Lorna didn't bother trying to wake up Sebastian in the car; he looked to be out cold. Instead, she just contented herself with the car ride, which she guessed to be about thirty minutes long, and had enough turns and twists to thoroughly confuse her sense of direction. That was fine. She didn't need to know where they were. And when they dragged her out of the car, she didn't bother trying to check. The two of them were put together in a stark white cell, nothing on the floors, walls, or ceiling. It was well lit, almost to the point of being too bright, and utterly featureless.

It wasn't long before Moran began to fade into groggy consciousness, groaning slightly at the aftermath of tranquilizers in his system. Lorna was sitting in the corner, one knee drawn up to her chest, her handcuffed hands resting in her lap.

"Hey, Sleeping Beauty," she said when he shifted, "Welcome to hell."

He grunted slightly, shifting and forcing his eyes open, clamping them shut again after a moment as the room spun. "Har'son?"

"Yup. Take it easy, I'm pretty sure they tranqed you," she replied, watching him from where she was. "You really fought them, huh?"

He shifted, annoyed to find his hands cuffed firmly behind his back, and tried opening his eyes again. Fuck, it was bright. "Wha' was I s'posed t' do...? Was a setup..." he managed, his brain and tongue both feeling like lead.

"I know. Mycroft was waiting to have tea with me. I didn't fight. One of us should be considered the docile one," she sighed, showing him that she was handcuffed in front. "I can get out of these."

"Do it," he muttered, shouldering his way into a sitting position. "Shut up wi' th' smug... grifter...stuff..." He shook his head, trying to clear it.

She sighed. "If I get out of them, both my thumbs will have to break. I won't be able to get you out." Then she made a considering noise. "Well, I can keep one of them on and save that hand. But I still don't have anything to get you with. Not even a bobby pin."

"Right... yeah.. 'n still the matter of the door..." He looked around, trying to focus, but saw no obvious seams in the wall. "Where's the door?"

She jerked her head towards the wall on her left. "We came in through there. But I wouldn't be surprised if there were more doors. Easier to disorient us." She sighed, leaning her head back against the wall and closing her eyes. "I'd get comfortable if I were you. Keep circulation in your arms."

"I know how t' handle cuffs and confinmen', thanks," he muttered, shifting over until he could lean back against his own portion of wall, shifting a bit until his arms were more comfortable.

"Sorry. Thought I'd remind you. You still look pretty out of it," she shrugged, opening her eyes again to look at him. "I'm trying to stave off being freaked out until you're back on your feet."

He nodded just slightly. "Did they say 'ow they knew?" he asked, closing his eyes again. The light was giving him a headache.

"No. But they knew our names. And that I broke a glass in my room last night. I think its the accountant. I could be wrong, though," she sighed, rubbing at her eyes with the back of her wrists.

"Brilliant. Jim's gonna be fucking thrilled," he muttered with a sigh. He glanced over at her. "Whatever they do t' us, jus' make sure you're more afraid a' Jim than them."

"I've already had that thought," she assured him, biting the inside of her cheek. This was a situation she had desperately hoped to avoid. She was a grifter, not a soldier; this wasn't what she'd signed up for. She sighed. "I can't promise I won't throw a few people under the bus, though. Nobody you know."

He shrugged. "I don't care. Bu' you star' talkin' when you shouldn't, and your life 'spectancy's going to drop like a rock."

"Yeah, I know. I know," she breathed, biting her lip now. The wait was getting on her nerves. Although she supposed that was the point.

Time seemed impossible to keep track of in the blank white atmosphere. The drugs eventually wore off, but the unwavering light and odd silence of the room kept Sebastian on edge. It wasn't until what must have been hours later that the light suddenly increased in intensity to the point of being almost blinding, forcing him to close his eyes with a curse. When he opened them, blinking away the after images, Mycroft Holmes was standing in the center of the room, leaning on an umbrella, considering his captives.

