DISCLAIMER: "Bionic Woman," the characters, and situations depicted are the property of NBC-Universal and Jerry Eick. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes. Previously unrecognized characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. This site is in no way affiliated with "Bionic Woman," NBC, or any representatives of the actors.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Like the first two stories in what has become a triumvirate, this tale came from an image in my head. The final scene is it; you'll know it when you see it. The scene it whatever episode it was where Nathan is trying to figure out why Jamie's ear is on the fritz and solves the problem by smacking her in the back of the head cracks me up and was one of my inspirations. This wasn't supposed to get so angsty, but I guess it couldn't be helped...
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
SEQUEL: To In Dreams and Dreams of Tomorrow.
I can't help but feel that this is my fault somehow.
Ever since Tom Hastings, CIA, walked into my life, things have gone to shit. My pack watches me furtively, warily, their hurt and confusion lighting their different colored eyes.
God, even Sarah looks disturbed with her expression not unlike a twisted parody of a confused cartoon dog. My sister thinks I'm a complete idiot and I'm in agreement, even if I won't 'fess up to it.
But it's Ruth that has me so twisted up inside that I literally can barely function. Yes, I was attracted to Tom, I can't deny that. Even going so far as to go to him as he packed up his artificial life at the university because his cover was blown. Yes, we kissed, yes, I considered more.
Yes, I am an idiot.
Looking over at Ruth, so still and pale in the sterile recovery room, I feel the agony in every cell, every neuron, my body burning and humming with it. I hurt her like a clumsy fool and I've been paying like a religious penitent ever since.
I knew there had to be a chance to eventually break through the icy, protective armor she pulled up like a cold war iron curtain between us. I would scratch at her emotional door, grovel and apologize until she listened and stopped treating me as no more than a bionic police dog.
Then the mission, a seemingly simple affair, went so utterly, completely, devastatingly wrong.
It didn't take a bionic ear to pick out the sound of the bullet finding its target with the wet crunch of bone, its retort echoing in the night air. Sarah reacted before I could, blurring into motion to stop the hail of bullets, even as Ruth's body was spun and flung aside like a child's doll, thrown in childish petulance, blood spraying in all directions.
Even now, I can smell it, fresh and coppery as I screamed in denial of what I witnessed. Even now, I can smell it, dried and putrefying on my clothes and skin, but I will not leave her side and no one can make me.
Somehow, Sarah and I got back here with Ruth's body in tow, reluctantly handing her over to the bionic technicians to do their best.
It's been a long twenty-two hours.
They did their best to fix her and she's still breathing steadily, anthracites donated from both me and Sarah working away in the fragile confines of her warm body.
"Please let it be enough," I moan helplessly to myself for what must be the thousandth time.
It is a very distinctive sensation, coming out of heavy sedation. Like a light switch being flicked on inside my brain, bringing me back to the world. There is no sensation of time having passed, though I realize immediately that something is terribly wrong.
I've been in a very dangerous business for a very long time. I've been shot at, beaten, nearly raped, thrown from moving cars, fallen from helicopters and had my life otherwise threatened in innumerable ways. I can recognize a medical facility by smell alone, and this one is no different than all the others. But this time something is much different.
There is a buzz in my body that I don't recognize. As different from the familiar sensations of my body functioning as light is to sound, I blearily study it.
It's no use. I haven't a clue until a thought occurs to me in conjunction to the equipment making noises that I have rejoined the land of the living.
I work for a company that builds micro-bionics.
There was a shot ringing from the darkness as I tried to watch Sarah and Jamie's six, the impact into my skull like a rock thrown by a jet engine.
Opening my eyes is surprisingly easy, my pupils instantly retracting in the bright glare. I can't move my skull and the entire left side is numb from the ocular cavity out, but everything else seems to be working.
My scowl brings the technicians up short, none of them familiar in their encompassing sterile garb. They make noises to try and stop Jamie from shoving through them, but it's like a bulldozer in a grove of saplings.
