A/N: Sorry, this will be a long A/N, but there's lots of stuff to get out of the way.

WARNING: This story will be in a similar camp to Nothing Else Matters. If you don't know the story, you can find it on AO3 (link to my AO3 account can be found on my profile). This story is not a sequel, but there will be torture along the same lines. I am going to push my limits and probably yours, too. There will be blood, violence, and sex as torture. If that is not something you are up for, I kindly suggest you turn back now.

This story premise was given to me by jujuone23. Setup is sometime in the second half of the first season, and we're going with canon on this one.

If you're still reading, we are going to start off with a T-rating. It will be a little while before we get into the major whumpage, but at some point, the rating will turn to M...and eventually, it will turn MA. When it hits MA, that means the story will move to AO3 completely, since it will violate FFN rules. I'll post subsequently on both sites and will inform you when I can no longer update here.

I have been toying with the idea of doing an edited version for FFN so the story can continue here. I can't say how that will work because I have so much planned that full chapters may have to go missing. I guess we'll play it by ear, and I'll see what I can do. If you're in support of an edited version, kindly let me know. If there is a demand for it, I'll try really hard, I promise.

Information in this story will reference Games, especially with Zellar's background information. There is one small canon discrepancy in that episode; Zellar says that he aided NORPAC during the war up until its end, and then it's also mentioned that the UN brought him to trial. The problem with that is the UN dissolved early on into the start of the war, so I'm throwing out the fact the UN brought him to trial and saying it was NORPAC instead. The show had many different writers, and I'm guessing they didn't pay too much attention to other episodes, causing the discrepancy. I just wanted to clear that one up.

Because I am juggling a few projects (seriously, when am I not?), updates may be a tad slower initially. It might be wise for you to get your follows in now if this is a story you want to read.

WARNING: This story uses some real science in how to extract fatal poisons from every day sources. Please, please, please do not try this at home, as it can be dangerous. If you fail to heed this warning, I accept no responsibility. Thank you.

Finally, I'd like to thank Che, Vici, and Jenny for their brainstorming help/encouragement.

Disclaimer: SeaQuest DSV and its characters are not my creation. They are the creation of Rockne S. O'Bannon as a 1990's television series. This work of fanfiction is for entertainment purposes only and is not for financial gain. I am just borrowing the characters for a bit and promise to return them unharmed and in their original condition, maybe just a bit happier.

Chapter 1

Saharan Desert Prison; Tibesti Mountains; Aouzou, Chad, Africa

Isolation had never bothered him. They'd expected it to break him, but he'd refused to let that happen. Isolation was his good friend, his solace. Isolation also meant he had lots of time to think, to plan.

In his small prison cell, Dr. Rubin Zellar had marked the days on the wall. The guards thought he was marking the days since he'd been there, but that wasn't the case. He was marking how long it had been since he'd last been betrayed. He pointed to each line and silently counted in his head. One hundred and ninety days. That meant it had been just over six months since it had happened, but it was still fresh in his mind as if it were yesterday. That was the day his little plan to take over the seaQuest had been ruined.

Perhaps it had been rather ambitious on his part. He'd chastised himself many times over his months in the Sahara for the mistakes he'd made then. His plan hadn't been foolproof, and it was possible he'd known it even then. He'd just been so hellbent on making the UEO acknowledge him once again that nothing else mattered. He'd gotten sloppy, and that had been his downfall. Of course, it hadn't been the first time he'd fallen from glory.

During World War III, he'd been a hot commodity. His skills were revered, respected; every government wanted their hands on the great Dr. Rubin Zellar, but he'd pledged his alliance to the United Nations. After the UN dissolved, his loyalty had belonged to the NORPAC confederation. He'd done their bidding, and he gave them a substantial lead in the war. The idiots could have won, too, but instead, they'd drawn up a peace treaty.

