took my wrist, pressing a metal instrument to the inside of it, pulling a sort of trigger. I felt a sudden sharp pain. Yelping I snatched my arm back.

"What the damn hell was that?" I demanded, furious at him.

Shrugging he pocketed the implement. "That was a criminal ID tag. If you successfully escape we can track you, no matter where you go, pretty much anywhere on Earth. It makes escaping a fairly useless past time."

Swallowing, I fingered the angry red mark on the inside of my wrist. I'd planned to try making a run for it back to the ISO, somehow, someway, but this quite literally threw that out the window.

Now, there definitely was no going back. I had to fight, for as long as humanly possible to protect my identity, to stop them tracing me back to the Chief, the ISO and G-Force. Sighing in resignation, I dropped my hand limply and sagged back against the pillows.

"I'll see you tomorrow then, I guess." I murmured, watching the detective through half closed eyes.

"Legal Council will be arranged for you. You'll meet your council at the precinct tomorrow, providing the doctors release you. Your committal hearing will be the day after tomorrow, depending on the same conditions."

God, this was all such a nightmare. How the hell did I get myself into these situations?

He left shortly after that, not before returning my wallet to me, empty of course. I'd not been carrying anything that could identify me, or trace me back to the ISO, or G-Force, and she'd taken al the money that had been in there, in effect leaving me penniless. Probably it was good that I'd paid in advance for my seedy hotel room. The detective had already been there and collected all my things, which hadn't been much, simply a duffel bag of assorted clothing and toiletries and, of course, some assorted weapons. No doubt they would keep it all somewhere, in evidence, most likely.

Maybe I could get the appointed attorney to retrieve whatever unused money was left on my tab...

Oh God... I couldn't believe this was happening to me. Me! Of all people!

*

The rest of the day passed uneventfully, except for the doctor getting me out of bed, and having a nervous nurse helping me regain my 'sea legs.' They were shaky and felt detached, a side effect of the drugs and what they'd needed to do to de-tox them from my system.

As the day wore on they slowly regained some of their strength, giving the doctor reason to believe they'd still release me the next day.

Oh what fun!

The men in uniform followed me everywhere I went of course, watching me carefully. When in bed, the guy in the room with me watched, without being obvious about it. They changed shifts somewhere in the early evening, and again the next morning.

*

The time for my release came around far too fast.

Still feeling generally weak, they'd come for me and allowed me to change back into my original clothing, before cuffing me and taking me out to their car, and on to the local Police Precinct.

What followed was a blur of events, all smudging together in my dazed mind.

The next hours were filled with them 'processing' me, taking my fingerprints and mug shot photos and grilling me about my 'real name,' which I refused over and over to give them. In the end they wrote me down as Jason Jones, telling me that one way or another, they'd trace me eventually.

Which was, of course, what scared me intensely, as it was my goal to keep G-Force totally out of this farce, to keep the team from being dragged through a scandal that could make things hard for all of them, not just for me.

The defence attorney was nice enough. A woman, about 5ft 6, sort of plump, maybe thirty years old, flaming shoulder length red hair, intense green eyes, with a dusting of freckles over her nose and cheeks, making her look younger. She was knowledgeable and efficient, informing me of all my rights, asking me to be completely honest with her, asking me point blank of my innocence or guilt, insisting I tell her 'who' I really was, so that there'd be a bond of trust between us.

Thinking about it for a bit, I'd agreed to tell her everything I could, revealing my name as 'Jason Anderson', where my home address was registered and my marital status, but not about G-Force. There are some lines that cannot be crossed for any reason. She agreed to keep the details confidential, and accepted my reasons for not wanting to drag my 'family' and 'friends' into the mess. Although she advised me that it would be better for me to tell the authorities my true identity, however that I refused to do, not even if it did go on to make my life the most difficult it's ever been.

After our initial meeting was over, she knew all about me, except for the G-Force angle. Knew that I'd been raped in the past, although I left out the actual circumstances, and all about what had happened with the girl, why and how. She went away, saying she needed to study her notes, and would be back in the morning for the committal and bail hearing.

They had me in a solitary confinement cell of some kind. Small, a cot bed, no blankets or sheets, a toilet and sink in the corner. Solid walls and door with a view window in it, no bars, except on the small window in the wall and a small bed lamp on the head of the cot, which worked, to my surprise.

The night passed uneventfully. They gave me a meal, which I didn't feel like eating, but did anyway, afterwards falling into an uneasy sleep on the bare cot, disturbed by vague nightmares and uneasy dreams.