"Have a good day lying to Parliament, Mr. Holmes?" Lorna smiled, still squinting slightly as her eyes adjusted back to the light. Her wrists were starting to ache, despite the fact that the handcuffs were loose. "What have you come to visit little old us for?"

"An excellent day, Ms. Harrison, thank you for asking. And I'm here to oversee your transfer." His voice was calm, unwavering, almost dream-like. "It's time that you and I had a bit of a talk."

"Are you taking me to a room even cleaner than this one, or did you decide that was an impossible goal?" she quipped, eyebrows raised. It was all to hide the sudden spike of fear that stabbed into her gut. Christ, she did not want to go.

"I don't suppose you'll find out," he said, smiling slightly. He walked forward, hooking his umbrella through her cuffs and yanking her forward with surprising strength by her wrists. "Now, cooperate, and this will go much better for you." He released the chain and tossed her a blindfold. "Put that on."

She hissed through her teeth as he yanked her forwards, sparing an acidic glance up at him before she wrapped the cloth around her eyes and tightened it securely. Better to cooperate - up to a point, of course. "You may have to lead me."

"I was planning on it," he said with a small grin, bending to grab her cuffs and pull until she was forced to her feet. There was another flash of light as they left the room, and Sebastian missed the door again, shifting a bit nervously, left alone in the blank, empty space.

Mycroft led the woman down the hall, where he'd been joined by two guards as soon as they'd left. They walked into another room, this one a stark contrast from the last. Insulation covered the walls in thick layers, the outer coating torn at by fingers, traces of blood noticeable. In the center was a low operating table with thick straps, and the guards grabbed Lorna, lifting her and slamming her onto the table, strapping down her legs before undoing her cuffs and getting her torso and arms. The blindfold was removed a few moments later.

She couldn't help her sound of alarm at being shoved onto the table, blinking furiously as her eyes adjusted to the light, flicking frantically around the ragged room. This was not a friendly-looking room. "You know, usually when I'm going to do bondage I like it to be in a clean room," she bit out sarcastically, pulling experimentally at the straps. Nope. She was stuck here.

"Well, we had a go at that, if you'll recall, and you were complaining," Mycroft pointed out from where he was standing in the doorway, watching. His eyes were emotionless. "I don't expect you'll be willing to cooperate? I can assure you you'll save yourself and Moran a great deal of hardship."

"Oh, mister, come on now. Cooperating with you is both useless and dangerous. You won't get anything you don't already know. I'll only get dead. This is really a pointless exercise," she sighed, shaking slightly. She was afraid, she'd admit it.

He laughed. "So dismissive? Perhaps death is your best option, Lorna. After all... In the unlikely event that we don't manage to break you, you'll be released to James Moriarty, with a nice list of the information you 'gave' us. A few things we already know but have yet to act on. I wonder what his response would be... Tell me, have you ever assisted in dealing with traitors in Moriarty's little gang?"

She just stayed quiet, squaring her shoulders and tightening her jaw. She knew what happened to traitors. She would not become one of them. She would not break. "Do what you have to, Holmes."

He smirked, studied her features. "Interesting," he murmured after a moment. "Put the blindfold back on, I think."
One of the cronies nodded, and his smirk was the last thing Lorna saw before the cloth was replaced tightly. That made her even tenser, sucking in a sharp breath. Her imagination couldn't help but speculate on what would be used on her first. Knives? Drugs? Fire?

Mycroft walked forward, setting his umbrella aside and smiling slightly. "Now, Ms. Harrison. How interested are you in zoology?" he asked calmly, picking up a pair of sheers and starting to calmly cut away her clothes.

She twitched away from the shears before she stopped, worrying about being cut. "I thought about becoming a biologist, actually. Why?"

He removed her clothing piece by piece, strategically removing layers and tossing them carelessly to the side, until she was left in slacks with the waist cut loose and knickers cut from underneath, her blouse intact but bra cut away as well, and the blindfold remaining. "I was thinking we'd experiment with a little entomology," he said calmly, removing the restraint over her hips and turning to a tank in the corner of the room as one of the goons duct taped the waist of her shirt to the waist of her trousers before returning the restraint loosely.

