A/N: Extra warning, new place means new ways to fuck with the boys. The mind games, especially the dehumanizing part, escalate for a while.

Gus continued to help Shawn limp towards the MRI machine as Dahmer walked past them, keeping an eye on their progress as he dug through the cabinets and drawers along the far wall. He found what he was looking for as Gus backed Shawn up to the table he'd be laying on for the tests. On his cut up back. Gus blinked back frustrated tears as he ducked out from under Shawn's arms.

Dahmer walked up to them and threw a handful of small towels onto the table before looking at his captives critically. Gus felt a twinge of dark amusement when he heard the beakers start to crash rapidly as Dahmer tried to figure out how to control both of them at the same time. It was nice when the bad guy screwed up his own plans.

The thoughts slowed suddenly as Dahmer's eyes lit up with a plan and he looked over to where Rhianna was working on the monitoring equipment. The beakers cracked with faint hope as he stared at her before blinking and straightening his shoulders, his decision made.

He grabbed Gus and pulled him towards the corner of a lab table set against the wall before forcibly turning him towards Shawn. A foot collided with the back of Gus' legs again and he fell, his bullet wound flaring as his knees cracked into the floor.

He was vaguely aware of his hands being moved as he breathed through the waves of pain. He tested his restraints once Dahmer backed away and found that his hands were now cuffed around one of the table legs that were bolted to the floor. Dahmer looked down at him and grinned as he pulled his gun back out. "Stay."

Dahmer turned and walked to Rhianna as Shawn sent a small question: The old man in Monty Python.

Gus met his eyes and nodded; he was ok.

"Rhianna, darling, have you ever used a gun?" Dahmer asked warmly.

"...I've been to a gun range a few times," Rhianna answered carefully, her smell of lilies faltering and souring. Gus looked closer: A time of fear, a filed police report, all of his belongings in boxes. The work they were doing now, reassurance.

Gus supposed if he'd had a crazy stalker, he would have learned how to use a gun too. He probably wouldn't have decided to work with said stalker after being kidnapped though.

"Excellent," Dahmer said in a light tone as he held the gun out, "I need you to take this and watch the acquired. If the congenital tries anything, I need you to shoot him."

Rhianna's jaw dropped. "You can't be serious…"

"It's fine," Dahmer reassured her cheerfully, "I have him all set up so his feet are easy targets. He won't die, but it would be quite painful." He looked over at Shawn and his tone took on a dangerous edge. "A reasonable incentive to behave, I think."

Shawn met his stare for a few seconds before clenching his jaw and looking down, his thoughts turning black. Dahmer's grin grew at the victory.

"But why can't you…" Rhianna adjusted her glasses as she eyed up the gun nervously.

Dahmer's smile grew softer as he continued to hold out the weapon. "I'm sorry, my dear, I know you don't like this. I promise to find a way to make it up to you. But the congenital doesn't seem to understand how to behave and I don't want to risk you being hurt. The threat alone should be enough to keep him in line and if it isn't… Remember that he made that choice, not you."

Rhianna hesitated before reaching out and slowly taking the weapon with a shaking hand. The world seemed to sharpen as all three men watched to see what she would do. She stood still and stared at the gun, her eyes tracing its lines and curves as if they were an equation she could solve. Her electrodes pulled as she made a decision and wrapped her fingers around the grip. She looked back up at Dahmer. "You promise it won't take long?"

Dahmer's beakers flared a blinding pink as he smiled at her. "No more than a few minutes, love."

She smiled tentatively at his obvious affection and walked over to Gus, placing herself behind him and out of sight. His feet prickled and he could almost feel where the gun was aiming at. He held himself as still as a statue, not wanting to give her any reason to pull the trigger.

He traded looks with Shawn and wondered why he'd allowed himself to hope that Rhianna would make a different choice.

Dahmer moved in close to Shawn and grabbed him by the chin, forcing him to look away from Gus. "You know the stakes, nod if you'll behave."

Shawn glared and nodded against the hand keeping his head still. Dahmer smirked and reached over with his other hand to pat Shawn on the back. "Good boy."

He giggled as Shawn flinched and tried to pull away before being brought up short by the restraining hand and the table behind him. Dahmer forced Shawn's head up and he quickly untied the lab coat, letting it fall to the floor. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the handcuff keys before letting go of Shawn to take off the cuffs. He patted the table. "Up you go."