The committal hearing was an experience. Evidence was presented by both sides, which might or might not go on to be relevant in the trial, according to the arguments of the attorneys.

The prosecution was very good indeed. Christ, even I would have believed myself guilty.

In the end, the outcome was inevitable, I was remanded over for trial on all charges, all bail refused, due to the nature of the 'crimes' being tried, in spite of my attorney's talented and clever presentation of facts.

The prosecution were simply too strong, and presented a firm case to the judge and jury.

It didn't bode well for the trial to come.

This time they removed me to a medium security prison, rather than back to the precinct.

The prison processing left me shaking in reaction. They'd required me to strip naked, and put all my belongings, including my jewellery, and that meant my wedding ring, plus my t-shirt, jacket, shoes, socks and underwear, in a plastic box, with my name and registration number on it.

They then gave me a cloth gown to wear and ushered me into a doctor's office, where they gave me a thorough physical exam, which is what had left me shaking and fighting off a threatening flashback, which somehow I managed to control. They then gave me a set of bright yellow clothing, consisting of yellow trousers, shirt, shoes and white socks, as well as a few sets of underwear.

Dressed in them I felt like a giant daffodil. Well... At least there was some semblance of humour still inside of me.

They led me to another solitary cell, slightly bigger than the Police Precinct one, with sheets and blankets on the cot, a toilet and sink in the corner, a small barred and meshed window in the wall, and a desk, with a lamp on it, and a shelf above it. The desk actually contained sheets of paper and lead pencils in the drawer.

It was explained to me that due to my Spectran heritage, as well as the nature of my charges, it meant I'd probably not be 'safe' in the larger prison community. I'd still have to interact for exercise breaks and meal breaks, and do whatever duties were assigned to me, but at night, and for any periods of personal free time, they would keep me separate from the others, in order to avoid trouble.

Great! Just fucking great!

*

Shaking with pain, I managed somehow to pull myself up on the cot, and curl there, arms wrapped around my aching abdomen, fighting down the sick feeling in my stomach.

It'd been nearly two weeks now. The first week had been uneventful, with me keeping pretty much to myself, avoiding forming any friendships with fellow prisoners, somehow avoiding trouble with any of them, and they pretty much left me alone also. The few who hadn't had backed off when I threw them extremely easily on their backsides, with a simple martial arts manoeuvre.

To my shock, it was the prison guards who presented the most problems.

Eight days in and the first bashing happened, in my cell, late one evening.

I'd been reading a library book, sitting at the desk, when the guard came in unannounced, leaving another on the door outside. Without any prior warning, he'd pulled me roughly out of my chair and slammed me against the wall in one movement, knocking all the wind out of me, sending me sagging down to the floor. After that he'd pummelled me all over, careful to avoid my face, leaving me in an unconscious heap on the floor. Yeah, I'd fought back, but he was larger, and stronger, and knew enough martial arts to counter my moves effectively enough, besides, he'd had the advantage of surprise initially.

Later, when I'd complained about the bashing, he'd denied everything, backed up by his mate on the door. The bruises were explained away as being ones obtained during a fight with a fellow inmate, which earned me two days in total isolation, in an even smaller cell, with no desk and no lamp and no window in the wall. The only light came from the small grill in the door. They also only gave me two meals during that time. Apologising insincerely when I asked what had happened to the others.

It wasn't until the next time they bashed me, the one tonight, that I learned what their problem was.

Pure and simple, they knew I was part Spectran, and they hated Spectran's with a blind, intolerant violence. It didn't help any that I was in there for alleged rape and drug abuse, and they hated me for that, saw me as disgusting, as Spectran scum who'd hurt yet another 'innocent' Terran. They expected me to only get some sort of minimal sentence, or even get off entirely, so they wanted to make sure I suffered as much as possible, while they had me in their hands.

It was illegal of course, but shit, there was no way I could ever prove it. No freaking way at all!

The beating tonight, back in my usual cell, had been even more brutal; they'd cracked a couple of ribs this time, very possibly caused some minor internal bleeding. They hadn't raped me, at least not yet, and I was determined to kill them first, if they tried that, or even so much as hinted at trying that. So far they hadn't, and my general impression was that they probably wouldn't. They were more interested in bashing me as often as they could, with a view to one day 'accidentally' going to far, and killing me.

Coughing and shivering I curled up, as best as possible, knowing I probably needed medical attention, but wasn't likely to get it.

If they were trying to kill me, they were going the right way about it.

Somewhere along the line, I drifted off into unconsciousness.

*

Someone prodded me. "Get up!" The voice was rough, male and demanding.

