Pedro walked back out into the Cathedral, supporting Jenna, who looked pale, shaken.

Jason rushed over to them, Sahara with him.

"They won't let us back in our rooms," said Pedro. "I think they might punish us, because we're not supposed to be out of our rooms yet."

"What time is it?" said Jason.

"I don't know. When they dragged us upstairs, it was about four a.m. Maybe they'll make an exception, but—I can't count on it."

A few more kids and adults wandered back into the Cathedral, looking dazed, distressed.

"Maybe we can hide until the doors open."

"How?"

"Well, not be as conspicuous." Jason took over from Pedro, who looked exhausted. Jenna insisted weakly she could walk on her own, but when she took a few steps, she faltered, so Jason grasped her arm gently again and guided her to the thicket on the left side of the Cathedral. Inside, she sank to the floor, her elbow on the bench, forehead pressed in the crook of her arm, long sandy hair curtaining her freckled face.

Pedro sat down on the other bench and Jason sat beside him. Sahara, having more presence of mind than Jason, went back out and gathered the kids so they'd be less visible, and they'd be able to have a line of defense in case the guards attacked. The other adults weren't able to fit in the thicket, but they seemed to instinctively cling to the shadows at the edges of the room, so the Cathedral looked virtually deserted. The shadows were long and diffuse under the low light from above. Birds sang mutedly in harmony with the rushing stream and fountain.

The weight of everything that had happened collapsed over him like a tangible shadow. He'd been awake all day and all night. It seemed longer… and shorter. And he was hungry, although the last time he'd eaten had probably been not that far from yesterday evening…

If it had been about four when the others had been dragged from their rooms, it was probably almost 6 now. The rooms usually opened at 7:30. Breakfast was soon after. Would they give him food down here? It was wonderful having free rein, but it also made it so he wasn't sure of the 'rules'.

Jason wondered if Serhii had been caught yet. Perhaps he'd gone to their refuge… which meant he might be safe for a while, if he was right about it being a blind spot in the sensors. Maybe they could use it in the future… although going there too often would draw attention to it…

He also wondered how the game was progressing. He was glad to be free of it, but he was still curious how it would end, and what the prize was. At least Ali would probably give him a play-by-play.

It was good Gray was able to overcome his fear to keep playing. But as always, a more recovered Gray was potentially more dangerous. If he was on their side and stronger… how much could he accomplish for them?

Would he hurt me? He promised not to… but that was the Gray that was broken, the interim between his former self and any new incarnation…

He probably wouldn't be able to go back to who he had been, not totally. Jason knew what this kind of thing, to a certain extent, did to people. He'd have to find ways to deal with his trauma, live with it… whether the strength he was able to find would make him a better person or worse was anyone's guess…

But for someone with the shaky (perhaps nonexistent) morals Gray had to be so vulnerable in this place…. It would be an uphill battle to retain any glimmer of goodness, to hold onto the few good choices he'd made during his recovery. Yavesh would use his vulnerability and change him to suit their needs.

Jason and Sahara ended up playing a few games with the kids while Pedro and Jenna rested.

A chime sounded; a large group of people filtered out of the opposite hallway.

A lot of them were carrying babies; infants crying echoed through the vast chamber, merging into a cacophony.

It was the harem. He'd never seen them when he was down here before, because they'd always been brought out at different times.

Guards accompanied the slaves. They seemed more casual, barely taking notice of their charges, standing in clusters and conversing. These slaves were more valuable, after all…. They couldn't be used randomly by guards.

A familiar figure caught his eye. Lucia was wandering aimlessly through the center of the room, absently jouncing a baby.

He risked going out; he doubted they'd be as harsh with him as most slaves. He didn't even have a room down here anymore, so he couldn't be locked out of it. Still, he was cautious. He crept closer to Lucia, not wanting to startle her.

"Lucia?" he said softly.

She gasped.

"Sorry."

Her eyes were distracted and rather vague, as if she were under the influence of drugs. Gradually they focused on him. "J-Jason?" she said, squinting as if not sure she was seeing right.

"Are you okay?"

She nodded. "They take good care of me." She looked down at the infant and slid her finger through her dark curls. The baby had large brown eyes—so much like someone else's he knew.