Honestly, Zellar felt he could have lived with that, though. He'd always been drawn to chaos, but before his rise to fame, he'd been a regular, run-of-the-mill scientist. Order and monotony had been his life before the war, and he'd often mused what it would be like to go back to that. With time, he'd guessed he could learn to love it again. All he had asked was that NORPAC agreed to fund his post-war research. He'd thought it was the least they could do after everything, but they'd disagreed.

Instead, they'd wanted him to go far away, wanted to pretend as though he'd never existed. He'd become an embarrassment, an unfortunate reminder of what bloodthirsty heathens they'd been just before their peace treaty was signed. And to prove it, they'd destroyed all his files, tried to wipe him out for good.

Zellar had little choice but to leave, and while he'd tried to acclimate back into normal society, he'd found his name and reputation preceded him, even with his files being wiped clean. That couldn't erase what he'd done during the war, couldn't erase his existence from memories. His name had become synonymous with monster rather than hero, and no one wanted to be associated with him, even in a job situation. His expertise had meant absolutely nothing to them. They'd judged him on his past actions, and he couldn't seem to convince anyone otherwise.

Still, he'd been tenacious. He'd always tried to make due with what he'd had, so he'd resigned to independent work, even though no one would fund his research. With NORPAC's shunning, they'd taken both his dignity and his identity. He'd funded his research as best he could, and when these funds were low, he'd shelve such projects until money came in again. It had been a grueling process, but he'd survived.

A lesser man might have decided to end it then and there, but that would have been the coward's way...and Dr. Rubin Zellar was no coward. He'd also never liked being ignored. He'd never agreed to fade away into the shadows the way NORPAC had intended. They'd found a new plaything: a submarine known as the seaQuest, and they'd forgotten all about him.

Oh, but he wouldn't go down that easily. It had taken him a bit of time, but he'd found a way to make sure NORPAC remembered him. They'd branded him a monster, so a monster he was. He'd done unspeakable and deplorable things to innocent human beings, but was that any different to what NORPAC had done to him? He didn't think so.

He'd never tried to evade capture. He'd hoped for it, lived for it, really. He'd wanted them to see his face, to remember the man they'd depended on all those years before. And during his trial, they'd been forced to look him in the eye, if only for a second. They'd been forced to remember him.

Though he hadn't factored the ice prison into his plan, he had to smile about it now. They'd created it just for him and him alone. No other criminal had been there, and none would since, due to his little stunt six months prior. The UEO, which was created out of NORPAC during his time in the cryochamber, decided even ice prisons had its flaws and that desert prisons were a much safer option.

Zellar snorted at that thought. Seemed to him that reinstating the death penalty might be a safer option, but he had no say in law making. Not that he relished the thought of death, but isolation and seclusion weren't going to stop him. Even he knew his need for acknowledgment and revenge was too great. He'd refused to go away, much as his adversaries would have liked. The ice prison hadn't been able to hold him, and he vowed the desert prison would be no different. His love for games had never died; he just had to adjust the rules to fit his current situation.

Once his mind had thawed out from the cryostasis, his need for revenge quickly returned. Isolation couldn't stop his mind from scheming. Implementing these schemes, however, had posed a problem. Supplies in the prison had been limited, but that had pushed him to be more creative, inventive. They'd taken the lab away from the biochemist, but they couldn't take the biochemist away from the lab. He'd been well aware of just how many viruses, bacteria, and fungi lurked in his prison cell alone. Unfortunately, harvesting the little beauties required equipment he hadn't access to. And even if he'd had that equipment, getting them to the right people would be even more of a challenge.

He'd realized he needed help. He wasn't the only inmate in the desert prison; nine other terrorists had been sentenced to live out their lives there, but he'd never seen them, so they were out. No, in the desert prison, isolation was key, at least to those who'd created it. The prisoners were kept apart from one another and were only allowed contact with guards, guards who had to pass numerous psychological assessments in order to be in contact with such ruthless madmen and women. The guards were supposed to be stern, unfeeling. They were supposed to limit their interactions with the inmates. Zellar quickly found that 'supposed to be' were operative words, and it fit very nicely into his plan.