Shawn glanced over to check on Gus before bracing both hands against the table and hefting himself up to sit on the flat surface. He sat for a second before reaching down and pulling his broken leg up with a silent grimace. He took several deep breaths through his nose, his eyebrows tight in pain, as Dahmer spread out the towels where Shawn's back would lay. Once he was finished, he snapped his fingers and pointed at them. "Down, boy."

Shawn sent an angry visual as he laid down, squeezing his eyes closed as his sliced up back came into contact with the rough towels: A hand snapping in front of a snarling dog's nose, the dog biting down, digging his teeth in and shaking until the hand looked like hamburger.

Gus swallowed heavily; Shawn might have left the blood out, but it still wasn't an easy visual to stomach. Even if he agreed with it. Shawn glanced over and let out a small sigh, pinging an apology.

"The belts need to come off, the tape too," Rhianna said helpfully from behind Gus, "I want him to be able to answer questions without going through the acquired."

Dahmer thought for a moment before nodding in agreement and moving down to Shawn's leg. Gus watched nervously, certain that Dahmer would take the opportunity to hurt Shawn even more. Much to his surprise, the bad guy unwrapped the belts with minimal fuss and didn't try to make anything worse. Gus felt a rush of gratitude that he quickly tried to push away with disgust.

The belts fell to the floor and Dahmer sighed at the bloody bandage that had been under them before grabbing his lab coat and throwing it over both legs, covering the mess. Shawn had his eyes screwed shut and was panting heavily as Dahmer moved to look down at him. He reached out and traced one of the bruises on Shawn's cheek with a light finger. "See? Things go better when you behave."

Shawn sent a half-hearted broadcast: An awkward alien holding a pipe, "Never give up, never surrender."

Gus really wished he could send one back to remind him that surviving was the goal at the moment, not winning. They had to deal with these moments so they'd be fit enough to act when the bad guy finally slipped. And he was going to slip, he had to.

Gus wondered when it had become his turn to hold the flickering torch of hope.

"Only speak to answer questions," Dahmer reminded Shawn before he took off the gag. He went back to Rhianna's workstation and looked around. "Have you prepared… Ah, there it is."

He picked up a small package and ripped it open, revealing a long needle with a port on the end. Gus winced, realizing he should have warned Shawn about the IV. Shawn looked over at Gus as Dahmer came back to wrap an elastic band above his elbow. Gus met his gaze, nodding reassuringly before crossing his eyes. The corner of Shawn's mouth twitched and he took a deep breath before closing his eyes.

Shawn's clicking slowed as he thought deliberately without sending a broadcast, his face set in concentration. Gus was curious, but he kept his mental eyes to himself; it wasn't his to know. Dahmer's back obscured Gus' vision, but he knew when the needle went in by the stuttering in Shawn's thoughts. It only took a moment before they returned to their previous pattern and Gus raised his eyebrows, properly impressed. He made a mental note to tell Shawn he was proud of him when they were back in the trunk.

There was some more movement and Gus knew, from experience, that Dahmer was injecting the contrast dye into the port. Dahmer finally stepped away to look everything over and Gus saw that the IV had been taken back out and Shawn's arm was carefully turned so any dripping blood was obscured. Dahmer nodded in satisfaction and bent down to pick up the belts. "I think he's all ready. Thank you, darling, I can take that back now."

Shawn watched as Dahmer walked behind Gus and Rhianna quickly went back to her station. He met Gus' eyes: Ferris Bueller talking to the camera, "You can't respect someone who kisses your ass."

Gus rolled his eyes and Shawn gave a small smirk.

Dahmer's beakers suddenly cracked loudly in glee and Gus' small burst of humor faded. Ideas with that reaction were never pleasant. He could hear the clinking of a belt buckle and suddenly a leather loop dropped over his head. Dahmer's hand pushed into the nape of Gus' neck, holding the buckle against his skin as the belt was pulled through it, tightening around his throat. It wasn't enough to cut off his air, but it wouldn't take much pressure to start strangling him.

Gus tried not to hyperventilate as he felt the leather strap move with his Adam's apple when he swallowed. His skin crawled and he tried to remind himself that this was just another stupid mind game. It was just something else to deal with.

