The next morning, Lorna entered back into Ford's flat, looking and feeling worn out. Sleep had been surprisingly hard to come by with no warm body next to her. She was a little surprised to see him waiting for her, sitting on the living room sofa, resting his elbows on his legs. "Hi, Ford."

"Where were you last night?" he asked tiredly, skipping the foreplay. "This is the third time in two weeks you've been just... gone."

Lorna sighed, leaning back against his door. She took a deep breath. "I.. I was trying to get about 400 quid off this guy... I don't know what his name was, I just.. needed the money."

He frowned, eyebrows furrowing. "What do you mean? What guy? Why do you need money?"

"I'm.. pretty deep in debt," she breathed, raising a hand to rub at the circles under her eyes. "I've been trying to get out of it, I- I rob rich guys, you know? The morning after? I... fuck, I was going to try and do it to you, Ford, but I just.. I couldn't."

Things were starting to click into place. "Your brother didn't have a problem," he sighed, nodding a little. He wanted to be angry at her- she'd just admitted to trying to con him- but something held him back, and he sighed again. "Come here."

She nodded, walking over and crawling into his lap, like she did with Sebastian. She forced that thought from her head. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, curling her fingers into his shirt. "I didn't want you to know."

He held her close, taking a slow breath. "I'm angry," he said quietly. "Or I'm trying to be, but not really, I suppose..." He shifted a little so that she was settled more comfortably, holding her against his chest. "I wish you had just told me."

She let out a bit of a broken laugh. "I didn't know how to tell you. How are you supposed to bring that kind of thing up? I'm so sorry, Ford. I fucked up."

He didn't say anything for a while. "Who are you indebted to?" he asked finally, voice soft.

"Lots of people," she shook her head. "I.. have a list, somewhere. I've never been very good at managing money."

He sighed. "Are you in trouble?" he asked quietly, hand rubbing slow circles into her back as he held her.

"I will be very soon if I don't get the money I need," she mumbled, curling her fingers into his shirt.

He closed his eyes, held her a bit more tightly. "How much do you need?"

"Almost nine grand," she whispered, as if afraid to say it any louder.

"Jesus ..." he breathed, letting his head fall back. "That isn't a few wallet grabs, Lorna, that's a fucking bank heist!"

"I've... I've actually made quite a dent," she cleared her throat, shrinking down a little. "It's just... finding the right wallets."

"How much did you owe before?" he asked, eyes still shut, taking it in.

She cleared her throat again, shifting a little. "...Fifteen."

He didn't respond for a few minutes, taking a few breaths. "Okay. Okay, well, you've made progress, that's good... How the hell did you get this far under?"

She'd given a lot of thought to this answer, of finding something that would elicit only sympathy from him. "I had to pay off a lot of people to get out of the drug hauling. They... they don't want you to walk away, once you're in there, you know?"

He took a long, slow breath. "Okay, then," he said quietly. "Then I'll help. We'll figure this out."

She let out a long, shaky breath. "Alright. Thank you," she whispered, and leaned back a little to press a kiss to his cheek.

He nodded just a little. "Of course. I understand that this must be a frightening position to be in... I want to help."

She nodded, swallowing audibly. There. Now he had what he'd been looking for - the thing she'd been 'hiding' from him. The rest of it shouldn't be too difficult, and she wouldn't have to see Moran until the mockup. She sighed. That would not be fun.

He just held her close for a while, slowly relaxing, his suspicions eased. "When do you need the money by?"

"A few months from now," she replied. That meant that he wouldn't be in a rush, and she would be done with this job far before then.

"Okay," he says quietly, nodding. "We'll figure it out. I promise. You'll be okay."

"I know," she smiled slightly.

Two weeks later they were snatched off the street. She'd tried pushing a little, tried getting him to give up something about his work, about the people he went off to meet, but he was like a rock. She needed the extra push, despite the fact that it meant she would have to see Moran again.

Ford struggled against whoever it was that had him, trying to get the bag off of his head. There was someone struggling beside him. "Lorna?" he asked, kicking out at whoever held him and earning a muffled swear and a sharp blow to the head. He reeled slightly.

"Yeah, I'm here," she replied, her voice trembling slightly. They'd put on her restraints a little more loosely, had only put on the bag after she nodded. They knew better than to rough her up too much, not until she gave the say so, or until they really needed to sell it.

