I own nothing.

----

It had been nearly a month since the events at Cadmus. Specifically, twenty-eight days since Question had been rescued, and twenty-seven since Galatea had been defeated. The League had been busy since then - building and then moving into several land-based Watchtower facilities, not to mention regular patrols and responding to emergencies. He was off active duty, officially, but he went right on doing exactly what he'd always done - gathering data, in part to help the League, in part to understand the conspiracy.

He walked through the hallway in the new Star City building, reading a file, ignoring everything else until something caught his attention. They were putting the Monitor Room together, and a wire had come loose, and the electricity...

...was painful, but not as painful as what they were making him see. Every dystopic, apocalyptic future he'd ever imagined, in full surround-sound detail. Over and over again. The centerpiece, of course, was the future that had gotten him here. "If I were you, Mr. Question," said Dr. Moon, "I'd give up soon. We've never tested the results of this machine on the human brain after twenty-four hours of continuous use, but I can assure you - it won't be pretty." He paused for a moment, but aside from ragged, heavy breathing, Question maintained his silence. "Very well, then, Mr. Question. If you insist." The pain and the visions returned.

"That's enough, Dr. Moon," said Amanda Waller. "Let me have a go." Dr. Moon did as she asked, and turned the dial down to minimum. She paused for dramatic effect. "I'm sorry you decided to cross us, Question. You're good at what you do, I'll give you that - but you have a problem with being too nosy. Still, we can be merciful - if the situation allows it. If we were less merciful, we would have killed you as soon as we had gotten you into our custody." She paused again, long enough for Question to think, liar. You need to know what I know. You need to know who else knows. "Even if you'll just tell us what you learned from the data you stole, we can get you in the regular prison system. I'm sure you'd be out in fifteen or twenty years. But we are willing to offer complete amnesty for your crimes, if you are willing to work for us from now on. What do you say?"

Slowly and deliberately, Question lifted his head to look straight in her eyes. "If I had a mouth," he told her, "I'd spit in your eye."

Her smile, manufactured as it had been, gave way to a very real frown. "I see." She turned her back on him. "Take the night off, Dr. Moon. I think we'll hand our guest over to Task Force X for a few hours, see what they can get from him." She pulled out her cell phone as she left. "How goes the search for the Huntress?" she said, walking out of earshot.

Dr. Moon grinned. "Are you looking forwards to meeting your new playmates, Mr. Question?"

"Question?"

"Somebody call a doctor!"

"Somebody get Huntress!"

----

"How long has he been like this?" Batman asked, watching the man with no face twitch and moan, in obvious pain despite the drugs.

"Hours," J'onn said. "He's reliving what he went through in the Cadmus facility. I don't know why, but I can't break him out of it."

"Superman said he was with Dr. Moon when they found him," Batman said. "He may have implanted some sort of post-hypnotic suggestion. Then again, it could just be a manifestation of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder." He watched in silence for a moment. "Why do you have him restrained?"

"He attacked the orderlies," J'onn told him. "He doesn't know who anyone is. Now that he's been given sedatives, I don't think he'll be so violent, but it's better to be safe-"

"Get out of my way!" shouted Huntress, wantonly pushing people aside as she ran towards the infirmary. "Q!"

"Huntress, you should not go in there," J'onn said. "It's dangerous!"

She leveled her crossbow at his head. "Which do you think is more likely to end in somebody dying, Martian? Keeping me out or letting me in?"

He let her in.

She chased everybody out of the room, darkened the window, and locked the door. Then she took off his mask. He was grimacing, and his eyes were open, but he didn't seem to be seeing anything. Every once in a while he'd flinch, as though somebody had hit him. "Oh, Vic," she murmured, stroking his face. "What did they do to you?"

Question coughed. That last punch had just about done it for him. He could taste blood. "Not so tough now, are you?" said Deadshot. "'Course, you never really were. Just nosy. Isn't that right?" He wound his arm back for yet another blow, and Question thought, this is it. I'm sorry, Helena.

"Stop," said the little man in the corner. The Clock King was staring intently at his pocket watch. "Your hour is up."

"Oh, come on," Deadshot said. "It's not like we're on a job."

"Those were the terms you agreed to. It's Colonel Flagg's turn."

"You heard the man, Convict," Rick Flagg said. "My turn."

Scowling, Deadshot dropped Question roughly on the ground. "Fine. He's boring anyway."

"I could tell you, but it isn't pleasant," said J'onn, behind her.

"You know, just because you can walk through walls and intrude on people's private moments doesn't mean you should."

"I'm sorry," he said. "I thought you might want someone with you in case he gets violent again, but if you'd rather I left-"

"Wait," she said. "You can go in people's heads, right?"

