A/N: Hey guys, thanks so much for your reviews last chapter! I really loved reading your comments, and I know it was a major cliffhanger I left you with. I wanted to get another update in this week because of that. I do want to let you know that there is some violence and reference to sexual assault in this chapter. So if you're really sensitive to this type of content, then I suggest either skimming or skipping the first scene. It's not overly graphic, but I do want to issue a warning regardless.

Also, a Happy Thanksgiving to my fellow Americans that are celebrating! Translations can be found at the end. Please read and review!

Chapter 8: The Abduction

"The hard way it is…"

The dark, hungry eyes of the man in front of her filled Felicity with equal amounts of fury and fear. Al Torr smirked in satisfaction at having her cornered. His left hand released her neck, and he drew back enough to run it down the front of her body. He squeezed her breast rather painfully, watching her face with a feverish excitement the entire time. It took Felicity biting down hard on her lip to keep from crying out. He wanted a reaction out of her and thrived on the threat of dominance. If he got any lower, he'd find the sharp surprise hidden in the folds of her dress. A shudder of disgust ran through Felicity at his touch, yet she kept a clear head. She wasn't completely pinned to the wall anymore. Her hands were free.

Felicity wasn't the most advanced fighter, but she did learn some self-defense over the years. Dig had seen to that. It was practically a requirement when one's father was a dangerous crime lord. Al Torr without a doubt overpowered her, which meant Felicity had to be strategic in her blows.

"There is far too much clothing between us." He tugged threateningly at the hem of her dress. "I can hardly get to know you properly, little sunflower. Let's get a look at those petals."

"Don't call me that," Felicity warned. The sick son of a bitch was ready to make another retort when she took her shot. Moving swiftly, Felicity lifted the palm of her hand and slammed it into her captor's nose. The crunching sound along with his shocked howl was music to Felicity's ears. Taking advantage of the opening, Felicity brought her knee up and slammed it into his groin. Disoriented and swaying on his feet, Felicity shoved Al Torr against the metal bars and to the ground.

His curses in Arabic were cut off by a gurgling sound. Tommy with his pale face and blood dripping from his side had taken advantage of Al Torr's proximity and thrown his chain around her attacker's neck. He yanked him up against the bars while shouting, "Felicity, run! I'll hold him off for as long as I can."

With an abrupt but grateful nod, Felicity ran for the end of the corridor. She turned the corner and tripped on something large and protruding in the middle of the floor. Felicity yelped when she landed on Al Saffah's unconscious body. Her hands slid into the pool of blood that surrounded him, and she bit her tongue to keep the vomit from rising up. She could be sick later.

Felicity wiped her hands on her gown and reached into the pocket. Unsheathing the dagger Al Sah-him had given her, she held it firmly in her hand as she regained her footing. Felicity was only on her feet for a couple of seconds when she was tackled from behind. The wind was knocked out of her when she landed on the cold stone floor. The dagger slid from her grip, caught flat between the ground and her body on top. Felicity was unable to grab it with the extra weight pressing her down to the floor. Flipping her over roughly, Al Torr, his nose bloody and eyes watering, hovered above her. His face was scrunched in an ugly and vicious scowl.

"Fajerah!" Slut, he'd called her as his fist reconnected with the side of Felicity's face. The fiery ache exploded and radiated up her skull, making the world tilt sideways for a moment.

She felt Al Torr's unbearable weight suffocating her as he attempted to tear her dress. Felicity fought back wildly, hitting him every chance she got, and screamed as loud as she could. Al Torr was a large brute, and she wouldn't be able to fight him off for long. She prayed to God that someone would hear her. Felicity was vaguely aware that Tommy was no longer shouting, and she whimpered thinking about what had been done to finally silence him. She was all alone.

"You'll be lucky if they recognize your body by the time I'm done with you," Al Torr threatened and covered her mouth to muffle the screams. She bit his fingers hard and tasted the copper of his blood. That earned her another slap as he buried his face in her neck. His wet, rough lips felt like acid on her skin.

