Massive thanks for the response to the last chapter. For those of you wanting some happiness... welllll, you'll just have to bare with me a little bit longer ;)

10.

There's an intense burning in his chest. It feels like his lungs are on fire. He doesn't know where he is or what's happening to him, he just knows he needs more air. When he tries to breathe he ends up coughing and the few breaths that are successful are filled with pain and barely make a difference. Tremors run through his body but he can't tell if it's his lungs or his stomach heaving until bile hits the floor. He tries to push himself away from the mess but his arms are weak and he can't seem to control his body.

Vomiting has left him even more breathless. He gasps for air but however hard he tries he can't seem to catch his breath. Things are starting to come back to him now. A's stupid games in the spa. The pool. Being dragged under the surface, gulping in water as he'd gasped in shock, struggling, panicking, energy being zapped from him and finally, peace.

Someone's saying his name. It gives him the strength to push himself up on one elbow. Hanna's by his side, hair plastered to her face, eyebrows knotted in the way that means she's worried. He tries to tell her he's okay but all that happens is he breaks into another coughing fit, gasping between each cough.

"Breathe slowly and deeply," she says, "just like you always tell me."

This is vastly different to a panic attack but he tries to take her advice regardless, fighting against the urge for rapid, shallow breaths. He wishes she weren't seeing him like this. She gives him an encouraging nod. Inhaling deeply hurts his chest even more.

She's saying something else to him now but he misses it. His head aches and he's still trying to process that Hanna being sopping wet must mean she jumped in after him. He wants to ask her about it but he doesn't have the energy to speak.

The ache from his lungs isn't subsiding. He rubs at his chest with a fist.

"Does it hurt?" Hanna asks.

He doesn't manage a reply but he's past being able to mask his expression.

"Come here." She shuffles so she's behind him and he's leaning against her. She puts her hand beneath his and starts mimicking his movements, gently rubbing his chest. "Is this okay?"

He nods.

"Can you talk?"

His lips are parted but he's still concentrating on breathing and it doesn't feel like there's room for anything else in his lungs.

He looks up at her, hoping to convey his answer with a look but gets distracted when he sees that she's crying again. It dawns on him that she's had to watch all this and it makes him feel worse than ever. He reaches up to her, his arm so heavy he barely manages, and wipes her tears away. She gives his hand a squeeze and moves it back down to his side, with an instruction to rest.

Sometime later, he becomes aware that he's still slumped against Hanna, with her gently running her fingers through his hair. He can't deny it's comforting but he's meant to be looking after her, not the other way around.

He sits up and wraps an arm around her.

She looks at him, wide eyed and hopeful. "Are you feeling better?"

He nods. If being able to breathe again equates to feeling better than it's true. "You saved my life," he says. His voice is hoarse. It hurts to speak.

She smiles. "I already told you I can't live without you."

"You're amazing."

"I can't believe that happened. You could have actually died."

He holds her tighter by way of reply.

"Is your leg okay?"

Truthfully, everything else had hurt so much, he'd barely noticed his leg. It's throbbing. There are chunks missing from his skin from where the metal had clamped down on him and he suspects the bone is broken. "It's fine," he says.

He takes her hand in his and examines the fingertips where A had earlier stabbed through them. They're swollen, a deep red-purple, the nails crusted with blood and a couple already turning black.

"They're fine too," she echoes.

"Please return to the spa."

Hanna's hand, even though it's the injured one, tightens around his. "No," she mutters, "no, no, not this time."

He feels sick himself. "Han-"

"No!" she yells. She jumps to her feet. "You nearly killed him you sick bitch! You can't get away with that! We're not playing any more of your games. Do you understand? Do you fucking understand?"

There's a pause.

"Please return to the spa."

"Shut up you stupid psychopath! We're done!"

The alarm blares around the room, penetrating their ear drums, so loud it hurts. Hanna drops to the floor next to him, eyes shining with angry tears. He covers her ears for her and she does the same to him, resting their foreheads together and staring into each other's eyes to get them through it. He wonders what happens if the noise never ends, would they get used to it or would they lose their minds with insanity?

And then, as suddenly as it started, it stops.

"Please return to your room."

Hanna's eyes widen. "Did we just win?" she whispers.

He shrugs. He doesn't know if he believes there's such a thing as winning against A anymore.

"Are you going to be able to walk?"

"Yeah," he rasps. He uses the wall to push himself up. Being on one foot combined with still feeling weak, makes him feel unsteady. To balance himself, he spreads his weight to his other foot too. White pain shoots up his ankle and he hisses.

Hanna lifts his arm over her shoulders and wraps hers around his waist. "Lean on me."

He eases his grimace and looks at her, raising an eyebrow.

"Hey, I work out!" she says.

They make it down the corridor a step at a time, his jaw clenched, trying not to cry out with each movement.

