I wasn't sure where I was when I came back. I was laying down and I was warm and someone had their arms around me. From the size, I guessed it was David. We'd fucked a time or two and he'd tried for more, light intimacy after each time, something I'd always denied him with a sarcastic disdain. But laying there, feeling strung out and wrung out, I could almost imagine I'd let him get away with it after a particularly hard fuck.

Almost.

But the smell was wrong and the surface under us was soft. Not to mention, the familiar crackle of the campfire was missing. The hollow space was too empty and quiet, and we would never go far enough from the rustle of the campfire that we couldn't hear it, not even to fuck. David wouldn't let us, even though I told him repeatedly it would be fine.

So, not David.

David wasn't holding me.

Then who? Just who the fuck?!

Thoughts spiraled around my mind, disconnected bits of memory that refused to pull themselves together to form a solid image, leaving me with just deep-rooted ache. My head harbored a dull pounding, centered around the base of my skull, and my leg felt like I'd stepped in one of Evan's bear traps.

Bear traps…

Traps…

Evan…

Evan!

The thought was a shout in my head and I jerked awake, eyes springing open, a snarl working its way off my lips, even as I started scratching and kicking. Evan had me on my side, our chests together, and his arms around my shoulders. When I started to struggle, he grunted in annoyance at being woken up more than anything, and let me worm my way out of his hold. Why he was letting me go so easily was less of an immediate concern to me than why the hell he'd been holding me, cuddling me damn it, to begin with, and, once free, I kept backpedaling, until my hand hit the edge of the bed and slid off it. I gasped and tried to stop myself from falling, but for the second time in a very short space of what passed as time, I found myself falling flat on Evan's floor.

The sharp impact knocked the breath out of me, but Evan's unmasked face coming into focus over the side of the bed had me scrambling back in a crab-crawl that favored my injured leg and set off a strange, jangling rattle I didn't fully take in or understand, until I was pulled up short by a sharp tug on my left wrist.

Unbelieving, I stared at my hand. Evan had tethered me to the bed like I was some wild animal he had to tie up to prevent it from wandering off or running away. He'd locked my wrist in a leather-padded, metal manacle that was connected to a supple length of chain he'd secured to one of the bed posts supporting the headboard. I blinked at it, heart thrumming and head buzzing. He'd tied me up. Trapped me. Again. And in the worst of ways.

"Come back on the bed, Saboteur," Evan rumbled, and I raised wide wyes to him. He hadn't moved from his balanced perch on the edge of the bed, only looked at me with dull fascination. Like I was some unpredictable creature that he'd brought into his house. One he could partly anticipate, but that still irked him with its stubborn persistence in disagreeability.

The bastard. The god damned bastard. I decided right then I wasn't going to talk to him. Wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of a response. If he was going to treat me like a wild animal, than all I would give him were the snarls and growls of one. So, I bared my teeth at him and scuttled to the side, as I couldn't go back any further. There was an old-fashioned bureau, heavy as the hulk of a bed Evan had tied me to, on this side of the that pieces of furniture Evan still occupied, and the reach of my tether was just enough to allow me to huddle on the other side of it, away form Evan's view and his mild look of disgust. Careful not to jostle my leg, I bunched myself up there with my back to the thick wood.

Behind me, Evan sighed. I wondered if he'd come retrieve me, if he was so keen on having me in his bed, but he only muttered, "Have it your way, Saboteur," and let me be. There was the sound of the bed moving under him and then the soft rhythm of his breathing, signaling he'd gone back to sleep. Just gone back to sleep and left me to my own devices.

I peeked around the side of the bureau, to confirm this, then hunched down further and started picking at the cuff on my wrist. Evan had had the annoying good sense to empty my pockets, so all I had was my fingers and nails, and a moment or two was enough to confirm I wasn't getting out of the manacle without something else to work with. The chain itself wasn't overly thick or weighty, but I wasn't going to be able to break it, unless it had a weak link, which I doubted, and the bed…Evan wasn't the kind to leave you an out, unless he was in a mood to do it. I was betting I couldn't disconnect the chain from the bedpost, and there was no way in bleeding hell I was going to be able to move that thing on my own, even if I'd had two good legs. It was an old-school piece that would take three of me to budge, without Evan laying on it.