He grinned as his cell door opened. Speak of the devil, one of the 'stern and unfeeling' guards entered his cell with a tray of food.

"Your dinner, Dr. Zellar." The young prison guard set the tray on the table in the center of the room.

Zellar turned and flashed the young, dark-haired man a smile. "Why, thank you, Khalil." He and Officer Khalil Ahmad had formed a friendship over his months there. Well, it may have been a somewhat reluctant friendship on Officer Ahmad's part, but Zellar's charm won him over, and they quickly found they'd shared a bond: a strong dislike for the UEO, which was somewhat ironic, seeing as the prison was a UEO body. Yet, it was this friendship that had aided him in his quest for vengeance. He moved to sit at the table and motioned to the empty chair across from him.

Khalil shook his head, however. "I can't today, Doctor." He lowered his voice. "We've, um...had a casualty. Saif."

Zellar wasn't terribly surprised. Saif Chibale had been involved in the bombings of American Embassies in several countries. The man had been at large for years until he was finally caught. Isolation had broken him. "I see," he replied with pursed lips. "Hung himself, did he?"

The young man nodded quietly.

"What a shame," Zellar replied with a click of his tongue.

"I suppose..."

The older man nodded. "Well, I won't keep you long, but, but before you go..." He cleared his throat. "I'd heard the supply copter came around earlier. Did you handle that little matter with the pilot?"

"Yes, sir."

He smiled. "Perhaps you can come by later then?"

"I'll see what I can do. Enjoy your dinner." And with that, the young man was gone.

Zellar folded his hands in front of him and turned his attention to his meal, but as he ate, his thoughts drifted back to the UEO.

The UEO was still working hard to clear the past blemishes of its predecessors; because of that, they'd implemented some new policies that they'd felt would make the world a better place, at least as far as its territories were concerned. That meant that every single underwater colony, as well as its hospitals, prisons, and the like, were under a strict government-regulated diet. While colonies and land-based entities produced their own food under these government sanctions, fresh water was another matter entirely. Some larger, wealthier colonies had their own desalination plants. However, most colonies were not as well off and consisted of less than a thousand people each. Therefore, the UEO felt it cheaper to send shipments of bottled water, which were produced at its own plants.

Most land-based entities had their own running water, but in the case of a desert prison where water was scarce, bottled water was brought in via helicopter. Zellar had made a point to become aware of the UEO and its methods early on into his stay at the prison. And it wasn't long before he'd decided that poisoning the water supply was his ticket out of prison. How had been the question; that had taken him a little while to figure out.

That, however, had been where his knowledge of naturally-occurring poisons came into play. Many foods, such as apples, peaches, and apricots contained small amounts of cyanide in their seeds. Unfortunately, he hadn't seen any of those fruits in ages. Chad was a poorer nation, and its cuisine varied slightly; on the outside, he could have easily gotten his hands on such delicacies, but prisoners weren't allowed those luxuries. Oh, that hadn't meant he was defeated. One food had proven to be quite beneficial to his plan: cassava. Cassava was a major staple of Chadian cuisine, since it was a drought-tolerant vegetable; it also happened to be chock full of cyanide, and it needed special preparation by soaking it in water for days to leech out the poison for human consumption.

A bushel full of cassava and three months later, and Zellar had created enough cyanide to unleash his plan.

The next step had been figuring out just how to poison the water. A little help from Khalil, and their order was increased to double the amount needed for the month. Together, the two had poisoned each bottle with around a teaspoon of cyanide and resealed them. The next time the supply helicopter came around, they'd informed the pilot of the mistake, and he'd taken the extra water shipment to be distributed to its rightful place.

It had been rather fun finding out just where its rightful place had been: the Mizuchi Colony, located in the Indo-Asian waters near Japan. It was a small farming community of around five hundred people; since the poisoning, that number had been significantly reduced to around one hundred fifty people. The moment people in the colony had started getting sick, they'd sent out a distress call. The elderly and the very young had died off first.

