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Stockholm Syndrome	By : BlueSchmoo Category: +A through F > Baldur's Gate Views: 5857 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Baldurs Gate, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
Chapter 6.

Imoen felt nothing. Neither heat, nor cold; pain nor pleasure. Nothing. But she was aware, somehow� she maintained the realization that she still existed on some level, but she could not say where, or when. Slowly, second by second, what she could feel was that that awareness was slipping away from her� she was fading.
Then the pain came. She had no tangible body to speak of, no nerves to conduct the electrical impulses signalling pain to her brain, and therefore it was not a physical discomfort. It was much, much worse. It felt as if her soul were being poisoned, as if an evil taint had invaded her, infusing and infecting its way into her very being. This taint slowly diffused itself throughout her existence until it merged with her, becoming one with her being.
And then the inevitable happened. It took over. Against her will, she felt the malevolent consciousness pulling her, directing her through planes of existence that she had never even imagined, and beyond. Her soul was being hijacked, and there was nothing she could do to prevent it. Faster and faster she travelled, pulled along by her malevolent guide, until they broke through planes of existence more wonderful and terrifying than she could ever have imagined. Finally, they broke free to the material plane.
It was then that she understood everything.
She saw him, standing over her injured body. She watched Jon�s hands motioning, and could see the physical manifestation of energy at his spell. With a violent shudder, she felt the evil force that directed her withdraw, then slam her existence back into her body, just as the electrical energy from Jon�s body was directed towards her. She saw the energy from the spell guide his bioelectricity, and infuse her dead tissues, shocking her now-healed heart back into a rhythm. As her body spasmodically regained life, her soul was once more trapped, anchored into the material plane.
Imoen gasped as life-giving air rushing quickly back into her lungs. She coughed and tried to turn over onto her stomach, but her limbs were numb, and refused to obey her directions. Involuntarily, she retched as the feeling of physical pain flooded her body. It was the painful feeling of her cells once more received life-giving oxygen. It was over a minute before she gained control of her heaving stomach. She felt like she was one step away from death again. She was tired and scared, and just wanted to close her eyes and rest.
Jon looked down at her with pity, recognizing the signs of resurrection.
"So you survived the process of being Raised. Tell me, Imoen, did you enjoy the experience?" Jon asked casually, watching her carefully for any reaction to his words.
Forcing her head up, she looked up at him from the table. He could tell by her reaction that she had never been through that process before. She slowly rolled over and looked down at her body, as if reassuring herself that she was indeed alive again. She noticed that her dress was ripped, and she closed it as best she could with her numb hands. If she were rested and her usual self, she would have protested her lack of modesty. Under the circumstances, being brought back from the dead made this fact almost irrelevant.
Once more she looked up at him, questioningly.
"Why? Why did you bring me back? I was dead � you should have left me rest," she protested.
"Have you remembered nothing from what I mentioned before, Imoen? You have something that very few others do. You have a God as a father. And that makes you worthy of bringing back."
Inside, Imoen started to laugh. She did remember her last few seconds of life before she died. She had called out to her father � and her call had not been answered. She could no longer control the laughter inside of her.
"You are wrong, Jon. All of this is wrong," she said, looking around to encompass the room and everywhere else in the dungeons. "I called out to him just before I died. He never answered me." She looked him directly in the face, her fear of him quickly fading. What was the worst thing he could do to her, she thought. Kill her? She had already died, and was no longer afraid of that.
Jon watched her through the eyes of experience. "All the more reason to believe in you," he said, loftily.
Imoen was confused. She tried to lift herself up but her arms and legs were numb, as if she had fallen asleep and cut off the flow of blood to her body. They would not respond to her commands. She tried to roll over, but her treacherous limbs refused to move, resulting in her falling from the table, and onto the floor.
She felt so humiliated, and so confused. She had died, and Jon had chosen to resurrect her. Knowing how powerful he was, and that he could have easily made her into an undead, she was unsure why did what he did. She tried to get up from her undignified positing, but once more, her body was filled with thousands of pinpricks, making her efforts fruitless.
Jon watched her attempts in amusement. He wanted her to learn what it was like, being resurrected by a necromancer. It was much different compared to a cleric. Your body needed time to heal on its own, as Imoen�s was trying to do. He waited patiently for her to understand this.
- 5
- 6
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Stockholm Syndrome