vor | Fifth Cream Cake: [Action/Voice]

[Almost two weeks spent in Malnosso captivity and what does Gregor have to show for it?

Lots and lots of band-aids, mostly. Also a minor cold that has turned into a chesty cough.

Instead of any great torture, drugs, or whatever he'd been expecting, the Malnosso mostly took DNA samples. Blood samples. Tissue samples. He's from further in Earth-universe's future than most besides Ivan, so maybe his specific point in human evolution was of interest. He understands the "lab rat" metaphor pretty well now. There hadn't been a lot of space in his cell, so he's a little stiff and sore. At least the hallucinations are gone. That had been the worst part--having to assure himself that this was a normal reaction to solitary confinement. He slowly heaves himself to his feet, blindly scrabbling for his journal. Writing is not easy with all his bandaged fingertips, so he speaks, sounding hoarse, slightly congested, and exhausted.]

Ivan. [A pause. ] Buffy. Adele. Whoever's...interested, this is Greg. I'm back. [He coughs a couple of times, fairly hard.] The Malnosso...anyway, I'm fine. It...wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. I'm heading home now. Did someone take care of my horse?

[He'll take about fifteen minutes to walk home from his spot in the woods.]

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[His fried brain realizes at her words that the frozen cakes are indeed in the kitchen and he would have to follow her. He gives up, sitting on the couch and burying his face in his hands. He's drifting off by the time she returns.]

[Bringing the water to boil and setting the tea to steep didn't take much time, Adele nudges the door back closed behind her, tray in hand.]

Greg?

[When he doesn't answer she comes back around to the sofa. He's probably exhausted.]

Gregor.

Mm? [When she says his real name, he suddenly starts, coming fully awake.] Oh. Sorry.

[He yawns and leans back against the couch.]

You did not rest well while in their care, I assume?

[The tray's set on the table; she sits next to Greg and after a moment's thought, reaches out to rest the back of her hand against his forehead. It would be horribly inaccurate, but were there anything worse than a simple cough it'd give her a decent idea as to how ill he could be.]

I slept on and off. When I could. It was the only way to make the time pass.

[He might have the slightest temperature, but it's not necessarily detectable that way.]

[Vauge and inaccurate as this technique was- she couldn't tell. He didn't seem overly ill- she'd take a proper temperature later if the cough worsens. For now there was tea that needed pouring. Adele turns to do so.]

I spent much of my captivity thinking of new and inventive vulgarities with which to use against my minders. I think that is part of the reason they sent me back with the shift that they did.

[He coughs. Cordelia is prone to the same kinds of gestures, so there's something somewhat soothing about her touch.]

At least I was spared that much, although I think they have enough of my DNA to keep producing my heirs for the next seven generations. What shift?

[Adele checks the sugar bowl and after a moment, asks.]

Cream or sugar? And the shift, well.

[It was absurd. Then again, most of what happened here was absurd.]

For a week I was compelled to speak in song. If not by singing, then only in lyrics. Not always in languages I knew, and not always in songs that I know.

Yes, please.

[That was for the tea.]

Sounds like someone at the facility has a sense of humor, at least.

Well I'm glad someone was enjoying the effects of that shift. More often than not it was a mere inconvenience, as I could still write what it was I meant to say.

[Adele shrugs as she prepares Gregor's tea, then offers the cup over.]

It's good for there to be loopholes. [He takes the cup from her with a soft thanks, then balances it carefully as he takes a delicate sip.]

At least until the last day, then I had to sing and write in song lyrics. I spent a great deal of that day locked in my room. Drinking.

[She snorts a laugh at the memory and prepares her own cup of tea, sitting back with a sigh.]

When you said it wasn't as bad as you though it would be...what did you think it would be?

Hell. Torture. Being kept in a cell was inevitable and a nightmare on its own, but not deliberate torture. Everyone's made it all out to be the worst thing possible.

[...It was still bad. He warms his hands against his cup, looking very, very blank.]

Everyone's experience varies. The majority of my time was spent shouting at the walls, but I have heard of those that were tortured, and of those that were treated kindly. There's no baseline from which to extrapolate what to expect- so most expect the worst.

[For a moment, she says nothing. Then she turns to look at Gregor, eyes somewhat critical. Nothing seemed injured, but it was prudent to ask.]

You do not require a visit to one of the clinics, do you?

[He shakes his head.] No, I...I heard people... [He goes even blanker, but his eyes are strangely wide.] But they didn't...do anything to me. Nothing bad. I was mostly just...locked up. I think they only took me out a few times. Sometimes I wondered if they'd forgotten about me. After a while, I didn't know how long I'd been there.

...not all torture is physical.

[It's a gradual, tentative gesture, but Adele does reach out to rest a hand on Greg's shoulder. Something she hadn't brought up with Ben, or anyone. Something she did her very best to push to the back of her mind and never, ever think about again. That wasn't coping, that wasn't healthy, but she simply didn't know how to deal with it.

Adele can't imagine that Greg has any idea better than she does.]

At first you're glad they've left you alone. yes?

[He's been Emperor of Barrayar--BARRAYAR--since he was four. He has been told what to expect from a lot of these kinds of things. He wouldn't say it prepared him.]</small. Not really. It just...made me anticipate the worst was coming.

Good. [Relief wasn't wise in that situation. Not for anyone, especially not here.] No matter what it is they end up doing it's never as bad as you imagined. If you feel relief- it will always be a horror.

[He gives her a long, hard look. And stays quiet. Because she's telling him something.]

...

[Her eyes slide away from his and down into her tea. It's not something she's discussed with...anyone, really. It's not something she thinks about. Trying to talk about it feels muck like baring her neck for a blade.]

You keep time however you can. And it never works. It smears together in between visits.