Frustration bloomed in my chest, and I pressed my face into my knees, teeth clenched. I stayed that way as what might as well have amounted to a night went on and I got colder and colder. It was like there was a growing chill creeping around the room, determined to work its way into the core of me. Soon I wasn't scrunched down into a ball so much to hide from Evan as I was to stay warm. It was fucking freezing! I wanted to be warm, damn it, but I had a notion the only way I was going to be warm was if I went back on the bed with Evan, and I wasn't about to do that, so I stayed there, until I was shivering. Shaking, so hard I was finding it difficult to breathe and my muscles were so taunt if hurt.

I didn't even notice Evan standing over me, until he sighed, "Stubborn," and bent down to grab me. I yelped, but was taken too much by surprise to put up a fight before Evan dumped me without fanfare unto the bed. Hissing and spitting, I turned on him, expecting he would crawl back into the bed with me, but he only looked at me, said, "Stay," and walked away.

And of course I did stay because there wasn't much else to do, once the door had thumped closed behind him. I investigated where the chain met the bedpost, but as anticipated, I couldn't break it. The chain was linked directly to a thick bolt Evan had sunk into the wood. I couldn't break it and I couldn't pull the bolt out. That confirmed, I glanced at the bedside table, found it clear, pawed through every drawer in the bureau, found it empty, and ended sitting there, counting cracks in the plaster. Maybe I would have looked out the window, but it was too far away to see out of properly from the bed and Evan had made sure I couldn't reach it on my chain, even if I could stand. Not that I'd want to try exiting the manor that way. A cursory glance was enough to tell me I was on the second floor. Given how the Entity had been acting, I didn't relish the idea of jumping from a height. Not unless I got desperate.

And currently, the worst I was was furious. Evan had just left me! And he didn't come back. As if I was of no concern at all, the man went about whatever occupied him without even bothering to check on me. Slowly, as the sense of cold grew less and the duel need for food and water crept up on me instead, I began to switch from irate to hopelessly afraid.

What was Evan planning to do with me? Had he forgotten me? Did he intend to watch me starve, tied to his bed? Would that get him off? Could I even die that way? None of us had actually confirmed that yet, we hadn't wanted to try. I didn't want to be locked in this room alone. I wanted to be back at the campfire. I wanted to swagger back into camp with a smirk and watch everyone's looks of worry turn to annoyance.

The thoughts obsessed me, while I waited, face down on the bedding, face hidden in the pillow I'd wrapped my arms around. I was so lost in myself and anxiety, I jerked pitifully when Evan came back in and whimpered pulling myself tighter around the pillow.

Evan regarded me, a ball of pathetic survivor, folded around his bedding and blinking at him, and shook his head. Ignoring the bed altogether, he only tromped over to the table, clacked something down on it, and commanded, "Eat, Saboteur. Or do I have to feed you again?"

My cheeks went hot and my blinking turned to a glare, even if I didn't move from constricting his pillow. Bastard, I hissed inside my own head, too determined not to speak to him to say it out loud.

Evan waited me out, though. There was never anything to say about his patience when he wanted to see you come crawling out of your hiding spot. He just stood there and eventually my empty stomach got the better of me, and I let go of the pillow, to crawl across the bed to the table, grumbling intelligibly all the while.

What Evan had brought me wasn't any better than what he'd fed me before, but I was in no position to be picky and it was still more than I got on a normal day, hunting around with the others. Which was probably a good thing for me because Evan didn't bring me anything else the rest of the day. He vanished again and didn't reappear until I was moping dejectedly near the headboard.

I'd been picking at the cuff on my wrist, and despite the leather padding, my constant fretting with it had begun to rub my skin raw. When Evan came in, I stopped picking and hissed. The bigger man sighed, but chose to ignore my display and distaste. He moved about the room, seemingly surveying it, while I tracked him with my eyes, then he took off his mask and sank onto the edge of the bed. Hissing again, I scrambled back to the opposite edge, where I perched, probably looking like a messy, disgruntled cat.