Felicity's eyes blurred from the tears as she thrashed against him. Her entire body shook with terror as he pulled up her layers of skirts. Oh God, this was happening. It was really happening. This couldn't be how it ended for her. Why couldn't he have just killed her and gotten it over with? The dagger, the fighter in her screamed. Get the dagger. She couldn't go out like this. The League had taken enough from her already and if she was going to die, she was going to do it with her dignity still intact.

Scrunching her eyes closed, Felicity used all of her might to lift her hips off of the ground. They brushed against his still covered erection, but she shuddered all the same at the contact. Al Torr growled against her, whispering insults and all the things he was going to do to her before taking her life. Trying her hardest to tune him out, Felicity focused on her throbbing left hand as it reached between herself and the floor. Her fingers grazed the cold metal of the dagger and grasped for it desperately. Her hands gripped the hilt like a lifeline, which essentially it was.

Felicity opened her eyes and without hesitation brought the knife down in the exact place Al Sah-him had instructed her to strike days ago. Al Torr was so preoccupied with terrorizing her that he didn't even see it coming. She went for the only area of him that was exposed, and the dagger sliced through the curve of his neck where it met his shoulder.

Al Torr roared and reared back, spasming in response. Blood spurted from his mouth as his curses dissolved into gurgles. Felicity punched him in the face with her good hand to get him off of her and scrambled away from him until her back hit the wall. Al Torr struggled to reach for the knife, but his body wasn't cooperating. She must've hit a major artery or something of equal importance.

Bile rose in her throat, and Felicity almost keeled over to empty her stomach when footsteps thundered on the stairs in the corridor. Two masked men and a woman rushed through the archway and took in the scene.

"What the hell is this?" a deep voice demanded. He had an accent that sounded like British, which threw Felicity off for a moment.

"He attacked me," she said shakily. "I fought him off."

The man in front walked over to Al Torr, who was still conscious but also not entirely in his right mind. He shook his head. "Mughafal."

The woman took in her torn dress. "How far did he get?" She sounded concerned but not exactly sympathetic.

"He didn't rape me if that's what you're asking," Felicity replied. Her voice was still faint but had a little more force. She wasn't even sure if she fully understood what had just happened. Her body felt cold and almost like it was detached from her mind. "I stopped him before he could get any further."

The woman turned to the man hovering over Al Torr. "I told you not to send him. He's strong, but he's not known for thinking with the right head. He could've ruined everything."

"He didn't touch her, so we're fine. We can still move forward."

"What?" Felicity gasped.

The woman approached her. Her gaze wasn't as vile as Al Torr's, but it was cruel and calculating as she said, "There is no escaping your fate, Abad-eshams. But I promise we'll make it quick."

That was the last thing Felicity remembered before the world finally went black.

Every single muscle in Felicity's body ached, but nothing compared to the pounding in her head. The blackness that permeated her semi-conscious mind gave her an odd, dizzying feeling of falling. It felt like she was hanging upside down with the blood pooled in her head. There was a spinning sensation that left her nauseated. Instinctively, Felicity winced when she was jostled. There was pressure against her abdomen that she couldn't decipher. Her hands were strapped painfully together. Her legs, too, but they didn't feel like they were tied. It was a firm grip that tightened every so often during a jerky movement.

Felicity fought through the darkness, forcing her consciousness to the surface. It took a couple of minutes for her eyes to cooperate. They opened slowly, feeling like weights were attached to her lashes. Felicity, her eyesight blurry, found herself staring at the ground. A dirty pair of boots were walking at a hurried pace, adding to the uncomfortable movements. Slowly she realized that she was being carried over someone's shoulder. She tried to remember how she'd gotten into this situation when another intense wave of vertigo hit her. Felicity's stomach roiled violently, and she heaved whatever was still in her stomach from earlier.

The person carrying her cursed before tossing her to the ground. Felicity gagged again, unable to concentrate on the angry voices while her body revolted.

She heard a man let out a string of curses. "She got it all over me."

"We don't have time for this. We have to keep going," a female voice ordered.

"Then you can carry her. Or better yet, why don't we kill her right here?"

Felicity's stomach finally settled, although her breathing was labored. A single tear slid from her eye. She knew she should try to get up and crawl out of sight while they were distracted. The effort might be useless, but at least it would be an attempt to save herself. There was no such movement. Felicity remained on the ground with neither the strength nor the will to get up. She was tired. So very tired of it all. Of fighting a battle she could never seem to win.