"What's the baby's name?"

"Aura."

Nalika's daughter! He longed to take her back up to Nalika. As wonderful a mother as she was to Kyr, she deserved to hold her own baby. But they probably wouldn't let him. Perhaps he could plead with Elena to let Nalika have Aura back. But he'd probably have to give her something in return….

At least Aura was safe here with Lucia. And Aura's mother was safe as long as she took care of Elena's son… Other people were in more danger.

"Have you seen Quinn?" asked Lucia.

Jason shook his head.

"I saw some others from Beneath. But not Quinn. Besides you, he's the only one who can speak to me. I still try to learn English, but it is hard."

"I wish I could teach you."

"Can you come with me?"

"I—" Perhaps he did have the ability to go to the harem… "I'm not sure." The good thing about the harem was that the autoshocks were off there. He might be able to find out something useful. But he wasn't sure that now was the time to test whether he had access.

"Do you know where Quinn went? They didn't tell us."

Jason hesitated. But he didn't want to keep anything from her. "Brianna told me after you left. They're… taking him to be an elex."

"What!"

"I—hope he's being taken care of—at least, since they're valuable, they won't be discarded. And he'll be bound for the outside…" There wasn't much of a way he could sugarcoat this, though.

She looked faint; her knees faltered. Jason took Aura from her, and she leaned back against the fountain, head in her hand. "They're going to hurt him…." Her voice was bereft of any force. "Probably already have…"

"I'll see if I can find out what happened to him."

"I don't know if I want to know. I want to remember him as he was. Not the kind of – thing they'll turn him into. My imagination is bad enough—but to see him like that…. Please, only tell me if he is relatively himself."

Jason nodded. He had to hold onto hope…. But after what had happened to Sasha—

The image of her, sightless, appeared in his mind and he leaned back against the fountain, the baby in his arms the only thing keeping him from collapsing.

There's nothing I can do… not until I get out…. Unless – Perhaps I can find records here—find out where they took her— then find her when I escape—

A chime sounded and everyone in the harem headed to the cafeteria. Jason went back to the thicket in case the others needed protection, but the guards left them alone.

A few minutes later, a commotion from the other side of the Cathedral. Diego carried a black box on his shoulder. Other agents followed him and surrounded him as he laid the box not far from the fountain. Jason crept to the entrance of the thicket to get a better view, a few vines twisting in front of his vision.

Diego knelt in front of the box and carefully slid his finger along the side. The box was about the size of a large suitcase, flat and about two feet high. He turned the box over, checking the sleek surface for clues, and studied the golden sigils on it. After a few minutes, he pressed them in a rhythmic pattern, and the box clicked open, unfolding into several different levels of smooth rectangular bars. A beautiful melody floated out into the air, filling the Cathedral with a soft haunting song.

Each bar on the music box had a piano keyboard which played automatically. On the way through the song, the pianos skipped several notes randomly. Diego listened for a few moments, then tried a few keys.

The last piece of the box slid upwards from the bottom, revealing a rotating golden disk. At first it looked empty, then Jason realized there was something on it.

With horror, Jason realized it was a person.

The "prize."

His stomach flipped sickeningly, and he had to close his eyes to fight the nausea.

The girl, who looked about fourteen, unfolded to stand on the disk, dancing as it spun, her movements delicate and elegant. Long dark brown hair fell almost to her waist, complementing her medium tan skin. The golden shift she wore barely covered her; golden chains bound her wrists and ankles, but she still managed to dance. As if she'd been trained just for this moment, to be given to the winner of the hunt.

Jason was glad he hadn't continued the game; even if he had been allowed to keep a slave, he wouldn't. Would they have allowed him to set her free? Perhaps… but freedom was limited here. He doubted they'd just let her go Outside.

The rest of the agents congratulated Diego on his marvelous prize. They shook his hand; apparently no animosity lingered now that the game was over.

"You deserve her," said one of the agents. He slapped Diego on the back. "Welcome to the family."

"It is an auspicious beginning," said Diego.

"If I had my doubts you belonged here… they were dispelled after that performance."

Several agents went up to admire the girl. One touched her arm; Diego wrested his arm back until he cried out.

