Chinese Zodiac

by Tiglet24

Jack makes a friend in China. Fox owns everything 24.

Kunming, Yunnan. China

As he lay there, Jack dimly registered that something had changed, but despite concentrating hard, his exhausted mind refused to tell him what it was. It seemed that the synapses that his brain relied on for reasoned thought had staged a mutiny. He grimly noted that those responsible for conveying pain signals were all still working perfectly, so he decided he may as well take stock.

His head hurt. It thumped behind his eyes like a pile driver. Dehydration most likely. He couldn't actually remember being hit on the head; not recently anyway. But then he'd been unconscious so often, how could he possibly know? Okay, so his head hurt but he could put up with it. Mouth? His tongue was swollen and sore, much like his throat. Typical symptoms of severe, prolonged dehydration. On to his neck; that was sore too. He'd been lying on the floor of the truck for how many days? Not surprising then. Okay, move on, shoulders? Yeah, they really hurt. But then having his hands tightly cuffed behind his back and tied to his shackled ankles, forcing his back to arch and unnaturally pulling his shoulders back would be the reason for that. Okay, next. Back? That was painful too and for the same reason as the shoulders. No more to be said, move on. Ribs? They were still sore. The way he was bound wasn't helping them, that was a given, but they didn't feel any worse than they had since the last beating. Hips? Bruised and aching from lying on the hard truck bed as it trundled over rough ground but no more. Good, what's next? Legs? They seemed okay. He probably wouldn't really know until he had to walk on them. Apart from his left knee of course. That was still inflamed and painful from where his guard had kicked it repeatedly a few weeks ago, but considering it was being strained by the way he was shackled, it actually felt a lot better than it should do. When the guard's kicks had finally popped it out of its socket and he'd returned, satisfied, to his sentry duty, Jack had then had to fight a hard battle just to stay conscious. After several deep breaths, he'd managed to slide it back into place by pushing the side of his knee steadily against the cell wall. And when it had finally slipped back in, the relief had been instant, the furnace of pain immediately reducing to a smoldering ache. So, legs were better than expected. His feet felt okay too from what he could tell, his ankles hurt from the overly tight restraints but they would heal relatively quickly once the shackles were removed.

Jack felt a sense of satisfaction with his inventory, despite how exhausting it had been to go through it all. He hadn't bothered trying to evaluate his hands, he couldn't feel them anymore. Not too bad overall though. He was certain he'd been much worse than this before now.

It was the harsh slam of the truck door generating a slight rocking of the floor beneath him that finally made him aware that the truck had stopped moving. Not only that, the throb of the engine had been replaced with silence. He had no idea how long they'd been travelling for. He vaguely recalled water being forced between his lips at least four times but he'd drifted in and out of consciousness from pain and dehydration so many times that he'd become completely disorientated.

Before he'd barely finished processing the thought, rough hands grabbed at his shackled ankles, hauling his body across the floor of the truck. His long tunic did nothing to protect him, the changshan rode up his torso as he was dragged across the rough wooden planks, exposing his flesh to let multiple splinters catch on his ribs, embedding themselves into his skin. Everywhere else on his flank burned with the friction from the dirty floor and just in time, he managed to catch the cry and quash it in his throat before it escaped; he only risked being knocked out for his trouble if he made a sound and he wanted to see his new home.

The hands let go of his ankles and a flurry of guttural, harsh syllables sounded from behind him, swiftly followed by a wave of relief passing over him as his ankle shackles were removed. His legs instantly straightened, along with his back, the stress now eased. Much better. Immediately, hands gripped at his upper arm, pulling him off the back of the truck. He lurched and another hand reached out, firmly gripping his other arm, giving him a violent shake by way of a reprimand for losing his footing. Jack felt himself be handed off to two different sets of arms. That didn't normally happen. Usually they went with him so they could settle him into his new cell by way of a beating. The rumble of the truck's engine started, breaking the silence, followed by the usual clatters and clangs that signaled the truck was moving and his new captors were waiting for it to go. That didn't normally happen either. Jack kept his head bowed. He was happy to let them think it was a mark of obeisance. The reality was that his eyes had been deprived of daylight for such extended periods of time they needed longer to adjust and the outside was too bright after the perpetual gloom of the enclosed truck. Not only that, everything including opening his eyes had been really hard work recently. When he'd reluctantly opened them, squinting slightly against the too bright daylight, he'd blinked several times to make sure his eyes weren't playing tricks. Bright green grass and a small blue flower, right next to his bare foot. Hypnotized by the vibrant colors, Jack didn't respond to the tug on his arm and was shaken gently for his momentary defiance. He instinctively tensed, waiting for the inevitable blow but to his surprise, all that came was another gentle tug. He stumbled forwards in the expected direction, still mesmerized by the greenness of the grass beneath his feet. As he took another step, he wished he could relish in its softness but the soles of his feet were numb, still recovering from Cheng's last round of abuse.

Letting himself be led along, he dragged his eyes away from the grass immediately underfoot and turned his head to focus on what had been in his peripheral vision. More grass. And flowers. They looked exquisite. He hadn't seen anything like them for months, he'd pretty much been confined in a monochrome world ever since his capture. Concrete, greying bamboo, dust and mud had been the only things underfoot that he could recall. Apart from snow and water of course. He couldn't forget them. The snow had been stunning to look at. The purity and cleanliness of it after living only in perpetual filth had been breath-taking but it wasn't color; not like this. And anyway, Cheng had made sure the freezing temperatures and the snow had caused Jack so much misery, it was harder now to appreciate its beauty.

He risked turning his head to see what was on his other side where more flowers and colors came into view. Swathes of yellows, oranges and reds. Pockets of blues, purples and lilacs. All nestling in a spectrum of greens. Jack felt his eyes prickle with emotion as he gazed at the varied hues, there wouldn't be any tears though. He was way too dehydrated for his body to throw out any moisture. He dismissed the thought as his focus moved elsewhere. Not only was it getting progressively harder to move his legs, his head was becoming unnaturally heavy too and he was really starting to struggle; the effort required to walk along and look around was demanding more energy than his body could give. He didn't delay any longer, he determinedly raised his head further, turning it to look up ahead and scan his eyes across his new home. He expected immediate punishment but when none came, he went back to the beginning and scrutinized everything with care. It was a two story, modern building and surprisingly, it seemed it had plenty of windows. It was also smaller than he'd expected and certainly in better condition than some of the other facilities he'd ended up in. Unable to keep supporting the weight of his head any longer, his chin collapsed onto his chest, the last of his energy reserves exhausted, but he'd seen what he'd wanted to.

He felt the grip on his arms tighten and realized he was now being all but carried, his feet barely touching the lush grass that he could only imagine was still softly caressing him underfoot. He closed his eyes, the blur of the emerald green grass too much to process and he let himself be hauled onwards, into the shade of the building. Only when he sensed the bodies on either side of him stop did he force his eyes open again. No grass, a rug. It looked soft, his feet had nestled into it. Jack puzzled over the floor covering and got nowhere so he focused what little energy he had and raised his head to meet the gaze of a man seated on the other side of a desk. Jack pushed down on his legs, determined to stand up straight to look him defiantly in the eye but they couldn't support him and they buckled, the arms on either side catching him before he could fall to the floor. A look of disgust appeared on the face of his host and he gave a sharp order. Jack was immediately carried out, finding the experience more humiliating than any beating.

Somewhere along the way, his eyes had closed again and he couldn't muster the energy to reopen them. He felt himself being lowered to the floor and then heard the sound of fabric being torn. It took a moment for him to realize that it was his own filthy prison uniform being cut away. This was bad. Certainly nothing good ever came of having his uniform removed. He double checked his memory banks, just in case: Cheng ordering his changshan be stripped away before his arms were hoisted over his head, bearing all his weight for untold hours. Being tethered to an A frame so he could be flogged until consciousness was no longer attainable, even with Cheng's usually foolproof methods of rousing him. Hanging in the interrogation room, soaking wet, while Cheng smilingly held electrodes against his chest and flicked a switch. Restrained and stretched out on a bench, naked, completely immobilized with bindings of razor wire that cut into his skin when he fought against them. Which he had, frequently. Cheng had particularly enjoyed those sessions. Jack, less so. Guards staking him out, spread-eagled in the dust, left to shiver through interminable nights and sweat through the days while the sun relentlessly blazed down. Left there until his skin was covered in giant distended blisters from the exposure. No, nothing ever good.

He felt his changshan slip from his arms and as he was rolled over, he heard a whimper as his now naked back hit the cold floor. He felt his pants being unceremoniously pulled from his legs before he was hoisted against a wall by his under arms. Hands rubbed steadily at his skin, all of his welts, sores and lesions stinging in protest and he heard a moan. The hands didn't stop, they were joined by more. Everywhere. On his arms, in his unkempt beard and hair, on his chest and back, around his genitals and buttocks and down his legs. Constantly moving, constantly finding new sources of pain.

The water hitting his chest made him gasp. It was comfortingly warm, which was an oddity in itself, but it rained down heavily, a plethora of needles stabbing at his tender flesh. He felt some land on his lip and he moved his head a fraction, hoping to catch some on his swollen tongue. Soap? He didn't care. It was at least wet. A hand gripped his chin, moving his mouth away from the source of soapy water. Jack didn't fight against it, content to suck on the few drops of foamy moisture he had managed to draw into his mouth. The hands roamed over his body again and he heard another moan. Finally recognizing the source, he chastised himself.

The water stopped as suddenly as it had begun and he felt hands reach under his arms again. He was pulled across the wet slippery tiles and something settled across his shoulders. Hands rubbed and patted, causing more nerve endings to scream in protest but this time he was in control and made no noise. The cold tiles under his hips and shoulder were now assailing his body, plundering the small amount of warmth the water had imparted and his shoulders twitched in defense. A shudder rippled down him, causing bruised, injured muscles to contract. Before he could curb the agonizing spasms, his whole body discharged a series of violent shivers. He was so cold. He hated the cold now. Cheng had made sure of that. Hands pulled him upright, releasing him from the embrace of the tiles. Without warning, the hands lifted him higher, away from the cold floor and Jack's head filled with a heady mix of relief and fear.

