A/N: As always, wanna give a big thanks to my reviewers. I still love you guys!

I also wanted to let you know that we are nowhere near the end, so stop worrying! I'd say we are only a little over halfway done. Trust me, there is so much more angst to come it's insane...just like me. heheh.

And on that note, I think my mind is a very scary place. This one actually made my stomach turn a bit. So, pull out your barf bags and your tissues, sit down and read on.

I won't say enjoy cause, you really shouldn't enjoy this one. This one should make you sick. Needless to say, if torture, pain and angst bother you, then how the hell did you get this far with this story?

Ok, so don't say I didn't warn you. Read on at your own risk.

Chapter 18

Foot falls echoed through the ransacked medical room. Cabinets were hanging open like an aghast mouth of a shocked face. Shards of glass littered every surface causing a glorious glimmering effect which filled the dead space. Rubble from the creation of the new door still laid spewed across the area while darkened scorch marks covered every inch of the circumference of the new opening. Destruction was everywhere.

In the middle of the room, three small red lakes were still being formed by the blood slowly dripping off the three empty medical beds. The small drops echoed through the thick stale air, imitating the deceptively sweet sound of an early spring shower. A repugnant stench of sweat and a sickly metallic stench of blood permeated the air, killing any hope that the soft sound was in fact a cleansing rainfall.

The frequency of the foot falls slowed as the deafening heartbeat that accompanied them quicken. Cold blue eyes looked onto the shimmering metal tray that laid on the equally cold metallic cart. The metal was smooth with no defects, no deep scars, hidden or otherwise. It just stared back at the young-yet-old eyes with a cold and inhuman glare.

The foot falls slowed more as the empty bloodshot eyes fell upon the only other being in the decimated room of horrors. She looked so peaceful with her eyes gently closed, her blonde hair gently fanned out onto the soft mattress. No lines of worry, fear or happiness announced their presence on her strong yet beautiful features. The only warning signs were the restraints holding down her limbs and her lips that glimmered in the unfeeling medical lights. A glimmer that was just a little too similar to the inhuman shine to the metal tray.

Finally, medical was quiet save for the shower of blood droplets softly falling into themselves. The blue eyes were now hidden from view, hidden from the being on the bed and hidden from the world. A small tear sneaked out past the well guarded tear ducts and rolled down the tortured face.

A shadow crossed over the tray filled with bottles and instruments. A syringe slowly rose from the collection and silently made it's way over to the peaceful body. Quivering in the air, the syringe stopped, unable to make it past the invisible force field that surrounded the blonde women.

"Must..." fell from the young man's cracked, bloody lips as the syringe finally broke through the field. The cold hard metal end of the syringe touched the warm soft skin of the woman. One would have expected a reaction from the meeting of such opposites, such as when ice meets heat, but no such violent reaction was forthcoming. The cold metal vibrated against the skin and then was gone once more, withdrawn before it had completed it's life purpose.

"For...B-Beka..." came hushed out of the cotton dry mouth. The syringe once more broke through the force field, landed on the skin, and this time, dropped off it's cargo.

The peaceful face changed. The eyes began to flutter like the delicate wings of a butterfly just coming out of it's cocoon and lines of life began re-appearing on the delicate epidermis. Peace was gone and cruel reality had returned.

HOUR ONE:

Before him laid his savior. She had swooped down out the smog filled sky, plucked him from his miserable existence and showed him the wonders of heaven. Now he was standing above her about to introduce her to hell.

Her eyes were just beginning to focus. Was is Beka or Velac, friend or enemy? Either way it didn't matter, did it?

Her arms started to struggle against the restraints as soon as the reality of the situation sunk into her conciseness. Angry eyes looked up at the soon-to-be-torturer. "HARPER!!!" LET ME GO!!!" She yelled at the top of her very fit lungs.

"No," he answered quietly.

"I swear I will hurt Beka if you don't release me this instant!!" More demands flew out like spit from the helpless women's mouth.

It didn't matter to Harper if Velac hurt Beka, he was about to hurt her more than anyone else in the know universe could. With a tentative hand, he reached over to his newly sterilized Tray-O-Torture and grabbed his trusty laser. It took all his strength to bring the menacing instrument up to Beka's temples.