"Ruth," she sobs, her voice stuttering around my name as she crumples and presses her head to my chest. "I was so scared "
Yes, I'm still wounded from her fleeting near-affair with that CIA boy, but her emotions are so raw that I can't help but respond to her. The lustrous dark tresses that I love are tangled and dirty, catching at my caressing hand and all of the smells clinging to her are magnified by the sterile environment. Bet that's my blood all over her, sprayed like a horror movie special effect.
"Jamie," I whisper, voice hoarse and dry. "Help me up."
Once more ignoring the technicians, she does as ordered and once more I marvel at how decent I feel. Actually, aside from the disturbing numbness on the side of my skull, I feel pretty great. Something of that must show on my face, because Jamie's mask of torture is changing, lightening into her natural beauty, her astonishing eyes alight with relief and happiness.
"You're okay," she marvels softly, bringing my body close to hers, my feet dangling off the gurney. "You're really okay."
Tilting the heavily bandaged left side of my head away, I rest it on Jamie's shoulder and soak up her body heat. Since I'm here in the recovery theater, I'm going to hazard a guess that the damage to my skull was pretty bad. The fact that there is complete silence there is reinforcing that thought. Not even my heartbeat and lungs echo in my ear.
As though in response to my internal musings, Jamie clears her throat roughly and speaks in a tone not much smoother. "You were shot in the head. Me and Sarah got you back here and donated some anthracites to speed up your recovery. The tech-heads did their best to replace your ear. I hope it worked."
I suppose that I should be more shocked and horrified, but what right do I have?
"Just the ear?"
"Just the ear," Jamie reassures me with words and her loving touch.
"I'm really sorry that I've been such a bitch lately." Life is too damn short to hold onto my irritation over the CIA pup. There's no denying that I feel powerfully for this young woman and I just need to accept that. "I forgive you for Tom."
Her squeeze is strong, but so very carefully controlled to protect from her unnatural strength.
Relief like water pours over me at her calm voice, thrumming with emotion just beneath the surface. I'm determined to not burst into hysterical tears or something equally girly, but it's not easy. Stress and lack of sleep and the horrible smells wafting off me are grinding down my shredded self-control.
This, of course, is when Jonas makes his appearance.
"Ruth," he intones softly, his voice flat, professional, and just a bit warm with relief to see her up and aware. "Good to see you recovering."
"Jonas," she replies in an identical tone, making me smile perversely. "Good to be in the land of the living." Then she turns her focus to me, the near-yellow eyes intense and hot. "Jamie, go clean up and let Jonas debrief me. Then, I'm all yours." The admission of some sort of bond that is more than professional shocks me, but not nearly as much as her hand, tugging me down close enough for her mouth to press a loving kiss right between my eyebrows.
It's a pretty tame PDA, but this is Ruth! Drinking in the touch of her mouth and hand on my skin, I nod, not trusting my voice right now. Giving her a squeeze, I force myself to walk away, not meeting Jonas' knowing gaze.
Stripping with disgusted eagerness, I retreat to the locker room showers and scrub with desperation driving me. I will never forget the feel and smell of Ruth's splattered blood. The fact that it is finally physically gone means nothing to my traumatized mind and heart.
Somehow I keep it together through my shower, getting dressed in clean clothes, retrieving Ruth and all the way home. A completely silent Sarah picks us up at the facility and shuttles us and I cling to Ruth's warm hand. She tells me that Jonas was annoyed that she insisted on going home, but caved in as usual. I can't even enjoy her story, to emotionally raw to do anything but cling to my sanity by its tattered threads.
At the warehouse that is home now, Becca too is silent, merely hugging all three of us tightly and retreating with Sarah to the far end of the building.
Only when the bedroom door clicks shut, do I let it out.
It must be a dream, because none of these things happened to me. Memory fragments of people and places and circumstances that I simply have no knowledge of. They almost feel like memories but not mine.
Deep in slumber, I startle to realize that these are the memories of the two women that I now share bionics and anthracites with.
Blinking awake, I'm not surprised to hear the door click shut almost soundlessly. The usual spot where Sarah sometimes lies on the bed is still warm, the bedding holding the indent of her body. I would have never thought that having Sarah Corvus as a guardian angel could be a good thing. Now, it's difficult to imagine her not around me.