"I own several laboratories which run experiments in a number of fields, and they've developed a special kind of burrowing beetle." He picked a thumb-sized specimen with a special set of tweezers, ignoring its angry hissing, and walked over to gently tuck it under Lorna's collar. "Let's see how their experimenting has gone, shall we?"

She remained as still as she could, sucking in shallow breaths as she felt the beetle placed under her collar. "You're going fucking Khan worm on me?" she hissed, twitching again as the beetle moved, skittering across her skin. "You nerd."

He smiled, watching the beetle scurry beneath her clothes, before moving to get another specimen. "Not quite. As I recall, those do enter the body through the pre-created orifice of the ear. These particular creatures prefer creating their own tunnels in your skin. At least, in theory. They haven't left any lethal damage on our cadavers, just a network of their little burrows, but then again, these particular ones are hungry..."

She was about to speak before she felt a sudden sharp pain just under her rib cage, swearing violently as she writhed on the table, trying to dislodge the beetle from her skin. "No, nononono," she chanted, glaring down at her abdomen.

His expression lightened. "Oh, good, off to a good start." He ushered another beetle into her clothing, this time starting down at the ankle of her trousers.

"And here I thought Jim was the only sadistic bastard I knew," she snarled, pressing her head back into the table and breathing through clenched teeth as the first beetle dug into her flesh. "You do this with all the girls or am I just special?"

"Let's just say I take a special interest in people related to plots against my family members," he drawled, leaning against the table, content to leave it at two beetles for now, watching blood seep into her shirt around the rustle of the first beetle.

Lorna had to take a moment to remember how to speak as the second beetle started boring into her calf, scratching her short nails across the table with an ear-piercing squeal. "I'm.. not going to cooperate. I'm useless to you," she gasped, arching up into the hip strap in a vain urge to try and at least dislodge the beetle from its tunneling.

"Then, if you're so useless, it shouldn't really be that much of a problem to cooperate, now should it?" he asked idly, poking at the beetle beneath her ribs to agitate it.

The beetle freaked out, ripping a hole into her at twice the speed of before, making her face go pale as she struggled not to voice her pain. "I-It's hard to cooperate when you don't even ask me any questions. Not... not that I'm going to."

He smiled coldly, watching her struggle, gauging her. It would have been easier if he could see her eyes, but her blindness gave him an incredible advantage. "Oh, any way I can make this a simpler process, certainly," he crooned. "Let's start with something simple. Has Moriarty been informed that my brother is still alive?"

"Are you stupid?" she spat, letting out a harsh laugh. It was less embarrassing than screaming. The first beetle was deep in her abdomen now. "You know the answer to that, don't patronize me." She wasn't going to give him straight answers - straight answers couldn't be used against her.

"Of course I know the answer." His soft, pleasant tone never changed, as though they were still having tea. "If you want to graduate to the more difficult questions, you answer these first." He traced a finger over her abdomen, feeling the ridge where the established beetle had turned, starting to dig through her sideways, eating itself a tunnel.

"Oh, fuck off," she growled, pulling at the restraints tying her down once again. Could she worm her wrists out of these? She was certainly motivated. "Do me a favor and let your shitty-ass beetles eat me in silence. Go eat some cake."

"Not the answer I was looking for," he said calmly, turning to the tank and retrieving another beetle. "Let me explain the rules. For every answer that you give me that I like, I remove a beetle. For every refusal to answer, or unsatisfying answer, I add one. Does that sound fair?" He walked over, putting the next beetle up her sleeve without a hint of sympathy.

Two hours later and they'd finally finished pulling out the beetles to put her back in her cell. Two hours of refusal and pain and helplessness. She'd let some unimportant things slip, had had to, to keep the beetles from getting anything important, but the rest, the stuff that would get her killed, she refused to share. When they handcuffed her and threw her back into the room with a bright flash, she could do little more than raise her hands to stop herself from hitting her head, eyes red from tears she was still angry about. "Hi, honey, I'm home," she rasped hoarsely, slumping into sitting position.