Shawn was propped up on an elbow, glaring and clearly fighting to not say anything. The belt pulled tight and Gus tried to not react as his airway was squeezed closed; he had known it was coming after all. Shawn's jaw twitched and he laid back down, watching to make sure the belt loosened again once he was behaving.

Gus took several deep breaths once he was able to and he met Shawn's eyes with another small nod. He was fine. He was totally fine. And he was going to stay fine through this so Shawn could focus on fooling the machine and the scientists.

He shifted slightly on his knees, sinking down and trying to get more comfortable for the hours of tests that he knew were ahead. The belt -he refused to call it anything else- tightened again in warning as the void pulled in delight, forcing him to straighten back up.

His leg burned, his muscles shook, and his kneecaps couldn't decide if they were going to constantly complain about the position or go numb, leading to a very annoying combination of both. He tried to console himself with a mental voice that sounded a lot like Shawn, at least he wasn't skipping glute day.

Shawn pinged encouragement: A hero getting back into shape, throwing a train car around with his legs.

Gus smiled the best he could with the gag on, making sure to crinkle the edges of his eyes. They really did think alike sometimes.

The table under Shawn started to move, retracting to bring his head and torso into the lit up, circular chamber. It started to click and hum and Rhianna called out over the noises, "I need you to stop using any psychic abilities so I can get a baseline reading."

Shawn shot off one last annoyed broadcast: A tiny, animated woman with short brown hair and large glasses, "Words are useless, gobble gobble gobble."

Gus didn't react, knowing Shawn wouldn't be able to see him. He wasn't a fan of the comparison to one of his favorite characters in The Incredibles, but he had to admit, Edna really did look like a caricature of Rhianna.

Shawn's thoughts quieted again and he sat unnaturally still as Rhianna made notes and typed on the monitor's keyboard. Gus couldn't stop himself from listening to the ponging thoughts to see how Shawn was distracting himself: ninety-three bottles of morphine on the wall, one injecting into a leg, ninety-two bottles of morphine on the wall.

Gus internally smirked, that would do it. He wondered how long Shawn could keep it up.

After several minutes Rhianna called out again, "Can you see any spirits?"

Shawn answered and Gus barely recognized his flat, emotionless voice. "There's not many here."

"So that's a yes," Rhianna stated. "I want you to communicate with one. Not a vision, just look at it and… do whatever you usually do."

"Can I move?" Shawn asked.

"Why?" Dahmer growled as the belt around Gus' neck tightened slightly. Gus wondered what the point was if Shawn couldn't see it.

Shawn explained in the same unnatural flat tone. "You saw the videos. I have a hand thing I do; it helps me see them."

Gus was confused for a second, wondering why Shawn was asking for that, before realizing he was trying to make sure any 'vision' he did in the lab would match the 'visions' in the videos.

"Get into whatever position you need, then stay still," Rhianna answered.

Shawn moved carefully, bringing his hand up to his head before inhaling sharply and closing his eyes. Gus could feel the pull of a memory, but he focused on his shield and didn't look. He had let curiosity get the better of him earlier, Shawn deserved better than that.

"Huh… Interesting," Rhianna murmured as she wrote. "I expected there to be differences, but this is much more than I thought…"

Gus forced himself to not tense at the words; he refused to be the reason the bad guys figured Shawn out. He started to subtly take deeper breaths to try to pull as much extra oxygen into his lungs as possible. Just in case.

"I thought I knew the right area… could it be variable?" She typed on the keyboard again, completely engrossed. "But no, the formula specifically- The parietal lobe is clearly involved. It could be interference like the acquired…"

Gus started to breathe normally again; maybe this would actually work. The minutes stretched on as Rhianna worked and Shawn stayed in his memory, his thoughts tinged with grim determination. The beakers cracked faint pink as Dahmer kept his position and watched his lady work. Gus stayed quiet and painfully still on his knees, invisible until he was needed.

"You've been communicating with the spirit for a while. Does it have a vision to give you?" Rhianna asked as she watched the display.

"It has information on one of the people who works here normally," Shawn answered flatly.

Gus glanced around, both surprised and not surprised that Shawn had seen something to deduce.

"Proceed," Rhianna instructed, her eyes never leaving the screen.

Shawn's thoughts crested and he arched his back slightly before settling down and staying still, "Her name's Tori Sadler, she's left-handed, one… no, two cats, smokes on her breaks but doesn't want anyone to know."