Though the colony had its own medical team, they'd found themselves baffled. Since cyanide poisoning had been the very last thing on their minds, it had taken them a while to figure out just what had happened. Because they hadn't been getting the proper treatment, even more colony members had died. Zellar had known they'd figure it out at some point, though. Once the survivors had been given the antidote, they'd recovered rather quickly.

When investigators caught wind that cyanide had been the culprit, all hell had broken loose. They'd combed the colony for evidence, and when they'd discovered the problem was the water, their suspicious turned to the plants. They had been torn from top to bottom in hopes of finding who or what caused this, questioned every employee. Though they hadn't said it outright, Zellar had known they came up dry. They'd announced it was an act of terrorism, though the culprit's name was never released. There was a reason for that; they had no clue who did it, and he intended to keep it that way...at least until the right moment. He had to commend them on at least sending out warnings, informing people to be on high alert. It wouldn't help them in the long-run, but they had no way of knowing that yet.

He'd waited a month before he'd done it all over again; this time around, it had happened at St. Francis of Paola colony in Mediterranean waters near Spain; it housed around seven hundred people. The moment members had shown signs of illness, they'd known what they were dealing with, but over two hundred people died because of it.

He finished his meal and pushed his tray aside. The Mediterranean attack had happened two days ago, and a new one was in the works. His plan was finally starting to come together, and he was delighted. Part of him wanted to jump ahead, but he beat it down. He had a formula and deviating from it would mean imminent disaster. He just had to bide his time, for this was a new game, and he was the one making all the rules.

-uǝʌᴉƃɹoɟun-

seaQuest, East Pacific Ocean, near the Galapagos Islands

Dr. Kristin Westphalen entered the mess hall a bit later than she'd intended. It wasn't that she'd slept late; she'd been up at the crack of dawn, but she'd been busy. Since the seaQuest was near the Galapagos for a few days, she'd taken the opportunity to collect some samples from the coral reefs. She'd intended to have all her research finished and all samples classified by the end of the week, so that meant some extra long hours for her and a few lucky lab assistants. She'd been working hard at it all morning, but by 1000 hours, she was absolutely starving, so she decided to leave the specimens in her assistants' capable hands and take a little break.

She was somewhat surprised to find the mess hall wasn't completely empty. Kristin got herself a cup of coffee and a breakfast sandwich and sat down at her usual table. At the adjacent table to her right, Lieutenants O'Neill and Phillips were involved in a rather intriguing conversation, and as she ate, she couldn't help overhearing them.

"Did you hear about that other colony attack?" Dalton asked.

Tim's brow furrowed. "The one in Japan? That's old news."

"No, there was another just the other day in the Mediterranean. Have you been living under a rock?"

"No," Tim replied with a sheepish grin, "but I've been working some extra long shifts. I've been a little out of the loop, I guess."

The other man nodded. "I'd say; it's been all over the Internex. Cyanide in the water, just like the last one. A lot of people died."

Kristin sighed. During the first attack, the seaQuest had been busy with the rescue of Dr. Scott Keller and his team. Two days prior, they'd said goodbye to the Fagins, and Nathan was still arguing with the brass about those four extra torpedoes. Later that same day, however, she'd received a call from a former colleague of hers from her research university, Dr. Layla Acosta. Layla happened to be the head physician of the St. Francis of Paola colony, and she'd wanted her opinion on the fastest and most-effective treatment for cyanide poisoning.

Luckily, Layla was not among the sick, but her assistant physicians were. Kristin had almost wished the seaQuest had been close enough to the Mediterranean so that she could have helped her. All she could do, though, was give her best answer. Though new technologies had been used for the treatment of chemical poisoning, these were still experimental. Therefore, she felt the best way to treat such an illness was the old standby: an inhaled dose of amyl nitrite, an intravenous round of sodium nitrite, and an intravenous round of sodium thiosulfate.

Though the antidotes were given as quickly as possible, some people had still died. Kristin hadn't had a chance to call Layla since, but she'd made a mental note to call her and find out just how she was doing. Being the doctor in the midst of a mass illness like that was never easy...

