Disclaimer: I do not own the movie (or novel), See No Evil, nor any of its characters. They are the property of Dan Magidan, WWE, and LGF. Please do not sue me.

Author's Note: One chapter left. I'm hoping to get that up tomorrow or Sunday evening (I work on weekends currently), but I can't make any promises. Also, the doctor character in this story is a character who appears in one chapter in the beginning of the See No Evil novel, not an original character. There are some loopholes and things left unexplained, but since this is from Kira's POV, obviously she isn't going to know everything that's going on (and maybe it's also a copout for me, so I can leave it up to the reader to fill in some blanks instead of writing them out in totally unrealistic fashion that just reads as ridiculous). Thanks so much for the reviews.

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Salvation

"Kira, are you ready to talk now?"

He's out.

"Kira, remember our agreement. I went against my better judgment, and the judgment of my superiors."

He's free.

"For you. So you could see the news. You've seen it. You've found out what you wanted to know."

He's alive.

"It's time you held up your end of the bargain, remember?"

He's gone.

"Kira?"

Kira wasn't listening.

"All right, it's time to go back to your room."

Kira's eyes refocused, and her head snapped up to glare at the shrink as the nagging harlot turned the TV off. Her fingers twitched. Her arms twitched.

If a sound was going to come out of Kira's mouth tonight, it would only be her scream of anger and frustration. She wanted to hiss back at the serpent before her that she didn't have fucking Stockholm Syndrome, but she did have claustrophobia - something they didn't seem to care about.

Not that she ever thought they cared.

The straightjacket was for her own good. Of course. She was a danger to herself. To others.

It would be permanent soon. The jacket, the forced meds, the whole sterile, sin infected package. The asylum full of eyes - the starving and desperate, the gluttonous and vile. It had been purgatory before; soon her sentence would be dealt out. It would become Hell.

He's alive. He's free. That's all that matters.

Kira had been the perfect sacrifice. She was used to the system; it had used her before, just like her father and Michael and Michael's slithering, slimy clientele. The system had been itching to have her again, and she had laid down willingly.

Her spread legs bought Jacob's freedom. Her arms bound, she couldn't fight if she wanted to.

The shrink ordered one of the guards to take her back to her cell. Her face was contorted with frustration - Kira knew the whore wanted Kira to believe it was out of sympathy for Kira's delusional state.

Except she wasn't delusion. She was perfectly sane. She was more coherent and aware than ever before. She knew exactly what she was doing when she spoke only to the shrink when she had to, the lawyer when she had to, the judge and DA when she had to.

Everyone knew that she was cognizant when she shouted Jacob's name as they were transporting him to his asylum. Everyone knew that she'd set everything up; testifying, watching the guards move him, keeping him docile until that very moment, that perfect opening.

It was such a perfect plan. Executed flawlessly.

And the doctors and the shrink wanted to tell her she was insane. It was her mental defect. Her syndrome. Her disease. The one she'd been given by Jacob.

After all, Jacob was the one running loose, right? She had sacrificed herself for him. Kira Vanning was not that kind of person, not before the Blackwell.

They somehow knew her better than she knew herself, of course. They didn't buy it when she spat back in their faces; I only rolled on those who hurt me. I only rolled on those who used me. I only rolled when there was nothing worth saving. Jacob was worth saving.

It only proved to them even more than she suffered from Stockholm. Always back to Stockholm. Always back to that syndrome.

She didn't have that fucking syndrome.

Her eyes burned. They itched with the crust of sleep and tears. She wanted to wipe her eyes. She never asked the guards to do it. She never asked the nurses. She didn't let them anywhere near her eyes; they're Jacob's, they're Jacob's, don't you touch them!

No one ever saw her crying. She kept it quiet, late at night. Turned on her side, back to the door. Staring at the cross on her wall, the one decoration they'd allowed. Staring at it the way Jacob stared at her back. Praying, hoping; let him be safe, let him get away, let him find peace.

It would be the same again tonight. The guard would stiffly get her on her bed, secure her in her cell. When the footsteps faded away, it would be safe.

And Kira would once again cry herself to sleep as Michael stared at her with empty sockets, whispering that they would be together forever. She would cry until the blackness came, and she could dream.

Michael was never in her dreams. Jacob always scared him away.

They protected each other. They were loyal; family, even. They loved each other. They were grateful to each other.

That was why she did it. Why she martyred herself for Jacob's freedom. She had known the system so well; just like any man, show it what it truly wants, and all the other duties become neglected. Even if only for a moment. That was all she needed, and she got it.

