Gediman is rescued from the cocoon by his superior Wren. Relieved and grateful, he has no idea he has found himself caught in yet another cold killer's web.
This is my first long multi-chapter fic! Would love any feedback <3
Tags: Manipulation, Abuse, Doctor/Patient Dynamic, Mental Illness, Drugs, Noncon, Gaslighting, Dead Dove
[AO3 LINK]
[CHAPTER INDEX]
1 - Unravelled
"Jesus.” Wren exclaimed. “You're still alive…" He stated this plainly, no urgency to his voice.
The man he spoke to could give no coherent reply. Caught in a thick web like a spider's captured prey awaiting the relief of venom, he hung suspended, physically cocooned and mentally unravelled.
"Have you got one?" Wren asked coldly, cutting through the rambling. "Is it inside you?'
Wearily Gediman drifted in and out of consciousness as he mumbled, words slurred and incoherent. Then, clarity amidst the rambling, a single sentence rung clear:
"I've been... made pure…" He smiled sickly, chuckling as though he had said something funny.
"Do you have one or not." Wren spoke firmly, disinterested in twisted riddles. His tone made Gediman flinch before the man returned to a near delirious whimsy.
"A perfect seed has taken root in me, and from me will be birthed God." He laughed again, manically before sharply inhaling and wincing, a deep pain clawing at his chest.
This alone was enough to confirm Wren's suspicions. Taking a beat to think, he made his conclusion swift and decisively. "Okay. You're coming with me."
"I am?" Gediman asked sincerely. Wren did not reply as he began tearing away the cocoon that imprisoned the man. "Wait-" Jonathan protested "We should stay. For the birth." He glanced reverently to the incapacitated queen.
"No." Wren continued freeing him "We shouldn't."
"I can't miss it..."
"You're going to have to."
With that, the majority of the cocoon fell away, allowing the weakened scientist to slip to his freedom, only to be pulled directly into the arms of his superior.
Wren could tell the man was unable to walk, so debilitated from his ordeal he fell limp right into his arms. Jonathan was hardly any trouble to carry over shoulder, he was short and had no real weight to him.
Gediman relented to the confident, firm hold, gently drifting into unconsciousness. He watched the pregnant queen longingly as she disappeared from his sight forever.
And then all was gone to black.
* * *
Gently his eyes fluttered open, the room was a pale white, well lit. He felt hungover, like a tremendous weight bore down on his skull. Slowly, he made to sit up, his muscles weak and aching. He was in some kind of hospital bed, with medical devices around him that gently beeped at steady intervals.
He gradually collected his thoughts; it was like he had woken suddenly from a nightmare and needed to discern reality from fiction. He needed grounding, but he could feel his heart rate build pace, preparing for an inevitable panic he couldn't quite identify yet.
Suddenly he tensed, the shattered memories struck him all at once and hurriedly he began clutching at his chest, pulling aside the thin layer of a hospital gown to get to the bare skin beneath. He was met with an unexpected sight, a scar that spanned the width of his chest and another at half the length. A perfect cross.
Running his fingers along the ridges of the recently healed incision, his mind swarmed with ideas, his fears both confirmed and alleviated simultaneously. Questions- too many to count- flooded him.
He felt sick. Stumbling out of the bed and onto the cold floor he scanned his surroundings for anything at all that could help him. He spotted a basic toilet on the other side of the small room which he dismissed at first, but suddenly felt his skin crawl with beads of sweat, and his stomach turned. Rushing to it, he vomited whatever remained in his stomach- not much it seemed.
The world span around him and he entered a fever. Sat down on the floor, he leant on the cool tiled wall behind him and tried to collect himself. The medical machines beeped faster, and to him sounded louder, each piercing tone a dagger in his already embattled mind.
Running his hands through his hair, he lamented a lack of a hair tie. He felt unravelled with it loose. It was… much longer than he remembered. How much time had passed?
He felt like he couldn't breathe, like something was constricted around his neck...
He gasped. Something was constricted around his neck. He couldn't see it, but he could feel it, a tight strip, a smooth seamless texture with no clasp. He couldn't even get his fingers underneath it.