Shaking my head groggily, I groaned, feeling light-headed and dizzy.

He prodded me again, which required me to suppress a yelp of pain.

Groaning, I slowly pushed myself up into a sitting position, and then using the wall into a standing position, but that was about as far as I could go. I rested against the wall panting. The guard prodded me in the ribs, and I doubled up with pain, sliding down the wall to my knees and from there onto the floor, on my side.

The man swore, and prodded me with his boot, but I was in far too much pain and discomfort to do anything more than groan in pain.

He left the cell in a hurry, leaving me there on the floor, semi-conscious.

Long before he came back consciousness had fled from me completely once again.

*

I awoke in the prison infirmary, bandages around my ribs, an IV line running into one arm, and my defence attorney sitting by the bed, looking very concerned.

"What happened Jason?" She asked, without any other preamble.

Asking for water, she gave me that first, before I filled her in about the prison guards, at which point she told me she'd been afraid of that happening. Great, just great, I told her sarcastically.

"Jason, I could get in touch with your foster father, he could probably help you..." She suggested after a short pause to think.

"No!" I shot up on my elbow, only to end up gasping in pain and falling back in the pillows.

"No!" I said more softly, sorry about startling her. "Please don't, he doesn't need to be dragged into this. Just, just help me to beat these charges, if you can, then all this can stop, alright?"

Smiling, she bent and pulled her briefcase onto her lap, opening it to retrieve some papers. "Well, from the information I've gathered, it looking hopeful that we can beat the charge of rape, if only on the fact there's no true evidence to support the girl's claim, except your word against hers. The lack of physical evidence alone would probably knock it on the head. We might even be able to turn the tables on the drugs charges, but at the end of the day, it's going to come down to convincing the jury that there's enough reasonable doubt in this case to let you off on everything except the charge regarding the Alien National's papers."

Well that sounded good, and if she could get the jury to find me innocent of all the other charges, it would take a simple call to the Chief to get me out of the final difficulty about my lack of papers, as I so informed her, which appeared to make her day, somewhat. Now all I had to do was make it to the trial and through the trial alive and be proved innocent.

With the way my luck had been running lately, I was probably truly and utterly stuffed!

She promised to have a word with the prison warden, and then left me to my own amusement.

The trial was due to begin in a few days anyway, and it looked as if I'd spend that time in the infirmary.

*

The trial was weird, and very nearly overwhelming to my Empathic senses, with such an array of emotions all around, surging over me, making it difficult to screen them all out.

It was all over in less than a week, with both the prosecution and defence presenting their cases with crisp efficiency. In between times, I stayed in the infirmary, by arrangement with the warden. Besides which, I was still technically recovering from the brutal bashing of only a few days before the trail began.

The girl accusing me looked frail and nervous on the stand. She wore little to no makeup, and a neat, well-cut suit, and presented all the appearance of honesty, fine character, and hurt innocence.

If I hadn't known any better, I would have believed her myself.

On the other hand, I was dressed in a second hand suit, neat, but still managing to come across as scruffy. It didn't help that I still felt ill, and was still in some considerable pain from the bashing.

A week later and the jury were reading out their verdicts: GUILTY of all charges!

Unbelievable, but there it was...

My world span and rocked, forcing my young defence attorney, Jenny, to have to prop me up, urging me not to loose it. Gathering myself together, I somehow managed to get through the remainder of the talking.

The judge gave me some sort of lecture, which basically amounted to me being the scum of the Earth, although she didn't use those words exactly.

They remanded me, not back into jail, but rather into an Asylum for the Criminally Insane. Where they expected me to get 'help' for my problems, namely the 'drug' dependency, which I didn't have, and the tendency towards rape, which I hadn't done.

The sentence in general was fifteen years for the rape and one year for the drug possession and consumption, and transferral to an internment camp after that, to await the end of the war, if the war was still raging after sixteen years. If not, it would be on to deportation from the Earth, to either Spectra, or Riga, even though I'd never lived on either planet, and had been born on the Earth. It didn't matter to them, in their eyes I was a paperless Alien National, due to my genetics, and would be treated as such.

I thought desperately of Mark, as they led me from the courtroom, out into the waiting van.

*

The internment into the Asylum was a nightmare. Again they made me strip off and into a hospital gown, for a thorough medical check-up.

Lying on the bed, naked, while the unknown doctor examined me was terrible. It didn't matter that his hands were clinical, and that he was not in any way touching me in a sexual manner. It still sent me crashing down into an intensely horrific flashback.