The arms that held him were strong and comforting and they released him far too soon. Jack's mind was pulled away from the loss of the gentle human contact by the feel of the cushioned softness of whatever was now underneath him. Low voices and kind hands that pulled on the shackles still binding his arms were comforting too. The same hands lifted his shoulders, guiding his freed arms to his sides, making his shoulders shriek in protest only for them to be consoled by the cool softness beneath them as they were lowered back down. A hand teased its way in behind his head, raising it away from the pillow and something was pushed gently against his lips. He tried to open his eyes but they were still too heavy. His lips were nudged again and he felt a wetness ripple across his lower lip. Instinctively, his swollen tongue reached out to the moisture and another ripple against his lip was the reward. The hand continued to support his head as he became bolder, opening his mouth and letting the cool fluid tumble into it. 'Too ambitious.' The flow of water immediately dribbled from his bottom lip and landed in a stream on his chest before running off down his flank.

The hand lowered his head back to the softness and the liquid was taken away. Jack cursed inwardly at his own impetuousness. He felt a cool impression on his chest. At first it countered the smoldering nerve endings but quickly it turned to red-hot. More refreshing dabs at his chest, then more fire. Jack's brain reminded him, nothing good ever came of losing his uniform. His hands were starting to come back to life, their release making the numbness turn into rabid pain, each excruciating fingertip wanting to explode, over and over with each pulse. He heard more whimpers and he forced his agonized hands to try and defend against the flurry of fires being lit all over his body but they were pushed back. Hands held his left arm down and a rub of cold on his forearm was superimposed with a sharp sting.

Two days later

Jack lay on his side, completely still, luxuriating in the softness of the bed as he slowly came back to full consciousness. His eyes drifted to the window. All he could see was sky. He was too low down, or the window was too high. It didn't really matter which, he was fine with just sky. He heard the click of a door behind him and he immediately tensed. A figure came into view, making his way up the side of the bed to tower above him. An arm reached out and Jack instinctively cowered, needing to protect his head from the impending blow. The gentle, reassuring hand that rested on his shoulder encouraged him to cautiously release his head from his hands and he looked up fearfully, still expecting retribution. The man's kind eyes flicked upwards to the empty bag above Jack's head that connected to his IV and he held up a full bag of clear liquid. Jack gave a short nod, understanding the man's intentions and although he remained tense, he didn't physically cower again as the drip was changed.

The broad, densely muscled man was physically intimidating and Jack flinched as the orderly reached down to pull back the cotton sheet and blanket around Jack's shoulders. He stood with his arms out to his sides, palms flat, indicating that Jack should do the same and smiled encouragingly. Jack wasn't reassured by the smile, he'd learnt long ago that his captors often found joy and happiness in things that caused him utter misery, and he tentatively rolled, obeying the order, wincing as the wounds on his back were compressed against the mattress. Jack's eyes widened as he saw for the first time, the collection of clean, fresh dressings and bandages that covered his bruised body. The orderly changed a few of the dressings and Jack lay still, occasionally having to fight the urge to pull away or cry out when the worst injuries were being tended. His right arm was picked up and delicately inspected, a gentle finger running over the papery scar tissue covering his forearm and hand before being placed carefully back on the bed. Jack knew it was too late for that particular injury to receive any healing treatment. Finally, he was guided onto his front to allow access to the wounds on his back which were treated in the same gentle manner. Jack was wordlessly nudged back onto his side by the orderly and relieved to be left in peace, Jack closed his eyes.

The orderly soon returned, holding a bowl, and placing it on the nightstand, he gently turned Jack onto his back and lifted his shoulders, pulling him up the bed as if he weighed nothing. Jack felt the gentle resistance of a loose manacle around his left ankle and as a reflex he straightened his leg, which immediately reduced the tension. The bowl was brought up to his face and tipped gently against his lips causing the hot liquid to steam against his skin. He shrank back, blinking and immediately suspicious. The orderly held the bowl, patiently letting him find his own pace and Jack tried again, the smell of the hot soup now tantalizing his nostrils. He took a cautious sip and let the flavorsome liquid roll around his mouth before swallowing. The contact of the soup on his raw throat caused him to wince, but after blinking it away, he sipped again, his undernourished body demanding it. The orderly held the bowl, gently tipping it until Jack eventually pushed back against the hand supporting his head. He couldn't eat anymore, he'd only managed half a bowl, but it was more nourishment than he'd probably had in weeks and his body was starting to rebel. Jack was gently lowered into the bed, back on his left side and with his stomach comfortably full, he felt the pull of sleep as from somewhere behind him, the door clicked softly as it closed.

Three days later

Jack stared at the square of blue sky and tried to decide whether he was grateful for the medical treatment he'd received. There was a part of him that almost resented it. Not that he wanted to die, although living wasn't exactly a happy prospect either because patching him up had really only achieved one thing. Prolonging the agony being inflicted by Cheng. There had only been two occasions when he had willingly opened his mind to the prospect of death. The first had been immediately after his capture, when he'd appealed to Cheng's better nature; however Cheng's chilling assurance that he was far too valuable to kill had made it very clear that a mercy killing was not on the agenda and never would be. Jack hadn't ever asked again.

The second time had been in the winter just gone and he'd been in northern China for about two months. He wasn't entirely sure exactly where he'd been held, although he'd heard somebody mention Harbin once. He knew the winters there were harsh with temperatures going down to around forty degrees below. Fortunately, he'd been further south during January, the month he knew was the coldest, but with the northern snow season lasting up to six months, Cheng had opted to use the prolonged weather to try and break him. What Cheng hadn't counted on was Jack's appreciation of the varying climates across China and the fact that he knew what Cheng was doing, he'd used the elements to increase Jack's suffering several times already.

Cheng had been taunting him, trying to convince him that he was losing his mind by repeatedly telling him that although it might have felt like he'd been suffering the cold for months, it was in fact only days and the winter wouldn't ever end. Although Jack had been impervious to the taunts, the very real fear that he would succumb to frostbite in his unheated cell had weighed heavily on him and one time, after surrendering to the relative sanctuary of unconsciousness due to a particularly savage beating, he'd come round after being thrown into the snow outside. He'd lain there, cold, bloodied and torn and reality had swamped him in stomach-churning, depressing waves. This was his life now. His liberty had gone and there was no way he was ever getting it back. Cheng would make sure of it. And at that point, he'd given up.

The fact that he'd made no move to even try to get up had seemed to eventually worry Cheng sufficiently as it wasn't too long before he'd ordered his men to bring him inside. They'd grabbed him and thrown him into his cell, literally, and he'd landed like a rag doll in the corner. Some rough sacking had been thrown on top of him for warmth and he'd eventually found the strength to curl himself into a miserable ball. Cheng had left him, alone and shivering for the next few days to recover from the beating, they knew he could only take so much. He didn't know how long he'd been lying in the snow before coming round, so every day after, he'd carefully checked his extremities for any signs of necrosis and every day he hadn't found any had steeled Jack's resolve and given his will to endure some time to heal.

Every few months he'd been moved. A new camp, a new climate, new ways to make his life miserable. Scorching, dry heat in the daytime accompanied by nights that froze the water in his cell. Freezing daytime temperatures that dropped even further at night, the cold settling within him like a parasite. Humidity that left him exhausted, sodden and stinking. Mild weather, a relief after the humid conditions of the last camp but then the rain had come, lots of rain. And Cheng had known how to exploit every single element.

He wondered for the fifth, or was it the sixth time, whether his new home would be where he would die. That this would be where it would end. His treatment so far suggested it wouldn't be but he'd learnt long ago not to take anything for granted. This was probably just another attempt by Cheng to toy with his mind. To let him get some strength back and then pound him back down even further to try and break him. He wondered where Cheng was, he hadn't seen him since he'd left the last camp and he hoped Cheng's superiors were starting to get frustrated with his lack of progress. He let his mind daydream for a while; Cheng being punished for not getting the information they wanted or Cheng being frustrated by Jack's refusal to speak and finally giving up trying, and then he spoiled his own fantasy by considering it was just as likely that Cheng was on vacation. He didn't know how long exactly he'd been held captive, all he knew was that it had been months, he'd already seen two Chinese winters. He'd long ago given up all hope of rescue and knew he couldn't survive indefinitely, despite Cheng's promises. They'd kill him eventually. They'd been careful not to go too far until Cheng's temper had got in the way. As time went on, Cheng was getting more and more frustrated and Jack was getting more and more stubborn. He didn't want to give in but in reality, the best he could hope for was that the choice would be taken away from him, that without warning, his body would finally surrender and discharge itself of its visceral will to live.

The click of the door alerted him to Tao's presence. Yesterday, during Jack's second day of consciousness, the orderly had told him his name with a hesitant smile and Jack had stared back at him before giving a short nod to acknowledge his understanding. If he started to speak to Tao in appreciation of his kindness it could open the floodgates and once he started, maybe he wouldn't stop. He couldn't risk that happening, so ruefully he'd remained silent. Fortunately, Tao didn't seem to be at all perturbed by Jack's continuing silence, but then he was the complete opposite to Cheng in almost every other way too. He came up to the bed and showed Jack a bowl and some dressings before putting them down on a side table and pulling back the sheet to reveal Jack's heavily bandaged feet.

Jack swallowed, this was going to be unpleasant. Tao gently unraveled the bandages to reveal the raw, redness that covered much of the newly exposed skin. Although they were painful, pleasingly they certainly looked much better than they had the last time Jack had seen them. Immersion foot syndrome, better known as trench foot, was something he'd been taught about in basic training and after standing in filthy water for days it had been an inevitable outcome. The first signs had been the blanched and wrinkled soles, they'd been soon followed by the padding of his toes and the sides of his feet. The large watery blisters had then started to appear and they had very quickly opened and steadily peeled away as he'd been forced to walk on them. Tao smiled up at him from the other end of the bed, indicating that Jack should leave his feet uncovered to let the air get to them. Jack nodded and lay back exhausted, his energy level was still far lower than he needed it to be.