And then, there is my lover.
Unlike the majority of mornings, Jamie is clinging to my front, wrapped around me like a bad cold. There is no cuddly spooning today, just a desperate clutch. Luckily I sleep on the left and can roll to my side, earning a grumbling protest from Jamie at the jostling. So, I kiss her face and stroke my hand down her slender body, coveting her heat and softness.
"Jame," I purr her shortened name, which I only do here in the privacy of our bedroom. "Wake up sexy."
Mumbling, Jamie hugs me tighter and I grin and press kisses to her face and trail my hand more heavily over her silky flesh. My brush with death and the obvious terror it threw my lover into requires bonding now. Feeling shockingly good after doing the tango with death, I lick and nibble at Jamie's throat and my disarrayed hair tickles her cheek.
"Ruuuuth," she whines even as her breath hitches into a sexy moan as I find that spot near her ear. Always responsive, Jamie lolls her head back to give me access and passively allows me to roll her to her back so that I can sprawl out atop her and really give that elegant neck some attention. Holding her wrists is a psychological effect, for we're both perfectly aware that she could toss me across the room if she desired.
That strange energy still buzzes in my body. It has to be the anthracites and the alterations they've wrought. Part of me cringes at the idea of the changes made to me while I battled death, but more of me is grateful for this new chance. Not to mention the new levels of empathy with my charges.
Kissing and touching, Jamie and I bond, bursting into giggles at one point before easing into a loving cuddle where I can listen to her steady heartbeat. That leaves Jamie to ever so gently rest her hand on my heavily bandaged ear. Ironically, the bionic right hand. "Any pain?" she asks softly.
"No, oddly enough." I hadn't even realized until now that I have almost full sensation on the left side of my head, which is sensitive and bit achy, but nothing serious.
"Good. I didn't feel any either. Guess that's a necessary function of the bugs. God, I hope they didn't shave the side of your head."
I feel the pressure of Jamie's hand plucking at the wrap, determined to free my damaged skin. "They're going to be pissed that you're uncovering the surgical site," I remark wryly, sounding far calmer than I really am. To my amusement, Jamie snorts and doesn't pause in what she's doing.
The tape pulls at my skin and cool air wafts beneath, making me shiver.
"The bullet ricocheted off your skull," Jamie comments flatly, but I feel the tremor in her body. "You were lucky. Hey, look at that, you've still got an ear." Her voice is now pleased and a little teasing. "Even if it's a little raggedy looking."
"Hey," I protest with no venom and bite at her shoulder. "That's a terrible thing to say to a lady."
The teasing stops with the exquisite feel of her gentle fingertips on my damaged skin. It's ultra-sensitive, a little painful and unbearably sexy, her touch where I'm so raw. "Dammit, they did take off about two inches behind your ear. You're going to have a hell of a daring haircut for awhile, Ruth."
There is still no input from that ear, just deafening silence, but right now I don't care. Up on my elbows, I stare down into the azure eyes of my lover, her guileless honesty shining brightly there. "Talk to me later, Jame," I growl in sincere need. "Right now, I need you."
Well, a girl can hardly resist a plea like that! I take a moment to resettle my left hand, so that my palm cradles her cheek, but my fingertips can still curl around her ear to stroke. Obviously, she likes it, the yellowed eyes fluttering and a guttural moan thrilling me. With my right hand cupped around her undamaged ear, I tug her close, but not as close as she'd like. With slit eyes and heavy breath, Ruth must obey my greater strength as I hold her skull immobile, our lips barely brushing.
I don't dominate Ruth much. It offends her rigid sense of control. She's already very open with me in private and there doesn't seem to be much reason to push that and possibly piss her off. Sometimes though, I think that she likes being pried out of her mental armor and made far more naked than just her bare skin.
For an endless moment, we hover like that, sharing breath. I stare intently into her hooded gaze, once more imprinting her on my soul, once more reassuring myself that she is, indeed, alive and well. Then she groans my name, low and soft, the kind of sound an animal makes when it shows its belly in submissive trust. I wisely reward her with sensuous, fleeting kisses, licking at her mouth teasingly.