Hanna helps him onto the sofa and turns around to appraise him, arms folded across her body. From her expression, he looks as shit as he feels.

She heads straight to the wardrobe. "It's empty," she says, with disgust.

From the slamming of drawers that follows, he can tell they're the same too. He looks across to her. She has her hands on her hips. Behind her, the bed is void of covers.

She crashes into the bathroom. "There's not even a fucking towel."

"It's okay," he tells her.

"No, it's not! We're soaked and freezing. You sound like you're about to catch pneumonia. And these-" she points at her legs, "these are cheap jeans, and you know what happens to cheap jeans when they get wet? The dye runs."

"That's what you're worrying about?"

She slumps onto the sofa next to him. "I'm going to look like a Smurf!"

He can't help but laugh. It makes his chest hurt even more but it's worth it.

She doesn't return the smile. "I was really worried," she says. "Are you sure you're okay?"

He nods. "Thanks to you."

"It doesn't still hurt?"

"Well, as long as I'm not walking, or talking… or breathing." He sees her face change. "I can handle it."

She lifts his arm and ducks beneath so she can cuddle up to him. "Don't ever do that to me again, okay?"

She's woken by a pain in her hand. It's trapped between her and Caleb and she has to move off him to retrieve it. She wriggles the fingers; something her mom always told her to do when she hurt herself as a kid. Everything moves as it should but the tips are shades of purple and black and won't stop throbbing. Still, she'd willingly surrender her other hand too if it would keep Caleb safe.

She looks at him. He's still sleeping, chapped lips slightly parted, hair sticking up at odd angles. She wants to stroke his hair, kiss his temple, anything to check he's real, but she doesn't want to wake him. He needs to rest to recover from what happened yesterday.

It still feels like a nightmare, rather than reality. A had progressed past mind games and petty injuries and had physically held Caleb underwater until he'd lost consciousness. A had no control over whether she would attempt CPR on him which meant A didn't care whether he had lived or died. She shudders. She's cold from her damp clothes but she knows that's only part of the reason for her shivering.

"Good morning, Hanna."

She whips around and sees the TV has come to life, showing the same featureless face as before.

"Good morning, Caleb."

She feels him stirring beside her and is annoyed with herself that A noticed first. She allows herself a touch this time, a gentle hand on his thigh. His skin is cold.

"Are you okay, babe?"

He nods, yawning. "You get some sleep?"

His voice is still husky and she tries not to frown at the sound of it. "Woke up just before you," she tells him.

"Are you excited for your presents?"

They exchange a weary look. She doesn't think she has it in her to outlast any more of A's games.

"I think we'll pass," Caleb says.

"Your lack of gratitude is noted."

Hanna swings back around to glare at the TV. "Gratitude? Are you kidding me? What do we have to be grateful for? You've been torturing us for days, you nearly killed him yesterday!"

"I cared for you. Caleb was released while oxygen deprivation was only impacting his lungs and not his brain. Your fingertips were only pierced instead of being chopped off altogether."

"You're insane."

"You're very rude to me, Hanna. I've cared for you. I've fed you. I've clothed you. We've played games together."

She's about to retort back, but Caleb lays his hand on top of hers and shakes his head in warning.

"Are you excited for your presents?"

She gives him a look to make it clear she's not happy about playing along. "Can't wait!" she says, out loud.

The television screen changes to show a fully stocked clothes rack. She spots jumpers, joggers, all things she'd rather be wearing now then damp, cold jeans. Caleb's still only in his boxers and she knows he must be desperate for something warm to cover up in.

"To receive your first present, please select one of the following."

The screen changes again, this time showing photos of two familiar faces. Emily and Aria's portraits smile down on them.

"I don't get it," she mutters to Caleb, "select for what?"

"For nothing good, I'm betting!"

"Is it to be Emily or Aria whom I pay a visit?"

Hanna feels like another little piece of her heart just broke off. It's bad enough her and Caleb going through all this, without the thought of her friend's being dragged into it too.

"Neither," she says.

Caleb nods. "Neither," he confirms to the camera.

"Selecting neither means you will not receive your present."

"Fine with us," he says.

"Your lack of gratitude is noted."

She rolls her eyes but her face immediately returns to serious. "You think it means it?" she whispers. "Nothing will happen to them now?"

"Are you asking me if I trust A?"

"I'm asking you if my friends will be safe."

He hesitates for long enough for her to know there's some sort of internal battle going on. "We have to believe they will be," he says.

It's not exactly the reassurance she was after. These are the kind of occasions when she wishes Caleb would be a little more economical with the truth.

The TV flickers again and this time shows a first aid kit and a tub of painkillers. Her chest leaps. It's exactly what she needs for Caleb. She could give him a respite from the pain and attempt to dress those gashes in his leg.

"To receive your second present, please select one of the following."

