Hello, my fine fathered friend. Let me start off by saying you guys are trooper because I read through this and was redoing it, and it hurt to read cause it was horrible. Why you were reading I have no idea, but thanks anyway. Obliviously, I can't be trusted to comment on whether or not it's better.

This one is pretty short.

Cal stood outside of the Cube, watching Gillian through the tinted glass. She sat stiffly across from MacIntyre, one hand sitting in her lap, the other held hostage by its sling. The harsh lighting wasn't helping the look of her damaged face. Any unmarred skin was pale, a light sweat breaking out on her brow.

Emily's interview had been relatively simple. He'd known what to expect, had heard her tale before. Gillian's was a completely different story, there was a whole chunk of time missing, and he couldn't anticipate what he'd hear. Emily had wanted to stay, begged to know what had happened while Gillian was alone, but Cal had refused sending her out.

Gillian had started off solid. Her account of the events matching with Emily's until the point their story diverged. She'd stopped, her respiration flying through the roof. Cal's worry mounted as the seconds ticked by. She hadn't moved, her eyes wide, MacIntyre still speaking trying to keep the interview going. He'd admit he had found it odd when MacIntyre had insisted on preforming the second interview, though now he knew it'd been a bad idea. The man only seemed to increase Gillian's anxiety with each question he asked.

Her eyes burned, the sun too bright. A heavy boot dug into her back, the cool leaves pressed against her cheek. The smell of rank breath filling her nose as one of the men whispered in her ear. She shivered then jolted hearing her name loudly spoken.

"Dr. Foster, would you care to continue?"

The voice didn't match the body, didn't belong to either of the men who'd caught her.

He's never going to find you, ducky. You're going to die out here.

Goosebumps rose along her skin, the slight breeze sending a chill down her spine. Gillian tried to breathe through it, tried to reel her panic in, but her lungs rejected all offers of air.

I can't wait to find your little friend, to hear her screams as I cut her from neck to navel. I wonder if she is just as beautiful on the inside.

He was above her, laughing as he pushed down on her side. She coughed, trying to push him off, but she couldn't move his bulk. Pain wound its way around her chest constricting her lungs further.

The chair tipped over as Gillian sprang up, darting for the door. Outside the Cube, she tripped down the few stairs, her feet not lifting off the floor all the way. Falling to her knees, she scurried away as a blur headed for her. There was no way out, she was stuck, and she couldn't move, her limps becoming heavier with every jerky action.

Gillian scooted against the tinted glass trying to think of a way out. Her energy reserves depleted, she drooped, her heart still thumping in her chest.

Cal rubbed at his face as Gillian fought to keep her eyes from drifting shut. Turning to Reynolds, Cal was interrupted by MacIntyre emerging from the room unfazed by the commotion.

"We'll finish this some other day."

Again Cal rebuffed his attempt at a handshake, and watched as the man left, a file tucked under his arm. Heading over to Gillian, he scooped her up. He winced for her when she groaned, his movements not as smooth as he'd hoped.

That man was a part of this plot, he knew. Everything in him screamed it was true.

I'm not diggin' this chapter.