Evan looked at me and lie down, then he opened his arms, with a passive expression on his face, and said, "What's it going to be Saboteur?" A question I took to mean was I going to let him cuddle me, for whatever insane, private reason he had, or was I going to spend more time on his floor.

My eyes flicked quick between his arms and his face several times, and I growled, clawing at the edge of mattress I perched on. Evan huffed a breath, like exasperation, and turned over so his back was to me, mumbling, "Have it your way, Saboteur," in repeat of the de facto night before. Cueing me into to the fact he was again going to leave me to my own devices. Was again going to let me prowl around his room, while he slept with no fear of whatever of what I could do.

Was again going to allow me to freeze, if that's what I damn will wanted.

I opted to stay like that, balanced on the extreme edge of the bed, if Evan wasn't going to make any move to snare me, and though that was better than the floor, halfway through what added up to night in the Entity's realm, I still found myself shivering uncontrollably. It was like the Entity had no real understanding of how day and night were supposed to work, but had decided to semi replicate them with a stretch of time of moderate temperature, followed by a period where you fucking froze.

On an unconscious level, I supposed I had noticed it before but never really registered it because every time I was away from the campfire, where it was always blessedly warm, I was either in-Trial or on the move, dodging killers in the fog. No time to be cold when you were exerting that much energy. Of course, I'd felt cold laying out on Evan's grounds with my leg in a trap, but I'd taken little outright thought to that, sort of assuming it was my body going into shock. Something probably not far from the truth, to some extent.

But with nothing to do and not much pain to distract me, cold was all I could think about in Evan's house. Laying huddled up on one side of Evan's bed with no blanket and no campfire, all I could feel was cold. So. Fucking. COLD. Not freezing in the sense I'd die of it, but to the point I couldn't get warm no matter what I did, or how I curled in around myself. Couldn't sleep, couldn't focus, couldn't do anything but shiver and whimper, like a pathetic thing.

I tried to resist, tried to hold out, tried to not huddle up by Evan and his warmth, but come morning I still found myself doing and shivering sporadically against Evan's back. When I'd moved and how long I'd been that way, my back to his and my legs drawn up to my chest, I didn't know, couldn't remember. I just snapped awake when Evan moved and hissed and scurried away as quickly as I could, my teeth clenched with hot anger at myself for not only giving in but getting caught.

Luckily, Evan only sighed and left me alone again. Which left me dejected in a ball on the center of his bed. Alone with my indignity at myself. I was less afraid he would forget me and leave me to starve, but more depressed at the hopelessness of it all. What was I supposed to do?

Nothing. Not a god damned thing. Fuck knew what the others were thinking by now, but whether that thought was I was alive of dead, they would be in a state of panic. And wasn't that bloody awesome? Just what I got for going off to play with Evan's traps without a word. They didn't even have an idea where to look for me.

The thoughts were a convoluted tumble that I'd already gone over out on Evan's territory, with a trap anchoring me to the ground, but I couldn't' stop them from recurring. I both wanted to be found and didn't want to be looked for. The rules of Evan's game still weren't set and I wasn't sure what he would do with me or anyone else if they showed up.

I just wanted out but there was no way out. Left to myself, I pulled on the chain, trying to tug it from where it was sunk into the bed post for a while. Then, quickly out of energy, I lapsed into alternatively dozing and picking at the cuff on my wrist. It was hard to tell how much sleep I'd missed before giving in and indulging myself in Evan's body heat, but I was making up for it in this warmer part of the time revolution of the Entity's.

Understandably, I did more fretful picking than sleeping. Out, I wanted out! And mostly what stood between me and getting away was a cuff and a screwed up leg.

I stopped my picking again when Evan came back, though. I somehow knew he would not like either the compulsion or the roughened skin that was growing under the leather padding if he saw it. So, I stayed still, shoulders hunched and head down, hands in my lap, between my knees, when Evan shouldered the door open.

He was bringing food, of course. The rules weren't set and the routine still too new to be firmly established, but Evan seemed intent on keeping me alive. I wasn't about to argue, but he stopped me before I could move toward the side of the bed near the table, where he stood.