One week later

The dilemma was always the same, whether to swallow his pride by going down at the first impact or to retain some dignity by taking several blows and standing up to him. When he defiantly concealed any sign that the blows hurt him, Cheng would fly into a rage, often bestowing calculated, barbarous revenge.

Even knowing that, Jack couldn't ever bring himself to take the first option and this time was no different, Cheng's dark eyes now burned with fury. The baton crashed down on his shoulder and he slumped to his knees, exhaling only a quiet grunt as the blow made contact. Blood flowed steadily from his nose and mouth due to the pounding Cheng had already exacted. Cheng screamed at the guards and they grabbed at him from behind, yanking him to his feet by his cuffed hands and dragged him outside. It was the first time he'd seen any daylight for months, he hadn't been outside since he'd arrived and he greedily breathed in the fresh air, drawing it into his lungs, savoring it. Each time his bare feet slipped in the mud, one of the guards would strike him and several times, he'd fallen to the ground. It wasn't long before he was plastered in the foul smelling sludge.

Shoving him, the guards forced him backwards into a bamboo cage, his cuffed hands digging into his back as they pressed up against the side of the cage that had been proportioned so he was forced to stand. It was only when the cage door was closed, did he start to appreciate the full horror of Cheng's revenge. The door further restricted his movement, leaving him virtually unable to move his head or shoulders, or even draw a deep breath as the cage was so narrow. He watched as the guards walked away without even a backwards glance and in an attempt to control his rising panic, he studied the scene in front of him. Everything he could see was damp from the last bout of rain, the trees, the grey mud, the concrete wall and the dark tiles atop the windowless cell block that he currently called home.

It wasn't long before the storms came, accompanied by a drop in temperature of several degrees. Jack was defenseless against the rain that dripped from his sodden hair and coursed down his face before disappearing into the mud beneath his feet. He tilted his head back an inch which was as much as the bamboo cage would allow, letting the water drops run down into his mouth. It was a safe bet that Cheng wouldn't be providing room service and he needed to stay hydrated. The deluge slowly petered out just as dusk was falling and Jack shivered with cold along with the prospect of the long night ahead.

As it turned out, his problems started long before darkness came. Now the rains had stopped, the rats came out. He watched as they came scuttling out of the jungle, streams of them. Some were nearly thirty inches long, albeit including their tail. Jack forced himself to calm down, above all else, he couldn't afford to expend any energy unnecessarily. At least he knew where he was now. He must be close to the Malay Peninsula, somewhere in south west China. It certainly explained the monsoon climate and the rats. Sumatra bamboo rats were massive and Jack watched as dozens of them worked their way across the mud, gaining ground, getting steadily closer. It was only when they got so close that they fell out of his fixed eye line did the panic start to rise up again. Unable to move or protect his legs, it wasn't long before he felt the brush of a whisker followed by a tentative nibble at his calf. And not much time passed before the rats became less cautious and soon after, dozens were biting and scratching his lower limbs.

He woke with a start, a strangled cry erupting from his throat to find Tao looming over him, clutching his shoulder, relieved he'd finally managed to bring Jack back to wakeful consciousness. Jack wiped a shaky hand over his sweat-soaked face and tried to bring both his breathing and the rapid thumping in his chest under control. His twisted sheets were damp with his own perspiration and Tao looked down at him with a worried look. Jack fell back onto his pillow and closed his eyes. A gentle hand tapped his shoulder twice, Tao's signal that he would be back in just a moment and Jack heard the click of the door.

Jack let his mind drift back to his nightmare, hoping that if he processed it he could file it away and he wouldn't have to think about it anymore. Sometime during the night, the rain had started up again and had continued almost unabated until daybreak. The positive aspect was that the rats had all finally slunk away, back into the jungle and the incessant rain had kept them there. The misery though, had barely begun. By dawn, his leg muscles were quivering with exhaustion and the yard was covered in a thin film of water. The rain beating down all around him made the surface water dance and shimmer, straining his eyes to a bloodshot debility but he was scared to close them. He was so cold that his body was racked with constant shivers. Over the next three days, the rains were an almost constant companion and the water around him steadily deepened until he could feel his feet were entirely submerged. In fact Jack could only remember two occasions when the sun had shone. And those two times, the rain immediately after had been warm. Of course it hadn't stayed that way. But for those brief moments, Jack had taken himself away to another place, a place which had a warm shower and freedom, helping him to cope for a few hours more. Long before the end of the second night, Jack was drifting in and out of consciousness. His skin was chafed and sore from his sopping wet clothes, he couldn't feel his feet and his body was covered in wounds from where it had fallen against strategically placed, sharp protrusions of bamboo, his legs no longer able to support his weight.

Jack hadn't seen anybody since the guards had left him and already by the second day he had started to believe that he would die there, standing in his own filth. Just before sundown on the third day, that changed. The same two guards strode purposefully towards him, wading through the standing water and opening the cage door, they immediately stood back.

Once the door had been pulled clear, Jack had collapsed forward, his legs unable to carry him and he'd landed face first into the mix of rain, mud and his own excrement that was now swilling around outside the cage, displaced by the guards' arrival.

They had roughly plucked him from the water and dragged him to the interrogation room where he was hosed down with an icy blast of water and his shackles finally removed. His clothes were forcefully pulled off him and he was dragged wet and naked to his cell to be unceremoniously dropped to the ground. A subsequent kick to the left kidney had finally made Jack aware of a pair of polished shoes next to his head and he had raised his eyes to see Cheng's satisfied gaze upon him. Jack had lowered his eyes, sickened by the man who stood in front of him. Cheng had crouched down to meet his eyes once more and after getting the same result and seemingly misinterpreting it, had returned with the reward of a bowl of watery rice, some clothes and a blanket. He'd laid them all gently down next to Jack and left.

Jack's thoughts were interrupted when Tao returned with a bowl of water, a soft cloth and a small tub. Tao gently picked up his right leg and Jack watched as the blood that had leached from the side of his foot was gently wiped away. Tao dabbed some ointment onto the raw skin and as his foot was placed back down, Jack noticed a corresponding blood stain on the sheet. He'd thrashed about so much in his nightmare, a scab had been abraded by the friction of the bed clothes. Picking up the cloth, Tao rinsed it in the bowl before wringing it out and he soothingly wiped Jack's forehead and then proceeded to gently wash the rest of him. Jack focused his gaze on the square of blue sky and let himself drift away, ashamed he couldn't bring himself to say thank you for the compassion and kindness being shown him.

Jack felt the manacle on his ankle come loose but didn't react. Tao did this daily, religiously alternating legs to prevent atrophy of the tender, newly healed skin beneath it. Tao came back up the bed and scooped him up, one arm behind his back and another behind his knees. Jack tensed. This didn't normally happen and Tao must have felt it as he almost immediately made a hushing sound before turning round and placing Jack gently on the deep windowsill. The loose cuff on his ankle was attached to a down pipe with a sigh of apology. After frowning at the manacles for a moment, Tao grabbed the blanket from the bed and wrapped it around Jack's shoulders to form a barrier against the cool glass and Jack looked at him in bewilderment. Tao smiled widely, gestured at the window and turned away, busying himself, pulling the sheets off Jack's bed. Jack turned his head to look out of the window and to his surprise, the tended gardens he'd seen when he'd first arrived were below him, and he let his head fall gently against the glass as he stared, unblinking at the mass of color. Tao went back and forth, his arms full of bedclothes but didn't attempt to move Jack. In fact, Tao left him there while he helped Jack with his lunch and it was only when Jack's eyelids had started to droop, that Tao had swiftly loosened the manacle and gently carried him back to the freshly made bed.

Jack had felt the blush rise in his cheeks, he'd felt ridiculously foolish being plucked in and out of bed like a small child, although he realized he probably didn't weigh much more than one. Despite regaining some weight under Tao's expert care, he was still painfully thin.

Tao saw Jack's embarrassment and patted him gently on the shoulder before pointing to Jack's feet that were still healing, providing justification. The corners of Jack's mouth lifted a little and Tao beamed back, resting his hand on Jack's upper arm, his signal to say that he would be back later with food.

Five days later

Jack's forehead dripped with perspiration as he pushed himself to do another set of crunches. He hated feeling so weak, so the logical solution was to try and build his strength back up. The last time he'd felt able to do any form of workout had been long before his spell in the cage, months ago in fact and his muscles had all but wasted away from inactivity and food deprivation. Tao had been diligently feeding him nutritionally dense food, little and often and Jack felt better than he had for months. He lay back to catch his breath and took a long drink from the bamboo cup next to his bed. He rolled over and raised himself up onto his hands. He wobbled slightly as he lowered himself down for his first push up, the soft bed making the exercises all the more challenging. Jack managed only three before having to stop, his muscles on fire and his arms too racked with tremors from the effort to support him any longer. Jack rolled back and stared at the ceiling, breathing hard. He refused to do a comparison with how many he used to do before Cheng got to him, choosing to focus only on the positives. Last week, he hadn't done any, so this was a massive improvement and the thought made him smile.

The click of the door made him turn his head and Tao, seeing his sweat soaked face and high color, threw down whatever it was he'd been carrying and rushed over to his bed, worry showing on his face. Jack smiled at him and held his hand up, indicating for Tao to watch. It was the easiest way to alleviate his concern. Jack put his hands behind his head and sat up, then laying back down again, flipped himself over and pushed up off the bed. His arms trembled and more beads of perspiration appeared on his brow and he flopped down, exhausted. With effort he rolled himself back over and looked up. He saw Tao's right arm move, the hand bunching into a fist as he raised it and Jack was shocked that he had misread both the man and the situation to such an extent. The fist carried on up and Tao's left hand moved across his body and wrapped itself round the bicep of his raised right arm as a gesture of strength. He lowered his left arm and his right hand came forward with a waggling finger but the wide smile on his face showed his true feelings. Jack, now recovered from his momentary alarm, grinned back at him with relief and nodded.

Tao hurried back to the door and picked up the heap from the floor that he'd thrown down in a panic. He brought it over to Jack and then with a slight frown and shake of the head, put it on the window sill out of Jack's reach. He leant over, giving Jack a gentle double shoulder tap to signal he would be right back before he disappeared and Jack did some more crunches while he waited.

