IC: Daughter of Chaos (Nyx's Origin)

[Nyx]

Chapter One: It Begins

(Author's note: I've been told this starts out slow, but I promise you that once it gets moving, it progresses rapidly!)

"Goodnight! Bye! Yeah. I'll be in Tuesday."

Nikeiva Kasta sighed in relief as she slipped out the back door of the restaurant and bar to the employee parking lot. That had been a long night. She paused for a moment, steadying herself against the doorframe to rub her aching feet.

"Just my stupid idea to wear brand new boots to work without breaking 'em in…" she muttered. She sighed again, this time annoyed. She was getting a blister, too.

"You all right, Niki?"

She looked up. "Don't call me Niki, Mikey."

Michael Flynn wrinkled his nose. She smiled. Michael had a nice nose. For a coworker.

"All right, all right. Nikeiva, then."

"Thank you. Michael."

She smiled. It wasn't the first time they'd taunted each other with stupid little nicknames. It wouldn't be the last.

"So, what are you doing out here anyway? I thought you weren't off work for another hour."

Michael wrinkled his nose again. "Just wanted to walk you to your car."

Nikeiva raised an eyebrow. "How… chivalrous."

She caught him blush, even in the dim porch light, then he threw up his hands. "I know, I know. There's probably nothing to worry about, but… well… why can't I walk a pretty girl to her car?"

She chuckled lightly and punched him in the arm before turning and starting toward her car. Michael fell into step alongside her. "Anyway," he said, "I wanted to ask about tonight."

Nikeiva stopped, stared at him. "Tonight? What about it?"

"Don't worry, not a date or anything. But tonight when you were working…" he hesitated. "Are you feeling all right? You looked a little ill all night. In fact…" Michael squinted at her in the darkness, "you still don't look well…"

Nikeiva sighed. "I'm fine… just tired and I have a headache. I was a little dizzy earlier-- no, really. I'm fine."

Michael's expression said he wasn't buying it just yet. "You're sure?"

She nodded. Never mind that it was a lie. Just a small one. She was still a little dizzy, but the headache was gone. It had been replaced with a strange sort of comfort and euphoria. She was feeling really good. Almost numb to the aches and pains that plagued her from a long night on her feet…

"My car's right over there, thanks Michael…"

She started towards it, feeling so good that she was starting to not care that she couldn't feel her feet…that her knees were getting shaky… that suddenly 'up' was a matter of perspective…

Suddenly, she didn't care that she'd lost consciousness in the back parking lot-- or that Michael was screaming for 911. The little world inside her head was wonderful as it went black…

[Nyx]

Beep…beep…beep…beep…

Consciousness came slowly to Nikeiva. Everything faded in slowly, like watching the sunrise. Time to get up already? Where was that blasted alarm clock? The beeping was getting really bothersome…

Beep…beep…beep…beep…

She stretched out a hand to grope for the clock beside her bed. She found a table. Felt about. No clock. Grumbling, she turned to look, eyes still fuzzy and head still drowsy. Confusion mounted. Where there should have been an alarm clock, there was a vase of flowers. She blinked. Flowers. So where was the infernal beeping coming from?!? Flowers didn't beep!

She rubbed her eyes and looked around, a bit more aware now.

"Nikeiva?"

She turned. Michael was standing at her bedside. What was he doing in her house…?

Then it struck her. The bed was not her bed, but a hospital bed. The beeping was not her alarm clock. It was a heart monitor across the room. And Michael wasn't in her house, because this wasn't her house.

"What the--how did I--"

She struggled to sit up, but Michael put a hand to her shoulder to keep her down.

"I'll explain! Just relax. Please. You scared the crap out of me last night."

She stared at him, wide eyed. "What do you mean? What about last night? What's going on and why am I in the hospital?"

Michael sighed. "Do you remember when I was walking you to your car and I asked you if you felt all right?"

She thought. Her brain was still cloudy… "Sort of… why?"

"Right after you told me you were fine, you fainted."

"Fainted?"

"Out cold on the asphalt," Michael sighed, running a hand through his short strawberry blond hair. "I mean, one second you're fine and then -- BOOM! Out like a light."

She blinked at him, not knowing what to say. "You're kidding me."

"What do you think?"

She said nothing. One didn't just wake up in the hospital for no reason.

