Everything changed when The Woman arrived. Secretly Kyoya began to call her that, likened her to be a oddity: an Irene Adler, if one would.

There was more violence. Everyday there was more violence. Sometimes they'd beat one of the boys, but then The Woman would speak up, some scathing comment that always managed to draw their ire.

God, how they beat her. Hit her until she would curl into a bloody ball and cry; by then, the members would have tired themselves out and leave. God knows he and Tamaki wouldn't have been able to take blows like that, but The Woman had done so with a grim resignation.

And then one day, perhaps the nineth, Tamaki spoke a bit too out of turn. Kyoya couldn't blame his friend, for one of the men had whipped at The Woman's back until her insults tapered off into hoarse screaming. The yakuza turned around, drunkenly whipped Tamaki across the face and walked out. The whip slashed into his eye and a ghastly silence fell, soon broken by a cry. The yakuza was giggling as Tamaki's agonized shrieks were muted by the door.

Shriek he did; Tamaki wept and cried out for his mother, clutching his ruined eye as he writhed.

Kyoya could only watch, horrified as Tamaki's limbs spasmed in pain. Like his friend's body had no idea what to do. It couldn't actually do anything, and logically the brain knew that. But the body didn't know that. All it knew was that the brain usually organized, and the body orchestrated. So Tamaki's body orchestrated, nerves pulled and plucked at like a violin.

Tamaki wasn't supposed to be hurt. He was the only one of value. Kyoya had been so afraid that they'd accidentally beat The Woman to death or find out the Kyoya wasn't an heir- he didn't even consider Tamaki being maimed.

Kyoya couldn't speak. Fast. It had all happened so fast. He moved to kneel at Tamaki's side, he did, but The Woman moved faster. Kyoya blinked. How was she still so fast? What happened to her restraints?

"I can't see, my- my-"

The Woman grabbed Tamaki and forcefully pulled him into a rocking embrace, void of any untoward intention. Her voice travelled in parts to Kyoya, over the waves crashing in his ears. Or was that the blood?

Pulsatile tinnitus, chimed his brain.

Yes. Thank you for your contribution. Very helpful.

The Woman wrapped an odd looking hand around Tamaki's face, hushing his horrified cries. Though her fingers sank a bit into the gore she remained certain in her movements.

"Heyyy honey," she spoke, nerves bleeding through her tone, grappling for a hold on him despite the slippery blood. "Fucking head wounds. Bare with me big guy, you big, European guy, you great big lug-"

And then, the strangest thing. Her hands- and Kyoya had just then realized the thumbs were broken, which explained the cuffs but good god- began to glow. Not much at first, but there came the sparks and then her whole palm burned intensely bright for a bit.

She was still babbling nonsense to him to try to deescalate his hysteria. "Hey, big guy, close your eyes, hold your breath, yeah? Like… a shot! A vaccine or alcohol, you wanna get it done quick. One, two-aaand-there-we-go!"

The Woman began to awkwardly lightly pat Tamaki's cheeks before reaching up to absently trace the area where his skin had been put flawlessly back together.

Tamaki's cries had died down, until he drowsily blinked open his eyes at her, weakly murmured "Oh, merci," and promptly passed out.

"Tamaki…"

The Woman made sure Tamaki's posture was as comfortable as possible. She flicked the excess gore off of her hand and let out a horrible gag, jostling the marks he saw were still on her back. Kyoya realized she was just as affected as he.

Still chained to the wall, Kyoya called out, asking "Are… is he..?" He trailed off, wanting the answer but unwilling to verbalize something as foolish as are you okay? after taking witness to the miracle.

Though she seemed to understand, and sent him a thumbs up. At that he did a double take.

The Woman had healed the broken appendages much like she had Tamaki's face.

Then, she spoke.

"We need to leave." It was not a question.

His sharp gray eyes regarded her. "When?"

"Like the hour matters," she said, then looked at Tamaki. "He needs to wake up soon, or he'll be-"

"I will not leave Tamaki behind!" Kyoya hissed.

"-deadweight while we travel," she whirled around on Kyoya, "We're not leaving him. It's all three of us." The Woman slowly moved to take his hand. She squeezed it tenderly. "All or nothing."

Kyoya wanted to ask her many things, but there was little time. The decision had to be made and Tamaki cajoled back into conciousness.

He looked at her. She had intense eyes, shadowed ones that pinned him like an insect for collection. Her black hair that was knotted with grime and the days spent here. Cracked lips- dehydration/hunger/stress- drawn back in a determined grimace.

She would probably die, soon. All of them would, but she would be the first to go with her back in such a state. Why had she not healed her shredded back? Did it take something out of her to preform miracles? Kyoya mused over this, then moved on to something more immediate: the erractic behavior of their kidnappers. As dread coiled tightly in his gut, there was only one thought he felt certain about: if they stayed, they'd only be sources of amusement.

That was it. Their abductors' endgame had switched- no longer was this a simple hostage situation. Something must have gone wrong with negotiations- did they not get through to the Suohs? His father? Had they tried, or was it all futile from the beginning, a half baked plan that would have never worked out in the first place?

The sweat across Kyoya's back was freezing. What if the money had already been exchanged, and the three of them would die anyways?

There was no survival- not when they had been given the okay to damage Tamaki like that, no, no… Death was the only outcome of staying.

Kyoya dropped his eyes from hers to chance another look at Tamaki- at his smooth, unmarred skin- and gave in. Like a cut marionette, he slowly moved to his friend's side. The Woman called his name, gently slapping Tamaki's cheeks to bring back awareness.

Kyoya, with his shoulders sinking from relief, made his way over to them and slumped against Tamaki. He buried his face in the dirty white shirt- their school ties had long been shredded in a pitiful attempt to bandage The Woman- and inhaled, shuddering. Kyoya had turned to wood: his limbs creaked as he moved, stiff and heavy, and his mouth opened and clicked shut without sound.

Finally Tamaki groaned, and even that weak sound had relief shooting through Kyoya. Kyoya turned around to face The Woman, and nodded once. He would hand over the reins, and allow her to guide the three of them.

The Woman smiled then, for the first time Kyoya had ever known her. Her lips bled a bit with the stretching, but with the way her tired eyes sparkled, the way she tucked a dirty lock behind her ear… Kyoya knew she was beautiful.

There was no way to tell the hour, but as the shadows began to stretch and the air began to chill, it was apparent that night had settled in. Tamaki had been awake now for a long enough stretch of time, and grew anxious with every passing minute. He'd been filled in by Kyoya, of course, and kept huddled between the two. His eyes- an odd, capitivating shade of plum- swiveled constantly between Kyoya and The Woman like he expected Kyoya to blow up at any moment.

Perhaps he did, and perhaps they would, but Kyoya and The Woman both seemed to understand that upsetting Tamaki would accomplish nothing, in the long run.

That, and every time Tamaki would reach up to his healed eye, both ravens would flinch with guilt. No. There would be no more upsets for Tamaki.