Miranda watched with concern the bags darken under her husband's eyes. She had been outwardly doing what he had asked, staying out of it. They hadn't had sex in at least a week and half, which for them was probably a record. Ken was miserable, and short tempered.

Whenever she knew he had gone up the dirt path on the ATV, she snuck her way over to visit Tina. Michael's, or Malone's, as her husband had been referring to him by his middle name, wife was lovely. She was a few years older than she and Ken. Malone was as well. Miranda found it somewhat crazy that they had a son who was a teenager already. Ken had told her that from what he had learned, Malone had gotten her pregnant when she was only about seventeen and he was nineteen. They had married young.

She had been keeping Tina company, and sane. She had convinced Tina that she couldn't divulge further information and couldn't let her loose without potentially endanger her. Tina had just assumed that Miranda was a victim herself. She tried to ensure that Tina was as comfortable as possible, but had to be careful about what she brought her so that Ken didn't notice.

Miranda was torn between being an accessory to something that she really was not ok with and trying to support her husband in case he really did know what he was doing. In this case, she was really starting to doubt the latter. She really didn't think Ken would hurt her if she confronted him, she just felt that they had gone so far across a line that she didn't think they could just step back over it. She was at a loss of how to deal with the repercussions of what had fast become some over the top fucked up decisions. She felt almost as trapped as Tina.

She also hadn't figured out how to go check on Tina's husband without Ken finding out. Ken had become increasingly more agitated and was not acting like the man that she married. He came back from the dirt path one late afternoon, gruffly informing her that he had to run into town for some supplies, and she knew she had her chance.

Hoping on the ATV, she headed up the dirt trail. The well-worn tracks seemed to stop at one of the old outbuildings that was a good fifteen minutes away from the house. She parked and got off the vehicle to look around. Sure enough there was another key coded lock similar to the one she had found on the door to the room he was keeping Tina in. She went through the similar list of number combinations she had tried then. This time, her birthday opened the lock. She entered the old musty small building. There were some long forgotten supplies that looked like they had been touched in years, and a small pile of items on a table where the dust had been recently disturbed. There was a small aged metal door in the far-right corner with a narrow set of stairs leading downwards, so down she went.

Reaching the bottom and entering the small basement she was shocked by what she found. Malone was lying on a cot in the middle of the room. His wrists and ankles were shackled to chains bolted to the floor. He had on a pair of black with white striped basketball style warm-up pants and nothing else. He looked at her with an empty, weak gaze but said nothing.

His form was still hulking, but at a guess he had lost weight since he'd been here. He looked to be a shell of himself. Miranda gasped and put a hand over her mouth. Her husband, the man she loved, had done this.

"Hello, Michael, Mike? Malone? Umm, Mr. Umm Bradley?" she was at a loss as to how to address him. Breathe, Miranda, just breathe. You're here to help. "Mike," she settled on, "I'm Miranda, I want to help you. Would you let me help you?"

Michael just looked at the woman standing in front of him. He had decided if he couldn't get free, he still wasn't going to give in to the Commander, so he had just stopped eating, and then he stopped drinking, and soon the delirium had set in. At the moment, he had no idea what he was fighting so hard against. The woman in front of him was beautiful. He missed his wife. He missed his son. Maybe this woman was an angel. Maybe she was here to take him to the afterlife. Maybe his suffering was over.

Miranda tried again, "Malone, I want to help you. What do you need? Food?" As she looked there were at least two trays of food within the man's reach. "Water?" There were five or six bottles of water lined up on the floor by his feet. Ken had brought him food and water. Why was it untouched? What was wrong with him?

Throwing caution to the wind, she moved up next to him. She brushed a hand over his forehead. It was clammy. Things started to come together. Ken said he wanted to go after men that were like him, but better than him. Ken's one weakness with managing people was dealing with men that could be just as stubborn and strong willed as he could be. He had probably managed to make a royal mess out of trying to get Mike on to his side. She thought about what Ken would do if situations were revered and then it clicked. Mike was shutting down, seeing no way out, he was giving up, he was trying to die. Fuck. She really wished she had gotten here sooner.

She managed to sit down on the cot by his head and slowly brushed his hair back from his eyes. His stubble was approaching being a thin beard. There was a faint odor to the room and from the cot and the man, but it wasn't overpowering. She figured her husband had been at least trying to maintain some hygiene for him. She trailed her fingers lightly through his hair.