"So I called for an ambulance, and…well… here you are."

Nikeiva shook her head. Gently. It still felt funny. "So… do the doctors know what happened or was it just a fluke…?"

Michael sighed. "No word yet. They found some weird chemical levels in your blood, but they don't know what's going on yet… you're not 'on' anything, are you?"

"No!"

"Just asking."

She folded her arms. "So… now what?"

Michael shrugged. "We wait. I'm sure they'll tell us in just a few minutes that everything is fine…"

[Nyx]

It'd been a week. A week of wondering, a week of tests, a week of no work and lots of needles. Nikeiva scowled. At least now the doctors seemed to have an answer. She was getting sick of needles. And of hospitals. She'd spent more time in the hospital than at home. It was understandable, though. After all, she'd fainted three more times since that night after work.

It was starting to scare her…

The door to her room opened.

"Ms. Kasta?"

She nodded, sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting. Three men entered. The first, an older man, balding on top, offered a hand to shake.

"I'm Dr. Adams -- how are you feeling today?"

Nikeiva shrugged. "All right, I think… still a little fuzzy…"

He nodded knowingly. "Well, I think we have a diagnosis for you."

"We?" she asked, glancing at the two men behind him. "Who're they?"

"Oh, them. Allow me to introduce Dr. Charles Harley and Dr. Bryan Wolfram. Both specialists in the field of neurology -- Dr. Harley actually flew in from London to see your case, but Dr. Wolfram is local."

Nikeiva nodded. "So, what's the diagnosis, then?"

Dr. Adams' genial smile drooped. "Well, after a week of struggling with every possibility we could think of, the consensus is that you are suffering from a severe brain disorder marked by wild swings of chemical imbalances. Symptoms include abrupt losses of consciousness and/or muscle and motor control, feelings of anxiety, euphoria, or depression, sometimes within minutes or seconds of each other, suicidal tendencies, and hallucinations."

Nikeiva sighed. "That sounds about right…"

"It's… extremely rare, Ms Kasta. There have only been about twelve cases of it known to medical science, and not all of those cases were even completely positive in their diagnosis. No one knows if it's genetic, the aftermath of other illnesses, or outright spontaneous. It's so rare that, actually… it doesn't even have a proper name…"

Nikeiva stared at him. "But is it… dangerous?"

Dr. Adams sighed. "Terminal."

Silence. Dr. Harley cleared his throat. "There are symptomatic treatments, of course, to improve quality of life, but medicine has yet to come up with anything remotely resembling a cure, I'm afraid…"

Nikeiva held up a hand to halt his speech. "How long do I have?"

Dr. Adams sighed and turned to Dr. Wolfram, a much younger man with glasses. "Wolfram knows more about it than either Harley or I, really. He's quite interested in… unusual cases…"

Dr. Wolfram adjusted his glasses. "Actually, it's hard to say exactly how long, Miss. All the cases that I've ever studied vary widely. Some people will live several years after diagnosis, gradually deteriorating in health, and others will run the course hard and fast. Best possible outcome, three years. Worst case scenario… you could die next week."

The silence seemed deafening to Nikeiva. Absolutely crushing…

"I understand it's quite a blow," Adams said quietly, "but we'll help you every way we can…"

Nikeiva jumped to her feet. "No. Good grief, I've had enough needles being poked into me, and I've had enough people staring at me and prodding me… if there's nothing you can do, then leave me alone!"

She rushed past them, ignoring the throbbing of her heart behind her ribs, ignoring the fuzziness in her brain, ignoring the way her feet tingled when they pounded the floor. She wasn't going to die! No!

She burst out of the room and tore down the hallway, running right past Michael who had been waiting outside.

"Nikeiva!"

She didn't stop. Concerned, Michael gave chase. He caught her before she reached the elevator and jerked her to a halt. "Nikeiva, what's going on? You almost plowed into a couple of nurses back there!"

For a moment, she wanted to seize him and throw him to the ground, but all she could do was sink to the floor, blinking back tears…

"What did they say, Niki?"

"I'm gonna die, Michael… They all…all said I'm gonna die…"

Michael blinked in shock. Knelt. Put an arm around her. He said nothing, only let her cry on his shoulder…

What a sweet release… it felt so good to cry, she thought. She wasn't sure why. Had the news really hit her that hard, or was it the disease that was making her moody… she didn't care. She wanted to cry some more…

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything…"

Nikeiva did not care to look up, but she heard Michael speaking to the voice.