He grunted as they were both shoved roughly into a van, his shoulder ramming into something as he stumbled blindly. "Are you okay?!"

She huffed as Johnson picked her up and set her down a little hard, jostling into Ford's side as the van door was slid shut.

"Lorna, are you alright?" he repeated, keeping his voice calm. This wasn't the first time he'd been abducted, but he was edgy that she was being taken as well.

"I'm not hurt," she shook her head, purposely making her voice crack with fear. It was a little tiring, but she wouldn't have to keep it up long.

"Hey, hey, it's going to be okay," he said, shifting enough that his shoulder could rub against hers, the best he could do when his arms were tied. "Did you recognize anyone?"

"No," she shook her head, just so he could hear the rustle of burlap. Johnson, from his spot on the other side of the van, kicked Ford's leg.

"Shut up."

He did, in no mood to antagonize anyone.

Moran was waiting in the garage as the van pulled in, arms behind his back, eyes cold, waiting. He'd been even more of an emotionless robot than usual lately. He was giving Jim a run for his money.

They were unloaded with little ceremony. Ford was immediately dragged off, though he was saying her name, asking where she was. Johnson let her get her footing, and unbagged her before letting her out of her restraints. She met Moran's gaze for a moment without flinching, then rolled her shoulders, sighing. "Alright. Get it over with, then. Try not to break anything."

He stared at her for a moment calmly, then nodded, drew back a fist, and let fly, catching her across the face with no restraint, hitting her so hard she fell a few steps backwards and landed on her ass and elbows. There was a startled stir among the crew, and those that had remained quickly trickled away at the look in Sebastian's eye.

She groaned, laying back on the floor for a moment just to try and let the stunned feeling pass, and then she sat up, letting out a long breath. "Thanks. That should look spectacular in a few hours."

"Probably. Let me know if you want more. Happy to help." His voice was neutral.

"Aren't you a joy to be around," she muttered, rolling her eyes as she stood and dusted herself off. Without another word she turned and made for the elevator. She really didn't want to keep talking to him.

"Harrison," he called sharply. "Did I miss myself dismissing you? Give me a report of what I'm walking into down there. Weaknesses, strengths, triggers, and what the hell he thinks about you at the moment."

"He has a big fear of fire, and losing extremities. He won't respond to threats about family, financial issues, or simple beating. He's got a weak spot about reputation, probably has to do with his brother. Right now he's not suspicious about me, thinks I'm really his girlfriend. Nothing exciting."

He nods just a little. "I'm not going to take it easy on him, Harrison," he said, walking forward. "Are we going to have a problem?"

She met his eyes with a dry expression, though she felt like slapping the shit out of him. Really? He was really questioning her, after that night two weeks ago? That was insulting. "You can kill him, for all the fucks I give."

"I'm probably going to have to," he said levelly. "I was just checking in. I know he's a friend." He gave no special emphasis to the word, his manner not quite as stiff.

"I killed my own brother, Moran, I'll remind you," she snorted, shaking her head and crossing her arms over her chest. "I don't care anymore. It's too much energy."

He nodded just a little. "Fine. Then let's get to work." He headed for the elevator. "If we need to make you look any worse we'll tie him up so he can't touch you and your makeup department can handle the rest."

"Alright," she agreed evenly, stepping in behind him. There was a time when she would have fled for the staircase, but now it just didn't seem worth it anymore.

He hit the button to descend to the cell block. After a moment he said "I'm glad you're back safe." He didn't look at her, but his tone wasn't rough, either.

She cleared her throat, shrugging a little. She didn't look at him either. "There was really no way for it to go wrong. The debt play was a good call. He fell so hard it was like he tumbled down a flight of concrete stairs."

He smirked just a little bit. "I wish I could have seen that. It's always fun to watch their well-placed suspicions traipse out the nearest window."

She snorted. "Probably a little bit too sappy for your tastes. It was like a Spanish novella in there."

He laughed, shaking his head a little. "You're probably right. I despise dramatics."

She held back the And yet you have no issues going into a jealous rage and then completely shutting down, but that's none of my business, and just shook her head. "Believe me, I know. What do you want me down in the cellblock for?"

