AN: *Ducks goldie's fireball* Geez girl, watch where you're aiming those things!

The voice in her ear was suddenly close, like reality had just snapped back into place. He cackled as she started, running the blunt edge of the blade over her skin.

"You weren't listening to me, were you my pet?" He laughed again and she flinched. She had long since lost the ability to understand him, to understand any of them, but the Knife's laughter was never a good thing. "The boss was angry when we got too rough and you got broken, but you were lucky I was around to save you when he wanted you killed. The other two, they're just mindless drones like the rest of the population. They don't understand music, poetry... art." He stroked his hand through her hair, lank and greasy from lack of care and then moved his hand to trace along the edges of one of the multitude of pink fresh scars that ran along her stomach. "You were no use to him when we broke you, but still lots of fun for us." He sighed and stood up, wiping over his cleanly stitched work once more with a cloth to clean off any blood he might have missed. "Shame you're getting boring, though, isn't it. You're no fun when you're not feisty any more." He pulled her head to one side to look at the swelling that covered one eye and the side of her face. "Frankie's getting rougher with you, I doubt your head will cope with many more blows like that." He ran his hand down the swollen skin and she winced as the pressure sent needles of pain into her face. "Then you'd really be broken." He laughed and opened the door, pausing there for a moment. "Davie's coming by later, thought you should know." She stayed silent. "You don't have a clue what I'm saying do you." He sighed and closed the door behind him gently.

She was cold, the stone beneath her did little to warm her bare skin as she lay there, waiting. It wasn't long before the Dick returned, his footsteps heavy and pondering under his great weight. He slammed the door open with a mock-roar that might have made her laugh if she didn't know better. Her own laughter rarely brought good things, it had been a lesson quickly learned. She would show him what a roar was; a feral, predatory thing. 'I am coming', it speaks, 'I am here'. But she remained silent and began her mental chant. Maybe this time he would be gentle, maybe he would be slow. Then she might at least get a little pleasure from her torture. Maybe 'There is nothing'. His trousers unzipped noisily and she realised that she had neglected her chant once again. Why did her mind persist in dreaming? 'There is' The door opened again and she paused, it was not unusual for the Dick to bring others in, to watch his ministrations or to take part. Before she had decided she preferred the dark she had taken to memorising their faces as something to distract her mind. But this was different, there was shouting, banging, so many noises, none of it making any sense to her. There was a woman sobbing - that she understood. Was she to get a room-mate? Or was this her replacement? She heard the Fist's solid footsteps coming down the corridor and then the crackle of electricity - a strangely familiar noise - and everything went away.

She was warm, the feel of a soft blanket on her skin felt almost alien after so long. There was a persistent whirring noise, like machinery nearby and a voice, such a familiar voice.

"Shalimar? Can you hear me? It's Adam. We're taking you home, to Sanctuary. It's Ok, you're safe now." She pondered the paradox for a moment. How could she recognise a voice that wasn't the Dick, the Knife or the Fist? They were the only voices she knew. There were the few voices that she had heard raised in ecstasy whilst she screamed of nothing, but she doubted she would recognise them if they spoke to her as this voice had. Softly, almost with care. Maybe one of the watchers had decided he wanted her for himself, no sharing. If his hands were as soft as his voice then maybe she wouldn't mind. The world faded once more.

A voice swore beside her and she flinched. 'Nothing nothing nothing.' She began. It didn't sound like Fist's voice, but no one else swore at her and it didn't take an understanding of the words to know that this voice was raised in anger. It didn't take her long to realise that - while still bound around her ankles and wrists - she was not chained. Begging her body for co-operation she rolled sideways so that she could work her way into a corner. At least then she could garner some protection from the walls around her. She didn't expect the drop. Her whole body cried out as she landed hard on her side, pain burning through her and resisting any further attempts to move. A voice called out and she began to sob softly as hands moved to pull at her. She would be chained again, she had wasted her chance. She felt a trickle of something hot and thick run down her side - she had reopened some of the Knife's more recent incisions and they were bleeding freely once more. She was placed back on the soft bench she had woken on and was left unchained, though hands remained on her shoulders, holding her still. She wondered absently if either pair of hands belonged to the man with the soft voice. Neither of them were soft; though their touches were gentle on her skin.

Then she felt it - the cold stinging touch, the sharp pain, a swab on her opened wound. She froze. The Knife had followed her here.

"Adam, her pulse just skyrocketed." Jesse warned, checking the monitor as he kept his hand on Shalimar's shoulder to keep her from falling again.

"What ever you're doing stop it, please." Emma's breathless voice came over the comm. links, causing Adam to start. He had sent Emma to bed as soon as they had arrived back at Sanctuary, seeing the effect of the huge amounts of sedatives in her system finally taking effect as her eyes became heavy. That she was awake now must mean that she had sensed something big enough to wake her, and it could only have come from Shalimar.

"Emma, what is it?" He asked, curious as to what the empath had sensed from the feral.

"She's" Emma took in a sobbed breath. "Oh God, she's so afraid. I don't know what of, I can't get anything clear from her, but"

"All I'm doing is cleaning out a wound that she's just reopened."

"Just stop it, please. Can you leave it?"

"I have to close the wound, but I can do it without cleaning it." Adam consented.

"I'm coming down." Emma said as the comm. link went silent. Adam picked up the small tool used to close shallow flesh wounds, and ran it quickly over the bloody area, hoping that he was covering the wound properly, unable to see the damaged skin beneath the blood. It seemed to have stopped bleeding which was a good sign.

"Her stats are returning to normal." Jesse offered. "But she's shaking really badly."

"What did these creeps do to her?" Brennan demanded, struggling to keep his voice calm as he rested his hand on Shalimar's other shoulder.

"She's been gone a month, Brennan. Anything could have happened to her in that time. We didn't even try to find her..."