The agents left, and Diego turned the music box off and unshackled the girl. She collapsed into his arms, looking rather dazed, perhaps dizzy from spinning, and disoriented from being cramped in the box for who knew how long. He sat back against the fountain and propped her up beside him. She leaned against his shoulder, her long hair draped over her face.

"It's okay," said Diego, so softly Jason nearly couldn't catch the words. "Take as long as you need."

Jason's heart warmed at his kindness, although that didn't necessarily mean much. There were gentle masters; it made what they did all the more twisted.

"What's your name?" he asked.

The girl murmured a trill of melodic syllables.

Diego stared at her for a moment, then responded in her language.

Jason was surprised he couldn't identify it. He knew many languages by sound, even if he didn't know more than a few words in them.

Diego helped her gain her balance, supporting her around the room to the little knot of trees on the other side. He seemed to know that nature would be healing.

Jason couldn't help but wonder… Can we trust him too? He has connections to the outside… would he be able to help us?

He might just be letting the girl recover before pouncing on her. Giving her a false sense of security, letting her trust him so he can control her.

Even if he is on the wrong side, perhaps we can use him…

A chime rang and the harem gradually filtered back out into the Cathedral. The girl huddled in the shadows of the trees. Diego stood in front of her as if shielding her.

He'd better be careful, or they will notice he's not treating her like a slave…

After the harem was gone, the chime for the regular slaves rang and Jason felt it was safe for the others to come out. He went with them to make sure the guards wouldn't punish them for something they couldn't help.

In the cafeteria, his mouth watered when he saw all the food, even though it was just soggy French toast and canned fruit squares. He and Sahara got some breakfast then walked over to where Karim was sitting alone. He greeted them, his joy to see them tempered by the fact he was worried about Kara.

"She looked okay last time I saw her," said Jason, sitting down beside him, Sahara on the other side of the table. Jason told Karim how Michelle had begun to "demonstrate" with Kara and Zakhar and blackmailed Kara with telling her secret.

"You know what that secret is," said Karim grimly.

Jason nodded, hoping Michelle only knew they were together, not that they were married. He described how Serhii had stopped Michelle from whipping Kara by shooting Michelle in the hand.

Karim looked both stunned and relieved by this.

"Kara helped Serhii take Zakhar offstage—and somewhere else. I don't know if they found them yet."

"She'll punish them. She can't tolerate being disobeyed—especially in public."

"She did say something about punishing Serhii…"

"She'll probably punish him the worst. He tends to sacrifice for others… and for his own honor's sake. He is stronger than any of us… and he thinks he can and should take more than we do. Michelle likes the power trip her blackmail gives her. She tries to use our love against us." He looked at Jason and Sahara, immense suffering in his eyes. "She and Maylin… do things to us…. Sometimes make us do things to each other—" His breath hitched, and he closed his eyes, his face drained of blood.

Jason's breath caught in his chest. He didn't want to imagine what those monsters did… how far they went, and how far they still could go… was there any limit to their depravity or… would they keep making up new horrors?

"I will try to help you get away from them."

"You could do that?" said Karim.

"He helped me get free of Rave," said Sahara.

"Really?" Karim's eyes sparked with hope.

"I'm a liaison with Beneath. I'm still a slave, but… of the overall system, not bound to one who focuses on me."

"That sounds like heaven."

Sahara glanced at Jason sadly. "It's not without sacrifice."

"You—had to give something for it."

Jason's stomach dropped. "Well… She took what she wanted from me, then gave me a… reward afterwards. Before your imagination runs away with you—it was just a kiss. Those are a dime a dozen here. If that's all it costs, I'll gladly trade it for your freedom."

"Jason—"

"It's not like it doesn't happen anyway. At least this way… I get something in return."

"I wish there were another way."

"Maybe there is. Depends on what Elena wants to trade."

"If it means… too much… I don't want you to do it."

"What about for Kara?"

He leaned his head in his hand. "I don't want you to hurt yourself for our sake…."

"I don't think I'd—go past a certain point. But if it just means a kiss… a few touches…. How can I resist that kind of deal? It's the only way I'm letting her touch me again. I'd rather have some kind of say in it… or the illusion of it… than her just—" He looked down, feeling rather sick. The remnants of food on his plate didn't help, and he closed his eyes. He didn't like the thought of giving anything to Elena, but then, his body was the only thing he had to negotiate with. It was wrong… it betrayed Connie… but there were greater evils. As long as he didn't give too much (it's too much already…) it was worth saving others.