"Honey, your wife and son need you. I need you to sit up and drink and eat something. You've got to try."

The mention of his family at least made a connection and he shifted enough to look up at her. He was weak. God, he was so weak, and his throat was so parched. Thankfully, the woman seemed to somehow understand. She picked up the nearest water bottle and cracked the cap open to hold it up to his lips. She helped him lift his head and he took a tentative sip. The first little sip sent him into a coughing spell. Recovering, as the movement seemed to jar his body back into some semblance of reality, he lifted himself up a little further on his elbows. He tried again, and with several slow sips, succeeded in taking in about the first quarter of the bottle.

"How do you know 'bout family?" his voice cracked out.

"I've been with Tina," Miranda replied. "She's ok, but you need to be ok, too."

Mike closed his eyes. His wife was ok. An overwhelming sense of relief washed over him and the single tear his body had the available moisture to shed, trailed down his left cheek. With a great amount of effort, he managed to sit up. It was, he was guessing, about his third day of refusing food and about thirty-six hours into refusing water. Being in a weakened state to begin with, combined with his mental anguish, it had taken its toll quickly. The positive information about his wife gave him a jolt of encouragement. He let out a deep breath. Carefully, he took a few more slow sips of water.

Miranda looked down at the trays, she needed something to start him back on slow. The second tray over had some plain soft white bread on a plate. That was likely a good place to start. She reached for it, holding it up and in an accessible location, she broke a small piece off and handed it to Malone.

He took it and dutifully placed the piece in his mouth. Fifteen minutes later, she had managed to get the man to drink almost a whole bottle of water and to eat a slice of bread. He swallowed the last little bite and shifted enough from his position next to her on the cot to look at her.

"Thank you," he managed. "Who are you?"

Miranda took a deep breath. "I'm Miranda, Ken's wife," she answered.

"Would Ken be the Commander?" he asked.

"The man who's been keeping you down here?" she asked.

He nodded.

"'Fraid so."

They were both silent for a moment, then Malone spoke, "I don't want him to know."

"Know what?" she asked.

"That I had anything to eat or drink. I don't want to give him an inch of victory. I will eat for you. I won't do it for him."

Miranda figured she needed to pick her battles. The first battle she had to win was to get Malone to not die and to continue to consume calories and liquids. "Ok," she answered.

"Ok?" he clarified.

"Yes. I want you to finish the other slice of bread. I can replace both slices. I know we have that same bread in the kitchen. I can replace the bottle of water, too. I know where he keeps some MREs stored in our wine cellar. He won't miss them. I can bring one back to you. You need more sustenance, and it will take me a few minutes so that the bread and water can settle. I'm going to fix this disaster. I'm going to get you back to your wife. It's going to be ok."

Miranda stood from the cot. "Finish the bread. I've got to hurry so I'm back before he returns and notices. We'll figure this out. I promise."

Michael watched her leave. He was still questioning if he was dead already, but the bread settled his stomach and the water, though at first making him a tad nauseated, was helping his hydration. He continued to nibble the bread and sip the water.

Miranda practically raced up the stairs. She still should have time, but she was going to have to haul ass. She sped back down the dirt trail on the ATV. She reached the back lawn in closer to ten minutes than fifteen. Turning the vehicle off, she ran into the mansion's kitchen, grabbing a few slices of the bread, three bottles of water, and a few protein bars. She ran down into the wine cellar at the side entrance to the kitchen and house, and grabbed two MREs, then she high tailed it back up the trail to Malone.

He had also made a request for some ibuprofen. Apparently he had had a headache for so long he was starting to forgot what it felt like to exist without one.

Once she was back to him, she got him to eat almost all of one of the MREs and a third slice of bread. She replaced the two slices of bread on the plate and swapped out a full water bottle for an empty one. She made Malone tuck a protein bar deep in each of his two side pockets, despite his concern that Ken would find them. She made him promise to eat them, and to leave the wrappers in his pockets, and she would take the wrappers with her after she came back. She promised she would somehow sneak out in the middle of the night tonight once she knew Ken was asleep. She didn't know what she was going to do after that, but somehow, she had to convince Ken that this insanity had to stop. Enough was enough. She tried to let him do it his way. There had to be another way.