Her hair was long and silky, the color of raven feathers. It flowed freely, framing an oval face, with features as fine as a porcelain doll. She was dressed in black. No symbol of rank or affiliation marked the military-style fatigues. He took it all in quickly and without acknowledgment. As he did the nearly subsonic hum of engines vibrating through the metal deck beneath his feet. Without looking down, he knew the blood had congealed around the gash above his left knee, the rough material of his own fatigues felt tacky against his thigh. He'd been unconscious for at least several hours. His hands were cuffed behind his back, the chain looped once around a rung of the steel chair back. He took it all in. She smiled at him.

"Are you comfortable?" she asked congenially.

"Yes."

"Do you know why I'm here?"

He was silent.

"You have something I want. Something I need." She looked into his green eyes partly hidden by his bangs which were probably a light dirty blonde when not choked with grime and sweat. She brushed them lightly off his forehead being careful of his feet even bound as they were to the chair legs. His eyes remained on hers, cool, unflinching. "Something I need..." she murmured, almost to herself. "Isn't it strange... " Her fingers traced his jawline. "To have so much power and yet be so helpless as a baby."

He didn't move. He didn't speak. He waited patiently for her to play her cards.

She stepped away from him, and turned surveying the walls of the room. "I do hope you find your accommodations agreeable. We had so little to offer on such short notice." Her boots squeaked slightly on the metal as she circled his chair. "You will find I am not a heartless creature. I am prepared to let you go." She paused, continuing her circle. He stared straight ahead. "You would like to go home, wouldn't you?" It was a rhetorical statement, laced with paternal warmth and concern. His eyes hardened. "All you have to do is give me what I want, and I will give you what you want." She was facing him again, she put the palms of her hands on the sides of his face. He discreetly tested the plastic ties restraining his ankles. She noticed and smiled humorlessly. "Don't be naughty, now. I'd have to punish you. And I so wanted us to be friendly." She stood and appraised him coolly. "I want the ignition codes. What are they?"

"I don't know," he said softly but clearly.

She frowned slightly. "I think you're lying."

He didn't answer, he simply held her gaze, unblinking.

"Give me the codes..." She said slowly.

"I don't know them," he responded calmly.

***

She gazed at him through the containment field, a faint flicker in the air. His morning meal remained uneaten on its tray, the same as it had every meal the past six days. He was facing away from her, lying on the cot staring unblinking at the wall.

"Don't you like my cooking? I made that special just for you."

He was still for several seconds then slowly turned, swinging his legs over the edge of the cot. He sucked in his breath as the bruises on his back and buttocks touched the hard surface. Carefully, he picked up the tray and contemplated it for a moment. Then without warning, he hurled it violently at her face.

She stepped back instinctively, blinking. The field crackled and the tray crashed to the metal floor. Her eyes hardened and her lips pressed into a thin line. With great effort she brought her expression back under control, her mouth tilting down in affected disappointment. "Now see what you've done? You've gone a ruined perfectly good food." He didn't respond. "Don't be mad at me, I told you I couldn't protect you without your cooperation. You brought it on yourself. I hate it as much as you do."

He stared at her.

She sighed painfully and turned the chair backward, swinging one leg over it, she folded her arms over the back and rested her chin on them. Her long hair cascaded around her like a cloak. "It hurts me to see you in so much pain. It really does."

"I'm sure," he growled. They'd put back his pants before returning him to his cell, but they left him naked to the waist. She studied the bruises and cuts lacing his chest and abdomen. Maximum pain with minimum damage, even the electrical burns were hardly visible, they'd probably run the current primarily through his teeth. She smiled slightly. Such professionals.

"I don't need you. You have seen nothing. Just give me the codes and I will let you go home." Silence. "Do you have a family? A wife? Beautiful children? Don't you want to see them again? I am on your side. Let me help you." He glared at her, unaswering, but his resolve slipped for a moment as an image of Katherine flickered across his consciousness.

She felt a flush of satisfaction as his hard stare wavered momentarily. She motioned abruptly and several guards came into the cell. They passed through the one-way field and grabbed him, wrestling him to the chair. He fought well, she watched with admiration. He even left one of the big men on the floor howling in agony, his leg bent at an improbable angle. But, overpowered and weakened by hunger and sleep deprivation he was finally firmly restrained in the steel chair. She lowered the field and motioned the guards out. They hurried from the room, dragging their fallen commrade.

He was breathing heavily, subtly testing his bonds. Many of the cuts had reopened and blood and sweat mingled on his torso. He watched her, hate burning in his eyes. She paced for a moment, then stopped in front of him. She frowned sadly and pulled a metal flask from her pocket. The light glinted off its surface shining into his eyes. She unscrewed the lid and slowly poured it over his chest. He screamed.

He clenched his teeth and closed his eyes tightly, the pungent smell of alcohol overwhelming his senses. Burning needles of agony stabbed deep into each wound, sending lancing pain through his body. He writhed helplessly. Slowly the pain receded to manageable levels. He looked up at her with mingling fear and hatred. She took out a soft white cloth and began to dab gently at his chest.