"We might need to show you off a few times to get him talking. I'm not sure. If we don't need you within the hour I'll let you go do whatever."

"Cool," she said, gently touching the beginnings of the swelling on her cheek. "I'll probably drink myself into a stupor."

He shook his head. "I need you sober in case I need you to come in. You can get drunk after we kill him."

She sniffed slightly. "Speak for yourself. You smell like a liquor store. But alright."

"I do not," he muttered, casting a glare in her direction. "Besides. I'm torturing. That doesn't require full dexterity. Acting does."

"Maybe for you it does. I've been acting for two weeks nonstop while drinking hard liquor. I'm a goddamn professional," she snorted, stepping out as the elevator finally dinged and opened up. "I'm going to have maintenance look at this thing. I feel like it's slowed to a crawl," she said under her breath.

He nodded in agreement. "It's not a matter of your acting ability. It's a matter of you coming in from supposedly being tortured smelling like, as you so aptly put it, a liquor store." He headed down the hall.

She walked with him - he hadn't told her to go anywhere else - and sighed. "Half this building smells like a liquor store, but whatever. Just let me know when his heart stops beating so I can do what I want to."

He nodded in agreement. "Do what you want for now. Just stay in the area for an hour or so and keep off hard stuff."

She nodded and peeled off at the next hallway, heading for the lounge most of the cleaning folks hung around in. They didn't mind if she smoked there.

He walked down to the cell where Ford was holed up, and pushed the door open. "Sherrinford Holmes. Glad we've finally got our hands on you."

Some part of him was relieved. So this wasn't about Lorna, after all. The rest of him was very concerned. "Yeah? Why's that?"

"Well, you're an interesting man," he says, walking forward and lighting a cigarette as he did so, taking a slow drag. He wasn't one to smoke except for fun, but this certainly would be. "Interesting family; bit of a black sheep there, but you've gotten involved in their messes anyway, haven't you?"

He grimaced at the cigarette smoke. He hated them; mostly because his brothers were such heavy smokers themselves. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said, glaring up at the man, wondering where he'd seen him before. A picture, maybe?

"You might not, but I do. Two years in Pakistan, another year and a half in Afghanistan, some time bouncing from country to country faster than an announcer at the Olympics... quite the track record." He noticed the wince and walked over to where the man was tied to a chair, blowing a stream of smoke in his face.

He coughed, and would have waved a hand in front of his face if he'd had his hands free. "So I fucking travel? If you've seen the family I come from you know that's not exactly unbelievable, we're an adventurous sort. Where is Lorna? She's got nothing to do with this."

"Why, are you worried about her?" he asked with a broad smirk, making no move to redirect the smoke he was exuding. "And it's not so much travel as reconnaissance, wouldn't you say?"

Ford stopped playing dumb. There was too much risk to keep going along that path. His gaze hardened a little, sweeping up and down the man in front of him. "You're Sebastian Moran, aren't you? I've seen your picture. You looked better in it than you do now. What happened to your face?"

"My employer wasn't impressed with my performance. That's how we do things here. If you perform up to expectations, you don't get hurt. If you're a sassy little shit..." He pressed his cigarette slowly into Ford's arm. "You get scars."

He shouted in pain, arms jerking in the restraints. Already he was thinking about what he could give up - after all, how many of those secrets were really his? How many did he really have to protect? "Fuck. Let Lorna go."

"I'm thinking no," he snorted, keeping the cigarette pressed where it was, watching it slowly smoke as it cooled. "She's really very pretty, I get what you see in her. I might have to try it out."

"Don't you fucking touch her," he gritted out, muscles clenched to keep himself from moving and making the burn on his arm worse. "Don't you fucking dare."

"I bet she feels good," he smirked, grinding the butt of the fag into Ford's arm slowly. "Maybe I'll let you watch."

"She'll claw your fucking eyes out," Ford snarled, eyes blazing with fury and pain. "Don't even fucking look at her, you fuckwit."

"Not if she's tied up," he said with a shrug. "Which she currently is. And bruising nicely. We had a bit of a chat before this. She's worried about you. But I told her she didn't have to worry, because you're going to be smart. Right, Ford?"

Ford spat in his face. He'd gotten the more emotional end of the stick than his brothers had, and occasionally it made him do irrational, stupid things. "Fuck you. You won't get jack shit from me, threatening her."