"Huh. I didn't know that last one…" Rhianna said, impressed. "Do you know why the spirit decided to share that information?"

"No," Shawn said. Gus was really starting to miss his friend's normal voice.

"The vision was significantly different than the communication… Strange," Rhianna mused, "I would have assumed it would have become stronger… Find another spirit, I want to see it again."

Shawn sent an annoyed broadcast: A familiar jingle, "Give me a break, give me a break…"

"Wait! What was that!" Rhianna called out excitedly.

Bruce Willis in an elevator shaft, "Oh shit!"

"I sent a message to Gus, checking on him," Shawn said, nervousness creeping into his empty voice.

"Fascinating. A whole different area became active… I didn't even think to try and find where the signal comes from. Do it again."

Rhianna tied to a stake, journals and notebooks ripped apart at her feet as rotten vegetables were thrown at her.

"Yes, yes, keep it going…"

Dahmer with cauterized stumps for legs, writhing at her feet, clawing at the noose strangling him.

Rhianna waved her hand in Gus' general direction. "Send him a message back."

Shawn quickly flipped to a memory and Gus could see the walls of the Psych office before the thoughts pulled back to stop broadcasting.

"Huh. That's more like the spirits… Talk to him again, keep it going until I tell you to stop," Rhianna ordered distractedly as she focused on the monitors.

Shawn started broadcasting Ferris Bueller from the beginning. After several minutes the scene began to fade away before quickly jumping to a different part of the movie. The scenes kept shifting as Shawn worked to keep the broadcast up, His free hand fidgeting by his hip. Gus could tell that sitting still for so long and having to focus constantly were starting to wear on him.

Gus glanced at the clock on the wall, it hadn't even been a full hour yet. It felt like an eternity, watching Shawn while kneeling stiff on the hard floor with constant pressure around his throat.

Time stretched on as the movie scenes grew shorter and shorter before Rhianna finally called out, "That's enough, stop now."

Shawn sent one more small broadcast of the feeling of a hug before his thoughts grew quiet again.

"Are you going to need the acquired for a bit?" Dahmer asked, speaking up for the first time since they started. Shawn's thoughts tinged in concern and he craned his neck to watch what was happening.

"No, I don't think so. Is something wrong?" Rhianna asked, not looking their way.

"Not at all, my legs just need a bit of a stretch…" Dahmer pulled back on the belt, forcing Gus' head to follow, "And I thought he could use a walk."

Gus closed his eyes and reminded himself that he just needed to survive until they could get out.

Shawn sent him a small broadcast of understanding: A Spaniard finally at peace, "My name is Inigo Montoya, you killed my father, prepare to die."

Gus nodded slightly in agreement. Dahmer needed to die -preferably painfully- and rot in hell.

"... Are you sure?" Rhianna asked tentatively as she glanced at Shawn.

"Don't worry, it'll only be for a few minutes. I don't want to have to clean up another accident…" Dahmer giggled as he moved around, the hand on the back of Gus' neck tightening around the belt. Shawn's thoughts flared in worry as he propped himself up to see better. His expression hardened and the worry faded, replaced by frustrated anger as Dahmer worked.

He sent a visual in explanation: Dahmer hunched over with the point of the scalpel resting on the belt, spinning it back and forth.

If Gus was able to speak, he'd be cursing out Dahmer, Dahmer's family, and any person who'd ever laid eyes on Dahmer's family without spitting on the ground. He was making an extra hole. Which meant that thing was staying on. Because of course it was.

That unimaginative, lint-licking, cheese-curd-vomiting, turd-sniffing, spice-fumbling, fart-breathed idiot who wouldn't know what an Oedipus complex was if it danced in front of him, with his stupid scalpel, and stabbed him in his fucking eye.

Shawn joined him on the insults: Robin Williams surrounded by empty plates, "You two-toned, zebra headed, slime-coated, pimple-farming, paramecium brain, munching-on-your-own-mucus, suffering from PETER PAN ENVY!"

Gus wondered if he had an insult face or if he was just that predictable.

The beakers cracked with glee and Gus knew what was coming. He started to take a deep breath. He was too late.

The strap tightened and his breath caught in his throat with nowhere to go. He jolted and fought, feeling his chest hitch as he kept trying to breathe around the force around his neck. His vision darkened, his pulse seemed to pound at the strap, his lungs burned, and all he could think about was that he still couldn't breathe. The belt pulled impossibly tighter and Gus knew he was going to die; his windpipe was going to be crushed, he was never going to breathe again, he was going to be leaving Shawn alone with these sadistic bastards, and oh god he didn't want to die.