My memories of that time are of twisting and screaming on the bed, while he tried to hold me down, which wasn't made any better when he restrained me, which caused me to become violently hysterical. I remember the sting of the air-spray syringe, as he shot some sort of sedative into my veins, followed by a painful rushing sensation, and then a feeling of floating away, then blackness.

*

The days that followed are a terrible muddle to me.

They kept me fairly doped up, after the incident in the doctor's office. Unfortunately, without truly realising it, they were giving me drugs that were hurting me, very probably slowly killing me. They certainly did far more than sedate or calm me down. Most of the time I spent in a state of general confusion, not knowing what was going on around me, and what's more, not caring all that much at all either, in my befuddled state.

Therapists did come to see me, but they couldn't reach me in the state the drugs left me in, so they drew their own conclusions, and by and large left me alone.

It was like living in a constant dream world, of shifting images and drifting shadows, which sometimes reached nightmarish proportions, that left me screaming in terror and anguish, resulting in further sedation, or other forms of control.

I don't know when Mark first came to me.

At first I thought he was a dream. Even though he was solid to the touch, I believed he was still a dream, or a hallucination. Even his streaming tears weren't real to me.

I was too far out of it to know, and too ill by then to care. So ill I couldn't feed myself anymore, and had to be on a permanent IV line, just to get the nutrients, and drugs, into me.

It was an awful existence, but as mentioned, I was too far-gone to care after a while.

One day Mark, or my dream of Mark, lifted me in his arms and took me away from all the horror. I remember snuggling into him, wishing he were real, and not all a figment of my imagination.

Whenever I said his name, he'd respond, and kiss me on the brow, or if I was lucky, gently on my lips.

It was weeks before the drug haze lifted, and my health improved enough for me to comprehend my surroundings, for me to see that I was no longer in the Asylum, but in actual fact back at the ISO, with Mark sitting right beside me.

"Are you a dream?" I whispered, fearfully, expecting for him to disappear in a haze of sedatives any second.

Tears streaming down his smiling face, he took my cheeks in his hands and kissed my lips tenderly.

"No! No dream, this is as good as it gets!"

Sobbing then, I reached for him and he gathered me up in his arms, holding me and rocking me while I cried onto his chest, his own tears streaming down his way too thinly gaunt cheeks.

He looked terribly thin and pale, his cheeks hollow, with large dark smudges under his eyes. But his strength as he held me was undiminished.

He held me for a long time, long after my sobs had died down to convulsive shudders against him.

"I love you so much!" He breathed in my ear, holding me even more tightly.

"I've missed you more than life itself..." He choked off, burying his face in my hair, the wetness of his tears falling on my neck.

"I was coming home to you, Mark..." I told him softly, my voice thin and frail still. "Before all this, I'd decided to come home, and then, and then... Oh God... And then I couldn't anymore!"

My tears came again, and again he rocked me, whispering comforting words of love in my ears.

It was days later that I found out Mark had managed to get a written confession out of the girl, Clarissa, and had then had her shipped off to a rehab centre, in lieu of going to jail for her crimes.

When he'd come for me, some days before my official exoneration and release, he'd been shocked and horrified by my condition, and had managed to get them to stop giving me drugs which were slowly killing me.

After my name was cleared of all charges, he'd come and literally picked me up and carried me out of the hospital, into a waiting ambulance, and from there a plane flight home to proper care and treatment at the ISO.

All the team had rallied around to help him, coming to visit me often, making sure I was never alone, even though I have no memory of them being there.

It was several weeks before full lucidity returned, before that it was largely a confused blur, and so, seeing Mark there by my side when consciousness fully reasserted itself, it was like a dream come true.

He held me for a long, long time...

"I'll never leave you again Mark." I rasped at him after a bit. "It's here I belong, always, forever here. If you still want me, that is?"

I waited anxiously for his response. It seemed forever in coming, but really was probably only a few seconds.

He shifted me in his arms so that he could see my face, then kissed me gently on my lips.

Then said: "It's what I want! What I've always wanted. All that I ever want, or could ever have. How could you ever doubt that? I love you! In spite of everything, I love you and always will, no matter damn what!"

Then he kissed me again, his tears steadily falling, and embraced me tightly afterwards.

"I love you, Mark!" I whispered, and he held me even more closely to himself.

"I know, Jase... I know!" He murmured, softly kissing my temple.

Home!

Oh my God, I was home at last!

Thank God!

The End... (Of Chapter 4)

Coming Soon: Mark's POV of this same story - "Tracking The Condor, Setting Him Free"