A/N: I know, I'm a horrible little cretin for making you wait so long. I am sorry; if I could stay home all day in a bathrobe, sipping tea and pecking away at stories I would. In a heartbeat. Fortunately, summer is here and there is much more free time in the life of Allie to write.

I was having a God-awful time trying to figure out how to continue this story. I knew the general direction, but it had been so long since I had picked up the threads of this story that I didn't know how to piece them together again. I was, inexplicably, struck with the burning need to write something for Lily and Aidan tonight. It was cruel to leave them hanging this long. You too, lovely readers. It's been too long.

I started writing with no coherent direction at about 1 AM this morning. It is now 3:46 AM, and I'm not sure how I got to where I did but I'm pleased with the chapter. I think it's one of the tightest, maturest ones yet.

We've hit the last stretch. Time to get gritty and stick our hands into the gore up to our elbows. Things are about to get messy, both literally and figuratively. Things are getting dark.

Hang on to your hats, folks. Here we go.

“I'm not done with you yet.”

The door smacked closed, and I lowered my dirt-stained face to the ground. Now, after days of this, it came as no surprise to hear those words. He certainly wasn't done with me, hadn't been when I'd run from him all those weeks ago.

And really, Max wasn't one to give up now, was he?

My arms were in a perpetual state of numb agony, if such a thing were possible. The ropes had begun grinding into my wrists near the beginning, but I could hardly feel their steady, stinging teeth in my flesh now. I wondered vaguely, for the millionth time, if my friends were okay. I knew that somewhere nearby Aidan wasn't, but there didn't seem to be much I could do about that.

This must come as a shock, dear readers. I don't think you've had the pleasure of meeting Defeatist Lillian yet. I'd shake your hand, but, well. You know.

Nothing would tickle me more than to tackle the current situation with my customary flippant good humor, but to be honest, events of late have kind of been getting me down. For starters, being trussed up like a hog while a bald man with three teeth stands sentinel outside singing show tunes isn't really helping my mood any.

I guess I should backtrack a little, eh?

You may remember the last thread of my narrative involved me being a complete ass to the guy I'm ridiculously in love with. Yeah, I'd rather not dwell on that, but we had a little bit of an argument, I said some 'meany' things, and Aidan officially left the building. After I furrowed my brow for a few seconds, realized my folly and securely stuck my foot into my mouth, I left to go find him. Long story short: I did, he yelled at me, I yelled back, there was some kissing, and then we went back to the music store agreeing to disagree for the moment. Ralphy and Della avoided us for the most part while we packed (Aidan and I were both stomping around, and we do kind of have large feet).

The four of us avoided detection for two days before the first skirmish. We (stupidly) tried to save time by cutting across an alley (despite Aidan's protests) and were greeted quite graciously by a quintet of Max's men. Ralphy was shot (I hope) in the shoulder, and Della dragged him away. I don't know where they are now. Aidan killed one man and I knocked one unconscious before more arrived, and we were officially swamped, packaged, and shipped to Max's new apartment headquarter building.

I'd offer you more detail, but that part of the narrative is somewhat foggy in my mind. Ropes were tied around our wrists, and we were lead/dragged through the streets for hours, prodded with jeers and the occasional blow.

It got worse once we arrived. I almost don't wanna talk about it, but I guess I own it to you, gentle readers.

We were separated almost immediately. That was the beginning of the end for me, when the panic finally dug a poisoned claw into my heart and started feeding. I screamed and cried as they shoved me into a dark room. Then I cursed and sobbed and beat on the door but no one came for days. It felt like days, shut up in silence and bad thoughts, but I couldn't be sure. Like I said, things started getting hazy.

No one came in. There was no light. No water, no food. Eventually my throat felt like there was acid squirming up and down it so I quit screaming. I started drifting, dreaming about the library and books and kisses and dust motes floating in the air. At least, that's as much as I can seem to remember. It was so dark in there I often felt like things were watching me, chattering and chuckling and snuffling, watching from far back in the shadows. I cried some more, than the numbness started settling in like a bird does a nest. The nightmares I'd been having started to seem distant, like fuzzy images seen through an endless collection of mirrors. It was likely that Aidan was dead. It was likely that Ralphy died of infection, that poor, beautiful little Della fell in a hole somewhere with her books and pens and was covered over with dirt.