"We can't kill her too soon. The timing has to be right," said a different male voice. The British one. "Has to look like she died long after she escaped."

"Did you hear something?" the woman interjected. It took enormous effort for Felicity to simply look in her direction. The smallest of the trio was staring off into the distance.

For the first time, Felicity took in their surroundings. They were in a stone tunnel of some sort. It was mostly dark except for a torch that was lit in the distance. The air was dank and stale. Felicity could practically taste the rancid dust particles floating in it—or maybe that was the aftertaste of her bile. The ground was mostly dirt and stray pebbles. It mixed with the dry blood and clung to the vibrant pink of her dress.

Ignoring their companion, the two men continued to argue. "Al Torr hasn't got long, if he's not dead already. We could just leave her here, bring him down with her, and make it look like they struggled. An abduction gone wrong. The rivalry between him and Al Sah-him is sufficient motive."

"That was not the order. No one in the League can be implicated."

The woman, now edgy and on alert, drew her sword. "We need to move."

"Then how do we explain Al Torr ending up with a knife in his neck? The disappearance of Abad-eshams and his rival suddenly injured will be suspicious. Al Sah-him will launch a full investigation if the loose end isn't tied. The last thing we need is him digging into this further. Al Torr is already dead weight, and I did not risk my neck to have it end up on a spike."

"No, you risked it to ensure that the rightful heir is on the throne. We need to—"

"Enough with your bickering," the woman snapped. "We are not alone." She sprinted toward Felicity and yanked her into a sitting position. Felicity whimpered at the feel of a cold blade against her neck but didn't struggle. "You come any closer and I slit her throat," she warned aloud.

Felicity squinted into the darkness but saw nothing. Maybe she wasn't the only one who'd hit her head too hard earlier. The other two masked assassins had finally caught on and had their weapons drawn. They, too, were facing the dark void as if preparing for battle.

"Let her go." The low, laconic voice was full of authority but that's not what made Felicity more afraid of it than the blade against her flesh. It was the unbridled rage that was just simmering beneath the surface. There was something familiar about it even while it made her hair stand disturbingly on end.

"We are on the same side." It was the assassin who just moments ago was worried about meeting an untimely end. "Our duty is to do what is best for the League. Let us free you from your prison. No one need know the truth."

Whoever was in the darkness must've come closer, because there was the faint outline of a figure. His arms were raised, and Felicity thought she saw what looked like the tip of an arrowhead. Her train of thought was lost when the sword dug further into her throat. She flinched and let out a gasp.

The swift response that followed was rough, ruthless, and carried the promise of death. "The only truth is that I am going to tear you apart piece by piece. But if you surrender now, I may show you mercy."

"You would let the enemy infiltrate our ranks?" the other man spat. "Her blood is not worthy of the Demon Head's legacy. Better we spill it now than give Damien Darhk and his H.I.V.E. a foothold in the League."

"Last chance."

Her captor muttered something that sounded like a prayer. The blade moved infinitesimally, just barely breaking the skin, when the woman holding her hostage screamed. An arrow had lodged into her arm, which caused her to drop the sword. The assassin followed and dropped to the ground like dead weight. The second arrow had pierced her heart. Within seconds the dark hooded figure came charging out of the shadows. His black clothing and mask along with his lightning-quick agility made him look like a panther closing in on his prey. He released a third arrow mid-run and struck what appeared to be the leader in the shoulder. So quickly she almost missed it, Felicity saw him draw his sword from its sheath before the clanging of metal rang out.

This time Felicity did find the will to move. She didn't get very far with her hands tied but managed to crawl into a small alcove she'd spotted carved in the stone. She was hidden but could still see the battle that raged on. The man who'd been shot had pulled out the arrow. Blood dripped from the wound as he and his co-conspirator tried to overpower the masked warrior. Neither was making much headway. The interloper outmaneuvered them at every turn. He was as frightening as he was mesmerizing with his lethal, precise movements. As promised, he tore them to shreds by slashing at their flesh and delivering punches until they both ended up on the ground in crumpled and bloody heaps.