The whole time the eyes that were engulfed with fire watched his every movement. "What are you doing runt?! Did you not hear me? Are you deaf as well as stupid. Do you need to actually hear her scream to understand what I can and will do to her!?" Velac yelled trying to reason with the mad man above her.

Harper's eyelids closed as he tried to focus all of his energy and will power on turning the laser on. 'For Beka, for Beka, for Beka', he kept chanting in his troubled mind.

Before he knew it, the sound he never thought he would hear filled his life. The sound of Beka Valentine screaming in agony from the pain stimulated by Seamus Zealanzy Harper.

HOUR 2:

Burning on her temples, pain throughout her body, fire running through her brain, then waves of energy cursing through her mind, unbearable and indescribable pain that pierced even the deepest regions of her mind and soul, and then the burning would return and the cycle would begin once more. Half she owed to the invader in her body while the other half she owed to her closest and most trusted friend. When one would stop, the other would begin. All Beka knew was deep, never-ending pain and the sound of her own voice crying out for help from the little brother who was torturing her from above.

HOUR 3:

The happy, shinny laser continued to burn deep into the sensitive, soft skin of the temple. 'Oh, sweet life! To be outside and to be of use,' the laser cheered happily. The past few days had been wonderful for the lonely instrument. It's normal boring existence of being forgotten about in a dark claustrophobic drawer was a distant memory. Now all it knew was the warm hand embracing it's handle and the sweet chorus of music that came from the mouth of the writhing blonde women.

HOUR 4:

Visions of the runt's limbs being pulled off one by one filled Velac's raging mind. The thought of gouging his eyes out with his own damn scalpel and then roasting the bloody orbs on a stick over an open flame brought a smile to her mind.

She understood all too well what his plan was, but he needed to understand that she was not going to let him succeed. He had mentioned the others were all gone, fled like chickens from his torture....well big wooptey shit. They were all weak and pathetic fools, but she was not. She was stronger, smarter, and better. Beka's body was hers and hers alone, and no little runt was about to take that away from her.

HOUR 6:

Blinders were placed up around Harper's vision as autopilot took over. This time he wasn't even watching from above. This time he had opened the dark box in his mind and willingly crawled in, closing the heavy lid behind him.

He could still feel the scalpel in his hand, he could still feel the warmth which radiated off of Beka's body, and he could still hear her agonizing screams. At least the thick haze which clouded his mind turned her desperate cries for help into muffled screams where he could only make out his name.

Deep within his box, he found the darkest corner and curled up into it. Despair came up to him and cuddled next to him, putting it's heavy hairy arm around Harper's trembling shoulders.

HOUR 8:

The micron sharp knife entered the sacred place below the skin as viscous crimson liquid gently rose from the deep incision. The scalpel withdrew from the holy place and the blood began to flow freely. Out of it's deep crevasse it rose and onto the pale delicate skin. Slowly it rolled down the smooth curvature of the arm. After traveling half the circumference of the limb, the crimson river reached the soft mattress only to be met by the liquid resistant surface. Feeling defeated, the river rolled off of the bed and began to create a bloody lake by the creator's feet. The lovely light spring shower just got a little heavier.

HOUR 10:

"S-S-Seamus....p-please...s-stoooppp....aaarrrggghhh!"

Once more her pleads fell onto deaf ears, or able ears and an unwilling mind. 'Why didn't he listen to her?' Beka cried out in her mind. She needed him to stop, he had to stop. The endless cycle of pain was just too much for her to bear. Not only was she feeling her pain, but she felt Velac's pain as well. How could anyone withstand this much agony?

"S-S-Stop....p-please...s-stop...too...m-much...."

Again, her friend's only response was more pain. 'Not again,' she sobbed to herself. Once again, the person she cared for and trusted most in the universe was failing her. First her father, then her brother, her uncle, all of her boyfriends and now Harper. He was the last person she would have expected to break her trust, to hurt her. He was like a kid brother, always getting into trouble, always goofing off to cheer her up, always there for her. But now he was gone, just like all the others. She desperately needed him to stop and he just ignored her. She would rather have Velac in her body forever than experience any more pain.