"Who are you?"

"Dr. Bryan Wolfram. If I could have a word with you two in private?"

Finally, Nikeiva looked up.

"I told you all to leave me alone!"

Wolfram knelt next to her. "No," he whispered, "You said 'if there's nothing you can do, then leave me alone'. Hear me out: I think I can help you."

"What, you have a cure?" Nikeiva snapped. She hoped it had come across as sarcastic as it was meant to be, rather than the sniffle she supposed it had sounded like…

The corners of Wolfram's mouth threatened to smile. "Maybe. But before I say another word, I really must insist that this conversation be in private."
Michael looked at Nikeiva, who, teary-eyed but clearly curious, looked back, then at Wolfram.

"Whadaya say, Niki?"

She shot him a look. "Don't call me Niki." She turned to Wolfram. "All right. But this had better be good."

[Nyx]

The door closed with a gentle 'whuff', and Dr. Wolfram turned to Michael and Nikeiva.

"First of all, sir, are you of any relation to Ms. Kasta?"

Michael hesitated for a moment. "Why?"

"No, he's not. He's a friend."

He looked at Nikeiva, his eyes questioning. She looked back at him, unflinching.

"We don't have time for games, Michael. Let's just hear what he has to say."

Wolfram nodded at Nikeiva's words. "To the point, I like that. Well, let me get to my point by first saying that no shred or bit of this conversation leaves this room, all right?"

The two nodded. Wolfram adjusted his glasses again and went on. "Ms. Kasta, I said I think I can help you, and I mean that. I'm a specialist in the field of neurology and neurochemistry, and I take a great interest in rare and unusual cases, like yours. Doctors Adams and Harley have never even personally seen the condition you have. I've seen it twice. And that, my dear, is a lot when dealing with something this rare."

"And?" Nikeiva prodded.

"And, I've spent a lot of time studying this, trying to come up with a cure for it. It's more of a hobby than a serious pursuit, but I think I've succeeded."

Nikeiva stared at him. "Why don't you tell the other two guys?"

Wolfram smirked and scratched the back of his neck. "Well… that's why this conversation needs to be in private. You see, the solution I developed works in theory and on lab animals, but… it's never been tested on humans, and it's certainly not FDA approved. But the proper testing and gaining approval would take years… a commodity that you do not have, Ms. Kasta."

Nikeiva nodded. "So you're saying I have a chance to be cured if I use your experimental solution?"

Wolfram nodded. "I'm warning you, though. It's never been tested on humans, so I don't know if there will be any side effects from it…"

"So long as I don't die, I don't care."

At this, Michael perked up. "No way! Wait a minute. Nikeiva, are you nuts? You want to try an unapproved, untested, completely experimental drug on yourself? Think of the risks you're taking! What if it…" he waved his hands in frustration, ''…I don't know… makes you blind or sterile or something!"

Nikeiva was in his face in a second. "If I don't, I'll die, Michael. As simple as that. It's a risk, yeah, but I'm going to take it. I don’t have any other choice."
She turned to Wolfram. "All right. Let's do it."

Wolfram nodded, smiling. "Give me 24 hours to mix up the solution. I'll call you. Have your friend drive you to…rats. I don't have any paper."

Nikeiva had a gum wrapper in her pocket. Wolfram scrawled his address on it.
"That is my private lab-- I'll have security watching for you. And, Ms. Kasta, one more thing."

Nikeiva nodded. Wolfram leveled a very serious look at her.

"Regardless of what happens --whether for better or worse-- you will not breathe a word of this treatment to anyone. If you or your friend was to spread the news that I used a homemade, experimental treatment on a girl with a terminal illness… I'd lose my license and probably get arrested."

"Don't worry, Doctor. We won't say a word."

[Nyx]

Chapter Two: Things Get Weird

Rain. Pattering on the pavement, on the roof of the car, on the windows… it was calming. She liked rain.

Sitting beside her, Michael sighed. She tried not to look at him. He was nervous. Nervous for her. She could sense the tension through the cadence of the rain.