Felicity couldn't tell if they were dead nor did she care. She was too busy watching the warrior in fascination and fear. Some part of Felicity knew that he'd been fighting on her behalf, but that did nothing to erase the panic that she could be next. Her chest heaved when his eyes scanned the wall before honing in on her. Tremors rippled through her as she tried to make herself smaller in the already tiny space. It was completely useless, since she was trapped yet again with no way out. He took a step in her direction, and she instinctively cowered.

The warrior paused, watching her, before slowly pulling back his hood and removing his mask. The darkened cavern obscured most of his features. The buzzed head, square jaw, and scruff were not enough to convince her that she knew this man. Felicity so desperately wanted to believe in her miraculous rescuer, but her naivety had almost cost her her life twice today. She didn't want the third time to be the charm.

He approached her more cautiously and stopped just before the opening. "Felicity." This voice she swore she knew. Only Al Sah-him could sound deep, coarse, and gentle all at the same time. But it couldn't be him. He wasn't set to return to Nanda Parbat until tomorrow. So really this was nothing more than a figment of her imagination. Either she was hallucinating that this man was him or she hadn't woken up at all. Maybe she was still unconscious. Or worse, maybe she was dead and stuck in some kind of twisted purgatory.

"Felicity," he repeated and crouched down to her level. "It's okay. You're safe."

She shook her head and whispered, "You're not real."

"Yes, I am. Look at me."

Tears spilled from her eyes as they closed. Her head was pounding, but she couldn't stop shaking it. This illusion would finish her off. She couldn't take it if he wasn't real.

"Shamsi," he said tenderly but with a little more force, "look at me." Reluctantly, Felicity opened her eyes. Although the space was too small for his broad frame, his arm was able to reach her. Felicity felt his fingers graze her cheek and it was like a shock to her system. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and he was close enough that she could make out every single detail on his face. Despite the angry tension in his jaw, his eyes were open and beseeching. His mouth was pursed somewhere between a comforting smile and a worried frown. "I said I would always protect you"—he wiped at her tears—"and I keep my promises."

Whether it was the tenor of his voice or the intensity of his gaze, something inside Felicity finally clicked. "Al Sah-him…" His name dissolved into a sob before Felicity launched herself at him. He caught her effortlessly before folding her into the sanctuary of his embrace. Disregarding the various areas of pain scattered throughout her body, Felicity buried her face in his neck and held onto him for dear life.

"You're safe. I've got you," he soothed as she broke down in his arms.

"How did you know?" she cried. "How did you find me?"

"That's not important right now. How badly are you hurt?" Without letting go, he drew back enough to give her the once-over. He pulled out another blade to cut the bindings on her wrists. She could tell that he was trying very hard not to show his fury as he examined her bruises and swollen face. The moment he took in the tattered remains of her dress, however, the façade slipped completely.

"Who touched you?" he growled and glanced back at her unconscious abductors. Al Sah-him looked like he wanted to pick up his sword and run them through again for good measure.

"It was Al Torr," Felicity mumbled, nearly choking on his name.

Al Sah-him cursed under his breath as they locked eyes. "Felicity?" he questioned in a grave whisper.

She knew exactly what he was asking and was quick to answer. "No. But it was close…" Felicity continued in a quivering voice, "I stabbed him with the dagger just like you taught me."

"Good," he cupped her cheek that wasn't injured. Al Sah-him gave her an encouraging nod. "You did good, shamsi."

"I might've killed him," she replied. Although it was self-defense, Felicity had never killed anyone before. She didn't know whether to take strength from the fact that she'd rescued herself from that monster or feel guilty simply for ending another human being's life.

"I didn't see any sign of him when I tracked you. But if you didn't, then I'll sure as hell finish the job," Al Sah-him vowed before his attention was drawn to the shadows. Felicity heard hurried footsteps and tensed. "It's all right. It's just my men. Everyone is looking for you."

Sure enough, a large group of masked warriors entered their part of the tunnel. They stopped a few feet from them at full attention. Al Sah-him helped Felicity to stand. He kept a protective arm around her when he noticed that she was unsteady on her feet. Felicity didn't mind in the least and kept her head down against his chest, hiding her bruised and tear-stained face. She felt utterly vulnerable and exposed—literally on the latter considering the sorry shape her dress was in. Holding onto Al Sah-him also kept her from completely spiraling from the shock of what had just transpired.

