A/N – This story is in the Drama/Suspense categories, so yes, things will not be easy for the characters.

This chapter has a WARNING for another torture scene much like the one in Chapter Five but in slightly greater detail. It is probably the darkest one so far. If you didn't like that then don't read this chapter. You have been warned.

Also my sister is now visiting me until Monday so the liklihood is I won't be getting another chapter up until after she has left. But I'll try my very best. Reckon this will have somewhere between 18-20 chapters.

Lindsay sat numbly in the hard plastic seat in the hospital corridor, head jolting up every time she heard the doors swing open but it was never for her. She'd been there hours now, alone, the team sparse and running themselves ragged in an effort to simply understand. She clenched her hands tightly together and stared at the blank wall opposite her. There was a slight crack in it and she wondered how it had been made. Maybe someone had punched it from having to wait where she currently was for so long. She didn't know. It didn't matter. Mac was gone. Flack was gone now too. They'd lost them both. And Danny... Lindsay swallowed and pursed her lips. She'd keep a straight head; she needed too if they were to ever find Mac and Flack. The team couldn't afford to lose her too, not with Danny now out of the picture as well. She sighed in irritation and then her head jolted up at the door as it opened and a young nurse hurried by. Why was no-one telling her anything? She'd been sitting there for so long now. Lindsay stood up and paced angrily to the door, faltering before it and then pacing back. Back and forth, back and forth. She just needed to know he was going to be alright. Then she could hurry back to the team and help them. It was only Jo, Adam and Hawkes left, and Sid down in the morgue.

"Mrs Messer?"

Lindsay turned and stared at the young doctor still in his scrubs.

"I'm Doctor Caramel. I was working on your husband..."

Sid sighed as he looked down at the poor girl on his table. Sue. Her face had been completely mutilated by what Sid reckoned was some sort of acid or heat and he wondered what type of person had caused this. In his heart of hearts he no longer believed that anything to do with this case was an accident, that this girl might have been caught up in a burning building or lab accident. No, despite the melted skin and hollows of her face, it looked intentional and very careful. She had been the subject of some very depraved mind. Sid slowly cut open her clothes and let out a slight gasp as he uncovered the rest of her body. Almost the entirety of the left side was like her face, skin puckered and melted, fat non-existent, congealed lumps of flesh every so often. She must have been in considerable pain. Sid shook his head as he looked her over. He didn't know her, had never met her, but his heart bled for her. For her and his missing friends, whatever they might be going through.

Adam paused, bent over the ground in the dark alley and then straightened up. No, nothing was there, no mark, no trace, nothing that would help in the search for Detective Flack. He'd hoped there might be tyre marks from where the car had sped away but there wasn't. He continued on, searching for anything, the smallest of things that might give some vital clue to Flack's whereabouts. Adam assumed he had been taken to wherever Mac was, in fact he hoped for that. But logically he knew Mac could well be dead by now and that Flack might possibly be too. That the chances of finding them together were slim. Adam thumped his fists through the air as he found nothing. He knew he had to be thorough, do a good job, and yet he needed to get back to the lab. There were piles of footage to go through from the crash site that might have glimpses of the car that stole Flack. And the Flack's car itself might have information leading to whoever took him. The only good thing was that the truck driver who had crashed into it had stopped and remained at the scene, admitting he ran a red light as he was reaching into his glove box. Adam shook his head and turned to go back to the site of the shooting, he didn't like to be alone, he was scared, not only for himself but for the whole team. What if they couldn't find Flack and Mac? What would it do to the team? And what if Danny didn't make it? Adam gulped down a cry.

"Hey," a soft voice said kindly and Adam looked up to stare into deep brown eyes.

"Hawkes," Adam murmured.

"Once we're done here Jo wants us all to take a break. Get a few hours kip in," the doctor replied.

"W..w..what?" Adam choked. "But we can't. We have all this to process. And the footage. We need to find Flack and Mac!"

"Yes, we do," Hawkes agreed. "What time did you get into work today?" he asked.

"Ten," Adam replied.

"Me too," Hawkes stated. "Do you know what time it is now?"

"I..um...err.." Adam mumbled.

"It's almost six. We've been working solidly for almost twenty hours and awake for even longer than that. We'll do more harm than good if we make a mistake due to tiredness. A few hours and we'll all feel much better and be able to do our jobs properly," Hawkes said logically.

"I just want so bad to find them," Adam said sadly, looking down at his case and the few envelopes of trace he had stuffed in there. All of which he could already tell would be useless, but he could still hope.