"You sure you want to do this?" he asked, turning to her. His ice blue eyes were questioning, probing her for some sign of hesitancy… If she gave the word, he'd drive her home immediately, without a second thought.

"I have to."

He looked sad somehow… but nodded. "All right…" Slipped out of the car and into the storm. Opened her door. Slipped an arm around her. Escorted her to the building that loomed against the grey sky. Inside.

Inside. It was a neat, sterile lobby, devoid of any people, or any sign of activity. Nikeiva took a breath. It smelled like chemicals. She liked the smell of the rain outside, and the sanitary smell of the lobby unsettled her. Reminded her of the hospital. She didn't like the hospital. She took a small breath, steeling herself against the unpleasant memories of yesterday. This was not the hospital that had condemned her. It was the laboratory that would give her back her life.

If all went well…

"I trust you're Miss Kasta."

The voice seemed to come from nowhere. It made Nikeiva jump. A man, whom she'd not noticed standing in a side door, stepped forward. He was tall-- a good six inches taller than her, and muscular, but dressed nondescriptly, neatly, in black. Only a shock of crimson at the crown of his otherwise onyx hair made his impression a striking one. It took her a few moments to realize that he had addressed her…

"Yes… Nikeiva Kasta. Dr…uh… Dr. Wolfram…I'm…uh… here to see him…"

The man nodded. "Yes. He's been expecting you. Come with me."
He turned and quietly strode back to the side door. After a moment's hesitation, Nikeiva followed, with Michael on her heels. The man, however, stopped Michael at the threshold.

"I'm sorry, sir, you'll have to wait here."

"What?" Michael's eyes were wide with horror at the thought. Leave her to whatever fate would befall her… alone? Leave her to that ape? Nikeiva winced. Michael had no intention of leaving her alone, but he would be hard-pressed to make it past her escort…

"Security rules. She's not even supposed to be in the labs -- staff and security only. I'm bending protocol as it is."

With that, he let the door fall shut, and it closed with a ring of finality that sent a chill through her. No turning back.

Her escort was stone silent as he led her through several checkpoints and corridors. Finally, he stopped at a locked door. Rapped his knuckles on it twice. Waited. Finally, a click, and it was opened to them…

"Miss Kasta… so glad to see you've arrived."

Wolfram. She smiled a little, she was so relieved to see a familiar, friendly face. He glanced around, then ushered Nikeiva and the escort inside, closing the door behind them.

[Nyx]

The chair was cold. She shifted uncomfortably on her metal perch and glanced out the slits in the blinds that shaded the nearby window from the outside. She could still hear the rain outside. She tried to focus on it. Tried to forget, to ignore the goings on around her…

Wolfram was at present drawing a syringe full of his wonder-solution, while Nikeiva's mysterious escort guarded the door, standing so still and quiet she might almost have thought him made of stone…

"I had as much ready as possible in preparation for you," Wolfram said pleasantly, setting down the vial and tapping the syringe to rid it of air bubbles. "But the solution absolutely must be refrigerated until used… the compounds break down rapidly if left at room temperature for more than ten minutes… "

She nodded absent-mindedly as he sterilized a spot on her arm… She turned to him.

"Are you sure this will work?"

He looked up. A strange silence passed between them before he answered. "Am I sure? No. I'm taking a paramount risk. But I believe the chances are good--very good--that it will."

He picked up the syringe. Held it in his palm, showing it to her.

"If you're not sure you want to do this, Miss Kasta, now is the time to say it. I won't proceed unless you're absolutely certain."

She stared at the syringe full of clear fluid. It wasn't much. Significantly less than everything they'd pumped her full of in the hospital… so small…

She shook her head. "Now or never. If I hesitate, it'll be never. Do it."

"You understand the risks you're taking?"

"Yes! Just do it already!"

Wolfram nodded. Inserted the needle. Nikeiva watched in a strange, morbid fascination as he depressed the plunger and the fluid disappeared into her veins…

It took less than a minute. The needle was withdrawn. The wound was bandaged. As Wolfram turned to clear away the evidence that anything had happened there, Nikeiva sat, staring at her arm--staring at the bandage that marked the turning of her luck and her life…

"That's it? It's…done?"