Meanwhile, Al Sah-him issued orders for the remaining abductors to be imprisoned and interrogated immediately when they came to. He wanted answers by any means necessary. Al Torr was also to be hunted down, and anyone else with even a hint of involvement in the plot to take Felicity would suffer a similar fate. For a second, Felicity thought Al Sah-him might leave with them to lead the charge. She was taken by surprise when he hoisted her up into his arms instead and proceeded to head back down the tunnel. No one followed, and so Felicity settled into him and let her tears silently fall. Even if she had some fight left in her, there would be no need to use it against Al Sah-him. He was not the enemy.

It was not a short walk back to the compound. There was a series of long, windy corridors and sharp turns. With her head already spinning, Felicity found it difficult to keep track of where they were headed. It did seem like they were underground. When they were on an incline, Felicity felt the minute shift in the way Al Sah-him held her.

"Where are we?" Felicity whispered. The darkness no longer frightened her now that she was with Al Sah-him, but the eerie stillness continued to make her feel on edge.

"The catacombs," he gruffly replied. "They run underneath the compound. Very dangerous if you don't know where you're going."

"Because you can get lost?"

"That and there's always a chance of a cave-in. Not all passageways have a solid foundation."

Felicity shivered and wondered how long she'd been unconscious. It seemed like her abductors had had one hell of a head start, which also begged the question how Al Sah-him had managed to track her down.

As if reading her mind, he added, "I know their layout intimately."

Felicity had at least ten more questions on the tip of her tongue but held back. She really didn't need a history lesson on their origin or purposes at the moment. All Felicity wanted was to be out of them, and so she let Al Sah-him focus on his task.

Several minutes later, they reached a hidden door in the stone wall. Al Sah-him hit a small, obscure lever with his elbow, and it popped open. They entered another dimly lit space that ended up being a stairwell. After several flights, they were back in the compound with its more sophisticated architecture and brightly lit corridors. Felicity didn't recognize this section at all.

The path Al Sah-him took kept them out of view. There was no one walking the corridors, which Felicity was actually grateful for. They passed through a few more hidden doors and hallways until Felicity recognized their own personal wing of the compound. It was bustling with guards. Hessa stood outside her room whispering conspiratorially with one of them and froze completely at the sight of them. More people caught on and paused, staring, before falling onto one knee. Al Sah-him didn't say a word, nor did he acknowledge their submission. The tenderness he'd displayed with her in the catacombs was gone. This wasn't Al Sah-him but Warith al Ghul, Heir to the Demon, and his murderous expression showed that he would cut down anyone who got in his way.

Two new guards stood outside their bedroom door and rushed to open it upon their arrival. Felicity felt the breath Al Sah-him finally let out when they were alone and mimicked the same relief herself. Just as quickly, he was back to being the attentive husband and went to place her on the bed.

"No," she halted him. "The bathroom. I need to get this dress off."

"Let yourself rest for a minute."

"No." She was adamant and gripped him tighter. "I want it off. It's filthy and full of dirt and blood. His h-hands were all over me," she stammered, "I-I don't want it touching me anymore."

The widening of his eyes was infinitesimal but enough to tell Felicity that her words had struck a nerve in him. His hold on her tensed for a second, and she sensed the undercurrent of ire beneath his control. "Okay. You can change while I—"

"I need a shower," Felicity declared. She could still feel Al Torr's disgusting hands and mouth on her. She wanted to scrub off every single memory of his touch, along with the dirt and grime.

Al Sah-him brought her into the bathroom and placed her on her feet. Waiting a second to make sure she could support her own weight, Al Sah-him went to turn on the shower. He felt the temperature of the water before leaving the bathroom.

Felicity was surprised by his abrupt departure but understood that he probably wanted to give her privacy. She reached for the buttons on the back of her dress and winced when she turned her wrist the wrong way. Other muscles rebelled, as well. Maybe she should just rip it the rest of the way off, since it was already ruined. The door creaked as Al Sah-him returned. He'd removed his armor and jacket, leaving him in his dark pants and a t-shirt. He placed her change of clothes on the countertop.

"Do you need anything else before I go?"