"T-T-T-oo....m-much..." she frantically tried one more time.

HOUR 15:

The bloody scalpel had finally been replaced by the dropper filled with hydrochloric acid. The hand wielding the dropper was still on autopilot as the owner still cowered deep within his box surrounded by his new friends Despair, Self-loathing, and Disgust. He buried his head farther into his hands as he once more heard Beka's distressed voice calling his name. Self-loathing curled up closer to Harper's sobbing form.

HOUR 20:

Ok, so what if the boy was extraordinary. So what if he had a very impressive array of torture techniques up his sleeves. So what if the pain was slowly tearing her strong mind apart. So what if he didn't even flinch when she informed him how much pain his beloved Beka was in and that Beka wanted her to say instead of feeling any more pain. So what if a tiny wish for the pain to stop was growing in her mind as well.

HOUR 25:

Rommie had left her three peaceful sleeping patients behind to go check on her XO and her psychotic engineer. His absence from medical when she had gone to pick up Trance had her worried. Now the length of Beka's torture was increasing her worry ten fold.

She knew this had to be killing Harper and she just needed to see for herself how he was doing. Add to the fact that the Buzz deadline was rapidly approaching and worry filled every available circuit. He only had twenty-four hours, fourteen minutes, and 36.89 seconds before he faced the deadly withdrawal.

She approached medical only to be greeted by hoarse blood curdling screams originating from Beka. Shit, she thought. He was still at it. Hope died in Rommie as she had thought that maybe Harper was simply hiding and that Beka was already free. What could this be doing to both of their mental states? Worry took over every circuit now, available or otherwise.

The urge to run into medical was overwhelming but she knew that it would do more harm than good. So she fought her computerized instincts and stood in the empty corridor, listening to the brutal screams as her first officer was being tortured by her engineer, just hoping that it would all be over soon.

HOUR 30:

The acid had long been retired, the poison had had it's turn and failed, the electrocution had fizzled out and Velac was still in alive and kicking.

The next toy was now tightly gripped in Harper's sweaty, clammy hand. Still on autopilot, Harper raised the simple tool and with great force brought it's heavy metal blunt head down onto Beka's arm.

The hammer made a sickening thud which was quickly followed by Goosebump-inducing crunches as the impact created a small array of hairline fractures on the surface of her humerus. Beka's voice was still strong enough to let out another blood curdling scream that sent the hairs on the back of Harper's neck to rise up next to his Goosebumps.

In the now crowded corner in Harper's box, Regret joined the huddled group which surrounded the wrenching body of the tortured torturer.

HOUR 35:

Ooze seeped out of the inflamed cuts that covered Beka's arms, legs and torso. The poison was still flowing through her stomach and intestines causing wave after wave of spasms. Burns covered her temples and deep purple and black, swollen bruises were now making their appearance on all of her extremities. And still the hammer came down on new location after new location, causing more bone crunching thuds and deep agonizing screams.

Thirty five hours in and everything was still the same. Nixic was still holding onto Beka's body with an iron grip, Beka was still a crying, screaming mess of pain and hurt, Harper was still locked deep within his box surrounded by his demons, and Rommie had returned to her listening post just outside of medical, still fighting every instinct to run in and save her crew.

HOUR 40:

The heavy motionless hammer hung by Harper's side reflecting the dead arm that hung from his other shoulder.

"S-See...H-Harper...you can't win. Might as w-well give up n-now. I-I'll nev-never leave B-Beka," Velac forced out through Beka's raw bleeding throat. The voice was weak and cracking with each syllable.

The torturer's weary head dropped as reality killed the little glimmer of hope that had been hiding deep inside his heart. All of his most benign toys had been used and his time was quickly running out. The top of the Buzz-filled hourglass was quickly getting more and more empty and lonely. He needed Nixic out now and didn't have time for the slower techniques to work. He was going to have to fall back onto the harsher, quicker, and more dangerous ones to save Beka in time.