"I want to see it, and I don't want you to fuss, Saboteur." The statement locked me in place, muscles tight, fingers curling down into the bedclothes bunched up between my knees. Locked me because I didn't understand what it meant! My mind struggled to bring comprehension to the words for several long, painful heartbeats, while my startled eyes darted around his masked face and between massive hands. Hands that could crush me and had ended me more times than I could now easily recall.

Panic made rational, reasonable thinking hard to do, just royally fucked it up, actually, but then Evan grunted a dissatisfied sound and shifted on his feet and I saw food wasn't all he'd brought. Medical supplies and fresh bandages sat alongside my meal, stacked neatly and with obvious care and forethought.

Then it clicked. By it Evan meant my leg. He wanted to see my leg, and he didn't want me to fuss about it. And judging by the way he was standing between me and the food he'd brought, the more I fussed the less likely I was to eat.

Hot rage slunk though my system, clenching my jaw and tightening my fingers on the sheets still more, but it melted away as fiery and fast as it'd come. Leaving me tucking my head down onto my chest enough my face half sunk into my scarf. Evan, it appeared, was intent on both feeding me and making sure my leg mended. As both of those things were also my priorities, I didn't see any reason to cause a scene. But that didn't keep my cheeks from heating up or unclench my jaw. Evan had wrapped my leg from ankle to knee the first time he'd doctored it, and rolling up my pant leg wasn't going to give him the access he needed to further his medical care. Fingers fumbling, I fought to undo my pants and get them off, without jostling my leg. Halfway through it, Evan got tired of watching my clumsy attempts and snagged me with one hand. I let out a surprised and undignified sound, but didn't even have the time to put up a resistance before he yanked the piece of clothing in his way right off me. Then I just found myself laying there, gasping because he hadn't been gentle and it fucking hurt, and once again confounded by Evan's apparent ease and effortlessness in half stripping me.

I didn't have long to be dazed and puzzled by it, though. Evan's ministrations weren't light and sweet. They were efficient and straightforward. Rough, calloused hands unwound the old bandages and proceeded to poke and prod at me, until I had my head buried in a pillow, to hide my protests. Of course, Evan wouldn't be gentle or considerate of the face he hadn't given me anything for the pain, and the god damn thing still hurt like a son of a bitch. Of course, not.

But at least an Evan causing me pain was an Evan I could understand. An Evan more in-line with the image I held of him in my mind than an Evan who doctored me and opened his arms to cuddle me because he knew I was going to be cold.

The pain didn't last long, however. Evan knew what he was doing and daftly rebandaged my leg before I was fully aware he'd finished. Then he patted my ankle and rumbled, "Eat, Saboteur."

I did. After I found my pants and struggled back into them. Evan didn't help with that. Of course, not. He wouldn't. He only watched me hiss and sputter, then just did the same while I ate. When I finished, he gathered everything and made to leave, per what was becoming the normal. I expected he would without a parting, but…

"You're lucky, Saboteur."

The words were cold uncertainty poured over my shoulders, to spread down my spine, and they made me shudder because I didn't know what they meant. Yet again, reduced to cluelessness and left at the mercy of Evan's inexplicability. I'd been sitting in the middle of the bed, head dropping, preparing to be alone again, preparing to aimlessly doze and pick at my cuff again, and I did not feel lucky. I felt listless and confined, but I still dragged weary eyes up to Evan, hoping for a clue to his latest conundrum.

The larger man was standing in the open doorway, studying me out of the holes in his stock and emotionless mask, rendered as indefinable as his statement, until he chose to speak again. "You somehow escaped infection, Saboteur, and the damaged tissue is healing well. But the stitches will have to stay in for now, and you won't be walking on it for a while."

I blinked slowly at him, digesting his words. My leg, he meant my leg, again. And both relief and depression seemed to swell with the information he'd given me. No infection, so I wasn't likely to writhe around in agony for an inexplicable amount of time before kicking it, but. But. You won't be walking on it for a while. I folded in on myself, as the door closed behind Evan. He'd said the words as fact, and not taunt, but they still stung my ears and told me one thing without any illusions to delude myself with.

I was here for the duration. Trapped for the duration of whatever the fuck this was with Evan.