Tides--Chapter 4, Red

As Daniel continued into the dark, slicing through the water, he thought of Alaina. He remembered a word that was never used much. A word that made him ponder on the definite meaning. Love. When was there a proper usage? Was there ever? What did it mean for the user? Would one be bound for life? He had no memories...just a mental dictionary, with definitions replaced by connotations. Love. It felt warm, satisfying. But also dangerous. Like a flame. The opposite of water. The opposite of Daniel. Yet he wondered. Did he, daresay, love...her? Was that what it meant? Could it be applied to a person? Were those the sparks he felt at her touch? Was it responsible for the everlasting urge to hold her close? Daniel made a decision, there, in the dark. Today, after he returned to the shore, he would ask Alaina. What is the meaning of love?

He stopped his progression through the blackness not a moment too soon. Reaching out, he felt the mossy surface of solid rock not three inches away. Here as well his instincts were originally dull, resulting in a nasty bruise from a decidedly ungraceful collision. Now, he managed the sixth sense: the sensory of objects with no need for physical interaction. It was, fortunately, active now even when he was deep in thought.

Sifting through the moss, Daniel searched for the stone carved handle. He had to admit; this place was brilliantly disguised. No person would ever expect the sight behind this. After giving the door one giant heave, he watched it slide away, exposing the airlock. He stepped inside quickly as the primary door thunked into place, and stood perfectly still as the water drained, waiting for the next step. Clean water rushed in from above. This process would drown any other, but was considered sterilization for him. Cleansing solution leaked in from the side holes, and the chamber began to swirl, taking Daniel with it. Halting its revolution suddenly, the water drained out once again, leaving him sopping wet and staggering comically in an effort to regain his balance. Just as he had regained his equilibrium, freezing air blasted him from all sides. Despite his best efforts, Daniel was swept off his feet and suspended, spinning in the torrent of air.

Moments later, he lifted his head to find himself not on the metal floor of the chamber, but on carpet, with a pair of combat boots planted near his chest. A rough, callused hand entered his limited line of sight. He took it, and was lifted like a rag doll and placed on his feet. Daniel stared at the man in a dazed state, trying to recall the name. His gaze shifted down to the fabric name tag attached with Velcro to the sea blue uniform. "T.I.D.E.S.," was stitched into it, followed by the name Conelly.

"Can you do me a favor and file a complaint, Mr. Conelly?" Daniel asked, almost drunkenly.

"Call me Lucas, please sir, and what is it that displeases you?" He reached out to steady Daniel's swaying shoulders.

"That god forsaken... cleaning thing. Whatever it is. Makes me dizzy every time. That's not supposed to be a washing machine, you know."

"I'll have you know that is precisely what it is. A washing machine. Just for you," retorted a familiar, feminine voice, one Daniel recognized immediately. He turned to face the woman that had just entered the room. She was dressed not unlike the man, but blood red instead of blue. Lucas dipped his head respectfully as the woman met his eyes.

"Mr. Conelly, it's about time for midday shift. You should be at your station, don't you think?" she commented casually, "I think I'll be able to manage Daniel myself."

Daniel glared at her indignantly.

"I don't need managing, Kizzy," he interjected. She laughed, throwing her head back. The two were of equal height, yet she seemed much taller.

"I'm surprised they don't force you to check in here with the amount of trouble you cause, Danny boy." She smirked at him.

"That isn't my name," he said, "and when have I ever done a thing wrong?"

"It's going to be your name until you stop calling me Kizzy," she replied playfully. Kizzy was what Daniel had heard when they had first been introduced. It turned out to be Kinsley. Kinsley Whitager. A strong name, but it suited her. He didn't care, though. Kizzy was more fun to say.

Daniel snorted, and began to walk towards one of the plush leather sofas in the room. All of the places in the bunker that he was allowed to enter were mostly plain, with shiny silver walls and leather-covered furniture. Daniel didn't know why, but it was rather suspicious. There were locked doors in this place. He played his part though, and ignored them. Looking down at the sofa cushion, he smirked. There was a water stain that no one had been able to get out from his first visit. They hadn't installed the dryer in the chamber yet, and he had come out soaked and sat down on the sofa. Kizzy had been pretty mad at him.