"Stop, please! You're killing him!"

"Jeffery…"

The belt loosened slightly and Gus gasped desperately for a breath before a painful cough ripped through his chest and nose, taking all of his precious air with it. He tried to catch up with his body's demands for oxygen as he fought against the coughs and the duct tape and the pressure against his throat. His head was swimming, his eyes were watering, his lungs were burning, and metal was pressing into the back of his neck where the belt buckle was holding the strap tight.

"Darling, I knew what I was doing…" Dahmer whined as another cough shook Gus' entire body.

"I know they've been difficult, but I do still need him to be able to talk," Rhianna admonished gently. Gus glared at her; she could go fuck herself.

He felt something lightly hit his back as Dahmer dropped the strap and began to pull at the handcuffs. One hand was freed and Gus had to fight every instinct he had that was yelling at him to grab the belt and get it off, get it off, get it off.

His hand was re-cuffed and Dahmer picked up the belt again, giving it a small jerk while ordering, "Up."

Gus forced his exhausted legs to move as he tried to push himself to his feet. His gunshot wound burst in pain at the movement and he couldn't stop the small whine that rose up from his throat; he was so tired of hurting. There was another jerk on the belt and he swallowed the sound down as he stood up.

Dahmer started walking immediately, pulling Gus along with him. Gus tried to keep up as he limped heavily, stumbling and almost falling when his bad leg buckled under him. They stopped at Rhianna's station and Dahmer moved his hand further up the belt, keeping Gus close as he looked over the equipment in interest. "I don't suppose you can bring up the image from when they were talking?"

Rhianna smiled widely and brought up the scan in question, chatting happily as she pointed out areas of interest. Gus ignored them, focusing on catching his breath and subtly stretching his cramping muscles.

Shawn sent a small ping and Gus hesitated, his eyes still looking down at the floor. It was stupid, he knew it was stupid, but he didn't want to be seen like this. Shawn pinged again, stronger, and Gus forced his eyes up to meet Shawn's gaze. There wasn't any disgust or pity on his friend's face, only understanding and an intensity Gus had only seen a handful of times. Shawn glanced at the bad guys before mouthing a question, 'You ok?'

Gus had to stop himself from frantically giggling at the ridiculous question. Of course he wasn't ok. He was so not ok. Ok wasn't even on the same planet as him anymore. It was probably on Pluto, the bitch.

Gus nodded.

Shawn raised an eyebrow and gave him an unbelieving look, Gus raised one of his shoulders in a small shrug. Shawn needed him to be ok, so he was going to be ok. That was the only thing he could do right now to have his back.

He wondered if this was how Shawn felt with the gag. It sucked.

Dahmer smiled warmly at Rhianna. "You truly do remarkable work. We'll only be a few minutes, let me know if he…" His tone changed as he barked out an order, "Down."

Gus jumped and wondered how he was supposed to get down with the leash keeping him upright before he realized the order wasn't aimed at him. His face flushed and he ground his teeth together as he realized his slip. It was a belt, damnit.

Dahmer glared, waiting for Shawn to lay back down before continuing in a calm voice. "You will be good while I'm gone…" He suddenly grabbed the bandage over Gus' arm and squeezed it tightly. Gus flinched at the unexpected sharp pain as Dahmer continued, "Don't think I forgot about earlier."

Gus wondered which one of them was going to pay for Shawn daring to speak up to save his life. He hoped it wasn't Shawn.

Dahmer pulled his gun out and handed it to Rhianna. "Just in case. If you have to use it, remember that it was his choice, not yours."

Rhianna nodded and took the gun, setting it on top of her equipment in easy reach. Dahmer tugged on the belt again and Gus was forced to limp out of the room with him.

Shawn sent a broadcast after them: Leia in a sexy outfit, using a chain to strangle a slug.

Gus sighed; his friend was strange. He clearly didn't have the hair to be Leia.

Leia also hadn't had her hands cuffed behind her back.

Dahmer walked with a spring in his step and Gus struggled to keep up, the belt yanking in warning whenever he was deemed too slow. After they passed several doors, Dahmer stopped and pushed him into the wall.

