Chapter 1

"My office, now!" he told her.

She followed him, head hung and heart hurting. She didn't know what she had done wrong. She just wanted to work. She didn't want to think. Thinking was the enemy now.

"I don't know what the hell you were thinking about in there, but you're done."

"But –"

"No, you weren't ready. I know it, but I let you back early. You have things that you need to sort through and my interrogation rooms aren't the place. Go home. Get some rest. Figure out what you want…No, what you WANT, not what we want you to do. Once you can tell me that and I actually believe it, then I'll let you back on duty."

"But –"

"No, you've got the days. You've earned them. Now, take them. I don't care what you do, but I swear if I see you hear tomorrow, I'll arrest you myself."

"They need me…"

"They do. But right now, you aren't you. When you can be you, then we'll talk. Until then, out of my sight. I mean it. You come in tomorrow, and I'll arrest you for trespassing."

"It wouldn't stick."

"No, but you'd know I meant it. I'll have you processed and then Barba will have to drop the charges. It wouldn't look good on your record and you know it. IAB would just love to know why I was arresting you. I'm serious, though. Go home or go somewhere. Just stay away from here."

She hung her head. She knew that he was right. Things weren't right in her head, how could they be.

She went back to her apartment. She stared at it. She wanted to burn everything in it. It all reminded her of him and what had happened. She'd told the therapist this, but she didn't have the money to replace most of it. He understood…well he told her he understood, but what did he know? He hadn't been held at gun point by a sick bastard who got his jollies by hurting people. No, he got to sit in his office and lecture his patients on what they should be doing to get better.

She didn't want to get better. She wanted to get normal, again. There was nothing there that would help her accomplish that. She knew it even if she didn't want to admit her to herself. There was only person that could help her now.

She went into her bed room and sat on the bed. She stared into the mirror. She looked at her shortened hair and the soulless look in her eyes. She was broken, defeated, wounded and she knew it. There was nothing that she could tell herself that she hadn't told other victims. It didn't work for them, sometimes, and it wasn't working for her now.

She needed a caring hand, a stiff word and the reassurance that she could trust someone again. Her apartment couldn't give her that. The squad couldn't give her enough. Cassidy sure as hell wouldn't understand her needs, wants and desires now. No, there was only person that could help her. There was only one problem with the scenario that she wanted. She had no clue where that person was.

She stared at her reflection again. She saw the hollowness and the dark circles around her eyes. She saw the pain etched on her face. She could tell that she'd lost weight. She was becoming a shell, a hollowed thing of what she once was. She needed Her touch. There was no doubt about it.

She stood and went to her wardrobe. She dug out the old jewelry box that she hid in the back. Shifting through it, she found the one thing that would keep her calm on any night. The one thing that she managed to keep safe in her life, the one thing that protected her from herself some times, and it was still shiny and hers. She pulled the necklace out and held it in her hands. Its familiar weight was already calming her breathing, her heart rate, her anxiety. She held the golden object and admired its craftsmanship, something she had failed to do in the past.

She put the necklace on her bed and went to the bathroom. She striped down until she was naked. Suddenly, feeling dirty again, she took a shower. She shaved her body. She needed to be bare, save her head. She needed the feelings of control, again. She was lost and she could admit. She was floundering. She was hurting. She needed direction.

She went back into her bedroom, after drying off. She stood in front of the mirror again. This time she actually admired her body. She was getting back into shape. She'd let her self go in the past few years. Her confinement with him, reminded her that she needed to get back to the gym. She had. She'd lost a few pounds and her muscles were becoming defined again. She was pleased the effort she was giving. She could only hope that Mistress would be happy, if Mistress would see her.

The tears began to form in her eyes. The thought pained her more than her memories of her confinement. She knew that her Mistress had fled the City. She hadn't asked why or where she'd gone. She just acknowledged that her Mistress had released her. It had been over a year, but still the pain was fresh in her mind. Work had helped her push through and then she started playing with Cassidy, but she still longed for Her. Mistress was the only one who could calm her. Mistress was the only one who could claim her. Mistress was the only one who understood her wants and needs before she did. Mistress was the only one who ever truly loved her. Her mother hadn't. Her father …well…he never knew her. Her various relationships had all ended in disaster. No, Mistress was the only one who could love her for who she was and not what they thought she should be.

She needed her Mistress. She needed her desperately. No one else would do. She dug around in her wardrobe again. She found the burner phone. Mistress had given it to her. It was only for emergencies. Now was an emergency. She needed Mistress.

She sat back on the bed, the phone in one hand, the necklace in the other. But, Mistress had left. Mistress was gone. Would she even answer if she called Her? Would She even care? She needed to know, but she was scared. Her life was so screwed up; she didn't want to mess up Mistress's too.

She put the phone down. She would have to be strong either way. Mistress had taught her that. She wouldn't need to worry Mistress with her own problems. She picked up the necklace.