Sebastian's eyes narrowed slightly as he saw her, clothes stained with blood in odd patterns, the visible portions of her skin covered in strange red raised lines, wiggling and zig-zagging across her skin with no apparent pattern. "What the fuck did they do to you?"

"Khan beetles or some shit," she groaned, lifting her arms to look at them. She hurt. "Some went deep. They're all out, though. And I spilled some shit. Sorry. But its nothing they didn't know."

"What sort of shit?" he asked, eyes hard and cold, though mostly he was angry at Holmes for doing that to his operative.

"Just confirmations. Jim's alive. We're based in London. A little bit of my history. Nothing they didn't already know," she said quietly, unable to look at him.

His lip curled slightly in distaste, but he didn't berate her. Instead, he said something unexpected. "Well, I suppose that's to be anticipated. It's not like you know anything fucking useful anyways. You could spill your guts and they wouldn't come close to touching anything vital."
He didn't know why he did it. The room was undoubtedly bugged, he'd been thinking about it the whole time he'd been in here, trying to keep himself from going insane in the white silence. And what had he just done? Intentionally indicated to their captors that it was useless to torture Lorna. Which, of course, left them with one alternative. He closed his eyes, leaning against the wall, and despite his confusion, part of him still hoped that they would listen to him. He didn't want to see her any worse than she was now, for some reason.

She looked up at him, blank surprise on his face. "What's gotten into you?" Lorna murmured, shifting to lie down on her back with a slight groan. "I could use a drink."

He shrugged. "I just don't think there's any point in pretending you can tell them anything useful," he snorted. "And I'm sure, but unfortunately I left my whiskey in my other trousers."

She let out a long breath, trying not to focus too much on the aching pain running throughout her. She was miserable. "I'd really like to go home, now," she sighed.

"Jim will get us," he promised quietly, and of that he was fairly certain. "Bossman hasn't let us down yet. He won't now." He made a face as the light flashed again, and two armed men walked in, shoving guns in his face as they got him to his feet. "I see you get preferential treatment," he smirked over at Lorna. "Mr. Holmes himself shows up for you, I just get gooned."

"I'm more charming than you," she replied from the floor, her arms drawn up over her eyes to protect from the light. She didn't want to see him go, either. She didn't want to think about it at all.

"Right, yeah, sure you are," he smirked. "See you soon," he muttered as he was lead out the door.

She forced herself to keep her eyes open as the light flashed again. There was the door.

It slid shut before she had a chance to access it, disappearing into the wall.

This time, it was a full five hours before Sebastian was dragged back in. He looked equally worse for wear. The familiar lines traced his body as well, though it looked like they'd moved on to just straight up beating at some point, one of his eyes almost swollen shut. He slumped into the corner, looking over at her with his good eye. "How you holding up?" he asked after a moment.

"Better than you, from the looks of it," she murmured, swallowing hard. Something about seeing him this way hurt. "Are you okay?"

He shrugged a little, teeth gritting slightly. "They left one of the suckers in... in there, couldn't get it out, they said... But yeah, okay.."

"I can try, if you like. Slender fingers," she offered quietly, shuddering at the thought of one being left inside her. "I might be able to suck it out like snake poison, if you really want it out. It's going to be so gross though."

"Don't get that thing anywhere.. near your mouth," he muttered, his nose wrinkling at the thought. "God knows what it'd.. do if you accidentally s-swallowed it. I don't need you bleeding internally." He closed his eyes for a second, a hand moving to grip his side so tightly for a moment his fingers turned white. "But... if you could try to get it out..."

"Okay. I'll try," she said quietly, shifting over to him and twitching his shirt out of the way with her restricted hands. "This is going to hurt," she warned, making a face as she considered the hole in his side. Then she dug her finger in there as far as she could, grimacing as she hooked her finger around the alarmed beetle and scraped it out and onto the floor, leaning back and contorting herself back so she could stomp it beneath her heel.