He didn't have to wait long, Tao came back, this time carrying a bowl which he set down next to the bamboo cup. He dipped his hand into the soapy water and pulled out a cloth which he squeezed out and offered to Jack. This was luxury indeed, he'd had a wash only yesterday and now he was being given the chance to do it himself. He gave Tao a brief grin, grabbed the cloth eagerly and started with his face and hands. Not for the first time, he wished there was a razor so he could shave off his infernal beard but he doubted that he would ever be trusted with a sharp implement.

Tao washed his back, but other than that, he didn't interfere and was happy to let Jack do everything himself, occasionally rinsing the cloth for him when Jack was down the other end of the bed washing his legs, his right foot still manacled to the bed. Finally, after carefully washing every inch of himself, Jack sat back satisfied. Tao hadn't harried him or snatched the cloth back and once more, Jack was touched by the man's consideration. He wondered what Tao had been told about him, or if he'd even been told anything about him at all.

Tao moved to the windowsill and after picking through the pile, turned and held out fresh clean clothes for Jack to see. Jack viewed them with mixed feelings. On the one hand, he couldn't wait to get out of bed. He was feeling so much better but on the other, it meant his time here was obviously at an end and his body gave an involuntary shudder as to what the future held. Tao helped him with his tunic, another changshan, this one a dark grey and then after Tao relocated the manacle to his wrist, the matching, long and loose fitting grey pants. He then produced another surprise. Soft cotton socks and canvas shoes. Jack gingerly put the socks on, being careful not to dislodge any of the newly formed scabs and then bit down as the shoes painfully compressed his swollen feet. Tao noticed the shoes were tight and immediately crouched down to gently remove them. Once accomplished, he pushed up from the floor and disappeared out the door, taking the shoes with him. Jack was disappointed, it had made a nice change to bare feet, although at least he still had the socks and he spent a moment looking down at the clean, soft cocoons on his feet. The click of the door opening made Jack look up and Tao hurried over with the pair of shoes in his hand. He crouched down, putting the shoes back on Jack's feet and Jack looked down at him in surprise. They no longer cut into his skin. Tao had made tiny little snips all over the shoes' uppers and the canvas gaped accordingly, granting Jack's inflamed feet a lot of extra room. Tao looked up at him with a shy smile, seeking confirmation that they no longer hurt and Jack smiled back at him, nodding. Despite the language barrier and Jack's self-imposed mutism, they communicated just fine.

Tao transferred the manacle from the bed to his own wrist and then guided Jack onto his feet. It was the first time he'd stood for over two weeks and he teetered, his legs unsteady. Tao held him firmly and Jack took a tentative step. Although it hadn't been an issue early on, the need for a bed pan was now a daily occurrence and he hoped that this meant it would soon be a thing of the past. He made it to the door and then his legs gave way. Without any judgement, Tao scooped him up and carried him back to bed transferring the manacle back to his ankle and affixing the other end to the bed rail. Even if he could, it meant that Jack wasn't going anywhere yet.

Ten days later

Jack had been progressively building up his strength and his stamina. Between them, he and Tao had established a good routine. Jack would fall asleep immediately after his evening meal and so usually he would wake early and do some simple exercises in his bed, crunches, dorsal raises and push-ups. Although Tao had initially made it clear he thought Jack should limit himself to only a warm up, just enough to loosen his muscles after a night's sleep, Jack would always end up pushing himself, keen to make progress. Tao would bring breakfast, steadfastly ignoring Jack's perspiring brow and trembling muscles, which Jack was grateful for. Tao would stay while Jack ate, sometimes they would even eat together. Jack would then have a wash and if the bed linen needed changing, Jack would sit at the window, still spellbound by the colorful flora outside. After Tao had taken the breakfast things away, he would come back, Jack would get dressed and he and Jack would go for a walk, manacled wrist to wrist. Nothing too strenuous, usually it consisted only of a bathroom break; although it was only a short walk down the hall, it was quite far enough. Back in his room, Tao would tether Jack to the bed by his arm rather than his ankle, allowing him to sit on the side of the bed and repeatedly stand for short periods of time in an effort to further build up his wasted leg muscles. By lunchtime, Jack was usually exhausted and Tao would often have to nudge him awake to eat. After lunch, Jack would always sleep, the morning's activities and the food made him drowsy; his body still a long way away from being fully repaired. Late afternoon would herald another walk, this time a bathroom break and a walk to the end of the corridor and back.

That afternoon, when they got to the end of the corridor, Tao kept going. Jack was happy enough with the development, he was keen to see anything beyond the now all too familiar corridor and was always willing to push himself, so he pressed on, still gamely fully supporting his own weight, Tao's arm around him only there as a precaution.

Tao stopped by a door and knocked. The Chinese that emanated from the other side of the door was obviously an invitation to enter, as Tao immediately pushed the door open, guiding Jack in. Jack found himself standing back on the same soft rug in front of the desk that he'd been carried to when he'd first arrived and with the same man facing him. Jack berated himself, he'd let his guard down and he was ill-prepared for a hostile encounter.

'Mr. Bauer, you certainly look much better than the last time I saw you.'

The man's English was perfect, no hint of a Chinese accent and he pre-empted Jack's surprise.

'I was educated in Europe Mr. Bauer, however I am Chinese by birth. My name is Zhuang Wu and I am in charge of this facility. I cannot say I agree with the treatment you have received during your incarceration in my country, however it is outside the realm of my jurisdiction. I have my orders.'

Jack lowered his head as he thought back to their last meeting, maybe the look of disgust he'd seen wasn't at Jack's inability to stand but more the fact that Cheng had made it so he couldn't. It was as close to an apology for Cheng's treatment as he was ever likely to get and a weight lifted from his shoulders. He was sorely tempted to ask what those orders were but bit his curiosity down.

'You were brought here rather than any other medical facility because you are categorized as a highly dangerous prisoner. I understand that you are responsible for the death of Koo Yin, the Chinese Consul in Los Angeles.'

Jack made no move to acknowledge or deny the statement and focused instead on willing his legs to carry on supporting him. They were now trembling uncontrollably and he felt Tao's grip tighten around him.

Despite Jack's complete lack of response so far, Wu continued. 'Tao has given me weekly progress reports. I am pleased to note that he has given a satisfactory report of your behavior and that you have not given any indication that you are a risk to any of my staff. I trust that will continue?'

Jack lifted his head and looking Wu squarely in the eye, he nodded firmly. To his chagrin, Jack's legs suddenly buckled beneath him and only Tao's quick reactions prevented him from ending up in an ungainly, humiliating heap on the floor. Wu carried on as if nothing had happened. 'Tao informs me that although you are recovering well, you still need more time to recuperate."

Jack struggling to stand upright, pushed down on his legs with the result that they crumpled, still unable to bear his weight and Tao quickly slung Jack's unshackled hand over his shoulder.

'It would appear that his assessment is wholly accurate,' said Wu drily.

Jack, despite maintaining an impassive expression was furious with himself although he couldn't quite rationalize why. It was Cheng Zhi who had left him in this pathetic state and then it hit him; that was exactly the problem. He vowed to work even harder from now on to recover his strength and stamina. Cheng would not beat him down. Wu spoke abruptly to Tao in Chinese and Tao nodded as he replied.

Assuming the conversation was over and trying desperately not to pass out, Jack had let his head fall forward and his eyes close, temporarily giving in to the exhaustion that had pervaded his spirit, so he was somewhat surprised when Wu said softly, 'I admire your courage and tenacity Mr. Bauer, however as I'm sure you can understand, in the circumstances, I can't ever say I approve of your lack of co-operation.'

Jack forced his eyes open and slowly lifted his head. With a steel will, he locked his knees, thereby giving his legs no choice, forcing them into supporting him and then raised his hands, level with his chest, pressing them together. He bowed his head respectfully and received a nod in return.

1 day later

The day had started much like all the recent ones before it. Jack had woken naturally and completed his exercises, making a mental note of how many push-ups, dorsal raises and crunches he had managed before eating his breakfast. Jack was just about ready to get dressed when Tao came into the room carrying a set of leg irons and Jack's heart had thumped in his chest. He wasn't as strong as he'd wanted to be before being back in Cheng's clutches but he'd already been here for over a month, what was he expecting, summer camp? After the conversation with Wu yesterday, Jack had naively interpreted Wu's statement to mean he was going to be here for a little longer. He was furious with himself, he'd let his guard down and become complacent. Wu had not given him any assurances that he had more time, merely an observation that he needed it. Tao, sensing Jack's change of mood gave him a reassuring smile as he transferred the manacle to Jack's arm. He waited for Jack to put his pants on and had crouched to shackle his legs, giving another reassuring smile as he'd pushed himself up. Jack had given him a small resigned smile back. At least the chain between the ankle cuffs was long enough that he could actually take steps, even if only small ones. He'd be able to walk himself out and look Cheng in the eye. Tao had attached the other end of the manacle round Jack's wrist to his own arm and he slowly led Jack to the bathroom and once Jack had finished, he helped support Jack's weight as he led him out. Once outside, Jack didn't move from the door, he spent his time glancing around, looking out for Cheng or his guards. Tao gently tugged on the manacle chain but Jack didn't move, he didn't want to be in the open as he wouldn't be able to protect himself there. On the soft grass, anybody could creep up on him and down him with one blow so he resisted Tao's invitation to move further out into the garden, preferring to stay close to the wall of the building where he could see anybody approaching. The tugs became more persistent and more frequent and Tao maintained a puzzled look, obviously not understanding why Jack didn't want to take a last opportunity to enjoy the garden but still Jack stood firm. It wasn't long before Jack's legs started to tremble and he found himself almost wishing that Cheng would come soon.

Tao picked him up and carried him over to a flower bed where he plucked a flower and shoved it under Jack's nose before waving a hand expansively around him.

Jack hadn't really been able to appreciate the flowers while he waited for his transport and he certainly hadn't appreciated being picked up and carried around like a toy dog while they waited for Cheng. He couldn't afford to show any weaknesses, Cheng would always exploit them and he had remained tense and cautious. Tao had waited patiently while Jack stood on his feeble, shaking legs, gazing blankly at the flowerbeds in between listening out for the sounds of the truck, periodically glancing around him, tense shouldered, half expecting Cheng to leap out from nowhere wielding a baton.