He stood, wiping his face off and tossing the butt of the cigarette into Ford's lap. "Fine," he said, smiling. "Why don't I go talk with her for a while, then?" he headed for the door.

"I fucking mean it. Leave her out of this!" he yelled through his teeth, jaw clenched in fury. He'd gotten the stubborn streak, too.

"Alright, fine, for now I will," he sighed, walking over with a smile and pulling out a box of matches, starting to stick them under Ford's strapped-down arm so that about half of them remained out in open air. "Why don't you tell me what you were doing in Afghanistan, Ford?"

He sucked in a breath. He'd gotten what he'd wanted for now, he could relent, he could avoid some of that fucking fire. "Deep cover missions. Infiltrating the fringes of a criminal network."

"What criminal network?" he asked, not faltering. That information was hardly specific enough to be useful, and they both knew it. He placed his eighth and final match for the time being, pulling out one more and inspecting it for a moment before striking it.

"Some asshole named Keenan Mallory headed it," he said, a little hurriedly, eyes on the match, wide and fearful. "Runs it out of New York."

"And what was your mission there?" he asked, watching as the match burned slowly down, bringing it over to the first match under Ford's arm. "Details, please. This is getting boring."

"I had to gather information, get up as far as I could, see what they had on our government, if we needed to send in somebody to take care of them or if we could let them operate, within reasonable bounds," Ford rattled off, staring down at the little flame as it slowly approached his skin. "They're mostly harmless to the government, but they had a lot on other networks, like they were planning a takeover, or some hostile move, I don't know. Put it out. Put it out!"

He let it sit there for a little longer, just a breath away from lighting the first match, but let it burn out. He reached for another one. "Good. See? If you just keep answering like that I think we're going to get along well."

Ford did not have a fun next few hours. He gave up a lot about his brothers, about their childhood habits, their likes and dislikes. He gave up everything on his brothers. But he held onto the secret he'd been entrusted with. Moran could sense he was holding something back, but he couldn't give it up. He couldn't.

Moran watched as the remaining hair slowly curled and burned off of Ford's arm before letting the lighter close with a sigh. "I feel like we aren't connecting anymore, Ford. Communication is important in any relationship, as I'm sure you know."

"Fuck off," he said tiredly, shaking his head. His arm throbbed with the pain that only burns could bring.

"You know what?" he said, smiling and nodding a bit. "I think I will. I'm a bit pent up. But I think a little solid fucking is exactly what I need. I'll be back in a bit, Ford. Take a breather. I hope we aren't too loud," he said with a smile, heading for the door.

He grit his teeth, biting into the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood. He couldn't say anything. He couldn't give this up. This was so much bigger than him or Lorna. Christ, Lorna, I am so sorry.

He laughed a little as he walked out into the hall, closing the door behind him and reaching up to tap his earpiece. "Someone get Harrison down here."

She showed up a few minutes later, pulling off the hoodie she'd grabbed since arriving and dropping it outside the door, raising her eyebrows at him expectantly. "What do you need me to do?"

"I've just threatened that I'm going to fuck you," he said calmly, eyes on her, gauging her reaction. "He's holding out on something big. I need it. The best option would be to bring you in there and threaten to do it in front of him, but I don't want to make you act that out if it's something that's going to bother you. So that's your call."

She stiffened just a little, maybe going just a little pale. "What if he still doesn't talk?"

He nodded just slightly at that. "Good point. I don't want to have to follow through on that. In that case, go make yourself look appropriately bedraggled. He's tied up, he won't be able to touch you. Have fun with it, alright?" He tried to keep his voice calm, reasonable. "We'll go from there."

"Fun, right," she muttered, turning away with a rolling sensation in her stomach. "I'll be back in a few minutes. Unzip your trousers or something."

He reached out to put a hand on her shoulder before she could walk away, though he dropped it as soon as she stopped. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I shouldn't have suggested that. Let's just get through this, I'll touch you as little as possible."

She half-turned back to him, rubbing her eyes with a deep sigh. "You're not going to be the problem, Moran. I'm just going to have to put myself in that mindset. I have to go upstairs and remember how I put myself back together before he stuck me back in the cell," she shook her head. "Look, just, do what you have to. I've been for weeks, this isn't that much different."