"Where are you going?" Felicity anxiously questioned.

"I meant before I go back into the bedroom. I'll be right outside," he reassured her.

"Can you…" Felicity hesitated as she considered her request. She'd never asked him what she was about to say before. "I'm having trouble with the buttons in the back. Can you undo them for me?" She lifted her swollen wrist to show him and flinched when she attempted to reach with the other hand.

"Let me see." He checked her wrist and felt along the tender skin. "Doesn't feel broken but probably is sprained. I'll have ice brought up for this and the rest…" he trailed off, frowning. Al Sah-him examined her face and along her neck, where she could feel the dried blood crusted, and turned her to face the counter.

Felicity kept her head down. She couldn't bring herself to look in a mirror right now but could imagine how terrible a sight she must be. The steam forming in the bathroom seeped into her limbs, which were cold and trembling. The first touch of Al Sah-him's hand against her back automatically had Felicity tensing. Her hands curled into fists, nails digging into her palms, on the hard granite. Al Sah-him's fingers were gentle as he undid the first few buttons, but all her mind could seem to focus on was the abuse her body had endured at the hands of her attackers not too long ago. She silently whimpered and instinctively hunched over the counter to avoid his touch.

"Hey," he whispered, his hands pausing.

She didn't look up or even acknowledge him. Now that they were out of the catacombs, Felicity didn't want him to see her like this—weak, vulnerable, and out of control. Worst of all, she felt ashamed. How could she have let this happen? What would become of her? She was already viewed as the enemy by so many in the League. What did this assassination attempt say to them now? The fact that it had almost been successful would probably make her look even more powerless in their eyes.

"Felicity, I'm not going to hurt you." Al Sah-him's hand drifted to her shoulder. "Breathe," he instructed. It was the softest and most soothing tone she'd ever heard from him. "Can you do that for me?"

Felicity focused on his voice, which had taken on a rhythmic-like quality, and took a few deep breaths. It helped, and her muscles slowly started to relax.

"Good. Just keep breathing. You're safe." Al Sah-him repeated it a few more times, putting her at ease, as he finished undoing the rest of the buttons. Afterward, he turned her to face him. The air between them was sticky and blurry from the steam. "I promise you that I will get to the bottom of this and see that justice is carried out. No one will ever think of raising a hand against you once I'm through." His resolve was like steel.

"I know who's behind it." Felicity pressed on before she lost her nerve. "It's Talia."

Al Sah-him studied her closely. She could practically see the wheels turning in his head, but he didn't push for a further explanation. He simply nodded and told her to take her time in the shower, repeating that he'd be right outside waiting for her.

Felicity did take her time. She'd spent minutes under the hot water staring at her darkening bruises with a subdued detachment. It was almost impossible to tear herself away from the heat. Besides Al Sah-him's touch, it was the only sensation that scratched the surface of the numbness. Her skin also felt raw by the time she was done scrubbing it. Only when the water began to cool did she finally turn it off and got out. She brushed her teeth, as well, before changing into the silk cami and shorts set that Al Sah-him had gotten for her. The material was light and cool against her skin. He'd also grabbed her bathrobe, which Felicity put on before leaving the bathroom. Al Sah-him sat on the couch talking to an older-looking woman across from him. They both stood upon her arrival, and the woman bowed.

"What's going on?" Felicity warily inquired.

"This is Malak. She's a doctor. I asked her to come and examine you."

"I'm fine," she swiftly replied and took a step back toward the bathroom.

"It's just a precaution to make sure you're all right. Please, shamsi," Al Sah-him requested.

"I will only do a cursory exam, Seti," the physician informed her. "Nothing more."

Felicity didn't like the idea of another stranger touching her but relented nonetheless. She could understand Al Sah-him's concern about knowing the extent of her injuries. When he headed for the door to give them some privacy, Felicity quickly called him back. She wasn't ready to be alone with anyone she didn't trust. Right now his strong presence kept at by the fear and insecurities threatening to cripple her.

Al Sah-him obliged and stayed off to the side while Felicity sat on the bed and let the woman examine her. She kept her hands mostly on top of Felicity's clothes as she felt for injuries, though that did nothing to ease the tautness of Felicity's muscles. Every so often she would lift the fabric if Felicity's reaction was particularly sensitive to her prodding and ask her to elaborate on how the injury was sustained. The worst came when Malak inquired about the bruises on her thighs and discretely asked if she needed an internal exam. Felicity declined as her eyes drifted to Al Sah-him.

