I watched as Sam picked up the pile of photos and carried them over to her side of the cell. I didn't have the energy to tell her to come back. I didn't know if I had ever felt so fucking empty. When Sam had left Amity, I had felt heartache. With Jazz's and Tucker's death, I thought that I should be feeling overwhelming pain – worse than anything I had ever felt before – but there was absolutely nothing. I just felt … dead.

Sam shuffled through the pictures, quickly putting some down on the floor and then she lined up the good pictures of Jazz and Tucker so that I could see them all at once. She stood back to look at the pictures and then she glanced over her shoulder at me. "Is this okay? I should have asked."

I nodded, locking my eyes onto the picture of Tucker holding Jazz in his arms. They both looked so fucking happy, so fucking alive, that it was almost hard to remember that they weren't anymore. They had been beaten and destroyed. I wondered if death had been painful for them and I hoped that it hadn't been. They had both been comatose when they went. Maybe they hadn't even been aware that they were dying. Maybe it had been like falling asleep, except that they had never gotten the chance to wake up. For a moment I wondered if they would come back as ghosts, but I didn't think about it for too long because I knew that neither of them ever would. We had all seen what become of people once they were ghosts for too long; they lost most aspects of their humanity and became beings more bent on destruction than anything else. Thinking of ghosts made me think of my painful half-death and I was worried for Jazz's and Tucker's final moments again. What if death was that hellish no matter what?

It wasn't like there was anyone I could fucking ask. Sam had never … Oh. In the dim light, I glanced at Sam, who was lying on her back, her eyes closed, though I didn't think she was sleeping. I had experience with Sam while she was asleep and it was nothing like what she was doing now.

"Sam?" I started.

"Yeah, Fenton?"

"I …" I got that far before realizing how dick-ish it would be to ask about her suicide attempt. The worst thing that I could do in here would be to remind her of her past pain. "Sorry, never mind. It was a really dumb question. Forget I asked anything."

I heard the slight shuffle of something moving. "I thought you knew me better than that."

Despite everything, I let out a dark laugh, because I did, although I wasn't expecting her to ever fucking admit it. "Sorry, I know; no unfinished sentences." It was one of her many pet peeves. "But, look, it's really for the best I don't ask. I'm sorry."

"If you're worried about offending me, you've done worse." That was the shit I was expecting her to admit.

"It's not something that needs to be thought about." Why bother to think about more death? Why bother to remind Sam that she had tried before? I was half-scared that she would become so desperate as to try again while in the cell. If she wanted to figure it out, I was sure that she would.

"Fenton," she sounded exasperated. At least the tone was something familiar. "Not knowing could drive me insane. I could get homicidal and then the only person around for me to kill would be you."

"That might be better for you," I mumbled under my breath. I raised my voice and said, "I don't want to make things worse."

Sam let out a laugh so loud that it bounced off the stone walls and echoed. It was a Joker type laugh – all madness and despair. Even so, I found myself wearing a small grin, because it was the closest thing to real joy that I had heard – from her or from anyone – in such a goddamn long time.

"Like it can get any worse," Sam said, bitter and breathless. "Just ask the damn question, please."

"What did it feel like when you were dying?"

Sam let out a mewl so quiet that I didn't even think she knew she had made any noise. After a long moment, she said, "Why do you want to know?"

"I was thinking about Jazz and Tuck. I was wondering what they were feeling and I … I dunno. It was stupid. I'm sorry."

'It was stupid. I'm sorry' was the motto of my life. If I ever make it out of here, I should get it tattooed across my face, just to warn everyone I meet.

"You're half ghost. You know what it feels like."

The way she said it made it sound like the subject was closed. But now that I had asked, I needed my answer. "I need to know that they felt something different. When I died, it was too painful for words. I wouldn't wish that on anyone … anyone but Vlad. I can't stand the thought of that sensation being the last one Jazz and Tucker knew. I just want to be able to believe that dying can be peaceful but … I don't think it is."

How could it be when the aftermath of death was so fucking hard?

"It is," Sam said quickly. "It doesn't feel like pain."

I stretched my legs out in front of me, making a face at her words. As she had stated earlier, I did know her. "Now you're just telling me what I want to hear."

"Don't doubt me." She knew me too well.

"If it wasn't painful, then what was it like?" I challenged.

I heard Sam draw in a deep breath and, again, I felt sorry for dragging these memories up in her.

"Sleeping … almost," she said quietly. "After I swallowed those pills, it was like a heavy duvet was covering me, except the feeling started in my stomach and worked its way through my veins. I just felt this weight grow until it reached my brain and then I felt … I don't know, surrounded, I guess, would be the best word. It was like falling into a heavy sleep."

"And it didn't hurt?"

"No. It didn't hurt at all."

I felt relieved for my sister and my best friend. "I'm sorry for asking. I didn't want to make you think about it."

"It's okay." She didn't sound like it was entirely okay. "But I'm going to go to sleep now."

"All right. Goodnight, Sam." I wondered, idly, if it were actually night.

"Night," she said, and then she fell silent.

