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ladyofavalon77) wrote2007-02-14 11:04 pm
So is it an island adventure or a sci fi fantasy?
Anyone who has seen Lost knows what I'm talking about. The mystery just keeps getting deeper and deeper. Sort of reminds me of the Twilight Zone. Fortunately I like enough of the characters to stick with it :) Well, this morning I devoted to finishing that Martha/Aaron fan fic for the Valentine's Day contest. I was able to get pretty far too but unfortunately Aaron is sounding more like a Victorian gentleman than his stalwart, honorable self. I had this idea of having them write letters to each other while he's away on Secret Service detail and post the letters as the main part of the story except for the end when he comes home in time for Valentine's Day. The problem with doing something unique is that you have to do it just right or it will come off much worse than a normal story would have. Or it could come out so brilliant that everything else pales in comparison. Unfortunately, it was the former and I'm still editing the story as we speak. I think my friend from Floss said it best..."Your heart lies elsewhere." How right she is.
So the treasure hunt was on in Second Life. I couldn't make the first one because of work but the other two were manageable. From what I heard, the lag was worse at that event than the two after so I lucked out. I did crash twice to desktop but the clues were so easy and the challenge of fighting through the lag for prizes that were so sweet was irresistable. There are TWO gorgeous gowns with rhinestones and in all colors of the rainbow, a cute bottle of love spray, some Valentine PJ's, and pieces of chic jewelry to match. All in all a successful hunt and I hope there are more in the future!
Only one show on tonight again and I taped the wrong channel! Ugh! I need to watch Lost more. Fortunately, it streams on abc.com and I was able to catch it online. Not as great as last week's episode but still intriguing. I'll be sticking around for episodes with Jack, Juliet, and Kate :)
I loved how they open up his flashback with what looks like blood all over the place and he's lying straight in the middle of it but it's just red paint. The chemistry between Desmond and Penny is definitely there and I wish he did get to marry her. However, I really dislike him clean shaven. The beard gives him so much character. Fortunately, he's keeping the beard in the present day.
And I know I've seen Penny's father somewhere but I can't place it. Desmond's scholarly friend from India seemed really interesting too...just wish we could learn more about him. The scene with Charlie was so funny..."And that's why we don't do drugs." Hehe. And now the lady in the jewelry shop is just freaky! "Every single one of us is dead" Who in the world is "us"? Maybe the Others? I think I've seen that actress before too in the Yaya Sisterhood but she didn't have the accent. I can't believe she told him that his destiny was to just push the button. I'm really thinking these guys are test subjects for psychological tests.
And man that ending!! Charlie is going to die! I've just been blown away :)
And now we return you to our regularly scheduled soap opera of Martha and Charles. I know I know...I complained about the Bauer Family soap opera and yet I have my own. You can call me double minded...I just like the members of this soap opera so much more :) In this chapter, we see how resourceful Martha is and what price she pays by enlisting the help of one of the young terrorists.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Standing with her back against the wall, Martha ran her hand over the sharp, brittle edges on the broken wooden slat she was able to remove from the pallet in the corner. It was her only weapon and she planned to use it on the first person who came through the locked door to the storage room. She only wished that she had chosen to wear pants and sensible shoes instead of this silk skirt with high heels. Of course she had no idea she was going to be kidnapped this evening either.
If I ever make it out of here alive, I will only don high heels for a black tie affair or a state dinner.
She had never really liked playing the part of the political wife and, as time had went on and the pressures of the office came to bear on her marriage and her personal life, she had liked it even less. Everything she did analyzed in the press, comparisons to former first ladies, discussions about why her and Charles did not have any children. Everything she wanted to keep from the public eye was exposed for all to see and judge. However, Charles had persuaded her that it would only be temporary and he would always be there if she needed him. They could make a difference and leave the world a better place than when they started. Most importantly, they would do it together.
