A/N Please forgive me for how long it's been since I updated this story. Other commitments, computer problems and writer's block are the main reasons I took so long. I hope this chapter is worth waiting for. As always, my disclaimer is that Vincent, Father, Jacob and Mary are not my characters. I'm just borrowing them and will return them intact. All others are strictly part of my sometimes overactive imagination and are not to be used - as is my story - in any way without my express written permission.

"Vincent, I've found out a lot, and remembered more, but I don't know if you – and especially Father – will believe it. I'm having a hard time believing it."

Elena had entered the tunnels through the sub-basement of her apartment building, to find Vincent waiting for her. They had walked for some time in silence, Vincent sensing her need to try to gather her thoughts. But before long, she just had to speak. He considered her words before he answered her.

"You know that I believe you; our bond lets me know that you're telling me the truth. Father will be more difficult to convince, but not as hard as you think. Have faith. You'll win his trust."

They arrived at the library, where Father was waiting for them. "Please excuse me for not getting up. My leg has been more troublesome than usual today."

She went over to him and knelt down, putting a hand on his arm. "No apology is necessary. I'm flattered that you feel you should, but I don't expect it." She smiled up at him. "Thank you for thinking it, though."

His face softened slightly. "You're very welcome. Now, what have you come to tell us?" He indicated another chair nearby. "Please sit down."

Elena stood and moved over, then sat and turned toward him. Vincent took a third chair, also near Father. She began to talk, first telling them about her second visit to Richland Industries, and what she learned. A couple of times she had to stop and compose herself when she began to grow agitated. When she finished that part of her story, Father stared at her in amazement.

"So you're saying that this Mark Haskell, instead of developing a formula to help suppress violent tendencies, did exactly the opposite? And that you and your parents ingested this formula?"

She nodded. "It seems that my father had the habit of filling a gallon jug from the cooler and bringing it home for all of us to drink from. Apparently he didn't have any faith in the city's water." She smiled slightly.

"Elena"

She turned to Vincent, a questioning look in her eyes. He asked, "What happened afterward, when you were returning to your apartment? I felt a sudden wave of such anger and hate that it drained me."

She reached out to him. "Oh, Vincent. I'm so sorry."

He leaned forward and took her hand in his. "It's all right. No harm was done, but I'd like to know what caused it."

"Another memory." She glanced at Father then Vincent, and then looked down. "I remembered how I finally escaped." She swallowed hard.

"Go on, Elena," Father said, encouragingly. "You can tell us."

"I-I was kept in a single room," she began, hesitantly. It wasn't a large one, and there was no furniture. I was naked, and there was only one blanket in the room with me. It was in a building made to look like a cabin of some sort. At least that's what it looked like when I got outside.

"I remember hearing him talking on the phone. I heard him say something about how I was the right age and had hit puberty. He said he agreed with whomever he was talking to that it was the next step in the research, and he'd be delighted to do it.

"When he stopped talking, there was silence for several minutes, then the door was unlocked and he walked in, naked. He approached me with this look on his face and told me to lie down on the blanket. He got on top of me and began to stroke me. . ."

Suddenly agitated, she stood up and began pacing. Vincent and Father looked at each other in concern. She finally continued after several minutes.

"I knew what he was trying to do, because Mother had told me the facts of life while she was pregnant. I wasn't sure I wanted him to do it to me, but he had – 'trained', for lack of a better word – me to obey him in everything. So I didn't try to stop him until. . ." She stopped pacing and shivered.

Vincent got up and went over to her, putting an arm around her and holding her close. She took a few deep breaths and finally went on. "He started saying horrible things, disgusting things. Things about how I would be the mother of a race of conquerors, and he the father. How no one would stop him and even those who hired him to do what he was doing would have to someday bow down to him. Then he said how stupid my father was to think he could prevent him from completing his work, and how ironic it was that his daughter was going to continue the race he tried to keep from being created.