I laid down, although I had no intentions of sleeping. I angled myself so that I was staring right at the same picture of Jazz and Tucker. Wherever they were now, I knew that they were together and I knew that they were happy. I clenched my fists tightly together. I'd see them again, someday, and while it wasn't okay that they lost their lives the way that they did, thinking about them being in a place where they didn't have to worry about anything anymore made me feel just the slightest bit better.

I heard Sam's breathing deepen. I swiveled a little so that I could see the top of her black hair – once long and soft, now greasy and matted. Just seeing that little part of her made me feel comforted. I couldn't let myself get overwhelmed by this dank reality, because I had still had to fight for her. It seemed impossible that, just a few months ago, 'fighting for Sam' meant winning her back and proving to her that I wasn't the asshole that she thought I was. Now, I knew that I was worse than the asshole she thought I was and I was more than willing to let her go because it meant that she would get to live. Vlad had cost far too many people their lives already – Sam would not be counted amongst his victims.

I heard the grate of the cell door opening and I hurtled to my feet, my heart hammering in my chest. Had being in here really dulled me so much that I hadn't noticed Vlad approaching? He was wearing Plasmius' face and he held a finger to his lips as he stepped inside. I tended not to make of listening to Vlad, but if I had learnt anything, it was that my standoffish ways had never gotten me anywhere. I dropped into a defensive crouch, watching him as he walked into the cell.

"Remember," he whispered, and I realized that he was trying not to wake Sam, which made me worry all the more, "any use of your powers will hurt her and, eventually kill her. Transforming will kill her immediately."

What was he planning? Was he going to touch Sam? I didn't think he was a pervert, but Vlad had already proved himself to be much more than I ever would have guessed him to be. He didn't go near Sam, however. He walked over to where my chain was attached to the wall and I saw him pull out the little device that he had used to sever Sam's chain and also stab her with. He unlatched my chain and began to wind it around his hand.

"You will come quietly," he said, "because it will be her that pays for your insolence."

I planted my feet. How the fuck could I leave my little safe zone? I would hurt her no matter what the hell happened! One step in the wrong direction and I would see her in unimaginable pain.

"If you don't come," Vlad said warningly, "I'll torture her and then I'll drag you out of here anyway."

I shuffled forward a step, unused to feeling this hesitant about anything. Vlad pulled on my leash and I felt the cold metal bite into my skin. I looked at Sam's sleeping form. I could go with him and hurt her, or he could hurt her and then drag me with him and hurt her more. I closed my eyes so that I wouldn't have to see it and then I stepped out of my safety zone. Immediately, I heard the scrabbling sounds of Sam's movement. If I stepped back now, she would be fine, but Vlad was dragging me forward. After the weeks of starvation and dehydration, he was more than a match for me.

Sam screamed as Vlad pulled me out of the cell. I smashed my shoulder off the side of the door, cursing under my breath.

"Let's be nice, little badger," Vlad suggested calmly, leading me like a dog.

Now that I knew I wouldn't have to see Sam's suffering, I opened my eyes, looking around me to see if I could glean any information from the hallway outside the cell, but there was fucking nothing. The whole area had a dungeon feel – dimly lit with grey stone covering everything. Vlad led me into a room and it looked like something out of a bad porno. Not like shittily filmed amateur porn, but some low budget, trying-too-hard-to-be-kinky porno, and it was not fucking helping.

Elliot was standing in one corner of the room, just behind the table-thing. It looked like a gyno table (not that I had any fucking experience with a gynecologist in any way, shape, or form) but it had stirrups near the bottom of the black pad. Near the middle were shackles that were clearly meant for my wrists.

He was a fucking pervert, but it wasn't Sam he was after.

"You disgusting bastard!" I cried, feeling my hatred for the duo in every of my body, and I yanked on my chain, trying to get it out of his hands.

"Enough!"

I mean, I knew he was in love with my mother but this was taking it way too fucking far.

Elliot came forward and then I saw what he had in his hands. A gun. I stopped. Ecto-weapons I knew I could handle, but a normal gun? I'd never been shot with one before and I had no idea what would happen to me if I did.

"Lay down on the table," Elliot ordered.

"We're not asking," Vlad said.

"You're finishing each other's sentences, how very sweet." Shut the fuck up, Danny.

Elliot was behind me before I realized he had moved. I felt the gun poking into my spine and I drew a deep fucking breath. I wanted desperately to turn around and throttle him; to use my powers to bash his head in beyond recognition, but I couldn't. I felt so fucking helpless as he prodded me forward. Vlad grabbed me and forced me onto the table, securing my legs while Elliot strapping my hands down. My chain was draped over to the left, making me feel heavier on that side.

"Now," Vlad said, holding up something that looked like a microchip. "This is going to go in your leg. That's all I need from you."

Why the fuck –

"And then afterward, I'm going to do you, what I did to your sister," Elliot drawled in my ear. "We thought that you had the right to know."

Instinctively, I began to form an ectoplasmic ball at my fingertips but the moment the neon green colour caught my eye, I let the power die.

I didn't just feel helpless; I was helpless.

I don't own anything recognizable. Thanks to my betas: Forever Sky.

I'm very sorry about the sporadic updating, but we're all extremely busy and writing anything has been hard with my work schedule.

~TLL~