"Do they think it's related to the one near Japan?"

Tim's question pulled Kristin back to the conversation between the two lieutenants.

"Investigators aren't sure," Dalton replied with a shrug. "The hits seem completely random, but authorities claim them to be acts of terrorism. The question is from who." He paused to take a bite of his scrambled eggs. "It could be anyone, but you know what it reminds me of..." He trailed off and contorted his face and hands the same way he'd done when Dr. Zellar was on board.

Kristin shuddered slightly, the mention of Zellar making her blood run cold. She shook her head.

Tim laughed softly. "I doubt it's Dr. Zellar. If he'd escaped, that would be all over the news. Besides, his chemical weapons of choice were usually anthrax or ricin. Cyanide seems a little too pedestrian for him."

"You're forgetting that those are just the ones authorities could identify. He used unknown toxins as well, which is the very reason why..."

Tim cleared his throat and nodded his head towards the doctor.

Dalton followed his gaze and cast Kristin a sympathetic glance. "Um, sorry, Doc. I didn't see..." He sighed. "I didn't say it was him. I just said it reminded me of him." He turned back to Tim. "I mean, come on. When was the last time a chemical attack like this happened? One where this many people died?"

Kristin instantly felt sick. Even after Rubin Zellar was caught, others had fallen in his footsteps with chemical attacks, but they were on a much smaller scale. The last time this many had died had been when he was at large.

"Zellar," Tim replied, "but I still don't think..." He shook his head. "Two attacks on small underwater colonies doesn't mean this will be a repeat occurrence. Besides, didn't you say it was a problem with the water? This wouldn't be the first time people have gotten sick from commercially bottled water."

"Sure, from waterborne viruses, bacteria," Dalton pointed out. "But this is something entirely different. Isn't that right, Doc?"

Having lost her appetite, she stood and promptly deposited the rest of her breakfast into the trash. "I really wouldn't..." She trailed off, not in the mood to finish the conversation. She shook her head. "I am sorry, but I don't have time to discuss this. I have so much work to do. Maybe I could take a raincheck?"

"Sure thing," Phillips replied. "We need to be on the bridge shortly anyway." He paused. "I'm sorry if our conversation made you feel a little uncomfortable. Considering what happened..."

She waved a hand. "Nothing to be sorry for at all, Lieutenant. It's not as though Dr. Zellar could be behind the attacks after all. He's locked up safe and sound." She frowned upon hearing the nervous crack in her own voice, and she cleared her throat to cover it up. "Well, I really must get back to my work. Please excuse me."

When she arrived in medbay, she made a bee-line for her office and shut the door behind her. Her heart was racing and her breath was coming in short pants; she was in the midst of a small panic attack all because of a silly conversation. Well, silly wasn't quite the word, but damn Lieutenant Phillips for even bringing up that bastard's name. If he hadn't-

A knock at the door caused her to jump, interrupting her train of thought. She shut her eyes tightly and took a few deep breaths before calling, "It's open."

The door handle turned and Lucas poked his head in. "Uh, Doc?"

"Oh, Lucas... Come in, please."

He stepped inside and shut the door behind him. "Sorry to disturb you. I'd called your name when I saw you come back from breakfast, but you must not have heard me..."

She bit her bottom lip. "I'm sorry about that. I guess I was just...lost in my own world. But I promise you have my full attention now. What did you need?"

He flashed her a shy smile. "Well, it's just I finished entering the data files you'd given me. I spoke to the rest of the team while you were away, but they don't have any new files ready yet, so I wanted to know what else you wanted me to do. "

"Oh... Um, well..." She sighed. She honestly didn't have anything else for Lucas to do at the moment, but she felt guilty for sending him away this early in the day. But then a flash of inspiration suddenly hit her. Maybe Lucas could help ease her mind. "Is there a way you could check to see if an inmate is still in prison?"

A brow rose. "Why would you ask such a-"

She raised a hand. "I know it might not make much sense, but... Lucas, you know about the colony attacks, yes?"