"I began to remember things I'd forgotten – things that had happened so long ago. And I grew angry. I remembered that he'd killed my parents and brother – as I thought then – and took me away from the happy life I had and made me a prisoner. I began to hate him and what he had done, and was doing to me.

"I struck back with everything I had in me, and it was more than enough. I threw him against a wall, and then went over andstrangled him.Afterward, I went to the far corner of the room and stayed there trembling for several hours. When I calmed down, I began to realize that I had to get away, and to destroy the building we were in.

"Even though I hadn't had any education since I was four, I had learned how to reason to a certain extent. I even knew how to read, because Mother had felt I was able to learn, even if I was so young. I was able to figure out that I needed to get the key he'd brought in, and unlock the door. I did, and found myself in a lab, with a computer and a complete setup. I began to destroy everything I could reach, and kept it up until I was nearly exhausted.

"After I rested, I began to think that since he caused my parents to burn, it was only right that he burned, too. I remembered that he'd been talking to someone about this, and realized they must have hired him to create the formula. But I was going to make sure they would never get it. I found a stove and turned it on. I put papers and anything I could find to burn on it, and began grabbing some of the burning things and throwing them in other areas of the building, including the room he was in.

"When I saw that the fire was going real well, I realized that I'd better get out of there, and I did. I moved well away from the building and watched it burn. No other buildings were nearby so no one came to try and save it. Night was falling by then, and I stayed until the flames had consumed just about everything. Then I walked away. I just kept going, and it wasn't until the next afternoon that I was found."

She looked up at Vincent. "The emotions you felt from me were what I was feeling when I remembered what he tried to do to me. I don't regret what I did, not for a second. He was evil and had to be stopped."

He held her close and she hugged him. Then she turned to Father.

"Do you have any evidence to corroborate what you've told us?"

"Sort of," she replied. "I called a friend who works in the library in Kingston and asked her to search the newspaper accounts from that time to see if there were any stories about the fire. She found two and read them to me. They told about some hikers who had come across the burnt out building and spotted the charred remains of a human. It seems that Mark Haskell was slightly known to some people. He had bought the property and building on it outright a few years before he kidnapped me. He'd been seen from time to time in the nearby town, buying supplies – food, chemicals, tools – and had been there about a week or so before the fire. I copied down what she read to me, and typed them up, if you'd like to see it. And she's going to make copies of the reports and send them to me, along with the dates of the articles and the names of the papers that published them."

She moved away from Vincent, walking over to the chair she'd been sitting in and picked up a manila envelope. She took it over to Father and handed it to him. Vincent moved behind him as he opened it, and the two of them read what she had typed.

As they did so, Elena returned to her chair and sat down wearily. It had been a long, emotion-filled day, and she was looking forward to a good night's sleep. But she wanted to hear what Father had to say. She could tell that Vincent believed her, but then there was this bond they shared that convinced him that she was his sister, as nothing else could.

Finally Father looked up at her. "I'm inclined to believe you, young lady. But I'd like to see those copies, when you get them."

"Of course."

"Now that you're convinced you know the truth, if not all of it yet, what do you want to do about it?"

She looked at him in surprise. "Do? Nothing. I mean, I don't see that there's anything I can do, even if I wanted to. All I wanted was some knowledge about who I am and what happened. Now that I have that, it doesn't matter to me if I regain all my memories or not. The fact that I have some family whom I can visit from time to time is more than I could have hoped for."

"You aren't planning to write about all this?"

She snorted a laugh. "Not in the least. I'm not known for writing fantasies, and who'd believe this was real? I'm still having a hard time believing it myself. As I told my publisher, who came to meet me when I had dinner at my agent's home, I may write a story based on my research experiences, but nothing about why I was doing it or what I found."

"Your agent? You haven't told him about this place, have you?"

"Actually, he's a she. And she already knows. She and her husband are helpers."

Vincent stared at her. "Who are they?"

"Doris and Patrick Garvey." She grinned at her brother. "And their daughter thinks that you are very cuddly, Vincent."