So far, all he had shared with the others were the more mild and less intrusive techniques that the Pytho's had used on him. He desperately wanted to spare the crew from the permit damage and life-long scars that he lives with. In all the time that he had know Beka and the others, he had hid as much of his body as possible. If they did, at some point, catch a glimpse of his dark past that was still etched on his skin, they were kind enough not to mention it. Underneath his shirt laid grisly scars on top of even grislier scars. There were deep discolored indentations where inches of his skin were still missing. Even his bone structure had been altered during his time with the lovely Pythos. His ribs resembled a bent and twisted up Slinky from when they had been broken time and time again. Never once did the Pythos reset them to heal properly. Worst of all, he had lost most of his feeling on his back. Whenever Beka had rubbed his back to comfort him, he felt nothing. All the whippings, cuttings, beatings, and burnings had killed most of his nerve endings back there. He didn't want the others to not be able to feel a comforting hand on their backs. He didn't want the others to feel the emptiness that he felt. He had hoped to save this all from this fate. His hope just died.

In the dark box, Regret pulled Harper's trembling form closer to it's scaly body.

Autopilot ordered Harper's arm over to the shimmering tray and grabbed a handful of smooth, long, thin, pointed metal rods.

In the dark box, Self-loathing wiped away the tears flowing down the boy's face.

Autopilot forced the withered mutilated arm to hold the sharp end of the rod against the skin which covered Beka's soft, vulnerable shoulder. The weak and painful arm struggled to keep the rod steady as tremors accompanied every minute movement it made. With the hammer still tightly gripped in his other hand, he slowly rose the crude instrument upward. He took aim at the slightly vibrating rod and let the hammer fall.

The metal on metal contact sent a wave of vibrations up both of his arms. He wanted to join Beka in screaming as the wave felt like fire racing up his mutilated arm, but instead he hit the stake again. Deeper and deeper he drove it into her skin, then into her muscle, then he let it rest as it gently penetrated and cracked the surface of her bone.

Quickly grabbing another shinning spike, he started the process again on her other shoulder. In his clouded mind he could just make out Beka's muffled screams of deep agony. Screams that brought up more repressed memories of those same screams tearing out from his own throat many years ago.

Inside the dark box, those same memories started playing out on the walls of the corner which engulfed him. He was surrounded by his past and present as echoes of his and Beka's screams merging into one horrify cry.

HOUR 45:

Locked within her mind and body, Beka resorted to assuming a fetal position and trying to rock comfort into herself. The pain running through her body was unrelenting and unimaginable while the pain cursing through her mind was only unbearable and indescribable. In her agony filled world, she had lost all sense of time. For all she knew, it had been weeks since Harper had betrayed her, maybe even years.

A cold prick cut through the pain as a new spike pressed up against her thigh. Ironically, the icy sensation it gave off was actually soothing, but she knew all too well that that small pleasure was about to be driven deep inside her being.

She was able to catch Harper's eyes for a second as he rose the hammer once more. As blue bloodshot eyes meet with blue bloodshot eyes, Beka tried to sent one more message via their linked souls: 'Please, no more Harper, I know you can hear me, please, stop, I need you to stop. Why have you abandoned me too? Seamus, please... '

The empty, clouded-over eyes tore away from the pleading gaze. Had he heard her? The hammer hung in the air, wavering like a kite on a windy day. Then the wind stopped and the kite came crashing down.

A sharp pain sprang from her thigh and quickly radiated throughout her entire body. As the pain wave reached each spike that was still impeded in her bones, the sensation of every rod being driven once more into her body filled her world.

Like Harper, she too had retreated deep within her mind. Currently she was still in the lovely fetal position staring at the nothingness that surrounded her. She dreamed that the void would swallow her whole and end her misery.

She felt the pause in the stake-driving which meant Harper was reaching for a new rod. With her head buried in her knees, she made one last wish.

She wished Harper still loved her enough to drive the next stake through her shattered heart so she could disappear into the void forever.

HOUR 46:

The runt of a Human was impressive, most impressive. Velac had not seen this much brutality in a single being in a long time. The last time she had seen anything like this was from the famous Huxiq legend. Huxiq had returned to the nebula in his new body and ship to regale his fellow Calastors in the horrors he had brought down upon seven planets. His tales were legendary and Velac felt that same sense of awe as she watched the carnage that that small boy had brought down upon everybody around him. Most impressive indeed.

