Your reviews made me so happy, thank you SO much. In terms of whether I'm going to continue this once (if?) they get out, don't want to give too many spoilers but I can confirm this story will be 18 chapters long and you'll find out the answer to that question soon :)

11.

Hanna's quiet as they wait for whatever comes next and he suspects, like him, she's mulling over all the things they've turned down: clothing, painkillers and food. It's like a slap in the face having to turn down the items they're so desperate for but there's no way they're dragging someone else into their mess.

He reaches across the sofa to offer Hanna his hand. Fortunately, it's her healthy hand that's nearest to him and so she knots their fingers together, giving him a squeeze. He returns the gesture. She's pale and looks exhausted and he wishes he knew what to do to make it better.

"For my final and best gift to you."

A picture of a phone appears on the screen.

He feels Hanna flinch. "We could phone for help. We could get out!"

His heart is thumping against his chest too but he can't summon the same level as enthusiasm as Hanna. "What's the catch? Does it even have a SIM?"

"One phone call guaranteed."

As he's grown accustomed to, two faces for them to choose between appear on the screen. Alison or Spencer.

He winces. He's not so stupid as not have presumed Spencer would appear at some point, he just hadn't considered it would be for something they can't turn down. That means there's only one alternative.

"Don't freak out," he begins. "But Alison's in a psychiatric unit, she's safe there, right?"

She looks at him like he's speaking a foreign language. "Says who? A could have anyone at that unit on its side."

"Well, I think she's safe."

"You mean, you want to give Ali to A?" When he doesn't deny it, she removes her hand from his. "No, I'm not doing that to her!"

He grits his jaw, exhales through his nose. They need this phone far more than they needed the other items. It's a difficult choice but he's not willing to sacrifice Spencer when they're already about to hurt her anyway, and so that leaves Alison. He makes the decision to go hard on this, to let Hanna blame him for whatever happens to Alison, rather than shouldering the guilt herself.

"Why not?" he asks. "Last time I checked you didn't even like her."

"Of course I do!" she snaps. "I came back to Rosewood for her, didn't I?"

"That's not the same thing as liking her."

"What's wrong with you?" she asks. "What happened to not letting anyone else get hurt?"

"It's for a phone, Hanna," he says.

"Well, you always did care more for technology than for other people."

He looks at her out of the corner of his eye, letting her know her blow hit. "What's your suggestion then? Select Spencer just because you're jealous of me and her?"

He regrets it the moment he sees her face fall. She gets up from the sofa and turns away from him so he can't see, but he can imagine the tremble in her bottom lip, the dampness in her eyes.

"Hanna-" he starts.

"Do you really think I would do that?"

"No, I-"

"Because I am jealous of you and Spencer." She turns back to face him, her hand on her chest. "It kills me to think of the two of you together. But do you really think I would let A get to her if I had the choice? After- after everything. After what we went through?"

He might not know all the details but he knows enough to tell she's thinking about the dollhouse. A tear slips down her cheek and he wants to brush it away. But even if he could stand unaided, he doubts she'd let him close enough.

"I know, I'm sorry."

"Why would you even say that?" She starts to pace. "Why would you bring that up now?"

"Hanna, please, just come and sit down."

"Do you still have feelings for her?"

"What?" He runs his hand over his head in frustration. "No. I care about her, obviously. This isn't about that."

"Isn't it?" she challenges.

"Alison's protected. Spencer's not. Whatever my history with each of them, or yours for that matter, that's the logical way to decide."

He waits as she thinks it through. She sits back down on the sofa. There's a far bigger gap between them then there was before but it's a promising sign.

"Who would we even call? I don't know anyone's number."

"Uh, 911," he says.

"Right." She leans forward. "And we could warn them at the same time that's something's going to happen to Ali- I mean, to whoever we pick."

He takes a deep breath. "Looks like we just picked."

"Ali's been through a lot," she says.

"So have we."

She's silent again and he watches her as she thinks.

"There is something else," she says. "You'll think I'm crazy."

"Go on," he says, curious.