Hawkes watched Adam looking forlorn and couldn't help but agree. He wanted to find the others just as much as any of them did but his doctor's brain knew they couldn't function for much longer without sleep and that they'd all burn out sooner rather than later. He hated being a doctor sometimes, so logical, so scientific. All he wanted to do was get back to the lab and process the evidence. That plant trace was still irritating him and he almost wished he could just ask it where it had come from, but that would be ridiculous and illogical. Hawkes looked up into the sky and noted it was much lighter than before, he hadn't even realised, dawn was encroaching on the dark night and a new day approaching. A day that would hopefully bring some ray of hope as to where Flack and Mac might be. Hawkes rubbed his eyes as he thought of his lost friends. How he hoped they'd find them in time.

"Hey," a soft voice said and Hawkes looked up in time to see Adam lay a hand on his arm.

"We need to find them, Adam," Hawkes stated. "If we don't I..."

"I know," Adam nodded.

"My body is telling me to rest but all I want to do is work. I know I won't be able to sleep even if I do go home," Hawkes muttered.

Adam nodded in agreement. "Sometimes human emotion is infinitely more complex than we can ever hope to understand," he murmured.

Hawkes smiled and placed his hand on Adam's arm, mirroring the younger man's gesture. They'd get through this. They had to.

Jo stood back and once more the horror of the scene before her began to seep into her body, filling her with an intense dread and sickness that would simply not go away. Lindsay hadn't called yet, she said she would as soon as she knew anything. The car was a mess... Flack's car... Danny's crash... both men lost to them in a single moment. Jo put a hand on her chest and subconsciously nodded her head a little, trying to accept the events that were ever increasingly growing out of her control. Mac...where was Mac? Was he even alive anymore? He had to be...he just had to and Jo knew she had to believe that, to never give up hope, because she loved him. Grace was nearby questioning witnesses of the accident, trying to not only get details pertaining to that but also to any other cars that might have been speeding away at the time. Why had they gone after Flack? Jo had no answers to that. They had targeted him; the whole thing had been a set up so they could take him. But why? What had he done to gain their attention? Jo knew that Flack was Mac's closest friend on the team, probably even more so than she was, the younger detective having known him for many more years. But she knew Mac too, and hoped to God she'd get the chance to get to know him even more in the future. The future. That ever great unknown. Once more the feeling that they were running out of time overwhelmed her and she tried to fight it. She had to stay strong.

Mac awoke to a pounding in his head that made it feel like there was someone drilling in there. He didn't move for a while but simply let his eyes take in his surroundings. He was in the cell again, that much he could make out despite the pitch black of the room. A tiny rectangle of light shone in through the small window in the door illuminating a patch on the floor. Mac groaned and gingerly placed a hand to his neck where the needle had been pushed into his skin. It stung painfully and he quickly withdrew his hand. His memory was becoming a little clearer. He'd been running. God had he never run that fast in his life. But it had all been to no avail; it seemed there was no escape from this place, wherever that might be. Mac could remember the sea of trees, the dense woodland that seemed to surround the place. They were very far out of the City, that was all Mac could really work out.

He slowly pushed himself up and then leant back against the wall. His feet had been wrapped in bandages, presumably because he had cut them so badly on the ground during his failed attempt at escape. Mac swallowed and suddenly felt very thirsty, and hungry too. He needed to work out where he was, if he managed to do that then he might at least be in with a chance at escaping and following the right direction. He knew the best chance he had was another escape at night, he could follow the stars then, much like the sailors of old. Mac closed his eyes for a brief minute and the cruel face of the man who had captured him came to him. Mac frowned, he'd scratched him right across it with the plastic cup shard, he'd been certain he'd punctured one of his eyes in doing so and yet the man, there had been no visible wound on his face at all.

Suddenly the bright lights flashed on and Mac blinked against them in protest. The light made his eyes ache painfully and squinting up he finally noticed the small camera in the corner of the room. So that was how they knew when he was awake. It was fortunate they'd not seen what he'd been doing with the cup. Though Mac knew he'd been careful and ripped it into a point under the bed, hidden, just in case. A key turned in the lock and then Emerson stood in the doorway a bandage around his neck and Mac couldn't help but feel a little pleased with himself.

"Get him," Emerson spat as he stepped aside and a large man came into the room. It was the man who had caught him in the woods, a man with no cuts on his face.

"Take your hands off me," Mac shouted as best he could, attempting to move himself out of the reach of the large man.

Emerson laughed. "You really think you have gained my trust 567? No. Logan will escort you to your destination until I see fit to allow you the privilege of walking unaided."

Logan grabbed Mac's arms and pulled him from the bed, forcing him to stand and then escorting him out of the room, a strong hand on Mac's arm the entire time.

"Where are we going?" Mac asked the doctor who led the way.

"You will see," Emerson grinned as they walked along numerous corridors and then descended a flight of stairs.

