He walked into the Doctor's Lounge and collapsed wearily on the seat, holding an ice pack against the wound on his head. He waved a hand at the seat opposite him. "Sit down, Detective Maryland."

She sat down opposite him, flipping through her notebook. "Did you get a look at Dr. McCabe's assailant? Can you describe him for me please?"

"Tall, well built." VanWingen sighed heavily, closing his eyes. "Really short haircut." He waved his free hand above his head. "Military style. Blue eyes." He opened his eyes, massaging the already forming bruise on his temple. "And a hell of a right hook."

"Did you notice anything else about him?"

VanWingen frowned, the pale lines of his forehead in contrast to the large, ugly bruise already forming. "He moved like he knew what he was doing." He flinched. "Hit like it, too."

"Did he say anything, did you hear an accent?"

He hesitated, thinking back. "I'm sorry, Detective Maryland, I didn't."

"Would you recognize him if you saw him again?"

He shook his head slowly, careful not to move it too far. "I don't think so. I only got a brief look at him. I was more worried about my patient."

Claire nodded, closed her notebook and stood up. "Thank you, Dr VanWingen." She hesitated for a second. "My partner and I are going to need to talk to Dr. McCabe."

"Of course. He's still very weak, though. I don't know what help he can be to you." VanWingen stood, swaying a little on his feet. "Do you mind telling me what all this is about, Detective?"

Claire shook her head, a strand of curly hair falling loose across her forehead. "I'm sorry, Dr. VanWingen. I can't comment on an ongoing investigation."

There was too much at stake.

xxxXXXxxx

"Please…"

Natalie jerked awake, then moaned at the sudden, painful movement as she uncurled out of her pretzeled position in the uncomfortable chair. She must have been dreaming. She rubbed at swollen eyes and started to wrestle her body back into the chair when she heard it again…

"Please…"

Jolting up out of the chair, she took the three steps to the bed and placed a hand gently against a fever warmed cheek. "Shh," she said, "Shhh, it's okay, you're okay, you're safe here with me, Miles."

He forced his eyes open, fought through the blur that marred his vision, then found her face. He reached out with a trembling hand and Natalie caught it quickly in both of hers, enfolding the cold fingers into the warmth of her palms.

"Eva?" he whispered.

"She's still missing, Miles," she said softly, wishing she had any answer other than that.

His eyes teared and one slipped free, slid down the side of his face. She gently brushed it away.

"Have—to—find her, Nat." The words were mere breaths of air.

"I know, honey, they're doing everything they can. You have to rest now. Eva would want you to try to get better. You know that."

"But she's—alone—Nat, she—must—be scared."

There was no answer to that. "Miles, I'm so sorry, but I have to call the detectives in here. They have to ask you some questions. Is that all right?"

His eyes shuttered closed then open again, and he tried to smile reassuringly at her but managed only a shift of his lips.

"S'okay," he murmured and she kissed his hand, then got up to go to the door. Before she had made it even that far, her mind had roiled its way through all the ramifications of the next few minutes. What if he knew something, remembered something? What if he remembered nothing? What if she did what the kidnappers demanded? How could she even consider such a thing? The weapon they wanted her to construct—and time was running down, she had only hours before it was supposed to be ready for contact—had the capacity to kill hundreds, maybe even spread further than that. It was unconscionable to even consider it.

And then she saw Eva's face in her mind and she had to stop in mid-step, force herself into control before she could open the door. It took her a minute, a full minute before she could step out of the room and quietly inform the two detectives that Miles was awake and could talk to them.

"Detectives? He's awake."

Claire and Joe had started to follow Natalie into the room, when she felt VanWingen's hand on her arm. "He's very weak, Detective Maryland. Go easy on him. I won't have him put under unnecessary pressure. Do you understand me?"

Claire nodded and he released her arm, following them into Miles' room.

The kid looked a mess.

Natalie sat down next to his battered body, taking his hand in both of hers again. "Miles? Miles, these detectives need to talk to you." Slowly, painfully he nodded.

"Dr. McCabe, I'm Detective Maryland. Can you tell me what happened?"

He took so long to answer, so long for his bruised body to summon the strength.

"Dr. McCabe?" Forgetting himself, Joey reached out a hand, intending to shake Miles awake.

"Easy, Joey." Claire put her hand across his chest, casting an anxious glance at Dr. VanWingen, hovering at the door of the room. "Give him time."