After she's started to squirm, I gently tug her down, releasing my imprisoning hold on her skull and settling into a long, wet kiss. Never breaking that contact, I cradle her head and roll us over so that I can have free access to her body.
It would probably shock the bionic think tank how much I let their high-tech toys play into my skills as a lover. Oh, not the arm or the legs, but the sensitivity of the eye and most of all, the ear. It is trained now to monitor my normally quiet lover, the pitch of her small sounds, the rush of air in her lungs, the throb of that strong heartbeat.
The antiseptic smell still clings faintly to Ruth's skin and I do my best to ignore it as I trace my mouth and mane down her throat and chest, pausing at all my favorite spots. Her fingers are almost punishingly tight in my hair, but I ignore her grip. This is my chance to draw out the seduction, to give her one more reason to be glad to be alive.
How I love watch her in the throes of passion, unencumbered by her rigid control. Face to face with her once more, I let my hand do the talking and watch the mercurial eyes grow paler and paler and her pupils contract with the rising sexual tension in her body. At last Ruth shudders, grunting and whining with the riot of pleasure I've drawn out.
"Oh Jame," she moans as relaxation washes over her like a wave and I happily snuggle into her overheated body. Today we are alive and we are together.
That makes it a good day.
"Jesus Nathan," I gripe at our resident tech geek as he continues to peer at diagnostics and the probe he has inserted into my new and still silent ear. "What the hell did you do, install transistors into my head?"
Jamie smirks and stifles a laugh as Nathan gives me a dry look and deadpans, "ha, ha, very funny Ruth. Sarcasm is the lowest form of humor and a sign of a small mind."
"Good, then you understand it then."
Now, Jamie does snort around her laughter, going so far as to put a hand over her mouth and turn away to where Sarah hovers like a nervous cat. It's not a surprise, considering what she's been through at this facility, some of it at my own hand.
A sharp and extremely painful shriek of electronic feedback blasts through my skull like a lightning bolt. Even as the white-out clears, I know the feel of Jamie's arms around me, the comforting sound of her voice. "Ride it out, Ruth, just breathe. Focus on my voice, make it obey you."
It's an interesting choice of words and I focus on the sensation of that thankfully brief blast of sound. It's an almost physical awareness of the technology in my head, like my nerves can actually identify the space it now possesses. Gripping Jamie's shirt and elbow, I focus my entire will to that flicker that threatens to attack me once more.
"Focus," Jamie whispers again. "I'm right here. Listen to my heartbeat, the sound of my breath."
In this she is my mentor and teacher and I do as I'm told, desperately seeking out the rhythm of her heart.
Nothing happens and I'm getting disheartened.
Then then a thread of sound and I latch onto it desperately. Jamie's breathing, steady and grounding near that new ear, the heat and damp of it as good a focus as the sound. I don't dare make a noise and disturb this new experience.
"Almost got it?"
"Almost," I dare whisper, feeling the sound skitter away from me and cringing at the loss. I've lived with complete silence on that side for nearly two days now and the bionics should have kicked in by now. I might be deaf for good and that will eliminate me in my role as the girl's handler.
Then I startle as Jamie slaps me soundly on the back of the head, making me jerk back and snap at her, "what the hell was that for?"
The blue eyes stare intently into mine. "Did it work?"
For a long moment I can't comprehend what she means until I realize that sound is filtering through in stereo. Relief paints the faces of Nathan and Sarah and my lover as my expression changes to wonder. I can hear their heartbeats and the faint sounds of the complex beyond the airlock doors of the lab.
Then I narrow my eyes at Jamie. "You slapped me."
Shrugging, she smiles and smoothes that same hand over my crown in caress. "Blame Nathan and his transistors. The electronics obviously needed a jolt to get started up or make their final connections, or whatever has been holding them back."
Adoring of her sweetly pragmatic explanation and Nathan's gurgle of outrage, I smile at my lover, happy to be fully functional once more. "Why does that always work?"
Return to Bionic Woman Fiction
Return to Main Page