He hadn't said a word and yet Felicity knew he was analyzing every little detail she revealed. He stood as still as a stone statue by the door, but his folded arms and the hard lines of his muscles told her he was seething and biding his time like a caged animal. When she caught him looking toward the door quite a few times, Felicity was sure he'd prefer to be in the dungeons interrogating her attackers himself instead of stuck in the room with her. Thinking about the dungeon, Felicity's mind drifted to Tommy. A wave of guilt hit her that it was only now he'd popped into her thoughts. She wanted to ask Al Sah-him if he was okay but knew enough to wait until the doctor had finished.

The worst of her injuries was the concussion Felicity had sustained. The physician recommended a pain reliever to help with the throbbing and nausea she was still feeling. It would also help with her sprained wrist, which she'd wrapped. Malak gave her a few cold compresses to place on the wound and swelling on her face. Before leaving, she told Al Sah-him to keep an eye on her throughout the night and let her know if her condition worsened.

Al Sah-him approached the bed and drew back the covers. He motioned for Felicity to lay down, and she went willingly. He tucked the blankets over her and made sure that she was comfortable before grabbing the pain reliever from the bathroom. He got her a large glass of water that Felicity kept guzzling after she'd taken the medicine. She hadn't realized how thirsty she was. When he asked if she was hungry, her stomach roiled and she declined. She'd probably throw up again considering how shaky she felt.

"Is Tommy all right?" she finally asked.

Despite being a sore subject between them, Al Sah-him answered evenly, "He'll recover."

Felicity sighed in relief and made sure to tell him, "He helped me get away from Al Torr. Or he at least gave me a head start before I came across Al Saffah. I think he was dead, because he was just lying there. I tripped and fell and then Al Torr was on me and—" She quieted when her heart began to pound rapidly and her eyes stung with moisture. Recounting it was too much for her at the moment.

Al Sah-him sensed her growing distress and quieted her. Taking a seat next to her on the bed, Al Sah-him reached for the compress on her face. He brushed her hand aside and placed it more firmly over the area. "You don't have to tell me now. Just rest." His other hand came up toward her and hovered mid-air, uncertain. When she didn't object and stared curiously, he let it rest along her damp hair. Felicity felt his fingers moving carefully through the strands. Unlike with the physician, his touch wasn't uncomfortable. Like earlier, it was the only sensation that put her at ease.

"You were right before," Felicity mumbled somberly. "I don't know your world."

He quietly grumbled, "It still shouldn't have come to this. Felicity, how are you so sure it was Talia?"

He wasn't going to like this, but she knew he deserved the truth. She cautiously answered, "Talia came to me before you left and offered to help me escape. Called a truce between us until I made a decision."

Somehow he already knew the answer. "You decided to stay." His gaze was brooding but hopeful.

"I decided I didn't trust her. I was right—though a lot of good it did me," she muttered.

With a minute shake of his head, Al Sah-him murmured, "I knew I shouldn't have gone. I had this bad feeling for days…"

"Is that why you came back early?"

He nodded. "You should've told someone." The look he was giving her clearly implied him.

"So you could react like you did with Tommy?" It wasn't accusing but merely a fact. "I don't get you," she whispered. This was a heavier conversation than she'd expected or was probably ready for, but there was no stopping now. "You never talk to me, and then you completely disappear in the night. Now you're telling me you've been worried for days and came to my rescue like you care—"

"I do care," he forcefully interjected.

"For your reputation or for me?"

"I told you I would protect you, and I meant it."

"Why?" she implored, knowing that wasn't actually an answer. "I heard what that assassin said to you. They all think this marriage is some kind of prison for you, and yet you struck them down without a second thought."

"They're wrong."

"But why? Why aren't you off being Warith al Ghul and torturing my attackers for answers like I know you want to? Why are you here playing nurse to me instead when Nyssa or one of my ladies could just as easily—" She attempted to sit up. It was too fast, and she sucked in a sharp breath when her head spun.