"Doing it 'willingly' takes a toll, too," said Sahara. "I pretended it was willing to stay sane…. But it felt like complicity. This time you avoided that, because it wasn't really a bargain."

Jason didn't want to tell her what he'd done to try to rescue Sasha. "Rewards take their toll too."

She nodded. "I'm just letting you know the risks. Where you may be headed…. Isn't anywhere most of us haven't already been." She looked at him earnestly, a shard of pain gleaming over the infinite shadows in her eyes.

Sahara told Karim about the game, including the finale, when Diego had stopped the man from hurting Jenna. The way she spoke implied a guarded hope Diego could be an ally, increasing when she told how Diego had treated the slave that emerged from the music box. She was deft at not revealing much from words alone, but her hope was contagious.

The alarm chimed for the end of breakfast, and Jason caught up with Mira, Pedro, and Jenna on the way out. He barely had time to ask how Jenna was before Mira flung her arms around him. He glanced around but couldn't see any guards at the moment, so he hugged her in return.

"I thought the worst!" said Mira. "They wouldn't tell us anything. I got shocked a lot because I kept asking about you."

"Don't do that."

"Too late."

"I mean—if I disappear again."

"Are you here for good?"

"I'm not sure where I'm going. If I can help it, I'd like to stay away from Beneath forever."

"Maybe you could stay in the Cathedral. I'd ask you to bunk with me, but they'd probably punish us." She slid her arm around Pedro as they headed into the Cathedral, while Pedro supported Jenna. Jenna was feeling better now that she'd eaten, but not well enough to do much. She did want to go to the rec room to watch a game. Although Jason's right hand limited him, he helped give Jenna something to focus on by playing basketball with Sahara, Pedro, and Mira. Jenna cheered from the sidelines and shouted out tips occasionally.

Afterwards, they sat in the common room and played Scrabble. It was almost like old times. Jason immersed himself in the comfort of it, mostly ignoring the immense question marks in the back of his mind.

All too soon, the others were escorted back to their rooms. Jason went upstairs with Sahara, seeking any trace of Serhii, Kara and Zakhar.

Avoiding the residential area, they checked the other rooms, including the Entertainment Room and pool room. Sahara peeked inside the Gold Room; Jason didn't feel up to getting too close to it.

Shame shook him when he thought of how he'd lost control there. And how he'd virtually abandoned the others; he had been too shaken to stand up for them in the Theater Room.

So he couldn't abandon them now.

They headed back past the menagerie and through the greenhouse and gardens. Finally the library and museum then the refuge.

It was empty.

A wave of exhaustion hit him, and he realized he'd have to sleep first to be able to do anything else. Sahara helped him arrange some clothes behind the racks on the floor, one fur coat as a pillow for both of them. Then they held each other tight, taking comfort in the touch of another human that didn't intend to hurt them or to wrench pleasure from them, cut off from guards who would tear them apart.

Jason stirred. Something soft beneath him. His arm and hand ached. Fluorescent lights flickered above him. An arm flung across his chest—his heart flipped over—he almost ripped away from the clinging hand—

But no, the hand was a soft, dark brown, not pale and demanding. A strong yet delicate hand, the thin finger bones visible in the gleam of the light, clutching the dark blue satin of Jason's shirt. He looked over at Sahara sleeping peacefully, her head leaning against his shoulder. He was glad to give her these precious moments of peace and comfort.

He hoped she wouldn't be too uncomfortable knowing they'd slept so close… hated the fact that these people had spoiled something totally innocent. He felt the warmth of friendship and a strong bond that could only be forged from going through trauma together. Something akin to being an older brother… at the same time, she was his protector… almost the same kind of thing as an agent partner.

Sahara stirred and looked up at him, alarm striking through her eyes. Then they softened as she seemed to realize who he was. "Hey, Jason." Her gaze strayed to her arm, and she slowly moved her fingers, then slid her arm back across to her side. She looked a little sheepish. "Sorry. I was getting a little too… familiar."

