Andersen is distracted.

"That works well for us, doesn't?"

I suppose. But Andreas is suspicious.

"They're bothersome. Why can't we just cut them?"

That would do us no good. Andersen is a powerful ally. Without his dæmon, what is he?

"I suppose you're right. When will we be ready?"

Soon. There are only a few more tests to perform before we can move forward.

"Good. I'm beginning to get impatient. I want to cut her as soon as possible. She's as much of a nuisance as Andersen!"

We agree on something, then. Just give it time. We'll get to her soon enough.

"All right. Well, come on then. We have business to attend to and we can't keep it waiting!"

No. Of course not.

~O~

This wasn't his bed.

That was the first thought that came to Rafael as he woke on a surface harder and colder than his mattress. The surface was flat and white and not at all comfortable. Rafael promised himself he would never again complain about the feeling of his bed.

He sat up, head throbbing, and leaned back against a wall as cold and hard as the floor and looked around. He was in a small compartment of sorts, surrounded on two sides by mesh wiring. In front of him was a third wall, this one made of glass infused with thin metal wiring. The rest of the compartment was solid white.

Outside the compartment were walls of gray stone, dimly lit by a dying light on the ceiling. He could just make out the shapes of panels on stands against the walls, but what was on them, he couldn't tell.

He looked around the inside of the compartment he was in more any way to possibly get out, but the walls were smooth and without a niche of any kind.

Rafael rested his head back against the wall. He had been given something that was making his head throb every time he turned it. Even the light irritated his head. He couldn't remember what he had been given and he couldn't remember how he'd gotten into that compartment.

And then, as he thought about it, he couldn't remember where his dæmon was. The shock of not knowing where she was enough to snap him out of his headache, and he began to search frantically around him. She wasn't in his side of the compartment and she outside of the compartment, as far as he could see. She wasn't far, either, because he didn't feel a pull. So where was she?

In his nervous searching, Rafael almost failed to see his dæmon lying in the compartment beside him. He nearly missed her pale gray rabbit fur among the white walls and gray wiring of the compartment.

He knew she couldn't be unconscious, otherwise he would be too. Most likely she was just resting, like him, and trying to come out from under the effect of whatever they had been given. He reached forward and tapped on the glass to get her attention.

Her head shot up, leading to an intense throbbing in Rafael's head, and most likely his dæmon's head. Sorry, Raffie, she said, drawing a paw over her face.

"That's okay, Ursa," he replied, rubbing his forehead. He leaned back against the cold wall and looked slowly from side to side. "Where are we?"

Ursa looked slowly around the compartment the same way Rafael did. I don't know.

Rafael squirmed nervously, worried. "Do you think Father Andersen is worried about us?"

Of course he is. He's always been worried about us, you know that.

He nodded in agreement, slumping further down against the wall. Father Andersen had been worried about him and Ursa ever since they arrived at the orphanage. He'd had a particularly rough transition, tossed around from family member to family member after his parents died in a bus accident ten months ago in Rome. Finally he had found his way into the orphanage with Father Andersen and the kind nuns who ran it. They took him in and made sure he was well cared for.

"Do you think he's out looking for us right now?"

Yes. And I know he and Andy won't rest until they find us.

Rafael smiled at the thought and they fell into silence for a while.

Then, Raffie, what's this thing we're in? It's cold.

"I don't know, Ursa." He kicked experimentally at the middle barrier, just to see what would happen. The wall didn't budge. "What do you think it's for?"

Non lo so, she answered, one ear twitching. Rafael felt a twinge as she tried to shift form to no avail. They were still too weak for Ursa to do any form changing any time soon.

"Ursa, I want Andy." He missed Father Andersen's Irish wolfhound dæmon.

I do, too, Raffie. Flattening her ears against her head, Ursa hunched down and rested her chin on the floor. Rafael could see her nose twitching as she took in the air of this strange, new environment.

They sat in silence for a while, trying to recover from the strange drug they had evidently been given. They wanted nothing more than to feel each other's warmth and comfort, but the barrier prevented that. Rafael's stomach twisted at the thought of being separated from his dæmon. He'd always had Ursa with him; and she was going to be with him forever and ever. There may have been a barrier in between them now, but it wasn't going to be there forever. Someone had to let them out some time.

Ursa's ears twitched occasionally. Rafael knew she was listening to the world outside the room they were in. He wasn't sure how much she could hear, if she could hear anything at all. Then, to his surprise, she shot up, standing on her hind legs. Her ears stood straight and stiff, angled toward the door.

Rafael pushed himself up. "What is it, Ursa?"

There's someone out there.

"Is it Father Andersen?"

No. Ursa's nose twitched wildly. I don't know who it is. I've never smelled them before.

"Maybe they're here to help us."