"Can you still hear her?" Dahmer asked excitedly.

Gus focused and barely felt the electrodes pulling. He nodded.

Dahmer grinned and reached up to peel the gag away. "Tell me!"

Gus answered, speaking around what felt like shards of glass in his throat. He winced slightly at the odd, hollow, broken voice he heard coming out of his mouth as he said, "She's just thinking about the tests right now."

The words seemed to catch on one of the shards of glass and Gus had to brace himself on the wall as another round of coughs wracked his body. Dahmer waited it out impatiently, asking his next question in a snappier tone. "Well, then, what was she thinking earlier?"

Gus told him the truth spitefully, even knowing it might be a bad idea. "She learned how to use a gun because of you. Because you scared her."

Dahmer froze and Gus tried to brace himself for another round of not being able to breathe. The beakers cracked in justification as Dahmer said, "Then I helped her learn a valuable life skill. And she's not afraid of me anymore, right?"

Gus couldn't tell if the question was a threat or a plea, either way he answered truthfully, "No, she's not."

Dahmer sighed happily, absently running his thumb between Gus' throat and the belt. The belt that probably wouldn't be going back around Shawn's leg anytime soon. Gus thought about the electrodes pulling while they were in the car, he thought about the cuts from the last time he'd bargained for something, he thought about having Shawn's back. He swallowed nervously and asked, "Did you get the splint from my place?"

Dahmer's face darkened at the unprompted words, but he still answered, "Yes. He lost the right to it when he threw my other gift back in my face."

Gus eyed up the growing bruise on Dahmer's cheek and realized he was being literal. He swallowed and asked, "Can I earn it back for him?"

Dahmer shoved him further into the wall, pinning him in place as he tightened the belt. He spoke over Gus' panicked wheezes for air. "Are you holding things back again?"

Gus shook his head frantically, unable to talk as he struggled to breathe. Dahmer kept the pressure up for a few more seconds before letting the strap relax back to its usual tightness. "Explain."

Gus tried to talk around his gasps for air and the coughs ripping through his throat. "I know… something… she likes… that you… don't know."

"That sounds like holding back…" Dahmer pointed out darkly as his hand tightened around the belt.

Gus shook his head while speaking quickly, "We both know… I have to tell you either way." He took a few seconds to catch his breath and to steel himself for his argument. He met Dahmer's eyes and continued, "You said things are better when we behave. A splint is better. She likes the beach: the feel of the waves going over her feet, looking at shells, the way the sunset stretches across the water. She'd like it if you took her."

Dahmer's thoughts cracked in genuine surprise as he stared back. A grin suddenly split his face and Gus had to suppress a shudder. Dahmer turned and started walking again, towing Gus with him as he headed towards the door leading to the car.

He stopped at a row of chairs that lined the wall and gave Gus a challenging stare. "You want that splint? Prove you can be a good boy." He pointed at the floor next to one of the chairs. "Down."

Gus ground his teeth together and did as he was told, lowering himself painfully back into his kneeling position.

Dahmer let out a quick giggle before taking the end of the belt and wrapping it around the arm of the chair, folding it under itself so it would stay put. He shoved Gus' head down, forcing him to stare at the floor. "Stay."

Gus closed his eyes against the shame rising in his cheeks as he stayed still. He heard another giggle before the door closed, leaving him alone. He sighed and took stock; the chair was light and could easily be dragged around, the knot in the belt was loose and looked like a stiff breeze could release it, and there was no way he could go fast enough to do anything before Dahmer came back from the car. The message was as subtle as a beached whale.

Gus had never thought much about having pets; apartment life and constantly running around with Shawn had made animals seem like too much effort. But he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, if they got out of this… he was never, ever getting a dog.

Ever.

Dahmer returned and his beakers cracked in delight when he saw Gus was still in the same position. Gus glanced up the best he could without moving his head and saw a silver roll of tape and an orange rolled up splint. He looked back down, satisfied that it had at least been worth it.

Dahmer sighed quietly to himself and Gus only caught the words 'bigger pockets' before the bad guy was pulling the belt off of the chair. He spoke cheerfully as he gave the belt a small jerk. "I think we're starting to understand each other. Up."