"There's nothing wrong with that."

She pursed her lips a little. "I suppose not. I'm just used to the guards shocking us… and what touch usually means…"

"I'm sorry."

"No, Jason—I… felt really relaxed for the first time in a long time. Just not used to this, not used to… being with a man I'm not scared of… well—that was really nice. I just—don't want you to be uncomfortable."

"No, I—" He let a smile emerge across his face. "It was the same for me. I'm not used to—" Unexpected tightness in his chest. Tears sprang to his eyes. "To… being this close to someone who's not demanding something of me." He tentatively reached out to her, and she took his hand and squeezed it gently. Leaned her cheek against his shoulder.

They settled back into easy comfort and their conversation drifted to innocuous things; it was avoiding the inevitable, but he needed that. Eventually hunger brought them to the vending machine and they laughed every time it supplied something they hadn't asked for. They piled their loot on the table, not sure they'd be able to eat all of it.

They made a valiant effort, though. Just a few random chips left.

"I suppose we'd better not stay here forever," said Jason.

"I wish we could. Just hanging out… I haven't done that in a long time. I think I need to always do that from now on."

"For now, maybe we can coordinate here. Just to be safe, we should make a—" He spelled ou on the table.

"Diego might be able to help us with that."

"If we can trust him."

"Perhaps we can get… his slave—to help us." She pressed her hand to her head. "I hate using that word. I wish I knew her name."

"Why would they be able to help us with that?"

She tilted her head. "I recognized the language."

"Really?"

"Lakota."

Realization dawned on him. That's why he hadn't recognized it… he didn't recall hearing it before.

"I just know a couple words. My friend Tally taught me." Her eyes took on a faraway look. "I haven't seen her since…." A pained look crossed her face. "Seeing that girl… makes me scared for Tal—I have no reason to think she could be captured, but— anyone could be… I'm also scared for the new girl, but Diego seems like he could be an actual human being. I hardly dare hope, though."

"He must be Lakota too."

"Part, maybe. I wish I knew their story…. Maybe they even know each other. I hope they can get out okay…."

"I don't want to endanger them. Maybe I can just give Diego a message to take to the outside."

They nibbled on the rest of the chips, procrastinating, then cautiously stepped outside the refuge.

After exploring the library, museum, and adjacent areas for more possible hiding places, they headed through the greenhouse, aiming for the menagerie—another place that had given them peace several days before. He picked a few oranges just because he could, not because he was hungry. Sahara juggled several oranges and lemons casually, showing off another of her hidden talents. "I had a lot of odd jobs," she said in explanation, eyes sparkling. "And a lot of down time."

They sat down on a bench to rest; after the game that had lasted two days and a night, he figured he did need more rest than usual. And in the vast space they suddenly had been given the privilege of, everything was catching up with him. When he was on edge, which was virtually all the time in the basement, adrenaline kept him going. Now, the hot humid air settled over him like a warm blanket…

Even the shadowy figures approaching didn't alarm him; they were probably just some more visitors, enjoying the beauty of nature….

A hand on his shoulder. Sahara slid her arm around him protectively.

"Let's go," said the figure in front of him. Brianna. A nondescript guard stood behind her, holding a shockrod.

"He doesn't need to go with you," said Sahara.

"If he wants that splint off."

"Is that all?" said Jason. "I do want to find out how it's healing…" He stood up slowly. His head whirled; Sahara grasped his arm, supporting him.

"I'm going with," said Sahara.

"No, you're not," said Brianna.

"She's my liaison," said Jason.

"Orders are you come to Med alone."

Jason turned to Sahara. "I'll be okay."

Sahara smiled sadly. They both knew he couldn't promise that.

It was just a checkup for his hand. He hoped desperately it wouldn't turn into more. For one thing, what was the harm for someone else coming along?

Brianna and the guard escorted him through the greenhouse, the circular Cathedral hallway, then to the familiar utilitarianism of Med.

Miller greeted him in the checkup room. He did a cursory inspection of Jason's hand, then carefully took off the splint and took an x-ray. He frowned over the results on the computer, then projected them onto the wall. He spread out one lab coat-draped arm. "You see?" he said.

Jason stepped closer. The tiny white line had almost faded completely.