Maybe... She returned to all four paws, alert, her head high. They both jumped when they heard the click of a key being put into the keyhole on the door, and watched silently as the doors opened with a creak and five people and their dæmons entered the room. Of the five, only four were dressed in black robes, with simple wooden crosses hung around their necks. The fifth member of the group was not dressed like the others. He was instead dressed in black pants and a purple-and-white shirt, buttoned up the front with gold buttons. His silver hair was pulled back behind him in a ponytail.

Immediately, Rafael didn't like the look about this man. He didn't come off as kind or gentle like Father Andersen. Instead he struck Rafael as cruel and uncaring, and his dæmon didn't appear to be much better.

"Who are you?" Rafael asked, crawling to the front of the compartment.

The man dismissed the question with a wave of his hand. "That is not important now," he said. His voice was deep and husky, and laced with a light Italian accent. He didn't sound kind, either.

As he spoke, the four people behind him fanned out and disappeared from Rafael's view, only to reappear a few moments later at the tables around the perimeter of the room. "What are they doing?" he asked.

"They're just here to help," the man answered, still with the same dismissive and passive tone.

"Help with what?"

"Nothing but a little test."

"What kind of test?"

Finally, the buck dæmon stamped his hoof on the ground. Stai zitto! he snorted. You ask too many questions, boy!

Rafael recoiled, insulted. If this man was a priest, as he thought he was, then he certainly didn't act like it! And his dæmon was so rude! What would Father Andersen think when he found out?

"Now," the man said with an irritated huff, "if there are no further questions, I'd like to continue."

Fine, Rafael thought irritably. I just want to go home.

With a satisfied nod, the man turned his attention away from Rafael and to the people behind the compartments. "Are you ready?" he demanded. "Is everything set up?"

"Yes, sir," came the answer. "Everything's ready."

"Good." He gave another nod, one Rafael felt in his gut was the affirmative to start this..."test."

Not too soon after the order, the compartment Rafael and Ursa were in began to shake and hum softly. They looked around, not understanding what was happening, until they saw a silver-blue light at the top of the middle barrier.

"Ursa?"

Raffie, what is that?

Rafael didn't answer; he didn't know. And even if he had known what it was, he wouldn't have known how to explain it. Whatever it was, it was making him hurt. He could feel a dull ache somewhere deep inside, where it was impossible to ever reach physically. He didn't understand what was going on until the light lowered, and the pains he was feeling began to worsen. Only then did he understand that this machine, whatever it was, was trying to take Ursa from him. And the realization was made even colder by the fact that the silver-haired man was doing nothing to stop it, but was instead standing by and watching coldly with a savage anticipation in his violet eyes.

You monster! Rafael turned and kicked at the glass, panic taking over as the light grew lower and lower. In a few minutes, his Ursa was no longer going to be his. "Ursa! Ursa!"

And she knew this too. She scratched at the glass with her claws, but barely left a mark. Rafael! She threw her full weight at the glass with no results.

As the pain Rafael was feeling deep inside intensified, he blows on the glass weakened. He slumped to the floor, his vision blurred with pain and tears, as his dæmon dropped to the floor. The light in the chamber glowed brighter, nearly white, before it reached the bottom and was doused in a rain of black.

Ursa!

~O~

Rikku was a dæmon of few words. He rarely spoke to anyone, even his own counterpart, but when he did it was no more than three or four words. But those words always carried a heavy meaning to them.

This is wrong.

They were the first words she had heard Rikku say in six years. It was the most she had heard him say in a longer time than that.

She looked at him, surprised. "Rikku?"

This is wrong. His voice was thick and raspy, laced with a semi-heavy Italian accent. His voice was beautiful; she almost wished he would talk more.

She nodded in agreement. She knew exactly what he meant. "I know." She'd only wanted to live out a religious life. Now she and Rikku were caught up in a scheme beyond their understanding. "But what can we do? We don't have the authority to stop them." And with Rikku's form what it was, she never would.

Rikku rested his head on his paws, distressed. We should have told Father Andersen.

Six words was the most Rikku had ever said in his short life on earth. It was too much by her standards. She wished he would stop.

"But he couldn't have protected us from the General Oblation Board if word ever got to them."

Rikku snorted in disgust, but for the time being said no more.

His counterpart hugged her knees, as distressed as he was, and rested her chin the dip of her nightgown. How far they had fallen from their original intentions. Not through any fault of their own, but through the actions of their organization. They had become caught up in something so much bigger than they knew how to handle, and now it had gotten so out of control that there was nothing they could do about it. Even if they did go to their superiors, they knew the blame would come straight back to them. And from there...Rikku only imagined that his bonded life with his counterpart would be dramatically and traumatically shortened.

He heard his counterpart's thought echo in his mind: I don't want to be here.

Right then and there they decided: when this was over and through with, they were going to leave it all behind and never look back.