This time, when the screen changes, she has to blink furiously to check she's seeing right. Caleb wraps his arm around his shoulders. It should be comforting but instead it just confirms what she already knows. It's Jordan. Or her mom.

"We don't need these," he says immediately.

"Wait," she says. The thought of her mom being involved in any of this makes her feel physically sick, but she can't ignore the other option. If it's Caleb verses Jordan, she's already chosen. "Think how much better you'd feel if you had something to take away the pain. Obviously I can't pick my mom-"

"And I wouldn't want you to, your mom means a lot to me too."

"-but Jordan. He has all the right connections… lawyers, doctors… he has money. He'd be fine, right?"

"No."

"You need medical treatment, Caleb."

"And you think a few bandages will do anything?"

She wriggles away from his arms. "I'm only trying to help."

"I know." He exhales deeply. "But Hanna, I can't let you do this. Jordan was- is your fiancé. You obviously care for him. If anything did happen to him, you'd never forgive yourself. And for what? Some painkillers that could be cyanide for all we know."

She stares at him, mulling it over. "You're right." She sighs. "I can't drag Jordan into this mess. Just because things are over between us, it doesn't mean he deserves this." Her eyes search his face and she sees the exhaustion between his brows. "Are you sure you'll be okay though?"

"I keep telling you I'm fine."

"And I don't believe you."

"What do you want me to say? That I don't believe you're fine either?"

She rolls her eyes. "Well, I can walk at least, so I'm one up on you."

"But… I'd fare better at a piano recital than you would right now."

"You can't play the piano," she says. "And even if you could, do you really think that's something you'd need to be doing?"

"Hey, I was trying to lighten the mood."

"Are you sure you don't want those drugs because I think the pain is making you lose it."

He manages a small huff of amusement. "I'm good."

"Okay." She takes a deep breath. "We don't want it," she tells A, "we're not picking either of them."

There's a pause.

And then,

"Your lack of gratitude is noted."

She's still silently freaking out over A having those pictures of her mom and Jordan and so she doesn't see the next photo immediately when it arrives.

Caleb's groan alerts her.

She looks at him and then follows his gaze up at the television screen. There's a feast of food on the screen, a large takeout pizza, burgers and fries, brownies, bottles of water and coke.

"I'm starving," he says.

Her stomach gurgles with emptiness. "Shush, we agreed not to think about it."

"Little hard when it's right there in front of us, babe."

"To receive your third present, please select one of the following."

The photos that appear are of Mona and Toby. Hanna slumps against the back of the sofa, rolling her head to face Caleb. He's pretty much the only person she knows who thinks about food more than she does, so it's not hard to guess where his mind is.

"I know you hate her, but the answer's no," she says to him.

"What, you think I was going to suggest throwing Mona to A's wolves?"

"Weren't you?"

"I'd chose junk food over Mona in pretty much any other circumstance, but not this."

"That's big of you."

"She's been a little more tolerable lately," he says. "We managed like three whole conversations while we were trying to find you."

"Oh yeah? About what?"

"Technology. Murder weapons. The usual. Besides, neither of us care about pandering to Alison like the rest of you do, so there's some common ground there."

"Just when I thought you weren't going to be a jerk about my friends."

He smiles. "Would hate to disappoint."

She supresses her own smile in return. The easy banter makes things seem slightly less bad. "Just so you know, if you weren't already hurt, I'd totally hit you right now."

"I'd expect nothing less." He looks back at the screen, his smile fading. "Han- I'm not suggesting it, just curious. Mona could handle all this right?"

"I-" She thinks back to Mona down the hole in the dollhouse, crying and broken, and has to blink furiously to shake the vision. "I don't know. You didn't see what she went through, you know, before. That wasn't Mona like we know her. That…" she shudders, "it was like it was someone else."

He shakes his head. "I worded that wrong. I mean, you think she'd have it sussed? Who's behind this, how to escape?"

She shrugs. "I don't know. Maybe, yeah." She looks at him. He's frowning deeply, chewing at his lip. "Don't torture yourself over it. A's doing enough of that without you joining in."

He nods but doesn't meet her eyes or bother with a verbal response.

"What about Toby?" she says. "He's a strong guy. And he's got a gun so he can shoot A's head off before it tries anything."

"Not sure A works like that."

"Okay, but he's a cop. If anything happens to him, the police will have to investigate properly, right?"

"That sounds like he's bait. We're not using anyone as bait again."

She sighs. Offering herself up as bait hadn't worked as intended and she's not going to make the same mistake twice. "You're right. Those burgers looked so good though."

"I thought we weren't gonna talk about that!"

"If you like, we can talk about how I'm so hungry right now, I would literally eat the food waste straight from a dumpster!"

He raises an eyebrow. "Okay, yeah. Let's stick with the burger."

"So." She drags out the word. "We're saying no?"

"We're saying no."

"Your lack of gratitude is noted."