"Fuck-" he exclaimed before he clamped his teeth together, head slamming back and pressing into the wall as she dug into him, causing the beetle to panic and dig faster. But then she pulled it free and it was a fucking miracle, and he relaxed at the decrease in pain as he watched her give the thing a well-deserved end.

"Sorry," she cleared her throat, wiping her bloodied finger off on her jeans. "God, those things suck. Where's pesticide when you need it?"

He nodded, giving a bit of a grin as he worked on pulling himself together. "I could even do with a flyswatter," he sighed, shifting into a bit more comfortable position, trying to sit on something that didn't hurt. The room was less pristine, now, anyway. Both of them were leaving bloodied marks wherever they went. "You holding up alright?"

She leaned against the wall, giving a small quiet laugh and shaking her head. "No. No, not really. I'm terrified and I hurt and I've never been this much in trouble before," she breathed, shuddering slightly. "This isn't my scene, Moran."

He nodded slightly, but didn't let her wallow. If they were going to survive this, that wasn't an option. "Oh, you get used to it. This is most certainly my scene, though to be honest, I'm not used to playing such a bit part. Maybe next time I can convince Mr. Holmes to switch roles. He's taken the one with all the fun in it."

She snorted slightly, smirking a little. "We're never going to get him. Sorry to bust your bubble, sir. Hopefully, we'll be out of this place before we get another session with Mr. Holmes." She stopped bothering with sitting up and lay down on her side, back against the wall.

He nodded slightly in agreement, making sure none of their wounds were bleeding too much. "Get some sleep."

"Sounds good to me," she sighed, shifting a little uncomfortably so she could rest her head on her arm, and immediately dropped into a light sleep that she hadn't been able to achieve when Moran hadn't been in the room.

He considered shifting her head to his lap for a pillow, but decided against it since a), his legs were both covered in wounds from the beetles, and b), even having that thought suggested he was very out of it and in some desperate need of sleep himself. He drifted off quietly.

She woke up an indeterminate amount of time later, her whole body aching. She let out a quiet groan, curling up slightly, as if that would help the pain. "You awake?"

"No, you?" he shot back, one eye cracking open. The swelling had only gotten worse on the other one, which was bruised colorfully and refused to open.

"Barely," she muttered, wishing that the floor wasn't so hard. "I feel like shit. You okay?"

He shrugged slightly. "Been worse," he said quietly. That, at least, was true. "Move... I know you don't want to, but it'll help... Need to keep everything from stiffening up."

"'Kay," she mumbled, pushing herself up and stretching out with a muttered swear. "I'm not going to look as pretty after this. And I know where the door is."

"Yeah? And you'll be fine, don't worry about that," he muttered, forcing himself to move as well. "Where?" he added.

"That wall," she nodded, "About a meter from the left corner. Just so you know, I guess."

He nodded. "Wonder if there's any way to get through it?" he muttered, pushing himself upwards, a hand against the wall until he was sure he could keep his balance. His head was aching, and he knew the light wouldn't make it any better. He walked slowly, hand leaving faint bloody prints on the stark white wall as he headed for where she'd indicated.

"They're going to have a hell of a time cleaning this place after we're gone," she remarked, watching him with mild concern. "Let me know if you need a hand. Like, free of restraints. Cause I'll only have one." She hoped Jim was coming for them, honestly.

"Yeah... For some reason they didn't put mine back on... Think I was too out of it for them to care. Lucky us." He started feeling around the wall, trying to find a crack or seam with blunt, calloused fingers.

"Lucky you, more like. My arms now ache from the position they've been in along with the stupid beetles," she huffed, bracing her back against the wall and standing up.

"Sorry," he said, glancing her direction. "But we're alive. That's a plus."

"I suppose. I never really thought that he'd kill us, anyway. He's from the government, after all. I worry more about Jim," she shook her head, moving to help him look for a seam. "I'm going to drink myself unconscious when I get out of here."