"What if it's Charlotte?" she pauses for barely a second and then carries on before he has chance to point out the obvious. "I know, I know, she's dead. But we thought Ali was dead. We thought Mona was dead. I thought you-"

"They found Charlotte's body though, right?" he says, interrupting before she has to relive his so-called death.

"I don't know. I mean, yes, they found her body, but… look, I told you it sounded crazy."

"Hanna, everything sounds crazy in here."

She re-angles herself so she's facing him head on. "I know you only ever got half a story from me about what happened in the dollhouse so, unless Spencer told you..?"

He shakes his head.

"It was just like this. It- Charlotte , she made us pick between each other all the time. Who gets hurt today, who gets starved…" her speech trails off as she pauses to compose herself. "It was just like what this A's doing now."

"What are you saying?"

"I just don't get why it, whoever it is, would give us a phone. What if it's a trick?"

He frowns. His heart's pounding as things start to piece together. "Or what if it's not even about the phone?" he says. "It knows we both have greater… loyalties… to Spencer than to Alison, right? And it's pretty obvious we'd want a phone. So, it's expecting us to pick Alison. It's not about giving us a phone at all, it's all about her."

"But if it wants to get to Ali then why use us? Why not just do it anyway?"

"Because it's all part of the game. And it wants to win."

"We're not going to let it win!"

"No," he agrees.

"So we have to say no? We say no to the phone?"

Even among the tear stains, the bruises, the pale skin and knotted hair, she looks hopeful. It makes him even more desperate to have got this right, not for him but for her. He takes a deep breath. "I think so, yeah."

"Are you sure?"

"As I can be. You?"

She purses her lips. "Yeah. What have we to lose? Let's do it."

He shuffles closer to her and takes her hand back in his. He counts to five silently and Hanna's still holding his gaze. She means it.

"We pick neither," he tells A. His eyes stay with Hanna this time, ignoring the camera. "We're saying no to the phone."

There's a moment of nothing and then A pipes up with its predictable response.

"Your lack of gratitude is noted."

He lets out a shaky breath.

"What next?" Hanna asks him.

He shrugs.

They don't have to wait long for the answer. The door bursts open and a masked figure bursts in. As far as he can tell from their height and build, it's the same person who tortured them in the barn, the same person who'd stuck a needle in his neck when he was shackled to the chair.

The person strides across the room towards them. Hanna shirks away, cuddling into him, and he wraps his arms around her.

"It's okay," he murmurs in her ear, although he's certain it's not.

Hanna is grabbed from behind. She's screaming, clinging to him and he holds onto her as firmly as he can. He's scared he's hurting her but more scared of letting her go. He can feel her nails digging into the bare skin of his back as she fights to stay with him.

"Get off her," he yells. He kicks out with his good leg, delivering a firm kick to the assailant's shin. It does nothing and he can't fight any better because his arms are around Hanna and he can't let her go. He feels a gap develop between them. The other man is at a better position to fight and is stronger anyway. Hanna's arms wrap around his neck this time, almost choking him but it's okay because it means she's there.

"Caleb!"

"Hanna!" The man's got her by the waist now, lifting her up and off him. "No! Stop! Get off her!"

He can feel her hands slipping from around his neck and she's sobbing as much as she's screaming. His hands slide from her back as she's lifted from him but he catches her hands and holds tight, probably hurting her but doing what he needs to. The man has her around the waist and she's mid-air and so, with one violent tug, their hands slip to fingers and then part altogether.

He jumps on his feet straight away. Agony shoots up his leg but he ignores it, half hopping, half running across the room as the man steals Hanna. She's kicking and squirming, fighting him, throwing punches into the air, but he's much bigger than her and she's weak from the lack of food and sleep and the pain.

He makes it out into the corridor in time to see him throw Hanna through an open door and slam it shut. She pounds on the door from the other side, still screaming, still shouting his name and it makes him want to cry. Instead, he launches himself at the man, knocking them both to the floor with himself on top. His fist collides with the side of the other man's head. He uses the sound of Hanna breaking apart to fuel his strength and he manages a punch to his stomach. It winds him for long enough for Caleb to reach for the edge of the mask.