"We can take the splint off."

"Really?"

Miller nodded.

Jason flexed his hand lightly. It felt good for it to be out in the air. That surprised him a little, because he usually preferred as little skin showing as possible.

This, though, meant he wasn't quite as helpless as before.

Just don't overdo it.

He inspected his hand, marveling at it for a moment. Miller hovered in the background, looking pleased with himself.

On the outside, someone with Miller's bedside manner—breezy, cheerful, matter-of-fact—would have been welcome. But knowing he facilitated evil, if not actively participated in it, made Jason feel acutely what it was like to witness the banality of evil. Not overtly cruel, but someone who didn't care about others, who didn't truly have empathy, only the facsimile of it.

Despite his help, Jason suddenly felt like getting out of his presence as soon as he could. He headed toward the door.

"Not so fast," said Miller, smiling. "There's more we need to check on than your hand."

"Like?"

"Well—you've been through some things since we saw each other last."

"I'm fine."

"We need to make sure you're in the best shape."

"Why? So you can justify torturing me again?"

Miller frowned as if offended. "I'm not torturing you."

Jason sighed and sat back down, no energy left to argue with someone who had a totally different moral paradigm.

The health check was more thorough than Jason would have liked; they demanded he take off his clothes completely. It was humiliating, but at least there were no sexual overtones. Just businesslike examination.

Afterwards, he wanted to get as far away as possible, but they had him wait for some test results. He figured he might as well take advantage of the time and go see how Farah was doing.

She was in the room just one down from her previous room, lying under the glimmer of a waterfall projected on the wall behind the bed. Jason crept up to her; she stirred a little, but didn't wake. He sat down next to her and reached out for her.

"Don't do that!" said a loud whisper. The nurse, Tayla, hurried in. "She needs rest. Comas take a lot out of people… it takes a while to get their energy back."

"Okay. I'll be careful."

Tayla smiled. "You can stay here. Just be quiet."

Jason nodded, and Tayla rushed out of the room.

Farah lay so still Jason wasn't entirely convinced she wasn't still in the coma. Then she began to toss and turn, moaning as if in pain. She cried out, then shot straight up. Dark brown hair tumbled over her shoulders. Her brown eyes widened, unfocused, with dilated pupils. She turned to him, wild with fear.

"It's okay. It's me."

"Tariq?"

"No—Jason."

"Tariq!" She held out her hand. It quivered, then she laid it helplessly against the rumpled covers beside her. Her eyes were trained on him, seeing yet not quite seeing.

"Jason Whittaker," he said. "Remember?"

A crease showed between her brows. She shook her head.

He seemed to recall that sometimes people had temporary amnesia after a coma. He hoped it was permanent, at least where he was concerned. Because if she didn't remember him, she wouldn't remember about amina either. If she could keep it in her subconscious, they wouldn't torture her (at least if they believed she wasn't faking). Perhaps he could convince them she could somehow be useful to them without the information they needed, aside from becoming a slave or 'expendable'….

He doubted the presence of a stranger would comfort her, so he stopped insisting he wasn't her husband. It was a bit unsettling, but if it made her happy…

He ended up sitting on her bed as she clutched his arm with both hands, as if grasping for a lifeline. He helped her lie back down and cradled her as she drifted back to sleep. Despite how weird it was, there was also something nice about role playing as someone's husband in this way. This shadow of the real thing reminded him how wonderful it was to be married. To be each other's port in a storm.

Tayla came for him and took him back to the checkup room, where Miller gave him the results of the blood test. He was vitamin D and iron deficient, calcium as well. Miller prescribed him vitamins and admonished him to eat healthily.

"I can only eat what they give me."

"Well, I'll insist to them, too."

"Thank you."

"We don't want you to fade out on us. We want you to get nice and strong."

"Could've fooled me."

"You are valuable, don't forget that. Not just anyone catches the attention of the Supreme." He grinned as if it were the greatest compliment.

"Tell her to start treating me better."

"She will, trust me."

That insistence didn't assuage his fears.

Guards appeared in the doorway— Gleb and Kent.

Kent waved his shockrod. "Let's get you fixed up, Jason."

That didn't fill Jason with confidence that his day would get any better, either.