He laughed slightly, finding a tiny seam that he figured was the door, but was almost impossible to trace, much less shove something into. "Yeah... not opening this from in here."

"Damn," she muttered, her bound hands falling in front of her again in defeat. "Guess we're not breaking out on our own," she sighed. The idea of being rescued by Jim was a little humiliating, even if she wanted it.

He shook his head. "At least not from here, no." Maybe during transport from room to room. "Hey, if you can hear us, we could use some water," he said loudly and a bit hoarsely, walking back over to sit next to Lorna.

"That would, in fact, be nice," she sighed, considering resting her head on his shoulder for a moment before deciding the terse words from him weren't worth the relief to her neck. Luckily for them, the door slid open a moment later, a tray with plastic cups and a plastic pitcher of water being shoved in before the door shut again.

He sighed, leaning over to grab the edge of the tray, pulling it towards them and pouring two glasses of water, handing her one. "Drink slowly."

"Do I have to?" she mumbled, taking it and doing as he said anyway. The water was a surprising relief to a problem she hadn't had the time to really notice.

"Yes," he said, not brokering any argument as he took a few sips of his own. It soothed the stinging ache in his throat, and he knew it would help to soothe his headache a bit eventually. "We don't know when we'll have it again."

Lorna knew better than to even suggest that he was wrong, and instead just took it slow, focusing on just hydrating herself for a few minutes before realizing that she was uncomfortably cold. Maybe it was the fact she was expending energy on healing, or maybe it was the lack of a couple layers, or maybe it was even Mycroft being a bastard, but she really wished she had a jacket. "I suppose a bowl of warm soup would be too much to ask for."

"Somehow I don't think they're interested in making us feel at home, no." He noticed her shivering, and sighed, but didn't hesitate. If she lost body heat, that was the beginning of the end. He shifted around, before reaching out and pulling her against his much larger form. "Get warm."

She tensed slightly as he pulled her over, unsure how to react, and then his warmth was far too tempting and she leaned into him, trying to soak up as much of it as she could. "Sorry," she murmured, frowning slightly. "Not just for this. I feel like I should have warned you somehow. I could have had time..."

"Don't be an idiot," he said. "Maybe you could have, but you say that now, Jim will agree with you, and he will not be happy. So, seeing as it's irreversible, it never happened."

"Okay," she replied quietly. There wasn't really a lot of fight left in her, and wasting any of it on Sebastian would be a stupid mistake. "I'm going to beat the shit out of that accountant when we get home. Even if he is innocent."

"Sounds like a good diversion," he sighed, taking another sip of water. "Mind if I join in?"

The flash of light was almost becoming expected, but it was no less unpleasant. Moran was expecting them to go for Lorna again, but instead she was dragged off of him and he was grabbed and cuffed, before being shoved out the door.

She lunged forward the second the last goon was out the door, shoving the pitcher to the side and grabbing the tray to stuff it vertically into the door as it slid shut, the plastic complaining slightly as the door smacked it.

Holy shit. Holy shit, she'd kept it open.

The door squealed, trying to close a few times, before an alarm started going off overhead, loud.

Lorna shoved the door open, wriggling her fingers into the gap and pulling with all of her strength until she was capable of slipping through the space, and then she was running, looking for a place to hide and get her bearings. They would assume she'd immediately go for the exits, wouldn't they? And their security cameras would be limited - they didn't want footage of their dirty deeds leaking out the public, did they?

Sebastian was thrown into the torture chamber, cuffs locked into a bracket on the wall, before the door opened and Mycroft Holmes walked through, his eyes deadly and cold. "I will only ask you once, Moran, so consider your options. Where is she?"

He grit his teeth. Alright, Harrison had escaped. Good.
Furious Mycroft Holmes. Not so good.