He nods just a little, sighing and stepping back. "Okay. Let's do this, then."

She turned away again without another word and disappeared down the hall. Six minutes later she was back, looking appropriately wrecked, several new bruises brushed onto her skin, a rip in her shirt that hadn't been there before. "Alright. Let's make this quick."

He nodded in agreement. His shirt was untucked, now, trousers left undone, part of his slightly-longer-than-military cut sticking up. "Scratch my face," he said, after giving her a look-over.

She shook her head, reaching up to make his hair a little flatter. "No. Why would I have had my hands free? We have plenty of muscle in this place who would have held me down for you," she said expressionlessly, dropping her hands. "Let's go, okay?"

He hesitated, but nodded a little, reaching out to take her arm roughly. It took him a moment to get his heart into it. It felt so wrong and he was beginning to regret ever using this as a threat, however effective.

He focused on getting his revenge on Ford, and managed to let out a laugh. "Come on, you little cunt, let's not keep your boyfriend waiting," he said, loudly enough to be heard through the door, though he opened it a second later, shoving her inside.

She took what looked like a bad fall, though she had an annoyingly high amount of practice stunt falling, so it was painless, and immediately turned on the waterworks, sobbing as she curled her legs underneath herself, bent over on the floor. "Ford."

"Lorna," he breathed, shocked, before he immediately started struggling, fighting against the restraints. "Let her go!" he shouted angrily at Moran. "You fucking bastard! Let her go!"

"Oh, I will," Moran said, smiling and walking forward to toe Harrison's side. "As soon as you tell me what I want to know."

"Ford, please," she said brokenly, another ragged sob heaving through her. "What's happening? Please, please, just-" she melted into another wave of crying, letting Moran take over.

He knelt down, carding his fingers through her hair, smiling. "Come on, Ford, what do you think. Should I have another go at her?"

"No, no," Ford said in a rush, pulling futilely against his restraints again, then he hung his head, letting out a pained breath. "I'll... I'll fucking tell you, alright? Just leave her alone. There's- there's an op building to take out a good number of the bigger networks, this one particularly. Moriarty's. My brothers really, really don't like your boss. They're trying to coincide the time with the push the other network is doing. There's a mole in here, I know. I don't know his name. He's recent, that's all I know. Let her go. Please let her go."

He smiled as the fountain was opened. "What are the details of Moriarty's operation?" he asked, bending down to pull Harrison's head back, stroking a finger along her neck.

"I don't know shit about Moriarty. Never was assigned here. Just leave her alone. Please. Please."

He considered him for a moment, then smirked. "What do you think, Lorna, should I let you go?" he asked, releasing her hair and offering her a hand up, tone playful.

"I think you owe me a stiff drink," she snorted, the tears gone, and took his hand, hauling herself to her feet. She started wiping at the fake bruises, grimacing. "Sorry, Ford. Nothing personal."

"I... What?" Ford asked meekly, not quite piecing it together yet, confusion all over his face.

"I think that's a fair assessment. I've still got some of that scotch Jim gave me. You want to come over once I've finished here?"

"If I'm not still barred," she rolled her eyes, running a hand through her hair to calm it a little. She ignored Ford, who was looking like a cog had fallen out of his head. "If I am, I'm going to need my clothes back. Some of those are expensive as hell."

"You weren't ever barred," he said, snorting. "I needed a few minutes to- you know what, we can talk about that later. Would I be inviting you if you were barred? No."

"Lorna..." Ford said quietly, starting to make sense of things, the reality of it settling into his expression. "The whole time?"

She turned to Ford, sighing. "Yeah. I'm sorry, Ford. but... a job is a job. You should know that." She made a bit of a face at him. "By the way, little pissed that you could deal with me being raped in another room but doing it in front of you was what broke you. Nice. That's not weak, or anything."

He swallowed, but didn't respond, looking away.

Moran stepped forward, pulling his knife. "Alright, well, I'm going to have a little fun and clean up. I'll see you upstairs soon?" he asked, looking over to Harrison as Ford paled.

"If you take too long I'm going to break into the scotch without you," she warned, turning for the door without another look back.

"Fair enough," he said, smirking and turning back to Ford. "Alright. Now I get to have a little fun. And trust me, I've been looking forward to it."