Together, he said. With me, by his side to advise and assure him. He just needed someone to believe in him…so why couldn’t he believe in me. After everything I did…everything I sacrificed…he should have been there when it all fell apart…But he wasn’t. When she needed him most, he had chosen the responsibilities of the presidency over her mental well being. And that had been the final straw. The realization that all the time she had given him…everything she had done for him…her utter devotion and love for him…meant absolutely nothing. He had a new first love, a new mistress of his heart, and her name was political ambition . How can you compete with something so insubstantial and yet so real? How can you contend with a dream?
I know you love me, Charles. I can see it in the way your brow creases with worry and your eyes fill with concern when I‘m upset. I can feel it in those few moments we share alone together as husband and wife. However, I need something more…I need someone who will be there for me…someone who places my well being above everything else that life throws his way. If you cannot make that commitment…if you cannot put aside your political ambitions and presidential duties for what matters most …then I want out. I no longer have the strength nor the willpower to continue if I am the only one in this fight to save our marriage.
If she made it out of this situation alive, Martha knew she would not return to the Presidential Retreat as the same woman who had left. Too much had happened and she had had too much time to reflect for her to go back to the way things were. Whether he had time to listen to her or not, Charles would hear what she had to say and his answer would determine her next course of action. She did not care about the political fallout or her public image. For too long, she had allowed someone else to tell her what she thought and felt. That time was over.
The moment she was waiting for had arrived. Heavy footsteps were moving down the hallway outside and appeared to be in a hurry. It sounded like more than one person and she prayed that her plan would work. It had originally called for one captor to enter her cell but she didn’t have time to wait for that to happen. In her gut, she knew that their approach did not bode well for her continued survival so it was now or never.
The door swung open with more force than she was expecting but she quickly stepped aside and allowed them a moment of shock at the apparently empty room. Attacking with everything she had in her, Martha swung the broken wooden slat around from behind to hit the first man out cold as the second instinctively went for his gun. Still gripping her makeshift weapon, she lunged at the last man blocking the door only to find him prepared for her attack, easily catching the wooden slat in his hand before yanking it out of her grasp. Before she could try to attack him again, the man had wrapped his arms around her, pinning her hands against her chest as he whispered in her left ear.
“Mrs. Logan, I can get you out of here but you have to trust me.”
“How can I trust someone who is physically restraining me?” she threw back, struggling to free herself from his grip. After a few moments, he released her and she turned to find herself looking into the sympathetic eyes of the young man who had tended to her after the motorcade attack…Sacha.
“I thought you said…”
“It doesn’t matter anymore. You shouldn’t have been involved in this.”
At first a look of puzzlement played across her features as she tried to decipher what had changed her mind but as she took in his slumped shoulders and defeated eyes, she knew.
“They‘re going to kill me, aren‘t they?”
“We need to hurry. There isn’t much time.”
Before she could protest, he had taken her arm gently but firmly to lead her out the door and to another part of the building. After too many twists and turns for her to keep track of, they came to a cavernous room filled with cargo containers covered in rust, some empty, some filled with wooden palettes. Heading to the back of the room, her former captor stopped at a bolted door and finally released his grip on her arm to pull at the latch that blocked their way. Glancing once behind her to see if anyone had followed them, Martha added her strength to his and felt the latch give an inch or two but no more. Further examination revealed a heavy deposit of rust on the hinges, effectively sealing it in place. Swearing softly to himself, Sacha was about to lead her to another exit when they both heard angry voices approaching their location.
Without a second thought, the young terrorist dragged her to a cargo container on the far side of the room and pushed her inside. Unholstering his weapon, he handed it to her before exchanging a meaningful look and allowing the silence to speak for him. They both knew the situation was hopeless and neither would survive what was to come.
“No matter what happens…don’t come out. If worse comes to worse…”
“I know,” she told him simply, thanking him with her eyes as she reached out to touch his arm. “Thank you, Sacha. You’ve risked so much…I don’t know what to say.”
“Don’t say anything. I did this for my wife…she was so much like you. Every emotion…every thought…revealed in her eyes. She died because I couldn‘t protect her. I don‘t want that to happen again.”