Lorna was in the supplies closet. It was the closest, least likely door to be checked that she could find, and it had just happened to house a lot of things that could be used as weapons. She must have been close to the torture room; there were knives in here, and she didn't hesitate to take those and start arming herself. She wasn't going to back to Jim without Sebastian - she had a feeling that that would not be well-received, so it was in her best interest to break Moran out as well. That meant she was going to have to go through a few people. She grabbed a can of aerosol to use as mace, and a handful of paperclips that she stuffed into her one free pocket to use as impromptu lockpicks. Time to start kicking asses and taking names.

He was careful not to bite through his tongue as he was beaten with the rod of metal, one end red hot and burning into him.

A calm voice through the haze of pain. "Stop."

The pain stopped amplifying, though his body was still screaming.

"Now, Moran. Tell me where she went."

"Thought you weren't... gonna ask... again.." he panted, managing a smirk.

"I'm not asking. I'm telling."

She'd gone through two hallways looking for Moran, and she left two bleeding bodies behind her, tucked away in corners of rooms. They had strength and reach, she had flexibility and knives. And she was far more motivated. When she finally came to the door she could hear Mycroft behind, she shook the can of aerosol in her left hand and adjusted her grip on the knife in her right before opening the door with her elbow, kicking it open with a bang. The first and biggest target in the room had a knife in it before she let them have any time to react, and as soon as Mycroft turned her way he got a face-full of air spray and a kick to the stomach. "Give me the keys. Give me the keys." Mycroft let out a cry as the chemicals hit his eyes, hands scrabbling at his face as he tried to get whatever it was away from his eyes.

"Stop her!" he called angrily, but there was no response, and he backed away, temporarily blinded. Sebastian let out a weak laugh from where he was hanging from the wall, barely conscious. "Good 'n... shimp.."

Lorna shoved the air spray back into her pocket and backhanded Mycroft with her now free hand, a knife appearing in the other, before she grabbed onto his collar and shoved him back into the wall, making the presence of the weapon known by resting it against his neck. "You tell me where the keys are or I fucking take off a hand, you hear me? I'm done with you, Mr. Holmes. And I have no problems getting my maim on. Where are the keys to Moran's handcuffs?" Lockpicks would take too long. What if there were reinforcements?

He snarled slightly, panting, before spitting "Pocket."

"Thank you," she smiled, keeping the knife to his neck and sliding her hands into his slacks pocket to retrieve the keys. Before she moved away, a cruel, vengeful look crossed her face. "If you move this will only hurt more," she warned, before grabbing his right hand, shoving it to the wall, and pinning his hand there with the knife. That would keep him occupied for a bit. Ignoring his sounds of pain, she turned and hurried to Sebastian's side, unlocking the chains from his wrists from the wall. "Come on, Tiger, we're leaving."

He stumbled away from the wall, knees buckling, but he managed to get his feet under her him, leaning heavily on her for a few moments. "S'get goin'," he agreed quietly, completely out of it, just focusing on keeping himself vertical.

She could tell that he wasn't going to be a lot of use, so she grabbed onto the front of his shirt and simply dragging him after her, leaving the room and heading back the corridor she'd come from - she'd seen a window this way, and that meant the outside of the building. Two minutes later, and she'd broken the window, coaxed Moran through, and was leading him cautiously around the edge of the building. "Okay. That looks like a parking lot. I'm going to grab a car and I'm going to come get you, okay? Don't move."

He acknowledged her briefly. His world was a painful myriad of colors and sounds that he had to fight to make sense of, hemmed by a tempting, heavy blackness that seemed only a few seconds from overtaking him. He held onto the ground which was tilting beneath him, his body burning, too hot...

When she came back in the car (it had been shockingly easy to get; the keys were in the ignition), he seemed to be swaying on the ground, looking like he needed to throw up. Swearing under her breath, she swung out of the car and hurried over to him, wrapping his arm around her shoulder to help keep his weight up as she led him to the car and stuffed him into the back seat with no time for finesse.

He was moved, wanted to protest to whoever it was, tell them to let him rest, but part of him still knew who he was, and his soldier training kept him moving, kept him from complaining. He curled up wherever he was put, and didn't complain.