Panic crept up again. He assessed his surroundings and located the only door. Desperate for answers he willed himself to his feet and staggered to it.
Locked. Of course...
He tried to speak and failed at first. Attempting to force the door open to no avail he tried again, voice hoarse and strained.
"Hello?" he called out. He didn't know what else to say. His attempts to pry the door open became more frantic, his arms felt so weak. "Hey!" He called louder. His desperation and fear took hold, the door was entirely unmoved.
Despairing he appraised the room once more, there was a large mirror that caught his attention, embedded into the metal wall he could tell even at just a glance that it was a two-way mirror. Driven by pure terror he picked up a small chair and swung it with his entire body into the glass.
Crumpling to the floor from the sheer force, he glanced up weakly at the mirror and a manic smile emerged at the sight of a large crack in the glass. Making to stand once more, his body abruptly gave up on him. He slumped back onto the floor, unable even to push himself up onto his elbows, he was afflicted with a withering force that sapped away all his ability.
Defeated and meek, his voice was reduced to a sobbed whisper. “Help…”
The fever overcame him. As his vision became a patchwork of murky shadows, the last thing to leave him was his hearing, though the world sounded as though submerged in deep waters.
The click of the door unlocking and sliding open with an easy hiss. A sigh and a familiar, tired voice muttering "Fuck's sake..." contemptibly.
Gediman is rescued from the cocoon by his superior Wren. Relieved and grateful, he has no idea he has found himself caught in yet another cold killer's web.
Tags: Manipulation, Abuse, Doctor/Patient Dynamic, Mental Illness, Drugs, Noncon, Gaslighting, Dead Dove
[AO3 LINK]
[CHAPTER INDEX]
2 - Trapped
Gently his eyes fluttered open, the room was a pale white, well lit. He felt hungover, like a tremendous weight bore down on his skull. Slowly, he made to sit up—…but he couldn’t... and he wasn’t alone.
Jonathan tried to scramble away from the figure that sat on a chair next to his bed, but found himself caught on something, unable to freely move his arms.
"Hey, hey." The man raised his hands disarmingly. "Just calm down. It's me."
Jonathan froze and blinked at him, staring with wild eyes. "Wren?"
"Good." Wren nodded approvingly, smirking. "You remember that at least."
Jonathan already had too many questions, but the sight of a familiar face was not unwelcome. Still, it wasn’t easy to ‘just calm down’ as he had so drily put it. He continued tugging at his arms, he could still feel them, he could still control them, but they were stuck, and it took him far too long to realise why. Frantically he tried to free them to no avail.
“Stop it.” Wren spoke tiredly.
Gediman continued to panic, his wrists hurt but he kept pulling and struggling.
“Stop.” Wren stood and placed a hand firmly on Gediman’s chest, pushing down with force to get the man’s attention. Gediman obeyed, startled by the unfamiliar contact.
Craning his neck, he tried to see what had limited his movement. Zip ties. His wrists were tied to the bedframe with zip ties. Panic began to rise again.
Wren hushed him like he was a rabid animal, hand still firmly planted on Jonathan's chest. He leaned forward, his shadow engulfing the smaller man, and for the first time he spoke in a gentle, quiet tone.
"It's alright. Shhh... It's okay." His half-lidded eyes that beheld a cold detachment bore into the wild blue of Gediman's, who had never been so scared of this man until now. Wren continued "You're safe." He didn't believe him for a second.
"Untie me…" Not at all a command, more of a question, pleading and shaken. The word please was all but spoken.
Wren pulled away slightly, his expression hardening. "I can. But not yet."
"Why?" Almost whispered.
"Take a look around then ask me again."
Jonathan glanced around for the first time since he woke. There were knocked over medical devices, a chair damaged and discarded on the floor, and a mirror with a bloom of cracks in it, all emanating from one point.
"You see my concern." He smirked. "Personally, I'd rather not get knocked out with a chair."
"I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t hurt-” Jonathan began, shaking his head, confused by the unspoken accusation until he saw Wren’s hard stare. Perhaps he would? Perhaps he had? He couldn’t remember a single thing. Was he conscious before now? Was he having another episode?
