The Good Cop (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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edge_of_forever2013-04-10 03:19 pm
good_cop) wrote in edge_of_forever2013-04-10 03:19 pm
Entry tags:
Debut post: Sam Murray
"DS Murray! Sam, Sam get here, I need, I've been-"
There was a ringing in Sam's ears - no, not so much a ringing as a high-pitched whine, and she put a hand out to steady herself on the wall as her vision swam, pulse racing, the ground swinging back and forth in front of her like she was drunk.
Get a grip get a grip get a fucking grip get a grip get a grip-
The ground was nearer, now, and she realised she'd dropped to her knees, and as though the sound was coming from someone else she could hear herself wheezing, her breath coming in fast, deep gasps, out of control, chest heaving with the effort.
"Sam!"
Ryder was still calling for her somewhere, but it felt distant now, even with the earpiece blaring it into her left ear it was though he was shouting through glass or a pillow, muffled, echoing. She tried to push to her feet, hands scrabbling on the ground, but nothing worked, her coordination shot to hell, and that whining in her head grew louder still, a prickling cold settling over her body as the black drew in from the corners of her vision to envelope her completely.
* * *
When she woke up, everything was white and smooth, and she wondered if she'd forgotten the hospital - they always took you hospital before the referred you to a secure unit - and what was she doing in a secure unit anyway? She wasn't dangerous - or at least, she wasn't violent. Had she had some kind of psychotic break and then blocked it from her memory?
She sat up in the bed, noting that she wasn't in a hospital gown but in fact in reasonably ordinary clothing, and it was with some confusion that she swung her legs off the bed and looked around her. This wasn't like any psychiatric unit she'd ever seen before, and indeed bore more resemblance to a rather high-concept interrogation room, beds aside. Mind you, neither psych wards nor interrogation rooms tended to come with wide open doors, and, standing a little unsteadily, Sam was about to make for said opening when a woman flickered into being in front of her.
Sam had never screamed before in her life, and she wasn't about to start now, but a wave of fresh panic overtook her at this utterly nonsensical stream of information from what had to be a visual and auditory hallucination in front of her, and it was only when she felt the cold floor beneath her that she realised she'd pitched to the ground in her shock. That buzz was back, the high-pitched wasp that drove all rational thought out of her mind, and although she knew she didn't have a radio any more she fancied she could hear Ryder's voice again-
"DS Murray! Sam, Sam get here, I need, I've been-"
"Get a grip get a grip get a grip!"
It was out loud this time, her own voice alien and echoing in the start, sparse room, but it was all she knew what to do, and the litany continued, even between strangled gasps for air as she began to hyperventilate and she felt herself begin to black out all over again.
"...get a grip, get a-"
* * *
The next time she woke up, still curled up on the floor, Sam just curled up tighter, and stayed there.
[Important OOC note here]
There was a ringing in Sam's ears - no, not so much a ringing as a high-pitched whine, and she put a hand out to steady herself on the wall as her vision swam, pulse racing, the ground swinging back and forth in front of her like she was drunk.
Get a grip get a grip get a fucking grip get a grip get a grip-
The ground was nearer, now, and she realised she'd dropped to her knees, and as though the sound was coming from someone else she could hear herself wheezing, her breath coming in fast, deep gasps, out of control, chest heaving with the effort.
"Sam!"
Ryder was still calling for her somewhere, but it felt distant now, even with the earpiece blaring it into her left ear it was though he was shouting through glass or a pillow, muffled, echoing. She tried to push to her feet, hands scrabbling on the ground, but nothing worked, her coordination shot to hell, and that whining in her head grew louder still, a prickling cold settling over her body as the black drew in from the corners of her vision to envelope her completely.
When she woke up, everything was white and smooth, and she wondered if she'd forgotten the hospital - they always took you hospital before the referred you to a secure unit - and what was she doing in a secure unit anyway? She wasn't dangerous - or at least, she wasn't violent. Had she had some kind of psychotic break and then blocked it from her memory?
She sat up in the bed, noting that she wasn't in a hospital gown but in fact in reasonably ordinary clothing, and it was with some confusion that she swung her legs off the bed and looked around her. This wasn't like any psychiatric unit she'd ever seen before, and indeed bore more resemblance to a rather high-concept interrogation room, beds aside. Mind you, neither psych wards nor interrogation rooms tended to come with wide open doors, and, standing a little unsteadily, Sam was about to make for said opening when a woman flickered into being in front of her.
Hello, and welcome to the space station Proserpina. We're happy to have you on board. We apologize for the inconvenience, but due to recent health and safety concerns a period of quarantine is necessary to ensure the continued wellbeing of everyone on board. Please do not be alarmed. The sickness we have encountered is contained and suppressed, and we want to keep it that way. The quarantine period will last twenty-four hours, at which time you will be released to be processed through customs. And don't worry, haha, we won't let you starve. The replicator to your right will dispense three meals for you during the course of your quarantine, and the screen behind me will provide you with news, movies and music to entertain you while you wait. We thank you, in advance, for your understanding, and we welcome you to Proserpina with open arms.
Sam had never screamed before in her life, and she wasn't about to start now, but a wave of fresh panic overtook her at this utterly nonsensical stream of information from what had to be a visual and auditory hallucination in front of her, and it was only when she felt the cold floor beneath her that she realised she'd pitched to the ground in her shock. That buzz was back, the high-pitched wasp that drove all rational thought out of her mind, and although she knew she didn't have a radio any more she fancied she could hear Ryder's voice again-
"DS Murray! Sam, Sam get here, I need, I've been-"
"Get a grip get a grip get a grip!"
It was out loud this time, her own voice alien and echoing in the start, sparse room, but it was all she knew what to do, and the litany continued, even between strangled gasps for air as she began to hyperventilate and she felt herself begin to black out all over again.
"...get a grip, get a-"
The next time she woke up, still curled up on the floor, Sam just curled up tighter, and stayed there.
[Important OOC note here]