"I can," he said. "But the last time I attempted to help Question that way, I couldn't get his attention."

"Try taking me with you," she said. "He doesn't ignore me."

"It's not that simple," J'onn said. "Besides, last time we talked he asked me never to let you see what he went through."

"What, to protect me?" she said. The very thought was an affront.

"Not exactly," J'onn said. "Except from legal repercussions."

"For the last time, Question," said Flagg. "What information did you take?"

Question stayed silent.

"Look. You've been here for over thirty six hours and you haven't broken. I respect that. I respect that you want to protect your friends. But it's stupid. Sooner or later you'll break, and then you'll die. It doesn't have to be that way. We can get you amnesty. Just give us something."

"There's... one thing," Question rasped. Everyone quieted to hear what the man with no face had to say. "Sooner or later... Huntress will find out... what you did to me. When that happens... may God have mercy... on your souls."

That was more like it, Huntress thought. Annoying, but it made sense. She would kill those responsible, eventually, if they were going to escape justice, if she knew who they were. "So what am I supposed to do? Just sit here and wait for this to work itself out? It was bad enough after the first time around, and I wasn't there."

"I understand that it's difficult," J'onn said.

No you don't, she thought, but then remembered that J'onn was a telepath.

"If it's any comfort, he seems to be going through it more quickly this time. It's been six hours for us and he's already on the second day."

Her fists clenched involuntarily. "It's not us I'm worried about, J'onn. You weren't there when we got him out. He barely made it the first time. He... he gave up. He thought he was going to die there. He never gave them anything, but..."

J'onn placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "He'll be alright."

She knew quite well that he couldn't be sure of that. The only way to be sure, of course, was to wait and see. She turned away from him and looked at Question. Question was shuddering again, reliving some horror or another; Huntress took off the restraints from his arms, took his hands in hers, and waited.

She'd always hated waiting.

----

"Tell me what you know."

"Walt Disney, Amelia Earhart and Elvis Presley are not dead; they were abducted and cryogenically frozen for future study."

"Tell me what you know."

"A key ingredient in the Smilex toxin can be found in nearly every brand of chocolate pudding cups."

"You know that your resistance is futile, Mr. Question. Nobody knows you're here. Nobody is coming for you. Why do you resist?"

Despite the pain - despite the fact that the machine was still on, so Dr. Moon obviously didn't really want an answer - Question ground out, "Because... it's... right!"

Dr. Moon turned the dial up even further, and Question blacked out momentarily.

(During that moment, a large amount of information played through his head, very quickly. Now that he subconsciously knew he was out of danger, in a safe place, he took the time to sort it out. The conclusions he came to were surprising. He passed them all on to the Martian, who he knew was listening in - all except for one, which was his own.)

He came back to the sound of the door bursting open. There was some commotion, then more pain, so he mumbled something about the secret messages encoded in the amino acids in carb-free breakfast bars. Then he heard a voice he'd never expected to hear again. He blearily opened his eyes to see...

...Helena, who was holding his hand as if her life depended on it. Her mask was on, but he could still see the dark circles under her eyes. How long had it been since she slept?

"Vic?" she half-whispered, as though he were something fragile and infinitely precious.

"I'm here," he said, or tried to. His mouth felt like it was full of cotton and tasted like something had died in it. "Can I have some water?" he tried again, with somewhat more success.

Someone he hadn't noticed brought him a Dixie cup full of water. "Drink it slowly," he said, and Question did so.

"Thank you," he said. He turned back to Helena. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to miss our date."

"Considering you just spent three days in a coma, I'll forgive you this time. What happened?"

"There was a loose wire. It reminded me of the machine..."

"Don't go back there again."

"I won't." He rubbed his eyes. "You took off my mask."

She nodded. "Are you mad?"

"No." He felt weak - not as weak as after the first time he'd gone through that ordeal, but still less than healthy. He supposed a few days of bed rest would take care of it. "Helena?"

"I'm here."

"Do you have to go anywhere?"

"Not tonight. Not until you're better. I said it was a family emergency."

He wondered how many of the people at her school would have thought of her Italian family when she told him that, despite the fact that she was the last surviving Bertinelli, and had no real ties to her cousins and their business. "Did you sleep at all, while I was..."

"No. I couldn't." She suddenly scowled. "I should slap you, scaring me like that."

"I didn't mean to," he said. "Anyway, you're exhausted. So am I. We should sleep."

"You're not the boss," she told him, climbing into bed beside him.

"I know," he said. She laid her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. "Helena?"

"Hm?"

"I love you."

She smiled. "Love you too."