But now, Velac only hoped she could outlast the amazing human so she could return home to tell the others about the brutality of the Harper. Unfortunately, with each new stake that invaded Beka's body, that hope was dieing out as Harper was coming closer and closer to breaking the powerful Velac.

Pain was all Velac could feel, constant, intense, never-ending pain. A few hours ago, the wall that protected her from feeling Beka's pain had finally collapsed to the ground. Since then, each of their separate sensations of pain were building up on top of one another, causing their total pain to increase exponentially.

M-Must...no-not....leav-v-vee....Velac ordered herself.

HOUR 47:

Despair laid it's horned head on Harper's shoulder. Self-loathing embraced the trembling form from behind. Regret cuddled up closer to his left side, holding him tight with it's scaly arm. Disgust laid it's prickly head on his lap while Nausea rested it's slimy body against his quivering legs.

The fog that engulfed Harper was now so thick that he could not even make out his own hands or hear the metal on metal clink of the hammer making contact with the rod. The only way he knew he was still impaling Beka was by the constant wave of pain that ran up his left crippled arm.

Even in the haze, his genius mind had been able to keep track of the constantly dwindling number of hours. He only had two hours left before withdrawal would devour him, only two hours to free Beka, only two hours to find the smallest, darkest, most remote conduit to crawl into so he could protect his friends one last time from uncontrollable paranoia that would clam his mind and body.

His mind drifted to the third small pill that still hid in his pants pocket. Maybe he should take that last pill. Sure it would mean his imminent death, but right now, an imminent death sure sounded a lot better than a highly probable death.

More pain ran up his arm. Then he felt it flop around like a fish flipping about on the slippery, wet, wooden deck of a pier. It was trying to grab a new stake.

Self-loathing whispered sweet somethings into Harper's ear. It was reminding him of the great fun that coming if Velac didn't respond to the staking. Despair took this opportunity to remind Harper of his own experience with the next technique.

Memories in choppy, old-fashion, black and white movie form appeared on the walls that surrounded Harper in his crowded, little, dark corner. The image of a sixteen year old beaten and emaciated Seamus strapped to a concrete slap came to life in the grainy image:

A large scowling Pytho stood over the writhing prone form. Currently there were twenty-five dirty, metal stakes that rose up out of the tiny body on the table. Each stake had been brutally driven into his body, yet the Pytho took great care in making sure that none of the stakes hit any vital organs or arteries. Drugs were cursing through the boy's body, keeping him awake and even alert for the torture sessions. The kind and thoughtful Pythos didn't want their play things to miss out on any of the fun.

The menacing Nietzschean bent over and stared at the dirty, bloody, beaten face. "Kludge, I know you want to scream, to cry out for your mommy." He flicked the stake that was sticking out of Seamus's left shoulder. The young man only responded with a grunt. "SCREAM DAMN YOU!" Fowl, hot breath from the yell filled Seamus's face.

A small smile slowly spread across the dirty, sunken-in face. "Bite me uber," the young voice said in an amazingly steady and calm voice.

The Pytho growled, spun around and stalked over to the numerous selves on the far wall of the tiny windowless room. He searched for a moment through the collection of torture instruments that lined the selves. Spinning back around, a huge, inhuman grin covered his harsh face. In his arms he held a very large battery and many connective wires. With too much care, the enhanced man connected one wire to each of the metal rods that laid embedded into the boy's bones. Once done he connected them to the battery and then sniffed the air.

"You hide your fear well boy, but your scent gives you away. I hope you enjoy this as much as I will." The sick, cold smile stayed glued to his face. Harper hated that smile.

The uber flipped the switch on the battery and ripped the treasured scream out of Harper's throat. The larger man tipped his head back, closed his eyes and took in the sweet sound of agonizing screams. "Ahhh, much better," he said in pure bliss.

The choppy image on the wall burned out.

