A/N: Hey guys sorry it's been so long since my last post. This flu really kicked my ass. But, it gave me a chance to decide who I really wanted the villain of this part to be. THIS CHAPTER IS DARK… DEFINITELY rated M… Also any translation I used will PROBABLY be wrong. Fair warning, I used google translator and we all know how accurate THAT can be. Lol. Annnnyways I know you really don't care about this part so how about the story?

"Confront the dark parts of yourself, and work to banish them with illumination and forgiveness. Your willingness to wrestle with your demons will cause your angels to sing. Use the pain as fuel, as a reminder of your strength."

August Wilson quotes (American Writer, 1945-2005)

Emily awoke in a blinding white light. So bright it washed out the room, she could not see anything beyond it. She held a hand up to block the glaring white light from her view, only to find her hand was shaking and there appeared to be 3 of them. She looked at it in confusion. She didn't know where she was, her mind felt lost in a hazy ocean of uncertainty. She felt high. Trying to sit up, she shivered and looked down at her arm. There was a hole with a tiny drop of dried blood in the crook of her elbow. There was a pain between her legs she couldn't place. She wanted to call out, but her words she couldn't put in order. She couldn't remember where the last place she had been. Propping her elbow under her, she immediately felt the cold concrete under it. It was cold, but she was almost sweating. Giving up she laid back down on the hard floor in defeat. She would try again later. She closed her eyes to the white light and faded back into oblivion.

A woman watched carefully from outside the concrete room. She smiled evilly as the bitch tried to sit up and failed, before passing out again. She'd been in and out of consciousness for 3 days now. The heroine she'd been injected with kept her complacent and hazed. She'd been drugged, physically and sexually assaulted. She had no idea where she was or what was happening. And, given the level of heroine she'd ingested over the last 3 days, she couldn't even remember the last place she'd been. Slowly, the woman stood up and left the room with the surveillance cameras. It was time to give that whore her injection of nutrients and saline. She couldn't stay awake long enough to eat or drink anything, but it was important to keep her alive. Ian Doyle would pay dearly to get her back. If he could ever figure out who had her in the first place…

Emily slowly opened her eyes; she felt a warm body near her, lifting her arm up before she felt a stinging pain, followed by an immediate flood of ecstasy. She felt her mind play a vivid hallucination in front of her eyes. She was running with a little blonde girl, about 4 years old in a field, laughing and calling out at the two boys behind them, one big and older, one smaller, and younger. She knew them, but that was all she knew. She couldn't name them or the little girl holding her hand. But she felt comforted seeing their smiling faces. Hazily she knew deep inside her, the little girl was her unborn child. Friendly, warm, loving; that was how she imagined them… She looked at the older man, his blue eyes piercing into hers, trying to tell her something. She stared at her hallucination intently, What? What am I supposed to know? Who are you? And suddenly as he reached out, he touched the thin white four leaf clover scarred on her chest, and she remembered... Ian. She thought. Where was he?

She looked around, trying to see past the vision splayed in front of her. She saw bodies; three of them moving around. Dark, tall shapes, and one smaller one. She heard voices, garbled and distorted. She didn't recognize any of them. She didn't see Ian. Where was he? What was happening to her? She felt weak and hazy, but she needed to concentrate. She was in trouble, this much she felt. Deep in her heart she knew something was very, very wrong. She concentrated on the voices. There were low voices, and a softer, higher pitched voice. Singular. One high voice, a woman… She thought. She didn't know where she was. She looked around again, this time focusing on her surroundings. Cement walls and floor. Cold, damp…a basement? Bunker? Warehouse? She didn't know, she couldn't tell. Her hallucination danced in front of her vision, growing brighter, more vivid. She felt frustrated. She couldn't see past it. She needed to SEE, dammit! She tried to wave her hand, trying to swat the images floating in front of her like ghosts.

Finally, one of the figures approached her. A woman with red hair knelt, next to her. Emily looked at her in confusion. She'd never seen this woman before in her life. She was sure of it! She squinted at the woman, as the woman said her name firmly.

"Hello, Emily Prentiss."

Emily was confused again. No one even knew where she'd been. No one had used her real name in a very, very long time… Her instinct told her to deny it. Whatever they wanted with Emily Prentiss was not good. Maybe she could convince them she was not who she knew she was…

"Nno-o. Je m'appelle Emmeline Farrell!" She stuttered in broken French. She had no idea what she was really saying. Her mind could barely understand the English her thoughts were in, let alone trying to speak in another language.