Lorna kept checking on him in the rearview mirror as she drove them home, purposely taking a confusing course in case the car had a tracker on it. She was worried about him if she was being honest with herself, and it bugged her that she couldn't just stop and take care of him. When she finally parked a block away from the office building, already bringing out her phone to text cleanup to get rid of it, she quickly got out of the front and opened the back, carefully easing Sebastian out of the car. Luckily they were in a back alley or they would have looked suspicious as hell. "C'mon, Sebastian. You only have to walk a little bit. C'mon."

The blackness had made a definite fight for the game, and he had to struggle back into consciousness as she moved him. "H-hey shrimp..." he muttered finally, catching sight of her in a flicker of clarity. "S'get outta here..."

"Christ, you're a mess," she sighed, beginning to lead him through the back alley towards their building, keeping up his weight almost single-handedly. No point in fighting him about her nickname, not when he looked beaten half to death. "We're almost home, Seb, just please don't pass out on me."

"Not gonna..." he managed, focusing on his steps and not the agonizing pain each one caused, or the creeping numbness starting in his toes and fingers. Step, step, stumble, right yourself, step, step step...

When they reached the back stoop of HQ she just set him down, unable to force him to keep walking. She banged on the door and shouted for a moment before she knelt in front of Sebastian, holding his face in her hands and lightly slapping his cheek. "Hey. C'mon, just stay awake a little longer for me, okay? Don't pass out here, you'll break your skull. Stay awake."

He flinched as she hit him, trying to focus on her, eyes crossing and uncrossing as he faded in and out.

Malcolm the chauffeur opened the door ten seconds later, looking cross, but his face went pale as soon as he saw them. "Christ..." he muttered. "Alright, come on, inside, let's go." He bent to help hoist Sebastian's hulking, deadweight form.

She helped Malcolm get Moran inside before she broke away to an intercom to call someone from their small infirmary, then she rushed back, her hands beginning to shake as everything caught up to her. She tried and failed to get a word out to Malcolm, then just stayed silent.

He lay Sebastian on the ground gently, before turning to her, and without another word, guiding her gently to lie down as well. "They'll be here any minute," he said quietly but firmly. "It's gonna be fine, Harrison. Just keep it together."

Lorna wasn't sure that she could, so she pressed the heels of her palms to her eyes and just concentrated on continuing to breathe, her teeth clenched and her body tense as she tried to keep herself from full-on shaking from the stress of it all. It wasn't every day that she brutally murdered three men, or that she was strapped onto a table and tortured by nightmarish beetles. She couldn't help her reaction.

The medics rushed over a few minutes later, lifting them both onto gurneys, and starting to examine them as they headed quickly for the infirmary. "I've never seen wounds like this," the one in charge said, studying Lorna and Sebastian intently before catching Lorna's conscious gaze. "Can you tell me what they did to you?"

"Flesh-tunneling beetles," she forced out hoarsely, not wanting to remember them more than she had to. "You're probably going to have to wash us out with disinfectant. Do it while he's still out."

The medic's eyes widened slightly, but then he was back to professional. "I'm going to put you under as well," he said firmly. "I don't like the look of these injuries, there's going to be a lot of painful probing and cleaning to do. Better that you sleep through it."

She nodded, honestly relieved to have escaped being awake through that. Sometimes she forgot that not every person hired by Jim was required to be a criminal. "Not gonna argue," she murmured. "No morphine, though. No opiates."

The doctor nodded. "I'll make sure of it," he said firmly, looking up as someone intersected their path in the hall. "Get the word to Moriarty. He can call people in. We've found them."

"You didn't find shit," Lorna muttered, letting her eyes close with a long, shuddering sigh. "We came and found you."

"Details. The boss needs to know you both are alright," the doctor said as they were finally wheeled into the infirmary before he began barking orders. A few moments later, someone placed a mask over Lorna's mouth, and she drifted off into unconsciousness.