Kira could still see him, running for the shadows. Kira could still see the look in his eyes the last time he looked back.

He knew. He had forgiven her for leaving him. He knew she had done it for him. He knew, and he forgave. Instead of betrayal, the last look in his eyes was longing and sorrow. He had to leave her now.

But she knew that. She understood that. There was no betrayal on his part. She didn't feel abandoned. The loneliness, the emptiness - the haziness of the drugs - it consumed her. But she did not feel abandoned.

It was all worth it.

The guard laid her on her bed, just as she'd known he would. It was earlier than usual. It would be longer before it was safe.

Michael was waiting for her. Standing beside the cross. He could not stand in front, but he could stand right by. He could force her to look at him. To at least see him in the corners of her vision. The bloody holes in his face were fixated on her as the guard laid her down, told her to behave, and walked out.

Kira stared at the cross on the wall. She heard the locks clicking into place. She bit her lip, chewing at the still healing scab until it bled anew.

Michael was hovering right above her now.

"They'll never let you leave. Even if he finds you again. He'll never reach you. He'll never touch you again."

Kira wanted to cover her ears. Her arms struggled; she began to pant, to panic as her fears overwhelmed her. She wanted to move. She couldn't stand not moving. Not being able to wipe her eyes, cover her ears.

He never stopped whispering the awful truth.

There were more voices. Outside. People were talking outside - they never talked outside, not this late. It wasn't lights out, but still late. Too late for so much noise; she just wanted to cry, why did they have to be out there?

The familiar sound of the cell gate being unlocked clicked in her ears.

"Kira?"

Kira didn't know if she should remain frozen or stir. She didn't know what was going on. But Michael was gone, and she couldn't face him again yet. She shifted, trying to roll over.

The shrink was standing in the doorway. She looked unhappy. Her hand was on the doorknob, ready to close it up again, lock Kira in again. "Ah. Yes, Dr. Bennell, she's still awake."

"Excellent," an unfamiliar voice stated politely. An older man - middle aged, worn out and leathery from too much liquor, a lot like her father - brushed past the shrink and faced Kira. He was smiling, politely, for some unknown reason.

Kira blinked. She knew this man. Yet, no, she couldn't. His clothing was all wrong. He didn't belong in this setting. His face was too kind, too relaxed. He was clean and well dressed and looked like a true professional.

Not some street doctor performing illegal services for the desperate heathens overpopulating the alleyways and sewers.

Michael had taken her to see this doctor on a couple of occasions. Michael had never given her a choice. Michael had left her in this man's care to rectify the consequences of clients forgetting all the proper equipment.

"Kira, this is Dr. Miles Bennell. He's here-"

"Actually, I think I can handle it from here."

The shrink looked appalled at being interrupted. She stood there, mouth hanging open, until the doctor spoke up again.

"Kira is restrained, medicated, and you of all people should know that this meeting has to be private. Doctor patient privilege and all," he reminded the shrink. He smiled a condescending smile, like the one the therapist always gave Kira.

Kira almost laughed.

"Very well, Doctor. Knock on the door when you're done, and the guard will escort you out." The shrink stormed out briskly, rushing away to throw a tantrum in her office, no doubt.

Kira's eyes locked on the doctor.

"Your psychiatrist was going to say I'm here on behalf of your father. I'm not. I'm here on behalf of a…mutual acquaintance."

Kira blinked.

The doctor walked over to her. He noticed the crust around her eyes. For some reason, she let him take out a hankerchiff and gently wipe away some of the itchy crust. "There. That's a little better, isn't it?"

Mutual acquaintance? Michael's eyeless face was nowhere in sight, and she knew that the doctor wouldn't see him anyway. Nobody saw Michael. But Michael was the reason she knew the doctor. Her father had never met him.

"Michael's dead."

Dr. Bennell looked at her, confused. His gaze wasn't as painful, but she was still uncomfortable. "Michael? Oh, oh. You mean the boy that brought you to me. No. He is not the reason I am here, Kira."

It wasn't sinking in. It was, but she didn't want it to. She didn't believe it. She couldn't. It just wasn't possible.

"He's the reason I'm even able to get in to a place like this. Why I can practice medicine with a license." The doctor was doing something with her jacket. He didn't remove it. He made it looser. "Don't move to much, we don't want them to know you can get out of it yet," he instructed.

Kira blinked. She could get out of it?

He was letting her out of it?

Kira looked up at the doctor. "Jacob?"

Dr. Bennell smiled - tight, a little nervous - and gave a brief nod. "Bingo."

Kira smiled. She truly hadn't been abandoned.