Tao tugged on the chain and nodded towards the building. Jack immediately followed, wondering why Cheng hadn't arrived yet. When Tao started to guide him back towards his room, Jack realized there had obviously been some sort of delay and that maybe Cheng wouldn't be coming today after all. The relief flowed through him and his legs chose that exact moment to buckle. Tao caught him, immediately picked him up, and carried him back to his room.

The following morning, Jack had woken to find Tao sitting in a chair beside him, a set of leg irons resting on his knee. This was certainly a change of routine and Jack mentally shifted, reverting to inner resolve and measured defiance, his own brand of self-preservation that had so far seen him through all of Cheng's maltreatment. Giving Tao the briefest of nods, his face impassive, he began his exercises, starting with crunches. Tao firmly tapped him on the leg and shook his head, ordering Jack to stop. Jack immediately rolled over to do press ups instead, which had the advantage of blocking Tao from his field of vision. He was finding it difficult to maintain his attitude with the man who had shown him nothing but compassion since he'd been here but being shipped out days before he'd expected it meant he had no choice but to prepare himself. He'd got too damned comfortable. Tao got up and gently pressed down between Jack's shoulder blades, pinning him to the bed. Jack didn't resist, there was no point and he lay there, completely still, waiting for Tao to remove his hand. As soon as he felt the gentle pressure had been released, Tao's hand moved to his shoulder and pulled on it, gently insisting that he roll onto his back.

Jack rolled over and stared at the ceiling. Laying there quietly, he closed his eyes, shutting everything out, his psychological defenses now fully armed, even against Tao. Tao rested his hand on Jack's upper arm, signaling that he would be back with breakfast and he heard the gentle click of the door closing. He wondered whether Cheng had given orders to stall his physical recovery; while he was weak he was vulnerable but if there was nobody physically stopping him, Jack decided he would continue to work on his stamina whenever he could. He'd already managed to more than double the number of push-ups and crunches since the first day he'd tried but knew he needed to improve. Intent on continuing with his work out, he twisted onto his front and moved onto dorsal raises. He hadn't been told he couldn't do them.

On a push up, Jack heard the door opening and firm hands grasped his shoulders with much more pressure than had been applied before and pushed him down. Jack's instincts kicked in and he resisted for a heartbeat, to yield too soon was not an acceptable option, but then he sank down into the bed, trying to fight was impossible. It wasn't a fight he could win and there was always a risk that there would be consequences, that his defiance would result in some payback, the hands that had pushed him down hadn't been exactly gentle; he may as well avoid the risk of a beating if he could, although no doubt Cheng would make up for it later. Tao pulled on his shoulder, rolling him over onto his back. Tao looked disappointedly at Jack and he glared back at him, defiance blazing from his eyes. Tao shook his head, a look of frustrated sadness now overshadowing the disappointment. Jack didn't try and fight at all, Tao was physically much bigger and as he had ably demonstrated on a number of occasions by the way he'd picked up Jack as if he weighed nothing, Tao was strong and Jack wasn't. He was still incredibly weak and could do nothing. He also didn't want to fight Tao, he hadn't been vindictive or used any unnecessary force. Jack saw the bowl in Tao's hand, he'd come back with Jack's breakfast and putting the food in front of him, Tao went and sat down. Jack swallowed his pride and completely ignoring Tao, ate hungrily. He couldn't afford to miss any meals, he was still significantly underweight and needed every available calorie if he was going to ever properly physically recover. Tao waited until Jack had eaten the last spoonful and then immediately whipped away the bowl, which confused Jack even more until he dropped Jack's clothes into his lap, Cheng was obviously on his way. Jack felt sick, the undigested food felt heavy in his stomach, clashing with the adrenalin that pumped through his veins and he kept his head down, refusing to look Tao in the eye. Tao swapped the manacle from his ankle to his wrist once Jack had put the changshan on and as soon as he had finished dressing, Tao locked the leg irons around Jack's ankles. Standing up quickly, he pulled on the manacle so Jack had no choice but to follow him. Tao led him to the bathroom for their routine pit stop and as soon as they were back in the corridor, he scooped Jack up in his arms and carried Jack, tense and miserable down to the exit into the garden. Cheng was obviously not to be kept waiting. As they approached the door, Jack started to struggle, fighting against the arms securely holding him, desperate not to be seen being carried by Cheng. Tao held onto him firmly but to Jack's relief, just inside the door, he lowered Jack to the ground and pulled gently on the chain around Jack's wrist, leading him out into the garden.

Jack initially held back as soon as they got outside, just as keen as he had been yesterday to stay close to the building but Tao insisted, jerking gently but repeatedly on the manacle and gently but firmly pushing Jack forward, forcing him to comply. He led them both to a grass lawn where he nudged Jack and then pointed to the ground. Jack, confused by this turn of events, lowered himself to the ground and finally regarded Tao as he crouched down and joined him. Tao then began to complete Jack's early morning exercise routine and after two press ups, holding the position, Tao looked across at him with a grin. Jack had been watching, astounded then had joined in alongside him feeling like a complete jerk. Tao had thought it would be nicer for him to do his exercises out here rather than inside and knew that Jack didn't have the stamina to do them twice. Tao was right on both counts.

Jack worked himself especially hard, punishing himself for his appalling behavior. Maybe Cheng wasn't going to get him quite yet after all. He did far more push-ups and crunches than he'd ever managed before and although he conceded it was easier on solid ground rather than on a soft mattress, he was pleased with his progress. He lay on his back drawing in great lungfuls of air and rolled his head towards Tao who lay next to him, apparently asleep. Jack stood up, careful not to pull on the chain around Tao's wrist and tried a squat thrust, but he couldn't stand back up again, his legs were too weak. He pushed off his heels onto his knees and rested a moment before trying again. After four attempts he managed it but it took a lot out of him and he lowered himself back down to rest his exhausted, shaky legs, content to sit on the ground next to Tao who opened half an eye, grinned and closed it again.

Jack finally looked around him to appreciate the gardens and he leant back on his elbows, soaking up the sunshine, the fresh air and the view, and despite the shackles on his ankles and wrist, he felt a sense of freedom for the first time since he'd arrived in Shanghai.

Jack had been outside for most of the morning, alternating between rest and exercise, and he could feel tiredness tugging at his eyelids, the gentle sunshine relaxing him, all thoughts of Cheng, at least temporarily, banished. Despite giving the impression that he'd been asleep the entire time, Tao had obviously noticed too as he stood up, gesturing to Jack to do the same. Jack struggled to get to his feet, his muscles spent. Tao with a wicked grin, his eyes shining with humor, bent down and scooped Jack up off the grass and carried him back to his room. Jack gave him a wry, sheepish smile back. Their communication system and concord were both back on track

Four weeks later

Jack lay back and ran his free hand over the grass, letting the blades run through his fingers. With the sun's gentle warmth kissing his skin, he felt relaxed, despite Wu having told him earlier that he would be returned to Cheng's custody in a week's time. It had been an inevitable consequence of his improving health, so Jack hadn't been surprised and was appreciative that he'd been told in advance so he had time to mentally prepare himself. That morning he'd had his first proper hot shower since being in China, well apart from the two brief ones he'd had in the cage. He grimaced and pushed the memory away, not wanting his thoughts filled with anything unpleasant. The nightmares did that often enough when he was sleeping, he was determined that the terrifying flashbacks wouldn't encroach when he was awake as well.

Tao had apparently seen his brief, wistful glance at the shower the day before when he'd taken Jack to the bathroom for a routine visit but had given no indication and had seemingly sought permission before offering anything he may not be able to deliver. Earlier, when Jack had been in his office, Wu had enquired whether he had enjoyed his shower and Jack, maintaining his self-prescribed silence had initially nodded in reply then, as he'd stood there, reliving the feeling of the hot water on his clean skin, the recollection had produced a smile of gratitude.

Jack had been able to stand in Wu's office independently and it was also the first time he'd been sufficiently aware of his surroundings to notice the calendar atop Wu's desk. Although it was possible that it was a prop to disarm or disorientate him, he couldn't see any logic of doing so, no visible calendar would have been a far more effective tactic. Jack had been shocked to realize that he had been in China for just over sixteen months. It had given him mental strength, knowing that he had resisted Cheng for that long and although Wu's announcement that he only had one more week here had caused his heart to sink, it also meant that he was now considered physically strong enough to go back to Cheng, which had, perhaps perversely, also given him mental strength. Cheng couldn't do anything worse to him than had already been done. Cheng had very nearly killed him but here he was, still alive, still fighting, still maintaining his silence.

The shower that morning had been blissful, although not without a moment of blind panic. When Tao had taken him to the bathroom and had gestured to the shower, Jack had initially not understood and Tao had patiently gestured to Jack and back to the shower again then looked at him questioningly. Jack, now understanding had nodded enthusiastically at the offer and Tao had grinned from ear to ear. Tao had pointed to Jack's pants and then to the manacle on his wrist and Jack had understood he wanted to transfer it to his ankle so had shed his shoes and socks then dropped his pants and waited for Tao to re-cuff him before removing his changshan. Jack wasn't embarrassed by his nakedness. Tao had cared for him the entire time he'd been here, including when he'd been without clothes, confined to bed and anyway, Cheng had used it to try and humiliate him so many times, Jack was immune to it. He was rather perturbed though, when Tao had also started to undress. He'd tried to ignore it but when Tao, fully stripped, had moved towards him he'd started to panic. Tao seeing his unease, had roared with laughter. Jack hadn't relaxed fully until Tao visually explained, showing him that there was nowhere in the shower to secure the manacle and Tao didn't want wet clothes, so it was him as well or no shower. Jack had grinned sheepishly and Tao had playfully shoved his shoulder, pushing him under the running water.

Jack had lingered under the hot spray until his legs had finally tired. Tao had stayed a respectful distance away the entire time, patiently waiting. Occasionally Jack had turned to him to check he could stay longer and every time, Tao had given a reassuring smile that he could remain in the shower as long as he wanted.