Wolfram nodded. "Yes, that's it. As far as I know, anyway. You may require another dose, but… if I'm right, that ought to have done it…"

"How do I know when it's…"

"Working?" Wolfram sighed. "I don't know. Report anything and everything to me. All symptoms you experience, especially ones you didn't have before. Tell me when they happen. Where. Tell me when nothing happens. I want to keep a very close eye on you…"

She nodded. A mixture of fear and excitement was boiling behind her ribs. "Yes sir… I will…"

She rose, half-smiling at Wolfram, half-trembling from that self-same fear and excitement.

"So… I can go home?"

"Yes, yes… go home, get some sleep… go back to work if you feel up to it. Just let me know everything."

"Okay… thank you…"

She crossed the laboratory to the door where her escort still stood. Time to go home. She paused at the threshold.

"Doctor… just in case this actually works… thanks… for saving my life…"

Wolfram waved a little, and shooed her out the door. The trip back through the complex was a blur to Nikeiva…

Did she have her life back? What a delicious thought. Oh it wasn't certain yet… she had to always remember that it might not actually have worked… what if there were side-effects that were simply intolerable? What if something…happened? She couldn't go back to the hospital… too many questions would be raised. And poor Michael. What would he say or do if something did happen?

"Nikeiva?"

She broke from her feverish thoughts, and found herself standing in the lobby again. Her mysterious escort was gone. There was only Michael.

"Are you all right? What happened? How'd it go?"

She pulled up her sleeve, displaying the bandage in the dimness of the lobby.
"I got a shot."

He stared at her arm for several uncomprehending seconds, then looked up again, meeting her eyes.

"I might be better than 'all right'. I might be alive again."

His expression was many things… awed, bewildered, concerned, questioning, relieved… but for once she could meet his eyes without the urge to look away or drop her gaze…

"So," he said quietly, "Do we go home now?"

She smiled. "Yes, Michael. We go home."

Finally, Michael Flynn dared to smile. He slipped an arm around Nikeiva and led her back outside into the rain.

[Nyx]

She squeezed her eyes shut and struggled to control the sickness in the pit of her stomach. The floor was cold. How long had she been here? Lying on the bathroom rug, feeling her insides revolt, and trying in vain to control the rapid-fire spasms that jolted her muscles. Since at least two in the morning. She groaned. She'd be missing another day of work-- there was no way she was going anywhere today. Not when she couldn't even trust her own muscles…

She'd told her employer and coworkers that she was suffering from food poisoning… she might be away from work for a while. Medical reasons.
But this was the first time she'd had seizures. Somewhere in her brain, she thanked… something… that at least the violent quavering seemed confined to a limb or two at a time, or when they did possess her whole body, they were only mild.

She turned her head, pressing a clammy cheek against the linoleum. It felt good. At least, she thought so. She wasn't sure. Everything was so backwards and upside down and inside out when the nausea seized her. She was conscious of the sound of her heartbeat in her own ear… the sound made her feel even worse.

"Just let me die…"

She shifted position, lying on her back now, thinking of how, just two weeks ago she'd been ready to fight death tooth and nail… and now after a week of worshipping the porcelain god, she was begging for an end.

"Gotta call the doc. He's got to have some sort of answer to this… I can't live like this…"

She considered standing up, staggering to her room, getting her cell phone from her dresser top. Calling. She almost laughed. There was no way on God's green earth that would happen. Moving very much at all sent her into spasms. Besides… the thought of standing up made her stomach protest.
But she couldn't go on like this. Groaning, she shifted to a kneeling position, and, clinging to the bathroom sink, struggled to her unsteady, twitching feet. It was just across the hallway to her room. She could make it.

Five minutes and thirty feet later, Nikeiva collapsed to her knees by her dresser. Stretched up a twitching hand to feel for the phone. Finding it, she brought it down to her and curled up on the floor, shivering. Punched in a speed-dial. Maybe it was five in the morning. She didn't care. She was making a plea for help.

Ring.
Ring.
Ring.

Nikeiva winced. He wasn't going to pick up. She was going to get his answering machine and…

"Hello?" yawned a voice.

"Doc…" she could barely whisper, "I had a new symptom tonight..."

[Nyx]

"Nikeiva."