"Felicity, we can talk about all this tomorrow. You need to rest," Al Sah-him urged and helped her settle back down.

Felicity had no choice but to comply. The exhaustion was catching up to her, and she still felt a little chill. Al Sah-him removed the compresses when she shivered and cast them aside. She hadn't realized she'd started crying again until he wiped at her tears. Everything was so complicated and confusing. First she was numb and then the anguish was too much…Felicity couldn't seem to settle on just one emotion.

She fell asleep not too long after. It wasn't a deep sleep, since she was still vaguely aware of what was going on around her. She sensed Al Sah-him hovering and felt the whisper of his touch against her forehead. Felicity thought she'd heard a knock on their door and voices, but that wasn't enough to pull her out of unconsciousness.

It was a few hours later when she did finally wake. Her heart was racing while her body felt like ice. She was shivering even under the layers of blankets. There was a pressure on her chest as she fought to catch her breath. Scattered images haunted her dreams. Memories of the attack. Felicity woke with her neck throbbing, remembering the way Al Torr had gotten his hands around it. It stung anyway from the blade that had pierced it. Her eyes searched the darkened bedroom and landed on Al Sah-him. He was in his usual spot on the couch by the fire pit, shirtless and covered by a lone blanket. The couch really was too small for his broad frame, and she wondered for a second how on earth he managed to sleep comfortably on it every night.

As if possessed by some unseen force, Felicity threw the covers back and stood up. She padded quietly over to him. Goosebumps formed on her skin when she felt the low heat from the fire pit. The remaining embers burned brightly enough to make out his face. The only time he looked somewhat vulnerable was in sleep, and she watched him silently for a couple of minutes. Still shaking, she reached out a hand to touch his shoulder. His skin was warm and smooth, and she felt the tiniest sense of ease at the contact. When he suddenly opened his eyes, she jumped slightly but didn't move away. He looked up at her enquiringly with heavy-lidded eyes but didn't say anything. Neither did she.

Felicity stood there caught between her restless mind and her quivering body, wondering what they were trying to tell her. Wondering if she should follow her instincts. They hadn't exactly been reliable lately. Without looking away from her, Al Sah-him took hold of her hand and interlaced their fingers. His touch broke through the delirium and radiated up her arm to the rest of her body, chasing back the anxiety that was threatening to overpower her once again. Her heart lurched as she took a step forward, wanting more of the warmth she craved and only he could offer. She moved until her legs rested against the couch, and she was hovering over him.

Al Sah-him remained silent but was more alert. Regardless of the shadows in the room, his brilliant blue eyes captured her and drew her in. Eyes that never once looked at her with resentment or malice despite the troubled situation they found themselves in. He'd slain his own people to protect her. The faintest squeeze of his hand propelled Felicity forward. Since there was barely any space on the couch, Felicity crawled on top of him and lay across his chest. Al Sah-him was actually warmer than the remains of the fire and her body shuddered at the surge of heat against her icy skin.

They'd never been this close. Felicity wasn't even sure if it was appropriate, but she didn't care and neither did he apparently as his arms folded around her. Al Sah-him brought the blanket up to cover her and rubbed his hands along her arms and back to warm her up. Although the pressure in her chest lessened, Felicity continued to tremble. This was what she needed. This was how she liked to be touched. Like she wasn't in this alone. Like she was wanted. Like she was safe. Felicity closed her eyes and clung to Al Sah-him, drawing not just warmth but strength from his solid form.

Eventually, the shaking stopped and her breathing calmed. Her chest moved in time with his in perfect synchronicity. She didn't attempt to get up nor did he let her go. Her hand came up to stroke along the curve of his neck and underside of his jaw. The familiarity of his scruff and sensation of his steady pulse against her fingertips proving to be an added comfort. They were smooshed together with barely any room or space to spare, and yet it was a hundred times better than the empty bed. His heartbeat against her ear lulled her, and Felicity finally closed her eyes.

"Thank you," she said barely above a whisper.

Al Sah-him didn't say anything at first. She was on the edge of sleep again when something warm and faint touched her forehead.

"Laki alf mara."

Translations:

fajerah = slut

mughafal = moron

shamsi = my sun

Laki alf mara = For you, a thousand times