The first thing he felt was a sharp, pounding, throbbing pain in the back of his head. Then came the waves of nausea, rolling through his stomach, keeping time with the throbbing pain. Then came the sound of creaking, and the feeling like he was swaying back and forth. Seasickness added to his nausea, and this time he did empty his stomach, choking on the remnants.

Andy forced his eyes to open, but it didn't seem to matter. Wherever he was, it was dark. He tried to move, but quickly changed his mind as his stomach lurched harshly once again.

Where was he? What had happened? He struggled to clear his head. He reached his hand up and touched the painful pulse at the back of his head. A large raised welt met his fingers, sticky with blood. And it all came flooding back. March. The murders. Saying goodbye. All the suits. The fight.

Now he was captured. And March was probably dead. The last image in his mind was March's bloodied face, his prone body.

He dragged himself into the corner of his small cell and curled up into the tightest ball possible. Then the tears came, and the painful sobs tore his chest apart.

…

Everywhere hurt. The worst of the pain radiated from March's shoulder, but there were nerve flairs all over his body. The pain served to clear his head, though he would have preferred that it drive him back under instead.

Every memory flooded back to him vividly. Leaving Andy – begging him to run and save himself. Being caught, beaten. And hearing Andy's shriek, seeing him launch himself at the suits. Seeing him crumple as the suit brought the butt of his gun down on the back of Andy's head. Then the fist coming at his face, driving him into deep darkness.

Why hadn't they just killed him? Why was he still alive?

He shifted slightly on the hard floor, and the bindings bit into his wrists. He was in a scarab – he could tell by the loud droning, and when he opened his eyes, he could see the legs of several suits, standing a little ways in front of him.

He scoured the cabin for Andy, but there was no sign of him. Maybe they had just left him. Maybe he was, even now, waking up with a headache, on the street.

But his own reassurances rang hollow inside him. More likely, they had simply killed him – shot him, or thrown him off the ledge.

Black despair seeped into March's heart, despair that went so far beyond tears, beyond anger. He closed his eyes and willed them to never open again.

Sadly, they opened again all too soon. He was jerked roughly to his feet by two of the largest suits he had ever seen. Another held a gun to the back of his head, as they half led, half dragged him out of the scarab, and down a long hallway.

A very posh hallway. The black and white checkered floor looked to be made of marble, and the walls were painted in black, red and white heart motif.

If his heart could have felt anything now, it would have been dread. They were going to make an example of him after all. They were taking him to the Queen of Hearts. He was to be beheaded, then. At least this would all be over soon.

They cut the ropes that bound him, though the gun never left the back of his head, and the two suits each took one arm, but there was no dragging this time. They expected him to walk. And he did. He was a condemned man, and he had accepted his fate. It was what he deserved.

The Queen of Hearts was a short, plump, ridiculous looking woman. Her hair was an unnatural bright red, as were her lips. Her eyes were almost indiscernible beneath the false lashes and heavy makeup.

But she had an air of authority about her, and it was obvious that the members of her court feared her.

"What's this?" she shrilled, angrily, as March was led in.

A man in a white suit stepped forward, nervously. His long silver hair was tied down his back in two tails, and he clung to a black walking stick. His face and body twitched under the queen's piercing gaze. Agent White.

"This is the man I was telling you of, your majesty." Agent White bowed slightly. "He is the one we believe is responsible for killing your suits."

"So it would seem," the Queen said, walking down the stairs toward March. Her eyes narrowed at the sight of his blood-soaked shirt, still visible beneath Andy's too small jacket. "How many has he killed?"

"At least two, possibly more."

The Queen's lips curved upwards, ever so slightly. March just glared darkly at her, as she approached him.

"And do you have anything to say for yourself?" She was standing in front of him now, waiting for his response. Possibly waiting for him to show fear or intimidation. But he was beyond that.

"Piss off, you cow." The words spat from his lips, to the gasps of everyone in the room. The suit holding his left arm released it for just a moment, to drive his fist hard into March's ribs. March coughed, a spattering of blood flying from his mouth. The queen stepped back rather quickly to avoid it. Her eyes were flashing angrily, but all of the sudden, they lit up.

He was expecting an "off with his head" but instead the queen gave a mirthless laugh and said, "I could use you."

She turned back toward Agent White. "I need a new assassin," she stated. "My favorite has recently found himself without a head." She turned back and looked at March, who's eyes had gone even darker, if that were possible. "He'll need some... re-educating, but I think he'll do quite nicely."

March's eyes grew wide, and he involuntarily recoiled. He watched the sinister smile on the queen's face at finally getting a reaction from him. He had been fine when he had thought he was facing his own death. But to face this instead...

"Your majesty..." Agent White was protesting, but his words died on his lips under her withering gaze. "Yes, your majesty." He gave a slight bow, and melted back into the crowd of courtiers. March was led from the room, and once he was in the hall, the suit behind him drove the butt of his gun into the back of March's head, and his world plunged to darkness once more.

AN: The story is going to take quite a disturbing turn for the next couple of chapters (please consider yourself warned), and I may have to jump the rating to M because of it. This is also where it starts to collide with my story "Failed Experiment." If you don't want spoilers for this story, wait a chapter or two before you read that one. If you want a peek, please do read it.

Reviews always welcome, even longed for (and loved!). Please review! I want to know what you are thinking of the story so far. To my regular reviewers – you rock!