Emerson finally unlocked a door on the floor below and pushed it open. "After you," he smiled.

Logan pushed Mac into the room and then forced him into the chair that was in the middle of it. Mac struggled but Logan was much stronger and he felt himself being strapped tightly into it.

"Once you regain my trust you may sit freely in this chair," Emerson said as he nodded to Logan who left the room.

"I think it is you who needs to gain my trust," Mac stated as he struggled again.

"You will wear yourself out by doing that," the doctor advised.

"What do you want?" hissed Mac.

"I believe I have already explained that too you," Emerson sighed. "I do so hate to repeat myself."

"Indulge me," Mac said bitterly.

"I want to study your brain, the way your mind works. You are a policeman, a Marine, a Crime Scene Investigator. How very intelligent you must be to succeed at all these things," Emerson drawled.

"No more so than anyone else," Mac stated.

"Ah come now, you put yourself down," Emerson laughed. "Each crime like a puzzle you must solve. How does that mind of yours work out such notions?"

"Logic," Mac replied coldly.

"Ah yes. Something most of my patients are lacking in," Emerson said sadly.

"Because you made them like that," Mac commented.

"No. They are all insane, mentally unstable, addicts. People who no-one wants, people who have no-one to care about them," Emerson said softly.

"A lot of people care about me. They won't stop looking," Mac spat.

"It doesn't matter. They'll never find you here. No-one will ever find this place," Emerson laughed.

"They'll find me," Mac stated vehemently.

"Even if that were the case by that time you would have served your purpose to me," Emerson said, glaring maniacally at Mac.

"Purpose?" Mac asked.

"I will learn from you before I dissect your brain. As I have said before, your body is too old to harvest, but you will be of some use for virus work. How does your brain function when it is being attacked by one of my viruses?" Emerson laughed.

Mac suddenly felt fear grip at him. He'd been fine up until that point, ever hopeful, always certain of escape or rescue. But suddenly the reality of this situation dawned on him and he swallowed in fear. What if the others didn't find him in time? Emerson was planning to kill him eventually, after injecting him with God knows what to see how his body would react. Mac knew if he didn't escape then he would die in this place.

"I won't take part in your games, Emerson," Mac snarled.

Emerson laughed loudly. "Yes, I thought that might be your answer. So I took the liberty of procuring something which I think just may change your mind."

The doctor went over to the door and banged on it twice. Then he walked over to where Mac sat and swivelled his chair around. Mac realised that he was looking through a mirror into another room, a room that looked very much like the one he'd been tortured in when he'd first arrived.

"What is this?" he asked.

Before the doctor had a chance to reply the door to the other room opened and Logan reappeared dragging the limp, unconscious form of a man in his arms. The man was wearing white scrubs and his shaved head hung forward, a number tattooed across the back of his neck. Dried blood was caked on one side of his head and Mac imagined that this man must have put up quite a struggle. Logan carefully lifted the body and placed the man onto the doctor's table and began strapping him down, blocking Mac's view.

"What's going on?" Mac asked angrily.

"Patience," whispered Emerson and stood beside Mac.

The door to the room opened again and a young man entered in a white lab coat. He had bronzed skin, brown eyes and floppy blond hair. He looked vaguely familiar and Mac wracked his brains in a desperate attempt to put a name to the face.

"Emerson," the young doctor said, flashing a brilliant smile towards the glass. "I can't thank you enough. I have been wanting to do this ever since I first set my eyes on him," he said, gesturing to the body. "Wake him!" he ordered at Logan.

Emerson smiled sadistically at Mac and then looked back to the glass. "We're in for a treat now," he laughed as he went forward and placed his hand on the intercom between the two rooms.

"Hartmann, you are most welcome. Enjoy yourself," Emerson said.

"Oh I will," Hartmann laughed in reply.

Mac pursed his lips and frowned in anger. Hartmann, of course. The doctor from the institution he had visited with Flack. They'd both felt there was something wrong with that place and this seemed to prove a connection. But what was that connection? Mac tried to think but his head still hurt.

Logan slapped the unconscious man on the table hard, waking him from his slumber. All at once he began to struggle violently against the straps that held him in place.

"What the hell? Let me out!" he yelled vehemently.

Mac's eyes widened in absolute horror and he took a sharp intake of breath, realisation spreading through him like a cancer, destroying any hope he had left. It was Flack. The doctor had got Flack.

"No..." he gasped.

"Yes, my dear 567," Emerson smiled.

"No," Mac repeated louder as he watched Hartman forcing the rubber mould into Flack's mouth while the detective struggled desperately. Flack spat the rubber mould back out at Hartmann and it hit him in the face. Hartmann looked murderous as he went to retrieve it.