I had never felt so lonely in my life. Helplessness was not to be railed against. Hope was a crushed, twitching butterfly. I was done.

Almost.

The first time the door opened I wasn't conscious. But when I woke, my lips were still wet. I licked them. Water. The wretched, throbbing headache that had settled into my brain as a constant companion felt as though it had diminished slightly. But my mind was still muddled, my body still weak.

I slept. Couldn't help it.

I think their plan was to make me so weak I couldn't fight back. So broken and desperate that I'd sell my grandma for a gulp of lukewarm water. It almost worked. There were low points, where I thought thoughts that are unprintable, that shame me, that shake me. My final hour seemed to be taunting me, hovering just out of reach.

They didn't count on one thing. And believe me, this isn't such a big oversight on their part. But big enough to make all the difference in the whole wide world.

The second time the door opened I was ready. I started crying and mewing like a sad little kitten. I begged for my life. The door closed. No water.

I waited.

The door opened again and I offered my body. I told whoever it was that they could fuck me, fuck me silly, if only I could eat something. A cheeseburger. A biscuit. Food.

The door shut with a wump.

I waited.

The next time I said I would give them Egypt. The stars. My first born son.

Wump.

Money. A house on the beach. My rare coin collection.

Wump.

The secret to the universe. A sandwich that would cause an orgasm in their mouth and only cost a couple bucks.

Wump.

All this time without a drop of water. My mouth was beyond dry; think crumbling ash or thousand year old sand or the inside of a rock. Lip slit, eyes swollen shut from crying too damn much.

The door creaked open again.

“Take me to your leader,” I croaked. For theatrical effect, I did that Star Trek hand signal behind my back but my fingers were too numb to respond.

“I'm here.”

Brilliant white light flooded the room, and I cried out and squished my eyes tightly shut. The lights dimmed a fraction, and I squinted.

Black boots entered my vision.

“My boys said you were losing your mind. That true?”

Max's voice was deep and distant, like the rumblings of some cruel god from way up high. My neck was stiff and sore; I didn't bother trying to look up at him.

One of his boots connected with my unprotected gut. I folded inward, sucking in breath, eyes clenched tight.

“That a yes? Or a no?”

“What the fuck do you think?” I managed through shuddering breathes. Every little itty-bitty piece of me urged my mouth to plead for water. Lot of pressure for one organ, but it held stoically silent.

Max squatted on his haunches and hooked an arm under mine. As he stood I was forced to go along with him. He took all of my weight without a word.

I must have looked ridiculous. Head lolling, stiff arms off to one side like a fucked-up hola hoop.

My legs wouldn't move at first, but as Max and I emerged from the room and into a hallway they started functioning again, if only minutely. I could walk, but only if I leaned on Max like a drunken lover. I would have thrown up in disgust, had there been anything to throw up.

The world felt vaguely like a carnival ride. Distorted faces, the feeling of weightless gravity, and the distinct, too-late desire to get the hell off the ride.

I'm not sure how long we walked/shambled/stumbled along, but after many twists and turns we stopped in front of a long black rectangle set into the wall. There was a door to the right of it, and the whole set-up reminded me of old Law and Order episodes. Was this a dream?

“Try to stay awake now, princess.”

Somewhere, deep down, I bristled at his choice of nickname, but just then the black rectangle lit up. A room was visible on the other side.

A prone figure lay in the corner, curled into a ball of jutting limbs and shallow breaths.

I pushed myself forward—Max didn't stop me-- and landed cheek-first on the two-way glass.

“Aidan!”

“He can't hear you, love.”

To Max: “Fuck you.” I hoisted myself off my face, leaning on the glass with my right shoulder.

“AIDAN!”

He was definitely breathing. Nothing looked overtly broken. His cheeks were sunken and bruised, his hair a tangled, overgrown mess. His shirt was torn and oblong splashes of purple, blue, brown, green, and yellow bruises were visible on his arms and shoulders. My stomach dropped, but like a climber trussed to a lifeline, the rope held.

“If he dies, you won't get whatever it is you're keeping me alive for.” I didn't take my eyes from Aidan. I hoped he was dreaming of something nice.