But then he's flipped backwards and there's punch that splits his lip open. He tastes blood and it only increases his resolve. But the man knows how to stop him and takes his broken ankle and pulls it, twisting, and it's even worse pain than when he'd bore weight on it before. He howls. Through bleary eyes he sees the man scramble to his feet and run down the corridor, disappearing through a door at the far end.

"Caleb! Caleb!"

"Hanna!" He pushes himself into a sitting position and raps on his side of the door. "Are you okay?"

A knock comes back in return. "Yeah. Are you?"

"Yeah." He's almost glad she can't see his face. "What's in there?"

"I don't know, nothing? It's dark. I think it's just a cupboard."

"I'm going to try to get you out." He pushes himself upright, careful to keep his wounded leg off the ground this time. "Get away from the door, okay?"

With as much force as he can muster, he throws himself at the door and then does the same over and over, hoping it will eventually give way. But his legs give way first, and he slumps to the ground, leaning against the door with nothing to show other than a sore arm to add to his list of injuries.

Another knock comes from inside. "Caleb?"

He rubs at a tired eye, sighing. He's failed her again. "It's not budging."

"Caleb, I'm scared."

"It's okay, you're gonna be fine."

"No, I mean, I'm scared they're going to take you away again while I'm locked in here."

He closes his eyes, his head slumping back against the wall. "I'm going nowhere, babe."

"You've got to keep on knocking, okay, like this. So I know you're still there." She delivers a series of knocks to her side of the door.

He repeats the pattern back to her.

"Promise me?"

"I promise," he says. He knocks again for emphasis.

"Caleb?" she says.

He imagines her sat in an identical position the other side of the door, their shoulders touching if it weren't for the wooden panel. "Yeah?"

"I'm sorry we fought."

"Me too."

"I was just tired and stressed and hungry and everything hurts and-"

"It's okay," he says, cutting her off before she gets too worked up. "I- I get it. I'm the same. I shouldn't have said what I did though, it was-"

"I never would have picked Spencer, you know. I couldn't."

He nods, even though she can't see him. "I know. And I wasn't refusing to pick her because I have feelings for her. It's because I don't have feelings for her. Because I don't want to hurt her more on top of that."

There's a pause and then he hears their code of knocks. He gets it, it's her way of saying she understands. He returns it and she joins in, managing to synchronise their knocks and turn it into a chorus. Despite everything, he smiles.

They continue this way, inventing more and more elaborate rhythms and it almost works as a distraction.

"You are the lucky participant in our bonus round!"

He jumps. His face snaps to the nearest camera. "What are you talking about?"

"Two more choices. Option one. You're free to go. Alone. You've been fun to play with, but you're not one of my dolls."

"What's option two?"

"You can join Hanna."

"Option two," he says, without hesitation. It's not even a choice. The only thing worse than being in here is being outside without Hanna.

"Thank you for playing. To complete the game, please go through the door as soon as it's unlocked. If you try to escape, I will kill you both. Do you understand the rules?"

"I understand," he says through gritted teeth.

"Thank you for playing."

The door unlocks. He pulls it open and crawls through it and straight into Hanna's arms. He hears the familiar clink of the door lock behind him.

"Was A talking to you?" she asks, her arms still around his neck.

"Yeah. You couldn't hear?"

"Just your side." She pauses. "What was option one?"

"It didn't involve being with you," he murmurs into her hair, leaving a kiss while he's there.

They settle down on the floor, still wrapped in each other's arms. He looks around. Hanna's right, it looks like a cupboard, big enough for the two of them but only because it's empty. It reminds him of a bedroom he'd once been allocated at some foster home that could barely fit a single mattress.

"I don't feel good," Hanna says.

He whips his head around to face her. She's staring straight ahead stubbornly. "How do you mean?"

"Like I might pass out."

"It'll be the lack of food, babe. Fighting that creep must have used your last bit of energy."

Slowly, she sits upright from him, turning to show him her face and he can see from the look in her eyes, she's about to tell him something he doesn't want to hear.

