Coil turned and swept her up in his arms.  Her skin crawled at the contact of her body against his.

Ugh.

She didn’t say or do anything about it, in part because she wasn’t able, too sick, hurting too much.  The other reason was because she had seen the numbers shift each time she flinched away from his touch or made her disgust known.  Little differences.

Hm, that’s odd. The numbers do seem to already incorporate Dinah’s possible actions like everyone else’s, so is this a side effect of Coil’s power?

He was angrier with her, more curt, if she pulled way, if she complained about it.

Yeah… Classic abusive behavior, training her into not complaining.

There was safety in the numbers, in following the rules she set on herself.  It kept her power in order, it ensured Coil was tolerant with her, and it meant she didn’t have to go without her candy for even a short time.

The rules?

“Noelle’s room,” Trickster said, an instant before Dinah put the pieces together.

“How many of us, pet?”

How many are there room for?

“Everyone here was there,” she looked towards the soldiers.

In other words, it’s getting further reinforced that they shouldn’t even bother trying to defend the base.

“Is she in there?”

“She was.  Yes.”

Also, this. I got the sense last time that there was a risk of Noelle having bursts of violence, and that was why they kept her in the vault to begin with.

Hm, I suppose it does make sense that if the vault is built to keep Noelle in, it might also keep Crawler out.

Dinah tried to recall what she’d seen.  “Darkness.”

Even in a timeline where they survived? We don’t have time to bring in Grue, even if his power could help out, so are we going for some form of dark hiding spots? I wouldn’t think it’d be an escape tunnel, unless the chance of survival if they leave has drastically increased.

“You mentioned that earlier, pet.”

“We were in the dark, and it smelled like meat.  It smelled like sweat, too.  And we were all pressed in close together.”

Hm, yeah, looks like it. Meat, so some form of pantry for the base kitchen?

Sweat could be just from the amount of people in there, but I suppose some rooms in the base could naturally have that scent. Like the training area’s lockers, or the laundry room.

“Where?” Coil asked.

“There was a metal door in front of us.  Big.  The vault door downstairs.”

…they’re hiding with Noelle?

I suppose that would be a good opportunity for some more clues as to what’s going on with her.

Then again, if Crawler has a high chance of going for Noelle first, wouldn’t that be the worst hiding place, as long as he can tell where she is?

“I know, but pressuring her won’t help anything.”

A smell hit her.  Like the bitterest black chocolate in the world and overly strong coffee, the odor so thick on the air that she could taste it.  With her already upset stomach, it made her want to retch.

Would this be Crawler?

“Smells bad,” she said.  “Make the smell go away.”

“She’s conscious.  Is this smell a clue?” Trickster turned.

Hm, does he not smell it himself?

Is it all in her head? Maybe something from the future she looked into?

“No.  It’s a symptom,” Coil answered him, not turning to look at her or them.  “She may be dizzy, dazed, or she may rub or scratch at herself until she fully recovers.  Don’t let her scratch her corneas or rub herself until she bleeds.”

…

He’s done this before.

It’s unclear whether Dinah remembers him doing this before, whether she’s been through this at his command before, but he’s done it.

Enough that he’s so aware of the symptoms that it’s like he’d read up on it on some medical website.

How many alternate Dinahs did he do this to?

It was long moments before she could even piece together what the others were saying and doing.  She was lying down, her head on Sundancer’s lap, a cold cloth against her forehead.  Oliver leaned next to her, holding a bowl of cold water.

It is done.

I have a feeling Coil is going to be pressuring her to tell him about what she saw immediately, with no regard for her state.

“-running out of time!” Trickster shouted.

Ah, right, we don’t know how long she’s been out, and they do have limited time.

Coil stood just behind Trickster, arms folded, staring out over the railing, at his underground base. 

Considering tactics?

“Give her a moment,” Sundancer said.  “Whatever that was, it just knocked the poor kid out.”

“That deadline she gave us?  It’s here.  Now.”

Oh wow, she was out that long?

I mean, it can’t be quite there. If it was, there’d be a ~40% chance each of them were dead already, including Dinah. But chances are we don’t have much time before Crawler busts in.

But she did it, because as much as it would hurt, it would hurt more if she didn’t get her candy.  If Crawler got his hands on her, it wouldn’t hurt at all after those first few moments of pain, but that was bad too.  It meant dying.

Yeah, that ain’t ideal.

She focused hard on that scene, taking it from an image small and vague enough that it could have fit on the end of a pencil to something full size.  Her head exploded with pain.

How big is “full size” relative to the end of a pencil, though? For physical representations of images, that term could range all the way from an A5 sheet of paper to a full school board, or even bigger.

She caught fragmentary images as she felt herself double over and heave the contents of her stomach onto the metal catwalk and Sundancer’s legs and feet.

Whoops. Doubt Sundancer’s super happy about that. It’s better than dying, though.

Sundancer could have yelled, but she didn’t.  Instead, she fell to her knees and grabbed Dinah by the shoulders to steady her.

Sundancer is a good.

It was just in time, because Dinah felt fireworks erupt in her brain, felt her body go spastic.  Too much, too fast.  The image was overly sharp and detailed, overwhelming her senses, shredding all sense of time and present.

I suppose if she looks at a full section of timeline at once, that’s a bit like making her brain deal with interpreting a huge number of moments at once, instead of just the one present moment we deal with at a time. No wonder it gets fried.

(Well, technically the brain does attempt to predict the future to deal with delays such as the one between the eyes and the brain. I’m kind of including that in the present moment, I suppose.)

Let’s do this thing! The thing that I was doing, but then stopped doing, because I had done that thing for a while. That thing.

What was that thing again?

She had come close to experiencing it once, early on in her captivity.  Never again.  She would obey Coil in everything he asked for before she risked that happening again.

Hm. Except if she wants to go on without ever experiencing this… that means she’d need to take the drugs continuously her whole life.

“Okay,” she murmured.  She picked out one of the paths where they survived.  Even looking too closely at it made her head throb, like it was in a massive vise and someone had just cranked it a fraction tighter.

Ow.

So yeah, let’s see what you can do here.

Some of the possible worlds around the fringes of her consciousness disintegrated into a mess of disordered scenes as she pushed forward.  The scenes and images of the less possible worlds flew around her mind like razor-sharp leaves in a gale, cutting at everything they touched.  “It hurts.”

The more she zooms in on one branch, the more the others start beating on her…

Metaphorically, at the very least.

“Now, pet.  As quickly as you can.”

He didn’t know.  It was something else, like trying to will herself to stick a hot poker in her body, in her brain, knowing it would remain there and burn her for weeks before it cooled.

That does sound a little unpleasant. A teeny bit.