One week later

Jack walked out of Wu's office unassisted, shackled at the ankles and wrists, Tao by his side. He was being transported out today and the truck to collect him was waiting outside. Tao guided him gently by his elbow towards the exit. Jack pulled up and Tao looked at him in surprise as Jack turned to him so they were face to face. He shuffled back and lowered himself to his knees, giving Tao a reverential bow. Even three weeks ago, Jack hadn't really appreciated how sick he had become after Cheng's grievous revenge. Or maybe he just hadn't been prepared to accept it. Either way, there was no doubt that the man stood in front of him had saved his life. When he had started to feel so much better, Jack had assumed that he was well again and it had been so far from the truth it was pitiful. He still had a way to go even now, he was still thin, weak and undernourished, however he now felt human and he didn't think Cheng would be overly concerned with any of his symptoms. Tao reached down to him to help him up and Jack saw there were tears in his eyes as he was led to the exit where two armed guards stood waiting. Tao ignored them and reaching out, shook Jack's hand and then pulled him into an embrace. They stepped back as they parted and smiled at each other, saying a silent goodbye. Turning away, Tao signed the paperwork that one of the guards had been clutching and looked sadly across at Jack. He was now formally transferred, back into Cheng's world of hell.

He was very quickly reminded of how things would be when he was given the impossible challenge of keeping up with the guards' swift pace while wearing leg irons. Within moments, Jack was on his knees, the guards' rifle butts both making brutal contact. One in his kidney and one on his collar bone. He was dragged back up and pushed forward and he immediately crashed to the ground. He pushed up and got to his knees before standing upright and as the guards walked towards him, he fell in between them. They'd now had their fun. Hopefully that would be enough for a while. He was manhandled round to the back of the truck and he stole a glance across at Tao who was still standing watching, a look of sadness mixed with horror at Jack's mistreatment. Jack gave him a grin and Tao lifted his right arm up at right angles to his body, his left hand wrapped around his bicep sending Jack a message to be strong. Jack ducked his head in acknowledgement before the guards hit him again for not climbing up. Yet another impossible task. After sending him crashing into the dirt, Jack defiantly stood back up, fully expecting them to do it again. They didn't disappoint. However, they were either bored of the game or anxious to be on their way as they didn't do it a third time. Instead, as soon as he got back on his feet, one pinned him to the side of the truck by his neck while the other pulled on Jack's hands. One hand was taken out of the cuff and then he was flipped round, still tightly held in place by the baton and his arms were forced behind his back to be re-cuffed. They hoisted him onto the back of the truck and then one of them climbed up, dragging him by his ankles to the far end of the truck bed and mercilessly hog-tied him. A well-aimed kick to the head guaranteed their prisoner would give them no trouble for at least a few hours and the truck set off with Jack unconscious in the back.

Jack came round, disorientated, his mouth and jaw on fire and the metallic taste of blood sour on his tongue. Ruefully he considered it had probably taken them less than five minutes to draw blood and he conducted a quick inventory. Apart from his mouth, the only bits of him that hurt were from the blows he'd received before he got on the truck so at least they hadn't carried on pounding into him after they'd knocked him out. Maybe they'd learnt their lesson. After he'd come out of the cage, he had been so weak and disorientated he hadn't made any attempt to eat the food Cheng had left for him, nor had he got dressed or even reached out for the blanket. Cheng had been thrown into another rage and had come into Jack's cell flanked by two guards and all three of them had rained blows down on him while forcing the food down his throat. It hadn't taken too long after they'd left for him to vomit it back up again, blood, bile and rice splattering onto the floor and him too weak to move so he'd ended up laying in it until the following day when Cheng had come in to his cell again.

Summoning guards, Cheng had ordered they dress him and they had also thrown a blanket over his ravaged body before leaving him, expecting that he would sleep it off. The next night he had developed a raging fever and by morning he was a shivering wreck while his body burned, perspiring at a rate he couldn't afford, not having had any fluids for over twenty four hours. He'd been dragged up from the floor and walked down to an interrogation room where Cheng had tortured him for a few hours, hoping that in a delirious state Jack would start to speak. It hadn't worked. Jack recalled himself defiantly refusing to speak, even if in his confused, feverish state, he hadn't quite known why. Sixteen months of not speaking had obviously now made it instinctive and Jack grinned, and then immediately winced as his injured mouth protested.

He'd been thrown back into his cell and left until the following day. By this time he was regularly slipping in and out of consciousness and he had lost all track of time. He remembered lying there in one brief moment of clarity thinking that if they let it carry on, his death was going to be senseless and unnecessary, all because they wanted information he wasn't prepared to give. It had saddened him, he'd never wanted to die for nothing, especially not in China but now it was seemingly out of his hands.

At some point Cheng had intervened and he'd been given an injection of something which had helped bring the fever down. They had come into his cell and two of them had held him down; pointless really as he hadn't even had the energy to move, let alone fight. They'd also forced a tube down his throat and increased his fluid levels. Over the next few days he hadn't improved all that much, he'd had multiple infections all over his body from wounds that had been allowed to fester in filth and his body was struggling to fight them. Cheng became increasingly frustrated; while Jack was so sick he couldn't be interrogated and Jack would hear him screaming at the guards. Jack was then pulled out of his cell and repeatedly force fed. Although he had been very sick at the time, he could remember it happening. It had been a wholly unpleasant experience, but it had registered with him that Cheng was keeping his promise. He wouldn't let him die. The regular food did improve things eventually and Jack was returned to his cell where he at least had sufficient energy to wrap himself in a blanket, feed himself the food that was thrown down on the floor next to him and to use the latrine.

Although he had felt lousy, there had been a silver lining. The gaps between interrogations had been lengthened enormously and when Cheng did try, Jack would usually pass out very quickly once they got started. He had no idea how many days had passed until he was dragged from his cell one last time and shoved onto the back of the truck so that Tao could save his life and now he was going back.

Ten days later

Jack leant back against the coarse, concrete wall of his cell and put his bowl down. Ever since he'd been here, he'd received two meals a day. Rice and vegetables in the morning and then rice, vegetables and meat in the evening. At first he'd been suspicious, thinking the meat may have been poisoned. He'd never been given meat by Cheng before, only when he'd been in Tao's care. First, he'd cautiously sniffed at it, then hesitantly nibbled at one of the chunks. He'd left it a while, waiting for any waves of nausea or stomach cramps to overcome him. When they hadn't, later that night he'd eaten two of the chunks and waited again. He'd followed the same pattern for the first few days and now he just ate it when it came, while it was fresh and warm. He had tried not to speculate about what animal it originated from and with a shudder, thought immediately of the giant Sumatra bamboo rats. He looked around his cell, his new home. It was rather nice, he kind of liked it. He smiled thinly to himself, everything was relative, and it was certainly a damned sight better than some he'd been thrown into. In the corner was a pile of straw, his bed. A little scratchy at first but he was used to it now, his blanket folded neatly beside it. In the opposite corner, high up was a small filthy window with bars across it which was the only real source of daylight. Unfortunately, the grime meant it was less daylight and more gloom but Jack conceded it was much better than no window at all. Directly below it was the latrine, which was the only real downside to his cell. The stench was pervasive and why he'd moved his bed so it was next to the air vent, or more accurately, the small hole at the bottom of the cell wall producing a drift of fresh air. It would probably be an icy draught in the winter but for now it suited him fine. He would fall asleep with his nose a few inches from it and come the winter, maybe he could plug it with straw if it got too cold.

Just up the wall from the latrine was a down pipe, providing water which he used for drinking and for washing. He also had a bucket which he would use to give himself a bracing shower on occasion, the water was icy cold but it was worth it just to feel clean. Not that he had soap, a plentiful supply of fresh water was luxury enough.

One puzzle was that he still hadn't seen Cheng. In fact he hadn't seen or heard anybody since he'd first arrived. He'd been unloaded from the truck whereupon the leg irons had been detached from the cuffs so he could walk under his own steam. He had been frog marched into the building and rammed up against the wall of the corridor, adjacent to the open door of his cell. A baton had been crushed viciously against his neck by way of a warning and then he'd been pushed through the cell door and shoved to the ground. He'd fortuitously managed to break his fall with his shoulder so he hadn't landed face first. A knee had immediately slammed into the small of his back, pinning him to the floor, the baton hard against his neck holding him in place. Another leg knelt across his calves, pinning his legs and he lay completely still as the leg irons and handcuffs were undone. First his legs were released, then the knee came off his back and then finally the baton was removed. A second later he'd heard the door slam shut behind him and only then had he moved.

After having had him as an almost constant companion for nearly two months, he'd missed the comforting presence of Tao when he'd first arrived which had been compounded by the nervous anticipation of Cheng coming through the door any minute, but it had faded after a couple of days and had turned into a general, aching loneliness. His meals were pushed through the small hatch in the bottom of his cell door by something akin to a croupier's rake so he hadn't seen the glimpse of even a finger-tip. He'd thought he would be used to solitude by now. He'd been locked in a cell for a year and a half but then on the other hand there had always been regular human contact, albeit with some down sides. Recovering from sessions with Cheng had also taken up a lot of his time. Now, he had absolutely nothing filling it. He had carefully started to build up a routine that kept him busy for part of the day, a mixture of exercise, rest, contemplation and housekeeping but it wasn't really helping to blot out the heavy shroud of isolation that was slowly crushing him.

The light coming through the air vent had taken on a dull edge. Dusk was coming, he was behind schedule. He stood up quickly, brushing off his pants and carried his bowl over to the hatch. He placed it with precision on the floor in front of it, making sure it was exactly central to the hatch before turning away. He then went over to his bed and quickly stripped off, folding his changshan and pants neatly and laying them next to his meticulously folded blanket. He moved to the center of his small cell and then started an intensive workout.