The choker was solid brass plated in twenty-four carat gold. The hoop that made the necklace fit perfectly around her neck and its color shone beautifully on her skin. She opened it just enough to put it back around her throat. Her body let out a pent-up sigh as the weight of it settled at the base of her throat. She toyed with the small pendant that dangled from the front of it. It was a small filigree gold charm that had been specially made. It blended both her name and her Mistress's. She smiled into the mirror.

She couldn't count the number of times that she sat on the bed, smiling at her collared reflection, waiting to her Mistress over the last year. When no word came, she would bow her head, take the necklace back off and hide it back in her jewelry box. She had done it every night in the beginning, hoping that it was another test. But, as time passed, and she realized that Mistress wasn't coming back, she cried as she removed it. Until one day, she didn't put it back on, with an air of defiance, but still when no word came from Mistress, she felt free but in control.

Tonight, staring in the mirror, however, she wasn't free and she had no damned control. She needed Mistress to set her right again. She knew it would hurt when she left Her, again, this time. But, she knew that it would get better. She would have her control and her freedom again.

She stared at the phone. It was burning a hole in her brain. She felt her hands grab it. She didn't want to seem weak but she needed her Mistress's guidance. She flipped the phone open. There were only four numbers in it: Her Mistress, Elliot, the precinct and 911. The only numbers that she should ever need if she were out with her Mistress. If someone needed her when they were out, Mistress had her calls forwarded to the burner. She would recognize the number and answer. If she needed to go, she did, more often than not before the scene ended.

She stared at her face in the mirror, again. She was unhappy. She had been unhappy since her Mistress left. She realized that she loved her Mistress. She needed her Mistress and suddenly, she felt alone and abandoned. She hadn't questioned Mistress when she said she was going. She hadn't dared. She didn't think past the removal of the collar what that meant for her. She'd begged for her freedom before, but now, her freedom seemed illogical and ill-conceived. What was freedom? What did it really mean to her but pain and agony?

She toyed with the charm on the collar. She ran her fingers over their names intertwined, together, the way they should be. The way their lives were. The way that made sense. She began to think like she had after Mistress left. It had to have been her fault. Mistress wouldn't have left her if she hadn't done something wrong. No, if she had been good, Mistress would have taken her with Her.

The anguish of everything came crashing down on her. She couldn't help it. She'd held it in too long. She couldn't tell the therapist about Mistress. He wouldn't understand. They never did. She lay in a heap on her bed, holding the charm on the collar for dear life. She stared at the phone. It was a connection. She needed to try. Even if Mistress didn't answer, she would hear her voice.

She gathered herself. She wiped her eyes. She couldn't call Mistress and sound like a blithering idiot. She needed to seem collected, no matter how badly she wasn't. She was to always be poised and polite when she called Mistress. She sat up. She wiped her hands down her thighs and then remembered that she was naked. She was ready for Mistress, if Mistress was ready for her.

She picked up the phone. She pulled up the contact list. She made a silent prayer to a deity she didn't really believe in hopes that Mistress would answer. Her finger hovered over the number, waiting to dial. She looked in the mirror and made the resolution to call. She needed to hear Mistress's voice, even if She didn't answer. Maybe it would be enough to just hear her.

She sighed. She dug deep trying to steady herself. She let her finger hit the number and the phone immediately dialed the number. She had it on speaker, like she was supposed to when she used this phone. She heard the ring. Her heart leapt and sped up. She heard it ring again. Her mind began to swim with the delicious thoughts of hearing her Mistress on the phone. She was getting giddy and she hadn't even talked to her yet. She listened harder to make sure that she hadn't missed anything. The phone rang again, still no answer. Her giddiness started to wane.

On the fourth ring, she had a fleeting thought to hang up. It was obvious that her Mistress didn't want to speak with her. She had overstepped their boundaries in calling now, anyway. She was just about to hang up with the voicemail picked up. She waited just like Mistress told her to do in this situation. When the beep came, she knew what to say.

"Mistress, it is me. I need you. I need to see you. I'm lost and … Please, Mistress, call me. I've been good. I've done everything that you've told me to do, but Mistress, I need you. I can't do this alone anymore. I am sorry for any wrong that I might have done. Forgive me, Mistress, I beg of you. Please, I've…something happened. I need you. Only you. You are the only one that can help me, now, Mistress. Please come and claim me. I'll even come to you, if you'll let me. Please make me yours again. I'll do anything. I…" the sobs started and she was scared that she was begging too much, that Mistress would be made with her for her outbursts, but she need to say the words that she been trained to say when the world became too much for her to bear any more, "Mistress, I'm lost and losing control. Please help me. Only your touch can save me now. I await your orders, Mistress."

She hung up the phone and curled up in the fetal position on her bed. Now, she had to wait for Mistress's call. She only hoped that she'd done as she had been instructed. She could only hope that it would be enough for Mistress to call her. She held on to the phone for dire life.

Thirty minutes later, the phone in her hands rang. Her heart skipped a beat. Mistress was calling. She couldn't help but smile. Mistress was calling her back. Mistress was calling; it was all she could think before she remembered to answer the phone.

"Mistress?" she answered the phone, tentatively.