"Let me out of here you sick son of a bitch!" Flack cried out again, pulling at his bonds.

"You can't do this," Mac whispered and looked round at Emerson.

"Oh I think I can," Emerson replied grinning evilly. "And I will."

"Don't do this, please," Mac pleaded as a shriek from the other room brought his attention away from Emerson. It looked very much like Flack had bitten Hartmann's hand when the doctor had tried to put the rubber mould back into the detective's mouth.

"You need to be taught a lesson, 567. There will be no escape for you. You will obey my commands," Emerson stated.

"Yes, I will," Mac replied. "Just please, please don't do this. Don't hurt him."

"He is a first time patient. All new entries must go through the same treatment," Emerson said coldly as though he'd said those words thousands of times before.

"Please," Mac pleaded desperately as he watched the oily substance being rubbed into Flack's temples and then the headset placed on him. "I'll do as you wish, just don't hurt him."

"Your love for your friends is your weakness," Emerson laughed. "Tonight you will see all about the power here, and strength. To love no-one is to be strong, is to be powerful."

"Ready when you are," Hartmann called from the other room. He looked pissed off but excited and rather pleased with himself.

Flack was still struggling violently on the table and Mac could see the straps were wearing his skin raw. In fact, as he looked closer he could see bruises all over Flack's arms and vicious welts and sores on his head from where his hair had been shaved off. Mac knew what Flack was like, knew his temper, he'd once murdered a man in cold blood. Mac knew that Flack would have done everything in his power to fight back and that it would have pissed these men off no end.

"Please," Mac shouted at Emerson.

"You will not learn, unless you see," Emerson said coldly and then pressed the intercom. "Hartmann, begin."

Immediately the blond doctor's hand went to the machine and turned the dial. Flack's body arched high off the table and he screamed a piercing noise around the rubber in his mouth.

"Stop it, stop it!" Mac shouted angrily as he struggled against his own bonds unable just to sit there and do nothing.

Emerson laughed and pressed the intercom. "Higher!" he snarled.

"No!" Mac shouted as Hartmann laughed and then turned up the machine, making Flack arch off the table even more. His screams became so high pitched they were painful to listen to. Blood started to trickle from his ears, making its way down his neck.

"He was much more violent than you going through the processing. He therefore needs a higher bout of therapy," Emerson said matter of factly.

"Stop it you'll kill him!" Mac shouted angrily at the doctor. He would murder him if he ever got his hands on that vile human being.

"Higher!" the doctor laughed into the intercom.

Mac could tell the moment Flack passed out from the pain. The high pitched screams coming from his mouth stopped but his body still stayed arched off the table.

"You maniacal bastard!" Mac spat at the doctor, seeing red.

"Hartmann, turn it off," Emerson stated and then moved away from the intercom.

Mac breathed a sigh of relief as Hartmann did as he was told, laughing in pleasure to himself.

"Now wasn't that fun?" Emerson smiled as he stood before Mac.

"I will kill you...I..." Mac choked on his own words he was so angry.

"You will obey me!" snarled Emerson viciously. "You will do every single little thing I say, take part in every experiment I wish you to and you will not try to escape again."

"Never!" Mac spat back in fury.

The doctor's look of anger suddenly altered to a smile and then he began laughing. "May I remind you of what you've just witnessed, 567," he said in a lethally calm tone. "While you may be hampered by age and are unsuitable for my experiments with vivisection and transplantation, your young friend here is not. He is fit and healthy and in the prime of his life which makes him a most suitable candidate for most of my work. You will learn to do as I say, 567 if you want to ensure his survival here."

Mac stared in horror at Emerson unable to speak. He wanted to kill the man, to squeeze the life out of him but he couldn't move. His gaze moved back to the window and he watched as Flack was dragged roughly from the room, blood still dripping down the sides of his neck from his ears. Flack would die here if he didn't obey Emerson. And a nagging voice in the back of his mind reminded him that while he was used to torture, he had suffered much as a Marine, Flack was not and wouldn't last five minutes in a place like this. There really was no choice.

"I'll do what you want and you leave him alone?" Mac asked.

"You do what I say and I won't kill him," Emerson smiled.

"Fine," Mac whispered. "But I see him every day. If I don't then I won't know he's alive."

"I have no problem with you seeing 571," Emerson laughed and then opened the door and beckoned the waiting Logan to enter.

Mac let himself be taken back to his cell without protest. His thoughts drifted to Jo, what she was doing, how she was coping. Hopefully she'd worked out where they were by now and was on her way to rescue them. Because Mac knew that the longer they were kept prisoner by Emerson, the less likely it was that they'd be leaving alive.