Gus struggled to his feet as Dahmer kept talking. "I think we've been long enough, let's get you taken care of…" He looked at the door wistfully and Gus couldn't help but see the disturbing thought. Dahmer sighed and shook his head before walking down the hallway. Gus had never been more relieved for the bad guy's caution than he was in that moment as he limped along towards the bathroom.

Dahmer stopped once they reached the door and Gus glanced at him to see why they weren't going in. He quickly looked away and had to stifle a giggle that would have surely earned him another strangling. Dahmer had the belt clenched in one hand, the duct tape tucked under his arm, the splint in his other hand and he was staring at the doorknob blankly, as though he could open it with the power of his mind.

He wasn't stuck for long before he spun around and stalked behind Gus, shoving something circular and slightly squishy into his hands. He grumbled as he went back to the door, one hand now free, "You wanted it, you can carry it."

Gus hung onto the splint like it was made of gold, not wanting to risk it falling from his partially numb fingers. Dahmer tugged him into the room before bringing out the small ring of keys from his pocket. He didn't bother giving any instructions before unlocking one of the cuffs and giving Gus a shove towards the toilet.

Gus brought his hands forward and tried hard to not notice the cuff still hanging from his wrist or the constant presence of Dahmer at his back, still holding the end of the belt. He inspected the splint as he limped the last few steps. It was long enough and thick enough to do the trick. He tried to remember how to fold it to brace a leg as he tucked the roll under his arm and turned his back fully to Dahmer. He tried to pretend that things were normal as he did his business quickly and flushed the toilet.

Gus was just wondering if he could get away with washing his hands when a small ding rang through the small room. Dahmer frowned and pulled out a flip phone, his thoughts growing dark red as he stared at the small screen. He suddenly snarled, "Fuck!"

Gus flinched at the tone and clutched the splint to his chest as he tried to remember if he'd ever heard the bad guy curse before.

Dahmer threw the phone and Gus ducked before he heard the clatter of plastic hitting a wall. Dahmer stomped on the broken pieces of the phone for good measure before spinning around to glare and spit out, "Why did it have to be you two?! All of the others were so much easier!"

Gus was pretty sure it was a rhetorical question, so he stayed quiet and watched the hand on the belt as he deepened his breaths. He couldn't stop the small spark of hope that flickered into existence as he felt Dahmer thinking furiously. He listened to the beakers to confirm his hunch: The phone, the yellow house, an alarm, a timetable moved up.

Gus fought to keep his expression neutral. Someone was at the house, and he knew who it had to be. Lassie and Jules were on their trail.

"Cuffs back on. They can stay in front if you don't mess with your collar."

Even that word couldn't dampen the hope burning brighter, searing in his chest and mind as he was led out of the bathroom. Dahmer walked briskly back to the MRI room, forcing Gus to practically jog so he wasn't being dragged around by the neck. The hot pain spiking in his leg with every other step seemed to feed the fire growing inside of him. They'd survived this long. They could last a little longer.

Help was coming.

Juliet paced in front of the house, frustration rolling off of her in waves. She couldn't stand being inside those walls any longer; knowing that she was standing where Shawn and Gus had been held, had been scared, had been hurt. And all she could do was just stand there, waiting for a phone call or a computer to give them the next place to look.

Just waiting while they were being hurt even more.

She couldn't help but remember the bruising grip of ropes around her arms, the warm breath on the back of her neck, the terror of the absolute certainty that she was going to die. And that had only been for a few hours...

Juliet shook the thoughts away, annoyed at herself for thinking about that when she should be focusing on her friends. She tried to pull herself together; she was the optimistic one in the group, the one who was always hopeful, the one who brought other people out of their dark thoughts. She needed to focus.

The front of the driveway showed clear signs of a struggle, and the evidence pointed to it being Shawn losing a fight. There was a smaller scene further up the drive where they had found a bullet, probably where Gus had been shot. Her friends were hurt, but they were still fighting. They hadn't given up.

There were leads and they didn't even have to wait the drive back to the station to start following up on them. They were saving time; they were getting closer…

"O'Hara!" Lassiter called as he jogged down the porch steps, "We've got an address, let's go!"

Juliet fell into step with Henry as they followed him to the Crown Vic. They pulled out of the driveway, and she watched the house grow smaller in the rearview mirror with grim satisfaction.

They were on the trail. Shawn and Gus just needed to hang on a little longer.

Help was coming.

Another thank you to /u/Ara_Hannan from Reddit for answering even more questions about MRIs.