This is a dream, only a dream. A really bad one, but it's just a dream. None of this is real. This is a dream, only a dream.

The woman had been unconsciously repeating this thought to herself, over and over again, as her eyelids flickered, reminiscent of REM sleep. She finally scurried up enough strength to lift her heavy eyelids and open her eyes, only to face the bare concrete blocks, once more. Realising she was in the same room, where she had woken up earlier, she breathed in deeply, biting the interior of her lip, as her eyes started to water.

Snap out of it, Beckett!

She tried to move, to get up, only to realise her wrists were contained, firmly stuck to the side of single bed. The tears a distant memory, she jerked the restraints with anger. Trying to control her breathing, she failed to repress the panic overcoming her. She pulled on her arms and twisted, unrealistically hoping to slide them out. Her heartbeat quickened, frustration building as she pulled harder and harder. As the tips of her fingers began to feel numb, she loosened her tug for a second. With rage she wriggled on the bed. With the help of her legs, her knees jerked up and her feet firmly planted on the bed, she gave a tug backwards hoping the force momentum would be enough to free herself from the confinement of the bed. The swaying caused the bed to move and its metal base bumped against the wall, creating a bang.

Shit.

The sound hadn't been that loud, but it seemed amplified in the secluded environment as it echoed through her empty room and mind. Tied to the bed, she stopped moving and closed her eyes, hoping it would discourage any unwanted visitors. Scanning the door, with her eyes barely open, she spotted a woman peeking through the glass, and when her shadow disappeared, Kate could hear the distant sound of her heels clicking away.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

Moments later, the man she had tried to strangle entered her room as if nothing had happened. He was back in her proximity and she was stuck, stuck on this bed; she definitely couldn't defend herself. She was at his mercy, helpless and she definitely wasn't enjoying the feeling.

He was hiding his surprise that she was already awake; they had given her a strong dose. The doctor watched with empathy, silently cursing the events that had brought her here, to him, as she desperately tried to free herself from the bed.

He closed the door behind him and as the door clicked shut, she screamed, "You won't get away with this! You'll have the NYPD on your back if you don't let me go!"

Without a word, he bit the interior of his lip and let his back slide against the wall. He sat down on the floor facing the bed where she could see him and he waited. He waited for her to calm down; there really was nothing for him to do. It wasn't like reasoning with her when she was this agitated would do any one of them, any good. She squirmed and struggled with the constraints, but he could see the stress was getting to be too much for her frail, recently sedated body. Slowly she gave up, stopped struggling and just stared. Her gaze wasn't blank like it used to, it was powerful, determined.

Kate wasn't blinking, she was in a staring contest with her persecutor and there is no way she was going to let her eyes wander, she wanted him to know there was no messing with her.

Still sitting on the floor, trying to maintain the composure of his patient, he started, "Are you ready to talk now, Kate?"

"I don't know what you want from me," she answered dryly.

"I'm here to help y-"

"Doubt that, giving the fact that I'm presently tied to a bed." she quickly cut him off.

"It's for safety measures, Kate. Yours. And mine."

She lets out a fake laugh, "Ha. Safety. Shit... If that helps you sleep at night."

There is another silenced pause broken by the doctor when he felt it was safe to talk again.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Not like I'm going anywhere," she huffed.

"What do you think this is?"

She was now calmer, a quaint smile forming. She could do this; she just had to keep this up long enough for the guys to find her. He wanted her to talk, she would talk. "Revenge, ransom, torture, hostage takeover or anything along the lines of. But don't worry, I'll pull through. Always have, always will. You won't know what'll hit you." She was starting to get cocky.

Pull it down a notch, Beckett. You're tied here, remember?

He looks at her, nodding his head, "mm."

He got up and directed himself towards the woman; she was struggling on the bed, trying in vain to escape.

Shit. Shit. Beckett. What did you do?

"I'm Dr. Stephan Marx," he said pointing to the name tag on his blouse.

"And that's supposed to make me trust you? Everybody lies. Plus, do you know how many supposedly respected doctors I arrested for murder? Too many."

"So you're a police officer?"

"Detect-" she stopped, why was she engaging with him, he was obviously playing with her, trying to get her to lash out again.

"I'm going to show you something, Kate. Are you ready?"

What the hell? Stop touching me!

Her eyes widened as the man crouched beside her and slowly pulled the sleeve of her sweater up, revealing her forearm. She jumped, jerking her scarred arm away from her as she studied in terror the lesions and bruises caused by years of neglect. She furrowed her brow and opened her mouth slightly as her jaw twitched repeatedly.

Eww. What? Oh my god! I can't. I don't.

"What did you do to me?" she wept.

"Kate you did this to yourself. I just want to help you."

"I want my fiancé. I want to talk to Rick, why are you torturing me? I don't understand. Please. Please, please, please let me talk to him," she begged as she started sobbing uncontrollably. Her wrists were still constrained but her legs had crept up to her body, her knees folded close to her mid-section. The reminiscence of the sedative still pumping in her veins finally caught up with her as she cried herself to sleep.

Thoughts? Comments? Complaints?