"Well, sure. I don't think I know anyone who hasn't heard about them."

She nodded. "It's just that... Lieutenant Phillips mentioned that they're similar to what Dr. Zellar had done, and of course, I can't think of anything else. What if...what if he's right? "

"Whoa, Doc... Don't you think if Zellar had broken out of prison, we'd know it?"

She ran a hand through her hair. "Logically, I know that, but... Could you check, please? I think I need something to ease my mind. I...I can't stop thinking about it now, and-"

He placed his hands on her shoulders. "Doc, it's okay. I understand. You forget who you're asking. I can find anything on the Internex." He gave her another one of his famous smiles. "It'll be cake."

"Thank you," she said with a sigh of relief.

He eyed her carefully. "Are you okay?"

"I'm sure I will be. I'm just letting my imagination run away with me," she replied. "Besides, I think these attacks have everyone a little on edge, myself included."

He nodded. "Well, I'm sure they'll figure out who did it soon enough. Doesn't mean it'll happen again." He inched towards the door. "I'll get started on searching right away. Shouldn't take me more than ten minutes."

"Thank you, Lucas."

As soon as he shut the door again, she sighed heavily. Worrying wasn't going to help her get any work done, so she did her best to push the Zellar thoughts aside and went back to help the others with the reef classifications.

-uǝʌᴉƃɹoɟun-

Fifteen minutes later, she felt a tap on her shoulder and turned to see Lucas again. She excused herself and they moved to the other side of the room.

"You can stop worrying," he told her. "Zellar is still behind bars."

She smiled. "I appreciate you humoring me. I feel...a little silly now."

"Hey, don't worry about it. I get it. But this hopefully puts your mind at ease now." He paused. "Um, did you have anything else for me?"

"Unfortunately, no...unless you'd like to help with the reef classifications. Keep in mind, it's not as exciting as it might seem, though..."

"Sure. I mean, it sounds...fun, actually."

"Well, if you're sure..." She brought him to the table where various specimens of corals, algae, and the like were in small sample aquariums. "First, you-"

But her words were cut off by Lieutenant O'Neill's voice over the PA. "All senior staff report to the ward room. I repeat, all senior staff report to the ward room."

"Oh, dear," Kristin muttered. "Well, guess that means the classifications will have to wait."

"We'll keep working on them, Doctor," said Sarah, one of her assistants.

She gave a nod as she and Lucas left the lab.

-uǝʌᴉƃɹoɟun-

"Ladies and gentlemen, we've received a distress call from Mamaqucha colony. Cyanide poisoning," Nathan told them from the head of the room. "Mamaqucha is a mining colony of just under eight hundred people."

Kristin's heart dropped. Not another one...

"Obviously, they're in need of medical treatment; their own med team is down for the count..." He turned to Kristin. "I know you're in the midst of an important project, but..."

"It can wait," she replied. "I'll start organizing a team immediately."

Nathan nodded. "The CDC has been informed, and they're sending out medical reserves as we speak, but we're the closest boat. Anyone who would be willing to volunteer, however, would be appreciated. We need to assume the entire colony could be sick."

As the others spoke, Kristin's mind wandered. They could potentially be dealing with eight hundred patients. Even with the CDC on their way, it could be hours. They obviously didn't have enough medicine to treat them all.

"...and they still don't have a clue as to who's behind this. I say we should be trying to figure that one out," Ben said.

"I assure you that an investigation is under way, Mr. Krieg," Nathan replied. "But for now, that's not our job. Our job is to help those sick people and let the others handle the rest. Understood?"

He nodded reluctantly.

"Great. Dismissed. Let's get to work."

As Kristin started out the door, Nathan caught her arm.

"I'm just letting you know I'm volunteering my services for when we arrive."

She smiled softly. "Thanks for that. I must admit, I'm...I'm not even sure we're going to be able to handle much when we do get there."

He gave her shoulder a squeeze. "I know," he told her, "but we won't be alone in this. It might not be as bad as you think."

"I hope you're right," she replied as she hurried off to medbay to organize her team.