She walked over and sat in an armchair across from him, propping her feet up on the mahogany coffee table that separated them.

"So how goes it up above?" she said.

"Same as always. Nothing ever changes. It's almost too perfect, Kizzy. Why won't you tell me anything? Everything I know is so abstract. So boring. Seems like the only thing for me to do around here is swim."

"You know I can't, kiddo. Drake's word is law around here."

"Can I see him?"

"You won't get anything but a scolding."

"I know," he said, excited. He had heard about Drake, but never seen him. Kizzy had always said he wasn't ready. He didn't know why she was considering, but he wasn't going to question her motives.

She looked him over, scanning his chest, down to his swim trunks and bare feet. She sighed. Why did it matter what he looked like? Drake wouldn't care.

Daniel sat on the edge of his seat, tense. Was she going to take him to Drake? His eyes drifted to her boots, and the red pant cuffs tucked neatly into the tops. He looked on up, to see her fingers tapping her knees in thought. The outfit was long sleeved as well, fitted tightly to her upper body. He looked at her face. Her eyes were sharp, searching his for whatever she was looking for. Whatever quality he had to have to be worthy of meeting Drake.

Kinsley slung her feet up and onto the floor, pushing up out of the chair. She beckoned for him to follow. He scrambled up, and she smiled at his eagerness. She turned and walked out the door through which she had come.

Daniel's head was filled with questions. What was Drake going to be like? Would he say anything new? All he had heard was that he had a bit of a temper, and would only stand for one person in his presence at a time. Daniel followed Kinsley through the kitchen, and down a hall that he had never set foot in before. They stopped in front of a sheet of metal that looked as if it would take a cannon to tear down. It was completely blank, but Daniel watched in fascination as Kinsley began to trace a surprisingly complex pattern on the surface. Her finger left no lines or marks, yet when she stopped, a section slid away to reveal a scanner. She put out her hand, pressing it to the grid. The mechanism clicked and the scanner flashed a green light at them. The metal dropped into the floor, and the carpet was suddenly seamless, as if there never was a door. He looked at the walls. Nothing. Odd, he thought.

The two continued straight down the hall, passing the occasional door, until they reached the end. There, ominously, stood a door of even deeper red than Kinsley's uniform.

She turned to him and began to speak, barely audible.

"Be careful. And be nice. He won't tolerate the things the rest of us do. I can't come in with you. Good luck, Daniel."

She brought her hand up, hesitating slightly before knocking twice.

No response.

She reached down, getting hold of Daniel's hand and placing it on the door handle. She stepped back. He pushed. The hallway lights dimmed to nothing, leaving darkness on either side of Daniel. He stepped forward, closing the door behind him.

"Get out," a voice said, dryly. Daniel turned his head, unsuccessfully trying to locate the source.

"I said, Get out."

"No," Daniel replied solidly.

"Brave. I like bravery. What do you want?" The voice was very deep. It sounded as if it belonged to someone very, very, big. Big and dangerous. Suddenly, the sixth sense kicked in. He was there. Six inches away. Daniel felt hot air on his face. It smelled of mint. He coughed. Mints disgusted him.

"Turn on the light, Daniel," the man's voice boomed into his ear. And then he was gone, no longer there. Daniel turned, deciding it in his best interests to follow directions, and began to run his hand along the wall in search of the light. His hand encountered the hard plastic of the switch, and he slowly eased it upwards, in an effort to stay silent. He squinted as the room was illuminated, trying to adjust to the brightness. Then the man was there. Daniel found his head to be chest level with the man, who was wearing a shirt as black as the darkness that they were just immersed in. He looked up at the stubble on the man's chin. Gathering his courage, he tilted his head up another degree to reach the man's eyes, and stumbled back in shock. Yet, he couldn't tear his gaze away. The two orbs in the man's head swirled in milky confusion.

Drake was blind.