"No. Emily, you, my dear are Emily Prentiss. Or, maybe you prefer to be called Lauren?" The mystery woman said with a heavy accent. Russian? Irish? German? Emily's mind screamed to try and focus. Lauren? Who was this woman? How did she know who Lauren was?

"Qui êtes-vous?" Emily asked. She needed to know who this woman was…

"Speak English Emily. It won't do you any good to pretend… I know alllll about you." She woman said with an evil smile.

Emily mustered up all the strength she had to put behind her words. "Who the fuck are you?" She demanded. She was beginning to feel tired, aggravated. She was done playing games.

"Oh, I'm nobody. But you, my dear. You are crucial to my plans… I believe you knew my brother." She said slowly.

Brother? Emily thought angrily. "Cut the crap. I don't know you, or your fucking brother!" She bit out angrily. This woman was crazy, and Emily was starting to feel a flood of adrenaline pump through her exhausted body.

"Oh, yes I believe you do. Or did, I should say. He's dead now. Thanks to you." The woman said calculatingly, gauging her reaction.

Thanks to me? Emily was furious. She couldn't remember anything. How was she supposed to know WHO the hell this crazy bitch was talking about?

"I don't know what you're talking about…" She said tiredly. She was getting tired of this woman, and her nauseating perfume that was assaulting her hyper aware sense of smell.

"Do you remember a man named Ian Doyle?" The woman asked slowly.

Yes… "No."

"Emily, don't lie. It's unbecoming."

"Fuck you!" Emily yelled.

"Thanks to you, my brother died. Working for that man, that was obsessing about little old you… For seven years."

Emily stopped. Whoever this man was, he'd worked for Ian… Long enough to know she went by Lauren at one time. Her mind swarmed with faces, names, she couldn't sift through them all.

"Ian Doyle is a leech. He uses good people, for his personal vendettas. People are expendable to him. He and his men came after you. And your people killed my brother. Liam…" The red headed woman spat at her.

Emily froze. Liam had been Ian's right hand man for years. Had remained loyal to him from the beginning… He must have died at the warehouse, when Ian had disappeared. She processed all of this with a layer of heavy fog. Why would this woman come after her? Why not take out Ian?

"Ian Doyle was hellbent on revenge. But now, he welcomes you with open arms. Loves you, even. But, my brother had been loyal to him from day one, and died at the hands of you and Ian Doyle. His blood is on your hands and you both will pay." She said venomously.

"Your brother was a mercenary." Emily said slowly. "He did what he was PAID to do. Ian is an arms dealer. Do you really think he didn't know death was inevitable?" She laughed tiredly. This was exhausting. She laid there, staring this woman down. She was in pain, but she used that pain; used it as fuel to put strength into her voice.

The woman smacked her across the face, hard. Emily felt her head fly to the left and blood fill her mouth. Emily looked back at her cruelly, before chuckling. "Your brother was right not to trust me, in the beginning. But, that didn't really help him in the end did it?" She paused. "You're right. Ian doesn't give a shit about anyone that works for him. He knows what will happen, and so do they. They take the risk willingly, for a big fat pay off. That's all any of them care about. Money. Greedy whores. Paid to do whatever Ian says." She said laughing.

The woman stood up, giving Emily a look of pure hatred.

"Well, we'll just see how much Ian Doyle really cares about you… Don't be surprised though, when he doesn't come for you. It's already been 5 days. He'll be getting the first dvd any day now." She said with contempt dripping from her voice.

Emily controlled her face, careful to not let this woman see the panic that flooded her veins. 5 days? How could she have been gone 5 days now? What was taking him so long? Emily laid there, still and motionless as the woman walked out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

She felt the pain flood her body again. She'd finally realized she'd been raped; and Ian was about to see it all on tape. For the first time since she'd been here, she curled up on her side, and felt her eyes well with tears. She prayed for her unborn baby, that it was still ok. She didn't feel that anything was wrong yet, but she couldn't guarantee that for very much longer. She was in deep, deep trouble. Ian, Ian… Hurry, please, hurry! She thought with a feeling of pure terror as the brightly lit room went completely black, as they shut her off in the dark.