Was it half an hour ago? Or a whole hour? She shook her head, which elicited a wince from her face. Dang it all, she wished the aspirin would hurry up, she had a splitting headache… She knew she probably shouldn't be taking other drugs with all of the strange things that had been happening to her lately, but…

"Nikeiva-1, this is Houston, do you read me? Earth to Nikeiva…"

She jumped at the sensation of a hand on her shoulder and turned sharply, expecting her manager…

"Michael. Hi."

He looked concerned. She sighed. That's the only way he ever looked around her anymore. Concerned. She felt bad.

"Are you okay?"

She nodded, gently. "Yeah, I've just had a little headache for the last hour or so… I just took a couple pills for it. I'm fine, really. I don't even feel sick today."

Michael hesitated, looking her over once, before nodding. "Okay. Just asking. Anyway, I just wanted to tell you you've got another table."

Something in his expression warned her. Her entire face sank into disgust. "Not those four frat boys again… Michael, please tell me you didn't tell them I was working tonight…"

Michael shrugged and sighed, shoving his long, skinny fingers through his hair. "I'm sorry… Tara told them before I could cover for you. They asked for you. They like you."

Nikeiva groaned, resting her head on Michael's shoulder for a moment. "But I can't stand them! Dumb bunch of cavemen, but they don't do anything quite obnoxious enough to… ergh. I'm not sure how many more fake phone numbers I can think up before… oh well. At least they tip well."

She rolled her eyes and shot Michael a pitiful 'help me' look before going to wait on her customers.

[Nyx]

She looked at her watch. Not that it helped. It had been a long time since she'd downed those aspirin pills. An hour and two rounds of cocktails for her… admirers… they should have started to take effect by now…

"Honey, your drinks are ready."

Nikeiva looked up at the bartender. The middle-aged woman nodded to Nikeiva's tray, which bore four margaritas for the frat boys. Through a fuzz of pain, Nikeiva looked up again at the bartender, smiled weakly, and thanked her.

"You okay, Hon?"

"Fine. Just have a headache."

Nikeiva was unaware of the sidelong, asking glance from the bartender woman as she walked the drinks to the boys' table. She wasn't aware of much, actually-- the hustle and bustle of the bar was background, the hooting, flirting boys were scenery. She was acutely aware of one thing, though. Her hand. The hand that carried the tray.

Shaking.

She was calm. As calm as could be, at any rate. She quickened her pace gracefully. Set the drinks down. Restrained the shaking as best she could. And slipped away to the restrooms, hoping to make it to solitude in time…
In time to break down into another seizure. She swallowed. A big one. She could feel it.

She turned the corner. The ladies' room would be on her right, just another ten or twelve feet…

Michael! Coming down the hallway from the other direction. He was talking to the manager, so far unaware of her presence… desperate to avoid any attention right now, she slipped through another door, cutting through a loading area to the back of the restaurant and bar. Had he seen her? She hoped not…

She sat on the back stoop, shaking. Nothing she could do now. Not until she got back over to Wolfram's lab. She'd called him several nights ago, when the seizures had started. Begged him for answers. He had none. She'd taken an experimental drug. The side effects were unknown. They both knew that. As for the seizures themselves… ride them out. Don't hit your head on anything.
But would they ever stop?

Wolfram didn't know.

And Nikeiva could only fight down a growing sense of concern as the convulsions began to subside…

"And you've been having these… how long?"

Her heart leapt into her throat at the sound of another voice. Michael again.
"Saw you make a beeline for the back door. Are you okay, Niki?"

She wanted to say it -- "Don't call me Niki"-- but her jaw was still trembling. She didn't trust herself. Not yet.

"C-couple d-days… oh please d-don't t-tell-l…"

Michael shook his head. "I won't. You've got another hour until your shift is over. Do you think you can make it?"

He offered a helping hand up, which she accepted, leaning on him to steady herself.

"I don't know if I should… geez, suddenly I'm so tired…"

He nodded. "All right. I'll take you home."

[Nyx]

Home. She watched Michael's car pull away, then sighed and shut the door.

Home. She was so tired. The stresses that the nausea and seizures had been ravaging on her body and mind had her so worn out… She glanced up at the hall clock as she shrugged off her coat, hanging it up on a rack.

"Only eight o'clock… I hate going to bed that early."

She wrestled with the thought for a moment, then shrugged. She'd take a short nap, then call Dr. Wolfram when she awoke. She wrote a note to do just that, stuck it next to her bed, then crashed for a quick catnap.