Welcome to Gaia! ::

because this kept running through my brain for three days:

“This next one’s a real case,” said the older guard to the younger as they pushed the meal cart along a corridor. “Gotta go in the cell with ‘er while she eats, in case she tries to steal the silverware.”
“She’s not screaming like the others,” said the young guard. “I s’pose that’s good, right?”
The older man laughed. “Dunno– Mum always said, it’s the quiet ones you’ve got to watch out for. Don’t touch the door,” he warned, “it’s electrified. She attacked a guard through the bars and got out at least once before . . .”
“At least once?” the young guard repeated.
“Her file’s sealed,” explained the older guard as he began punching a series of codes on a wrist-control.
The young guard peered cautiously into the cell, careful not to touch the door. A woman stood at the far side, staring out the window, murmuring nonsense in a husky voice:
“ . . . the mosses, the red and yellow mosses,
They hurt me.
I grow older . . .”
“Teatime, Doctor Song,” called the older guard as he swung the door open.
“Already?” said the woman, tuning to the door. “Good.”
“You hungry?” asked the guard.
“No. I’m just glad it’s nearly night. Another day over.”
Now the young guard could see her face: broad, handsome features in a pale, wan face. Tears were rolling silently down her cheeks, mirroring the rain on the window.
“Sorry,” said the woman, brushing the water from her face. “You’re new here? Afraid you’ve caught me on one of my bad days. Usually I put up a better front. And of course it doesn’t help that they’ve taken my make-up . . .”
“You know why they had to do that,” said the older guard.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I had no idea that poor boy would react so badly. The effects were supposed to be temporary.”
“He’s still on disability,” countered the older guard.
The young guard backed towards the door, just in case.
“I said I’m sorry,” said the woman, taking the lid off her meal tray and beginning to push food into piles with a fork. “I had to get out. I had to see him.”
“Oh, I’m sure you did,” said the older guard condescendingly.
“And not for the reason you’re thinking, naughty boy!” she continued with a wink and a sudden smile. “We had work to do. I didn’t even get a snog off him . . . Here, this is all I want, take the rest back.”
“Watching your figure, Doctor Song?” teased the old guard.
“Go ahead and laugh,” she said, “You don’t have to compete with every young woman in history. I’m in here rotting away, and he’s out there being irresistible . . . Besides, I told you, I’m not hungry.”
“Who . . . who are you talking about?” the young guard asked.
Doctor Song turned her eyes on him. “Have you ever been in love?” she asked.
The young guard smiled shyly. “I’m married . . .”
“That’s not what I asked,” snapped Doctor Song. “I asked, have you ever been in love?”
“I love my wife,” the young guard protested.
“But have you ever loved so hard it ached?” she asked. “Have you ever been sick and heart-sore for love? Have you ever wanted someone so badly the desire is like a fire in your veins, and you think you might have to slit them open, if only you could get him to bleed out? Only you don’t, because that pain, that suffering, that exquisite torture is the only thing filling the emptiness inside you, the only thing that makes you feel alive?” She turned back to the window. “I’m sorry. This is one of my bad days. Usually I’m not like this. It’s just . . . sometimes . . . the rain on the wall reminds me of the times we made love, and I fear that it will never happen again. I am growing older, and he is growing younger, and someday I shall look at him and he will look at me and see nothing, nothing at all . . .”
“Doctor Song, we can’t stay here all night,” the old guard put in. “Eat your tea, there’s a girl.”
“Leave it,” she said, still staring out the window.
“I can’t leave the utensils,” said the old guard. “You’d have to eat with your hands.”
“They keep taking things from me,” she said, almost to herself, “and soon I shall be locked in here naked, waiting for my God to descend upon me in a shower of gold, like Perseus’ mother . . . And I shall hold a strange, wild thing to my breast . . . Lord of the Sihdhe, Prince of the Seelie Court . . .” She laughed oddly. “Now I’m mixing my mythology. Perseus was Greek, the Sihdhe were Irish. But everyone has stories about strange men who would vanish away your womenfolk. I was an archaeologist once,” she said, turning to the young guard, who started at the intensity of her stare. “I had a career. I had a life. And then I met a man, a man like no other. And everything changed.”
“Yes, Doctor Song,” said the old guard. “I’ll take the utensils and leave you your tea. Don’t be trying any funny business with the dishes, though, or you’ll have to start scraping your meals up off the top of the cart.”

After the cell was locked, the young guard turned to his colleague and whistled. “That’s some lonely woman in there . . .”
“And she’s gonna stay that way, if you value your life,” said the old guard.
“What’s she in here for?”
The old guard shrugged. “Don’t really know. Like I said, her file’s sealed. Still, folks do talk.”
“What do they say?”
“That she killed her lover.”

Thanks, guys. xd