Quickly closing the door of the cargo container, she heard him walk away as she awkwardly held the gun in one hand and prayed he could bluff his way past the men who were approaching. Sharp words followed as they drilled him on her whereabouts, the exchange completely in their native tongue but their intent clear despite the language barrier. Suddenly she heard the leader switch to English with a slight foreign accent as he made a direct appeal to reveal her location.
“Mrs. Logan, we both know it will only be a matter of time before my men find you. I know you’re in this room. Come out now and I promise I won’t hurt you. I have your husband on the phone as we speak.”
An uneasy silence fell on the room as she closed her eyes and braced herself against the side of the cargo container. No matter what happens…no matter what happens.“Hold him,” Vladimir Bierko ordered and she heard a scuffle as she knew his men were restraining Sacha for what was to happen next. “Mrs. Logan I’m going to ask you one more time. Reveal yourself now or I will be forced to punish the man who helped you escape.”
Biting her lip, she shook her head and tried to block out the sound of the gun firing and her friend screaming in pain as the bullet shattered his right kneecap.
“Don’t make me do this, Mrs. Logan. Sacha still has a chance to survive. Just cooperate now.”
And the gun fired again. And again. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to think of something else…anything else but her friend’s screams of agony. She knew he was right…that she needed to stay hidden. However, what would one gun do against all these men? She wasn’t ready to kill herself so maybe turning herself in would save another life…or at the very least end his pain. Shaking like a leaf in the wind, Martha threw the door open to the cargo container and revealed her location, throwing the gun as far away as possible. Bierko’s men quickly moved in to seize their prey, yanking her arm painfully behind her back before pushing her toward their boss.
And as she fell to the floor in front of Bierko, her eyes were only on the young man who had tried to save her life. Reaching out to touch his pale face, she attempted to smile as she took his hand and tried to ignore the growing pool of blood around him.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered through her tears as she watched him try to assure her through his pain. “I couldn’t let them hurt you anymore.”
“It’s ok,” he whispered back, a sad smile on his lips as he struggled to stay conscious. “My wife couldn’t either.”
“Sacha-” she began but was abruptly yanked to her feet and pulled off to the side on Bierko‘s orders. “No! What are you doing! No!”
One last single gunshot rang out and the tears continued to fall as she vainly tried to struggle against the steel grip of her captors as her heart tried to reconcile what her mind had warned her would happen all along. She shouldn’t have let him help her. Now what would happen to his family? Who would provide for them? Who would be there for them? And as if the world around her began to fade away, Martha found herself in a daze as she continued to stare at his tortured body and regret ever trying to gain his sympathy. Yet another person had died trying to help her. Why had she not stop him? Why had she not accepted her fate?
“He is not worth your tears, Mrs. Logan. If you knew of his past, you would not grieve so,” the smooth voice of Bierko interrupted her thoughts and she slowly turned her head in his direction.
“Every life is worth something,” she told him firmly, her eyes returning to Sacha once more. “EVERY life…”
“Noble sentiments indeed. However, I think you would change your mind if you were forced to watch everything you cared about…everything you worked for…destroyed in an instant by an illegitimate government and its oppressive military force. Watching your wife and children starve…while soldiers take whatever they want from those who cannot defend themselves. Civilians murdered on just the suspicion of rebel activity. Tell me you could witness this and not be changed.”
“So you justify murder with murder? When does it stop? After you’ve killed everyone who hurt you? After the whole world is at war because of what you started?”
“If that‘s the price of freedom, then so be it,” he whispered, leaning in closer as she turned her head away. “I believe one of your founding fathers said, ‘The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants.’ Since your husband has chosen to interfere in our plans, it is only fitting that his wife pay the price.”
“You’re insane!” she accused, attempting once more to lunge at him but failing completely as the grip on her arms tightened.
“No, Mrs. Logan,” he replied as he turned and started walking away as his men followed behind, forcing her to fall into step. “I am a patriot who believes in my cause. A patriot who will do whatever is necessary to achieve the freedom of my people. If I must commit murder to attain this goal, then so be it.”
Sometimes we rush straight into something without realizing what it might cost us. Was it worth the price or should we have waited for a more opportune time?
I just need a few hours of sleep to make this all go away...