When Jack had completed his exercises, his muscles burned satisfactorily and he was perspiring heavily. He filled the bucket from the slow flowing down pipe and carried it away from the stinking latrine before dipping his hands in and sluicing his face. He rubbed his wet hands over his body, removing any ingrained dirt, occasionally scooping up more water with his hands. The water was numbingly cold, he wouldn't be able to do this in the winter, he'd make himself sick. He wondered whether the winter would be cold enough here to freeze water. Panic started to build as he considered what would happen if the downpipe froze and nobody came. He fought the feelings away, taking deep breaths until he'd pushed the fear down and regained control. He carried the bucket back over to the latrine and standing over it, poured it over his head, his shoulders and buttocks involuntarily clenching as the cold water rushed down him and into the open sewer below. He shuddered, an immediate, albeit secondary reaction to the cold water and placing the bucket down, squeezed the water from his long hair and beard and ran a hand down his arms and legs, wiping away the beads of moisture. He moved back from the latrine and kept moving, gently exercising until his body had naturally dried. Dusk was well advanced by this time and he stepped the two paces to his straw bed, plumping it slightly before dressing quickly. Wrapping himself in his blanket, he laid down with his nose close to the air vent, closed his eyes and fell quickly asleep.

Jack opened his eyes and saw a pair of small brown ones looking back at him. He jerked his head back in alarm and the eyes watched him warily. Jack shivered, not with cold, but at the rat that had come into his cell through the air vent, invading his space and was merely inches away from his nose. Compared to the Sumatra bamboo rats, that weeks later were still populating his nightmares, this one was tiny, but even so. Jack looked more closely, he looked really small, only a baby. The rat rubbed at his whiskers, his nose twitching inquisitively and he scurried along the wall until he reached the corner, where he stopped, raised himself on his haunches to see over the straw and stared back at Jack.

Jack decided the best thing he could do in the circumstances was to ignore the rodent, that way he could calm himself down and keep to his routine. He stood up and stretched, and he painstakingly folded his blanket with exact precision, the corners matching exactly before making the next fold. The first time he did it, he wasn't satisfied so he shook it out and did it again. It caused him to smile, he'd turned into his old Staff Sergeant. He'd always expected high standards and had been equally as demanding.

Once content with his folding, he stripped off his clothes, also folding them neatly and exercised until he'd worked up a satisfying sweat. Repeating the routine from the previous night, he dressed only once he was fully dry. Just as he was pulling his changshan on over his head, with impeccable timing, the hatch opened and the wooden rake dragged back his empty bowl, only to immediately push a full bowl in its place. Jack resisted the temptation to immediately grab at the bowl before it could be pulled back but even before he would have been able to cross the few feet to his cell door, the rake withdrew and the hatch immediately slammed shut leaving the bowl in place.

Picking up the bowl, Jack went back to his straw pile to eat. Before he sat down he caught sight of the rat, still sat in the corner and Jack moved up the other end of the straw before sitting down. With half an eye on the rat, Jack ate slowly, scooping up the bland, watery rice and vegetable mix with his fingers. The rat didn't move but Jack was convinced that the regular twitching of the nose was more vigorous and he subconsciously gripped his bowl more tightly. The rat put his front feet back on the ground and pattered a few steps before sniffing the air. It did it twice more and Jack tensed as the rodent came only a couple of feet from where Jack sat. The rat looked up at him and with a last, final nose twitch, scuttled a few inches closer before it disappeared through the air vent. Jack sank back against the wall, relief loosening his shoulders and he went back to his breakfast.

After eating every last morsel and tipping the bowl to drink the juice left in the bottom he got up and placed the bowl back in front of the hatch with the same preciseness that he had applied the night before. When Jack had done that he stood in the middle of his eight by seven foot cell. This was the worst time of day. Breakfast was eaten, exercises had been done, it was too soon to do any more and he had a whole day ahead of him with nothing to fill it with. He wished he knew some yoga, then he could meditate or something equally as mind engaging but instead settled on some mental agility and started to repeatedly subtract seven, starting from a thousand.

'Nine hundred and ninety-three, nine hundred and eighty-six…....twenty seven, twenty, thirteen, six,'

Jack sighed, that hadn't taken much time. Maybe he should have started from ten thousand. He looked around his cell and focused on the straw. It needed tidying so he crouched down and started to organize it, laying all the stalks side by side, Jack then placed them in length order, primarily because he couldn't really think of anything better to do . Completely absorbed in his task, it took him a long time to notice the baby rat had come back into his cell and was calmly watching him work.

He carried on his strategy of completely ignoring it and only once the straw was neatly stacked, short stalks through to long, did he push up from the floor and stretch. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the infernal rat was still there, unmoving, just watching. Jack moved over to the other side of the cell, careful to keep his distance from the overpowering smell rising up from the latrine's open drain and then slid down the wall, all the time suspiciously eyeing the rodent as he contemplated what to do. There wasn't really much he could do. 'Short from killing it,' and Jack didn't want to do that, rat or not. He could try and block the air vent, although the fresh air and the patch of light it cast on the floor were both things he valued highly. He decided to remember everything he could about rats, if nothing else it would kill some time.

It didn't take too long for Jack to realize he didn't know that much about them. Other than that they were rodents and that they had four toes on their front feet and five on their back. And that had something to do with the Chinese Zodiac that made the rat number one although he couldn't remember what.

The rat shuffled into the middle of the cell and with its whiskers pushed forward, cocked his head slightly to one side and regarded him.

Jack tried to ignore it and concentrated instead on trying to name all twelve animals in the Chinese Zodiac. 'Rat, Rabbit, Tiger, Dragon, Ox, Goat, Rooster, Dog.' Although he could remember eight of them, he couldn't recall the other four at all. He reviewed the list, any of the other animals would have been a damned sight more welcome in his cell, and useful, he conceded. Even a dragon. The perfect antidote to the cold and any frozen pipes. Yeah, even a dragon, a mythical creature, would be more use than a rat.

Ignoring it wasn't making the rat go away so Jack tried staring at it, letting his mind drift onto the Chinese zodiac and wondered what redeeming features meant the rat made it onto the list of twelve in the first place. He guessed intelligence was one, rats were known to be bright. Well, all apart from this one that just sat staring. After plentiful consideration, Jack couldn't think of one compliment that was applicable and the damned thing was still staring at him, seemingly unperturbed by Jack's glare. And on that basis, Jack reluctantly acknowledged that rats, or this particular rat at least, had tenacity.

Almost as soon as he'd thought it, the rat rubbed his nose with his front claws before scuttling back out the air vent. Just as the rat's tail disappeared out of sight, Jack heard the hatch slide up and watched as the wooden rake pulled his bowl away and push another one into his cell. It was early today, or was it? As usual, Jack had no idea of the time. His only timepiece was the cycle of day and night and he glanced at the light patch on the floor in front of the air vent for confirmation. It was longer than when he'd last looked, so the sun was definitely lower. He leant over and grabbed the bowl up and sniffed its contents. It was the same as yesterday and the day before that, and all the days before it. Jack sighed and scooped up a piece of meat and some rice. Chewing slowly, he studied the patch of light again. Had he really spent all day staring at a rat? Granted, he'd spent a long time tidying his bedding and he'd folded his blanket twice, but it seemed ridiculous. He'd know for sure soon enough. If it was the case, then he owed the rat something, it meant another day had passed. Jack found himself smiling as he chewed his next mouthful. One in the eye for Cheng and he'd come up with another characteristic of rats. They were strangely compelling.

Three days later

Jack was sat on the straw, his blanket round his shoulders, wondering if he'd made a mistake washing his changshan and how many more days it would take to dry. Although he'd been careful to keep it as clean as he possibly could, it had still been filthy and his pants were worse. Yesterday, he'd filled the bucket and spent the whole morning sluicing and scrubbing at it until the water took on a greyness as all the grime leached out of the tunic. When he was on his third bucketful and the water remained clear he'd poured the water away and spent a long time wringing out as much water from the fabric as he could. He'd then spun it round his head until his arms ached, letting centrifugal force do the work. He'd squeezed out the ends of the fabric where the last of the loose moisture had gathered and only then had he folded it, laying it across the top of the empty bucket to dry. He'd just felt it and glumly he'd decided it was just as damp as it had been when he'd first laid it out.

He heard a slight scratching noise and looked down to see the rat back again. Jack barely gave it a glance, it'd become such a frequent visitor, he scarcely even noticed it anymore. Jack looked again, there was something wrong with it. Its fur was stood up on end rather than lying flat and Jack could see its sides heaving as it rapidly breathed in and out. Its whiskers quivered briskly and it looked panicked. Jack watched it with disdain, it had probably annoyed a bigger rat outside somewhere. As he watched, he saw the rat stumble forwards and noticed his back leg was snarled in something, a very fine fiber which had tangled round the limb so it was doubled up. The rat bent its snout to it, trying to pull on it and it squealed in pain.

Jack sat there for a moment, he didn't like to see suffering. He'd been through enough of his own to relate and he swallowed. Rising above his well-founded aversion towards rats he tentatively reached out his hand. The rodent made no move towards him, it stayed still and let Jack's hand touch its back. The fur was soft and warm and Jack gently curled his fingers round the small, palpitating body and picked it up. He carefully turned the rat upside down and rested it on his forearm, its rear end resting in the cup of his hand with its tail trailing over his fingers and he had a closer look at the rat's leg. Sure enough, the fine thread was completely knotted up. He gently laid the rat down in his lap, nestled in between his thighs and started to slowly unpick it. Without any scissors it was a slow process and a couple of times he pulled on an end, eliciting a shriek of pain but even then, the rat made no aggressive moves to attack him, staying completely still. Each time, by way of apology, Jack gently stroked the rat's belly and then returned to untangling the fine cotton. Finally, the thread came loose and Jack would have sworn the rat gave a sigh of relief. Giving the rat's belly a final tickle, Jack gently picked it up and placed it back on the floor expecting it to scuttle off through the air vent. It stayed still and then lifted up its recently freed hind leg and attempted to scratch behind its ear. It struggled to reach its leg up and Jack automatically lowered his hand back down and rubbed his fingernail on the rat's neck. The rat moved its head slightly, relishing being scratched. Jack moved his finger and the rat followed it, seeking it out for more of the same and Jack smiled as he obligingly gently waggled his finger against the warm fur.