Back in his dark corner, Harper's hand flew up to his left shoulder. The though of Beka going through that technique and having to endure the scars it left, drained all the blood from his face. The scars were painful and permanent. Harper still had twenty-five small indentations from were the stakes were. The electricity must have made the nerves extra sensitive because if anything even brushed up into the small crevasses, pain as intense as the original pain would fill his body. Yet one more reason why he didn't like people touching him. He desperately didn't want Beka to know the pain he knew.

The new wave of agony that was radiating up his arm swept him away from his horrible memories and dreaded thoughts. He could just barely make out Beka's muffled screams calling him name.

Back in his box, he stared emptily at the dirty ground. More sand slipped from the hourglass.

More waves crashed up his arm and once more he heard Beka's stifled pleads.

Then another wave and more barely audible begs.

Then a pattern began to emerge:

A muffled, "Harper!"...a wave of pain...screaming...

A muffled, "I-It's m-me..."...a wave of pain...louder screaming...

A muffled, "B-Beka!"... a wave of pain...even louder screaming...

A muffled, "V-Ve-Velac...is...g-gone!!!"...a wave of pain...unbelievable agonizing screaming...

A muffled, "S-Se-Seamus!"...no wave of pain...

The small sentence, "Velac is gone", had filtered through the locked box and into Harper's conciseness. As soon as him mind was able to process the sentence, he leapt up, pushed the demons off, threw the heavy lid off the box, pushed away the thick fog and turned off autopilot.

"H-Harper...p-pl-please...s-s-stop...V-Velax...is...g-gone...p-please.." Beka cried and begged, hoping she had finally reached her Shorty. His glazed over eyes were getting clearer and clearer and the hammer now hung loosely at his side. Did he finally realize Velac was gone? Did he know she, or it really, had left over four spikes ago? Was he now just hurting her because he wanted to? Beka's doubt-filled eyes looked up, pleading silently at the blank face above her.

For the first time in eleven hour Harper really, truly looked down at his boss, his savior, his big sister. Nausea popped it's head out of the box and tapped Harper on his shoulder.

Almost twenty sparkling spikes rose out of Beka's body, a body that was covered in inflamed burns, multi-colored bruises, oozing cuts and many hills and valleys caused by intense swelling.

But Beka was free.

Then a self-loathing jumped out of the box and whispered a dreadful realization into his ear.

'My god', he thought as all color drained from his face. 'How long had she been free?! How many spikes did I drive into a Velac-free Beka?!' Regret leapt from the box to join the party.

"H-H-Harper?....A-Are...you...th-there?...H-Help...m-me...pl-please..." Beka begged with tears streaming down her face.

All Harper could do was stare at the horror he was capable of, at the pain he was able to inflict on his closest and most dearest friend.

"No...I-I...um....s-sorry," he mumbled softly before he dropped the hammer and raced out of the destroyed medical room. Behind him he left a crying Beka still impaled and restrained to the bed.

His trembling, numb legs raced through the halls as he was constantly tripping over corpse after corpse; constantly being reminded of the monster he was. Bile rose from his aching, empty stomach as he tripped over yet one more disfigured corpse. This time he didn't get up. He hunched over, immobilized by the drive heaves that wracked his body. "H-Harper...h-help...m-me," rang through his head as the image of Beka impaled on the bed was etching it's self into the wall of his mind.

One final act still plagued him before he would allow himself to go off and die. He found his dry and cracking voice as he still gasped for the oxygen that did not seem to exist. "R-Rommie...Be-Beka's free...help her...I-I-I...left her...sorry...Don't l-look for me...tell t'others...I'm sorry........Good-bye."

As he turned off his comms, he felt a glimmer of hope rise within his sick mind. His twisted psyche focused on the pain-filled death that was ahead of him. A monster like himself didn't deserve a nice easy death. He deserved all the horrors that the Buzz withdrawal could dish out.

He slowly stood up on his quivering legs, hoping they would be able to carry him deep within the guts of the ship. He didn't want anyone to find him because if they did, they probably wouldn't survive the encounter. He reached into one of his many pockets, found the locator blocker he had used earlier and turned it on. Quickly he returned to his frantic race down the corridors and towards the darkest and deepest conduit he knew.

TBC!!!!!!