A Different Kind of War:

A/N: Part 2 of first 'episode'. Rated R for violence, torture and non explicit rape, but only this chapter, the rest is still rated PG-13. This is a bit dark a bit too dark for B5 but still that's why it's called artistic licence.

Disclaimer: on chapter 1.

Look into my heart - you will find
There's nothin' there to hide
Take me as I am - take my life,
I would give it all, I would sacrifice
Don't tell me it's not worth fighting' for
I can't help it there's nothin' I want more
Ya know it's true
Everything I do - I do it for you

Take me as I am – Take my Life, I would give it all, I would sacrifice:

Something thudded against her back. The whip, she reminded herself. Fresh pain made her sigh. She looked up and met the gaze of a female PsiCop across the room. The PsiCop was smiling slightly. And she knew why. The wall was beginning to break.

Another thud against her back, unconsciously her head ripped up and away from the PsiCops gaze, her mouth opened in a silent scream. Before she slumped back down, hanging from the manacles around her wrists, without will or energy to hold herself up. Her breaths were ragged, but the wall, the all important wall around her thoughts was still in place, slowly cracking, but still in place.

"Enough." Said the PsiCops cold, hard voice. They undid the ties the bound her. She dropped to the floor, curling into a fetal position as soon as they had left. Sleep beckoned but she had work to do before she could sleep. Carefully she pulled all her defensive walls up, it took so long to do it, her back was agony at the slightest movement and the general cuts and bruises and quite possibly broken ribs all protested her conscious thought.

How easy it would be to just surrender, to volunteer to tell them everything, to let down all her walls and let them find what they wanted. She shivered. It was always to cold in the cell, and her naked body always shivered. Her back was warm though, warm from blood that leaked from the repeated abuses. A cut on her lip and another on her nose, it was possibly broken. Using her injuries she re-built the walls around her mind.

Her memories of kindness, of friends, of those she cared for were mortar to fill any cracks. She shuddered as the defenses were finally back in place. It was so cold. Yet her memories, her defenses protected her, so when she did sleep she was safe, and the cold was kept at bay. She shivered again as the small slit in the door opened. She felt a stray thought from the guard outside.

Whore.

She shivered as she met a pair of eyes, cold, ugly eyes darkened with lust. Oh Valen, she thought as the door opened, there were four or five of them. She stood and backed away as they came, new strength surging through her. The sleepers they gave her were wearing off, he had come, told to give them too her, she could feel their thoughts. Carnal lust, dark and horrible tainted their thoughts. Her back touched the wall; she barely felt the pain through what she felt from the men approaching her.

She launched herself at the first one, a satisfying crunch accompanying the fist that struck his nose, but her strength was gone, she stumbled and they were on her, like wolves.

"Oh Valen!" she cried as she was slammed into the ground on her face, the side of her head hit the metal, making any more struggling futile, though groggily she tried.

And tried again, scratching, clawing hitting futile. Crying out over and over again accompanied by her tears, and their palms hitting her, to make her stop…

Long after they had left the tears still came, unabated and unstoppable. She curled into a ball again, Desperate to escape, escape the pain, which was now inside rather than out, escape the fear, what if they came back...

Just escape. "Oh Valen…" she whispered. "Oh Marcus help me…" she whispered between small sobs. As she pulled herself deeper inside her private little space, the walls building ever higher around her, locking her inside her own mind, leaving her with her memories, not of friends, but of what had just happened. "Oh Valen…" she whispered.

Her eyes closing, her sleep filled with darkness and despair driving her ever deeper within her own mind, into a dark place.

Marcus was sleeping when he woke. He felt something inside him, a desperate presence, and then they were ripped away. He shook his head, but before he could gather the scattered image of his dream, they were back. He gripped his head as someone called his name again and again.

He suddenly recognized the voice in his head.  "Natasha!" he shouted, bolting out of bed he stood shaking, phantom pain was griping him, slashing his back, burning along his left ribs, his nose, lips, the side of his head, his legs… He fell to the floor as the pain assaulted him, and tiredness, so tired so much hut...

And something else, a violation, tears ran from his eyes into his beard as he felt the indescribable pain run through him. And then it retreated… fading away to leave him sobbing on the floor, he slowly curled himself into a small ball on the floor, hugging himself and sobbing.

John looked over when Marcus entered his office. Dark hollows were under his eyes and the haunted expression he'd worn for the last four days since Natalia Miyatskya had sent that message. She would have sent another within two days if she were not captured, which it seemed very likely that she had. John sighed at the look on Marcus' face. It bespoke of a night without sleep.

"Marcus," he said as the ranger bowed slightly. "The ship will leave here in three hours, I'm surprised you're not waiting to leap aboard.

"I would but I had to see you." Came the reply in a hoarse voice. He sounded and looked as though he had spent the night screaming and crying, his red nose and puffy eyes. John nodded slowly and motioned that he sit.

"Delenn said…" he began and stopped. "The file we showed you on Natasha," he bean again. "Was incomplete."

"Incomplete how?" asked john with a frown. Marcus took a deep breath.

"She was born in St. Petersburg, her parents were archaeologists, and they did die when they accidentally woke a shadow ship. And yes she was a latent Telepath." He paused and swallowed. "Something woke her Telepathy when her parents were killed." John sat back, he let a breath out and counted to ten.

"How strong?" he asked at the unspoken words in Marcus' voice.

"Very." Said Marcus meeting his eyes, guiltily they shifted away. "She could find you at distance, she could reach out and talk to you." Eyes filled with guilt lifted to meet his. "That's the reason I sent her." A sad smile came over his face. She could reach across space and touch you…" a slight touch of wonder came into his voice. He looked away. "She was trapped once. A tree fell on her in a storm during a training mission. I was here on Babylon 5 and I felt her pain all the way from Member, like another person in your head, another person's pain…" John frowned. He'd never heard of anything like it.

"How…" he began but a sharp shake of Marcus' head stopped him. "No-one knows. The Minbari telepaths figured she could broadcast strong emotion over incredible distances, but only when she's asleep." John nodded.

"And she's contacted you, is that it?" he asked Marcus. Marcus' nodded sharply. Marcus' eyes flitted away and focused on the ground, tears welling up. He took a shuddering breath.

"And?" asked John softly.

"They're torturing her…" he said it so softly, so harshly it made Sheridan pull back from where he'd been leaning towards Marcus. "They'll kill her soon" he looked up. John stood and walked to the window over the garden. First the war, then Garibaldi, now this. Delenn had sent a Ranger to make sure they had forewarning of an attack. He felt his jaw fasten hard. He unclenched it and cleared his throat softly; he could feel Marcus' eyes.

"Are we too late?" he asked softly. Marcus' stirred behind him; he turned to find the lanky ranger standing rather than sitting.

"Not her body captain, her soul, who she is." He took a deep breath. They looked at each other. John noticed, red mark on Marcus' nose and high on his head, it looked like he'd been beaten. Marcus pressed a hand to the mark on his forehead. "She gave me some of her pain Captain… That's what the Minbari think." He paused. "When she reaches out to you a little of her injury passes to you…"John saw as he turned away that Marcus flinched as though struck.

Marcus flinched as he turned away. He held his breath. On Mars the torture had begun again. Blood dripped from his nose.