His eyelids fluttered open, focusing weakly on them. "He said... I... was a... message. That... killingme... a favor..." His eyes started to close again.

"Was it the same man?" Joe's voice rose a little in his urgency and he stepped closer to the bed. "Dr. McCabe, we need to know if it was the same man."

Too weak to speak, Miles nodded, his eyelids drooping.

"That's enough Detectives." Dr. VanWingen's tone brooked no argument. "My patient needs to rest."

"Okay."

They had turned to leave when Joe felt cold fingers grip his with unexpected strength.

He looked down into Miles McCabe's surprisingly bright eyes.

Miles could only mouth the words, but Joe Kerrigan heard them clearly enough.

"Find Eva."

"We will, kid. I promise."

A blast of light briefly illuminated the room, a smack of sound against the glass and Miles painfully turned his head toward the window. Someone had forgotten to pull the drapes across it and he could see the fury of the storm beating against the glass. How long ago had it been when he'd been enjoying the storm, comforted by the strum of rain against his own window? How long ago had the crash and clang of thunder and lightning been a pleasure, something he could sit back and listen to as if it was a concert from the sky?

Now all he could think was that it was black, and the skies torn, a cacophony of sound and fury.

And Eva was alone in it.

xxxXXXxxx

"Please." She was crying now, her tears falling unnoticed in the dark closet. By this point, she didn't even know if there was anybody out there. Time in the darkness was elusive. "Please. I swear I'll be good."

Thunder rumbled, the sound growing louder, the storm drawing closer. She closed her eyes, shaking. She hated the sound of thunder more than anything. It sounded too much like the slap of a leather belt into an open palm.

She had to be quiet, had to be still.

When it finally came, the voice outside the door came as much a shock as a clap of thunder.

"If I let you out, are you going to cause any problems?"

"No! No I swear! I won't! I'll.." Her voice broke, suddenly a frightened child's. "I won't make you angry."

"Good."

She heard him release the locks and the closet door swung open. "I will put you back in
there, if you cause me any problems." He put two fingers underneath her chin, tilting her head back so he could look into her eyes. "But you aren't going to cause me any problems, are you?"

Mute, afraid even to answer, she shook her head, her eyes wide, sparkling with unshed tears, transfixed on him.

He smiled again, a harsh predatory smile.

The sort of smile that a rabbit sees, just as the wolf closes in.

"Are you hungry, Eva?"

She nodded slowly. As quiet as a mouse, as still as a mouse.

Don't make him angry.

xxxXXXxxx

"Is it done, Jack?"

The other man, Jack, hesitated, lifting more of the take away food towards his mouth. The smell tantalized her, taunted her and she felt her stomach grumble, hoped, prayed it was silent, wouldn't give him the satisfaction of hearing her need. "Sort of."

He hadn't touched the food yet, waiting for the answer to his question. "What do you mean, sort of?"

"Well, McCabe's doctor arrived before I..."

"McCabe? Miles McCabe? What have you done to him, you--" And fear stilled the word in her throat.

He looked over at her, his eyes hard and flat, glittering with anger, pinning her in place. She fell silent, looking down at her plate of untouched food. Her only way to rebel, to not eat. And she was paying for it in her body's craving.

Why Miles?

What had he done to Miles?

Oh God, what would he do to her?

"Is it done?" He leaned back in his chair, toying with a slim silver box he had set on the table.

"No, but..."

"Were you seen?"

The man named Jack fidgeted, pushed food around on his plate. "The kid's doctor came in, but I made sure he didn't get a good look..."

He moved so suddenly, his chair crashing to the ground.

In an almost graceful movement, shoving Jack's chair forward so that he was trapped between chair and table, yanking his head back to expose his throat, the slim box pressed against it.

His eyes fixed on her.

She huddled back in her chair, trying to escape the sudden rumbling of violence. The sudden flash of his anger. Even though it didn't seem directed at her. His eyes were still on her and she quaked beneath their gaze.

Just like the storm.

"I don't like doing this, Eva." He thumbed a button and a blade slid out of the box with silent, deadly, mechanical precision. Jack was struggling against him now, but uselessly, pinned like a moth to a board. "But he's caused me too many problems."

He slid the blade gracefully across Jack's neck, slicing deeply into his unshaven throat.

And Eva screamed.