“I’m sorry.” He settled on; he wasn’t sure what he was sorry for, but he saw Wren’s stare soften into domineering approval, this was preferable, this was the correct response. “I was scared." Jonathan added I'm still scared. He thought to himself.
“I can understand that. You’ve had quite a time of it.” Wren sighed as though mulling things over deeply. After a drawn-out pause, he finally continued. “Alright. You seem to be more yourself. I think I can trust you to behave.”
Gediman would’ve typically taken umbrage to the patronising comment, but the relief of earned trust superseded all.
The ties were deftly severed with a scalpel, one that Wren appeared to keep handy on him. A practiced surgeon to be sure, but even so, watching the blade come so close his wrists still made Jonathan uneasy. He trusted the skill, but the man? ... He couldn't be sure.
He rolled his wrists, stretching the muscles, easing the discomfort left behind from the tight restraint. “Thank you…” He spoke sheepishly.
There was a moment of silence, a pause that finally allowed him to think clearly. And still, nothing came to him, no clear memory or idea for what followed the alien breach.
Wordlessly, Wren handed him a cup of water, the order clear: Drink. Gediman gratefully took the cup, he hadn’t noticed just how dry his mouth was. His worries began to ease, perhaps Wren just had terrible bedside manner, perhaps Jonathan was feeling unjustly paranoid, perhaps there was no imminent danger here at all.
"How..." Gediman began, but soon realised he had too many questions and no idea where to start. "What's happening?" Was all he could muster.
"This must be quite overwhelming for you." Wren's smile didn't falter as he spoke "To begin with: You're safe. There's no danger here, so just relax." It was more of a strict order than an attempt to console. Instinctively Jonathan obeyed as best he could.
"Secondly." He began and took in a long-drawn-out inhale. "The Xenomorph." He pointed to Gediman's chest and left a cruel, unnecessary pause. "...We extracted it."
Wren relished the visible relief that washed over Jonathan.
Wren chuckled, amused and patronising. "You're a strange man, Jonathan."
He couldn't help but take offence, wasn’t it a fair question? But more to the point he had never heard Wren call him by his first name. It felt wrong. Everything felt wrong here.
"Yes. To answer your question." He smirked. "It lives." Wren could have sworn he saw the smaller man's mouth twitch into a subtle smile. "I'm sure you have many questions about where we are, how we got here… But it'll be a lot to take in at once, so I think we'll have to leave it there for now."
“What?”
“You need your rest. Doctor’s orders.”
Which doctor? Was Wren implying he was his patient now? Jonathan didn’t know how to feel about that, this was the only person he had seen so far, and he was hardly consoled by him.
But nevertheless, as Wren made to stand Gediman instinctively grasped at his arm, gently holding onto his wrist.
"W-wait please."
The brief contact was a fleeting comfort for Jonathan before Wren snatched his arm away as though disgusted. He composed himself seamlessly and continued.
"I’ve much work to be getting on with." He continued his exit.
“What--…” Gediman began but hesitated to continue, Wren faced him, curious and expectant.
“Go on, one last question.” He humoured him like a child.
“…What is this?” He placed his hand over the strip around his neck.
“A precaution.” Wren replied, blunt and unhelpful. After a brief pause, he added “It measures your vitals.” He pointed to the medical devices that beeped incessantly. “Let’s us know you’re okay.”
“Do I have to keep wearing it?”
“Yes.” Definitive and dismissive. “Get some proper rest, I’ll catch up with you later.”
Jonathan was left orphaned in his small room. Left with only partial answers to his growing questions.
Despite all the sleep he had apparently already had, despite all the questions that fuelled his mind, he found himself drifting again, almost deliriously to sleep. He felt like he was dreaming whilst awake.
He was scared at first, but the fear could not muster the ability to increase his heart rate, or even to keep his eyes open. He thought about calling for help, but he knew by now no words could leave him.
His eyes landed on one solitary thing before closing: The now empty cup, placed on the table next to his bed.