"Shhh, its all right now, its all over." He was panting and trembling, his skin had gone pale beneath the bruises. She carefully cleaned around each cut, murmuring soft reassurances as he flinched. He ran his tongue over dry lips, trying to regain his focus. He was exhausted and weak with hunger. The pain was wearing down his mind.

When she finished, she pushed his bangs to the side gently, and lightly kissed his forehead. "Don't worry. I won't let them hurt you anymore. Okay?" He stared at nothing, breathing slowly. "Are you ready to tell me what I want to know?" He closed his eyes and sat silently. She ran a hand through his hair. "All right."

She stepped into the hallway, closing the door behind her. "He's ready. Don't let him sleep."

The two guards nodded mutely.

***
He lost track of day and night. They stopped bringing him the colorless food. Every time he began to fall asleep he was jerked awake by a jolt from the shock collar they had fitted him with. He felt his mind slipping away into a misty delirium.

She strode into the room waving a piece of paper. The black fatigues and combat boots were replaced with a white blouse, knee length navy skirt, nylons and navy pumps, her hair was drawn up severely into a bun. "What do you have to say for yourself, young man?" she demanded. He blinked, opening his mouth soundlessly. He struggled to remember something she could be referring to, but the fog was too heavy. He stared at her in confusion. "I just had a very interesting conversation with your math teacher, young man."

"My math teacher?" he repeated softly, he didn't know he had a math teacher.

"She says you've been misbehaving in class. Not turning in your homework. And... She showed me your last exam paper." She waved the paper in her hand again. "Absolutely shameful, young man. What do you have to say for yourself?"

He opened and closed his mouth. "I'm sorry?" He had no idea what he was expected to say.

"Sorry isn't going to cut it this time, mister." She turned the steel chair around and sat down, crooking a finger at him.

Stupidly he walked to her side, his eyebrows drawn in confusion. She grabbed his arm and pulled him forward over her lap. He squirmed, surprised and discomfited. She raised her arm and swatted the seat of his fatigues briskly. The swats didn't hurt but the experience was disturbing, he looked at the floor, feeling guilty and ashamed. Finally she let him get to his feet. His hands moved to his backside and rubbed lightly. His face was a mask of childish remorse.

She rose and pulled him to a small school desk that hadn't been in the room earlier. She sat him down and put the piece of paper in front of him. They were word problems. The smudged pencil answers had been marked with red ink. A large "F" stared at him from the top of the page. She tapped the page with her finger. "I expect this redone, and properly. You are not allowed out of this seat until its done."

She walked out of the room, leaving him alone with his thoughts. He struggled through the first three problems, trying to focus his mind long enough to solve the elementary equations. Then he read the last question. Something stirred in the back of his mind. The answer was the fourth ignition code. He held his pencil poised over the paper, fighting the delirium that was choking his thoughts.

Slowly he set down the pencil and crumpled the paper with one hand. The collar lit sending him to the floor, writhing in agony. She did not come back for some time.

***

She was carrying a baseball. He looked up at her blankly. "Mrs. Green says you threw this through her window, young man. Jimmy Baker says he saw you."

He shook his head. "I didn't do it, promise," he said pleadingly, panic edging into his voice.

"Don't you lie to me young man, you're in enough trouble as it is." She turned the chair around and sat down.

"No, please, it wasn't me," he cried.

"Come here, please."

He got up, dragging his feet. When he reached her side, he bounced nervously, wringing his hands in front of him. "Please don't..." He whimpered. She pulled him down over her lap. He tried to cover his bottom, but she grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand out of the way. He began to cry softly.

She once again spanked him, chastising him like a child, the sound of the swats muted by his heavy fatigues. He cried throughout, begging and apologizing. When she finished, she sent him to the corner. He leaned against the cool metal, tears blurring the strange reflection created by the brushed steel. Eventually she called him back to her.

She took him into her arms, hugging him and kissing him on the forehead. "Shh, baby. Its okay now. I want you to go over to Mrs. Green's house and tell her you're very sorry and you'll pay for all the damage out of your allowance." He nodded, sniffling. "You know her address don't you, its one... seven... five..."

"One. Seven. Five."

"That's right, one seven five, what's the next number?"

He hesitated, looking lost. Then his face hardened, he pulled back and turned away from her, missing the dark rage that warped her delicate features.

***

"Let me see him. Now!"

"Ma'am, that really isn't a good idea right now."

"Fuck good ideas, he's my husband!"

The captain strode down the corridor briskly and put a restraining hand on her shoulder. "Katherine... Trust me, please..."

She shrugged him off and pushed past the orderly into the small room. "David? David baby, its me..." Her long black hair fell forward around her face as she leaned close to him and brushed dirty blonde bangs out of his eyes. He was rocking slightly, his eyes staring into emptiness. She cupped his face in her hands, pulling his gaze toward her. His eyes focussed for a moment then widened. He scrambled backward keening softly in his throat. "David?"

He began whispering frantically. "One seven five nine three six six zero..."


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Julnick