"It's not that. I know what lack of food feels like and it's not that. It's like… dizziness. My head hurts. And- and I feel kinda sick."

He stares at her, frozen but his mind whirring, eventually settling on one word. Shit. "Lift your top up and cover your nose and mouth, okay?"

"What?"

"Just do it, Hanna."

She does as he asked but her eyes remain exposed, and he can see the fear within them. "What do you think it is?" she asks, her voice muffled.

"I dunno." He sniffs the air, squints through the darkness again. There's nothing he can identify but most the things that could hurt them are silent and invisible anyway. "Some kind of gas."

"Gas?"

"I don't know."

"Well, what about you?" she asks.

"I'm fine. You've had more exposure."

"So what can we do?"

He doesn't want to tell her there's nothing they can do. "You can come here," he says, opening his arm up so she can curl up against him.

It's not long before he starts to feel it himself, lightheaded and achy, nausea stirring in his stomach. He doesn't say anything, just holds Hanna a little closer.

Their conversation is kept to a minimum, an unspoken agreement to conserve their breath. The silence means his brain is busy trying to calculate things he has no knowledge of, like how long they can last for inhaling poisonous gas or what part of their body will shut down first.

He thought he was hiding his own symptoms well until Hanna struggles upright and looks at him critically. She pulls her t-shirt over her head, her movements clumsy, and panting heavily from the exertion. She folds the top lengthways and leans back against him, pressing their cheeks together and holding up the cloth so that it covers both of their mouths. He takes her cue and holds his hand against his end, so that the t-shirt is covering his airways too.

Soon after, he notices her grip falter and without a word, stretches her arm further around her, bringing her even closer, so that he can hold the cloth over her mouth too.

"Are we gonna die here?" she asks, her voice barely audible.

His heart breaks. "No," he says. "No! It's just like the other stuff. It'll let us out before it gets bad."

She makes a small noise that's half a sob and half a laugh.

"What?"

"I get it now. Why- why you don't lie to me. You're… a terrible…"

She trails off. He looks down at her and her head is lolling forwards. His heart jumps into his throat. "Han. Hanna?"

She murmurs.

"Babe, you've got to stay awake, okay?"

"Tired."

"I know, babe, but this is more important than sleeping right now."

He takes her face in his hands, the t-shirt falling from his grip as he does so, landing uselessly on the floor. He tilts her head upright, flooded with relief when she opens her eyes to look at him.

"I love you," she says.

"I love you too." Her head is already growing heavy against his palm. She's growing weaker so rapidly and he doesn't know what to do. If they really are going to die here, like this, there's only one thing that makes sense. He leans in and presses his lips to hers. "We're- we're gonna be together, right? Forever. We've got so much to look forward to that you've got to stay al- awake for." He pauses and waits for her to respond.

She doesn't.

"Hanna." He taps her cheek. Her eyelashes flutter. "Hanna, you better be listening. You've got to stay with me, okay? Do you understand? We've got a whole life ahead of us. We're gonna do it all. Marriage, kids, get a house…" he coughs, trying to ignore the spinning inside his own head, the splitting headache. "You'll have your own clothing line. We-we'll travel the world. You just gotta stay awake, yeah? Hanna? Say it. Say you'll stay with me."

She leans forward and her mouth opens and for a moment he thinks it's worked. But then she vomits down both of them and slumps forward into his arms.

"No, Hanna! Hanna, please." His hand finds home in her hair and he grips tightly, trying to lift her head off him, trying to prove to himself that she's conscious. Her body remains limp against his. "No. Please. No!" The words fall from his lips as sobs. "Hanna." He wraps his arms around her, cradling her, rocking her like a baby.

His chest hurts. He doesn't know if it's still hurts or if it's new, but he knows each breath is taking far more effort than it should. It's becoming harder and harder to keep himself upright. His head bobs. A tear runs down his chin and lands in Hanna's hair. He uses his last scrap of energy to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear and holds her tighter, knowing unconsciousness is only moments away.