Eventually the rat had been scratched enough and it shifted away from Jack's finger, moving closer to Jack's leg. He tensed slightly as the rat placed its front feet on the side of his thigh, its nose scanning left and right and the tip of its snout twitching furiously. The rat determinedly scaled his thigh and meandered up his leg, settling in the crease at his hip and promptly curled up. Within moments, the steady rhythm of a tiny snore reached Jack's ears. He smiled, his opinion of rats or at least this one, softening as he looked down at it, surprised that it was showing such complete, blind trust in him.

Jack sat there patiently, his backside numb, not willing to move and disturb the small creature that was still curled up in his lap. Finally, the rat twitched, the first sign that it was waking up and then it yawned and stretched like a small child. Jack suddenly felt rather protective of it and put his hand down giving it a gentle stroke. The rat squirmed under his hand, rolling over onto his back, all four feet splayed and Jack rubbed its tummy with his fingertips. The rat gave out a series of long soft squeaks and Jack chuckled. He'd discovered two more characteristics. Rats could be incredibly persuasive and rather charming.

While the rat's feet were all spread out, Jack remembered what the significance of the different number of claws was. Jack recalled it all had its roots in Taoist thought and the rat was the only animal on the zodiac that had both an odd and even number of claws, meaning it had both yin and yang.

As Jack continued to tickle it, he decided the rat deserved a name and quickly decided on Tao which made him smile as he thought of the hospital orderly. The newly christened Tao seemed to approve as he climbed up Jack's blanket. Jack picked him off and lowered him to his lap, he wasn't quite ready to have Tao crawling all over him just yet.

Three weeks later

Jack lay on the straw, his head resting on his arms as he waited for Tao to finish. The tiny claws pressed against his scalp and Jack felt the persistent probing of Tao's snout in his hair. After some concentrated snuffling and some short squeaks, Jack heard the soft crunch as Tao chewed on another louse. He chuckled, he should stop Tao now, 'he'll get fat at this rate.' He picked the rat off his head, rolled over and dropped him gently onto his chest. Tao immediately bustled up to Jack's beard and started grooming.

Jack was content to let him, he'd long ago stopped being nervous around Tao and that in turn, to Jack's surprise and relief, had stopped the recurring nightmares from his time in the cage. And anyway, the more nits and lice that Tao could find meant less itching, although Jack was starting to seriously wonder if Tao really would get fat. There'd been hundreds of them in Jack's hair and beard and Tao had been using them as an all-day buffet for a couple of weeks. There probably weren't too many left now, the persistent itches had steadily dropped in frequency and although not completely gone, there was a vast improvement on before. Jack heard another crunch and Tao moved on to another part of his beard, plunging his head into the tangled whiskers, snuffling against Jack's neck and causing Jack to smile, it tickled. Finally Tao had had enough and he emerged from Jack's beard and ran down his arm to his hand, whereupon he nudged at Jack's fingers for a scratch behind the ears. Jack obliged and then stood up. He still hadn't done his morning exercises and it was long after breakfast. With an indulgent smile, Jack recognized how comprehensively Tao had disrupted his carefully crafted daily routine. He stepped off the straw, the one pace taking him to the center of his cell and his eyes followed Tao as he scuttled into the corner to watch. Jack wasted no time, stripping out of his clothes to prevent them becoming sweat laden and dropped them onto the straw. His days were so full now, he didn't have time to waste on repeatedly folding his clothes and blanket.

After washing and dressing, Jack sank back down on the straw and Tao immediately left the corner, his snout pushing through the straw. Jack lay his arms across his body, one forearm across his belly and the other across his chest. It was Tao's workout now. Jack felt the slight pull of fabric as Tao traversed his thigh and he watched, fascinated as Tao pushed off with both hind feet and landed perfectly on both front feet, square on his abdomen. With an arch of his back, Tao brought forward his hind feet and pushed off again, jumping over his second arm and landing on his shoulder. Tao turned around and did the two jumps in reverse. Jack lifted his arms, creating higher jumps and Tao sailed over them both, up and back. Jack continued raising his arms, keeping his forearms parallel to the floor and Tao kept jumping over them. Eventually, Jack's arms could go no higher and he sat up, creating a jump about two foot from the floor. Just as amazed as the first time he'd seen it, he watched as Tao jumped cleanly over it. The fact that he was still nowhere near fully grown and yet could jump that high was amazing. Jack scooped him up and moved back against the wall. Tao settled on his lap for his mid-morning nap and Jack spent the time looking over him, letting his mind wander, smiling occasionally at the endearing, snuffly noises periodically rising from his lap.

In the afternoon, Tao disappeared, only to reappear a few minutes later with some dry grass in his mouth. He carried it over to the corner and dropped it down, then immediately scampered out through the air vent. Each time he came back, he had something else, a leaf, more grass or a clump of moss. Jack watched, captivated by the small pile that steadily grew in the corner. Tao then meandered into Jack's straw bed and picked out a stalk, dragging it back between his teeth and adding it to his pile.

Jack leant over and reclaimed the stalk, dropping it back where it had come from, interested to see Tao's reaction. Tao looked up at him, whiskers bristling and Jack chuckled. The indignation on Tao's face was a picture and he watched as the rat clambered through the straw and picked up the exact same stalk. Jack lowered his hand and tugged gently on the other end of it. Tao didn't let go, he hauled on it, and his haunches bunched with the effort as he tried to reclaim it. Jack picked up the stalk and brought it to his lap and the rat came with it, gripping with its teeth, determined not to lose it. Jack grinned and letting go of the stalk, tickled Tao behind the ear with his forefinger. Tao immediately let go of the stalk and turned his head to give Jack a nip. It was the lightest of pinches, there was never any real aggression or risk of the skin being broken but Jack was under no illusion, Tao wanted that piece of straw for himself. With a smile, Jack picked it up and placed it back in the corner with all the vegetation that Tao had painstakingly stacked in the corner. Tao clambered off Jack's leg and bustled back to the corner and started moving the vegetation about, creating a grassy donut. The more time Jack spent with Tao, the more he understood why rats were so highly regarded in Taoism. Shrewd and industrious were two more adjectives that could be added to the now long list of a rat's virtues.

Jack's world was interrupted by the sound of his cell door being unlocked and he looked up startled. The door pushed open with a creak and a guard entered, followed closely by Cheng. Jack slid his back up the wall until he was upright and the guard immediately stepped forward with his baton raised, intent on striking him. Jack stood his ground, he wasn't going to show fear now. He needed to distract them so they didn't see Tao. They would kill him if they knew.

Cheng barked an order and the guard lowered his baton, stepping back but keeping close to Cheng.

"Mr. Bauer, I trust you have had time to reflect. You have been here for just a month."

'34 days actually.' Jack answered defiantly, even if it was just in his head. It made him feel better, correcting Cheng's mistake.

"And you will stay here until you die of old age. If you don't want to die here, all you have to do is bang on your cell door when you are ready to talk. And you will, eventually."

Jack hung his head, risking a sideways glance to the corner. There was no sign of Tao. 'Good,' and he raised his defiant eyes back up to Cheng.

"Nobody can survive solitary confinement indefinitely, sitting in a cell waiting to die. Not when you know there are people willing to be friends with you just on the other side of the door and all you have to do is ask."

Cheng stared at him, trying to read his face but with practiced ease, Jack was giving nothing away.

"Of course, the other option is that you will become actively psychotic or acutely suicidal. The effects of solitary confinement on one's psyche are well documented. Before long, you will develop one or more psychiatric syndromes such as hallucinations and panic attacks. You will suffer overt paranoia and diminished impulse control. You will start to have difficulties with thinking, concentration and memory. And you will likely lose the ability to maintain a state of alertness, or will develop crippling obsessions. In short Mr. Bauer, you'll go mad, and then you'll tell me everything anyway, so either way you will lose. Or maybe you've started to develop some of these already." Cheng smiled knowingly while Jack maintained his defiance.

"Just knock on the door, Mr. Bauer. That's all you have to do and then we will talk."

Cheng turned on his heel and walked smartly out the door. The guard backed out behind him, watching Jack all the time and as soon as he was clear, the cell door was slammed shut.

Jack sank back down on his straw, mulling over Cheng's words. He'd already started to develop the obsessional habits. The placing of his bowl, exactly in front of the hatch had been something he'd done just to fill time. And then it had become habitual. The same with the blanket folding. He hadn't had any hallucinations. Or maybe he had. What if Tao wasn't real? He wrung his hands and pushed up from the floor to check the corner. The vegetation from outside was still there. Although that could be part of the hallucination too.

He sighed and rubbed his temple with his fingers. He hadn't had any panic attacks. He'd actually overcome a paranoia of rats, so he was okay on that too. He mentally ticked off the other manifestations and the only ones that he had any concerns about were the obsessions and the hallucinations. Well he could easily deal with the obsessions. He'd already abandoned the blanket and uniform folding so shoving his bowl in front of the hatch would be easy enough. Jack sighed. If Tao didn't come back then maybe he had a problem, all he had to do was wait.

Jack sat without moving until he heard the hatch slide up and after retrieving the bowl he ate his meal without tasting even a mouthful. When he'd finished, he returned it, careful to place it down without any extra consideration and he retook his place on the straw. As darkness started to fall and there was still no sign of Tao, he curled up under his blanket feeling very miserable and lay there worrying.

It was completely dark before Jack felt something pull on his hair and then the familiar feel of claws against his scalp. There was the proof that Tao was real. He'd forgotten that he hardly ever had any sores or itching from lice now, he couldn't be imagining anything. Jack's worries immediately disappeared and he soon heard the sounds of snuffles, squeaks and a satisfying crunch as Tao pounced on another unsuspecting louse. Jack grinned to himself. With a bit of luck they'd both be left in peace tomorrow so Tao could finish his nest. 'Tao, Go to sleep. You've got a busy day tomorrow and you'll get fat if you eat anymore.' Tao must have read his mind as he almost immediately felt the patter of feet run down the side of his face and across his shoulder as Tao burrowed under the blanket and settled into the crook of his neck.

'I've got a friend already Cheng. Right here in my cell and I can have a conversation anytime I want to. Why would I ever want to talk to you?'

Author's note: Apologies to any rat fans out there if I've got any aspects of their behavior wrong – Am neither a rat owner or rat lover!