I still hadn't looked at Max.

“D'you really think you're in the position to make demands?”

I imagined smashing his little square teeth into his big fat mouth. My hand was still broken, but both arms were so numb from the biceps down that it probably wouldn't hurt too much.

It was just a question of punching a man taller than me with two hands tied behind my back. I decided to save that fantasy for later.

Aidan shifted a little in his sleep. A grimace flashed across his face, maybe seeing some past agony flit by him in a dreamy haze, but it vanished into the pained, slightly subdued expression of constant hurt.

My whole body ached with the burning need to go to him, but I turned my back on the glass and finally looked at Max.

He hadn't changed much since the last time I saw him. Same short, harshly buzzed black hair. Dark eyes, glittering white chik-lit teeth. Max had, I observed, dropped the pretense of eccentric de facto commune leader. Now he looked the part; black shirt, tan pants, and combat boots. Simple and military.

Part of me wanted to say something, anything, sarcastic, but my voice was all but gone. Bells seemed to be going off in my head, but I stayed standing and watched him with hooded eyes. He seemed to be doing the same.

The last time we had talked suddenly burst from my memory. In his tent. He had explained his agenda to me, about taking over the country. His need for women; for, as he put it, 'breeding vessels'.

“So,” I began, instantly regretting where this was going. “When do I get to bare your children?”

Max hit me with a closed fit, sending me sprawling to the floor. I cracked my jaw on the ground but landed mercifully on my stomach. I knew I didn't want feeling shocked back into my arms, not that way.

He hauled me up again, and I didn't protest. I could barely think as he dragged me down the hallway.

I must have blacked out, because the next thing I was consciously aware of was sitting on a bench, back to a wall in some kind of office. I thought fleetingly that I was in trouble with the principle, but that, laughably, didn't fit.

Max entered my vision. He jabbed a bottle of water into my mouth. For the first few seconds, most of it cascaded down my neck and shirt as I coughed and sputtered. My mind cried at the waste, and soon I was gulping the water, feeling it rush into my empty, shriveled stomach.

He took the bottle away. Too soon. Oh my fucking God, too soon!

Max sat down across from me and set the water down in his lap. I tried not to looked at it.

“Now,” he said.

I stared at him, not daring to speak. His rotten nut-brown eyes bore into me. I flinched involuntarily.

“You seem to be neck deep in shit, honey.”

I continued staring. No words. Couldn't speak.

“The way I hear, you're connected to a lot of major players.”

My eyes stung with tears. I was freezing, hungry, lonely, and this was way too much.

“Buck up, darling. You're practically a major player in your own right. Be proud.”

And there it was! That maniac smile, that too-toothy grin that betrayed every fucked up thought he had ever had. That was when I started to feel really afraid. I swallowed.

“What?” Amusement tinged his words, twisting them into sarcasm. “Got nothing to say now?

And, “I won't lie to you. I'm enjoying this.”

And, “You and me, we're going to work together.”

And, “Once the ball is rolling, I mean really rolling, I'll take real good care of you.”

Smile.

“Untie me.” I managed. I hadn't thought of saying this; my subconscious made me do it.

He shook his head. “No dice, sweetheart. Soon.”

Max stood up. I noticed that his cheeks had been sunburned, and that the skin was starting to peel. He leaned out the door, waved at someone, then came back in and looked at me.

“Gotta put you back now babe. I'll tell them to feed you at least. Ain't I a peach?”

As a man came in and roughly grabbed my arm, sent pains shooting down to my toes, I felt a surge of rage.

Max smiled placidly at me as I was dragged out the room.

“What do you want!” I cried.

The minion stopped pulling me as Max stepped out of the office. There was malice in his eyes, sprinkled with a little glee and rage.

He grabbed my right bicep and leaned close.

“I want you to evaluate how much those people are worth to you. Think about all the little fuck-ups you've met here. Then, I want you to rate them. 1 to 10. Figure out which ones you would be willing to sacrifice. Say, below a 5 on our little scale. Once you've thought about that long and hard we'll talk again. I'm not done with you yet.”

Max released me and he became smaller and smaller as I was pulled further down the hallway. I floundered mentally as he watched me go with a smug little twinkle in his eyes.

Right before I rounded a corner, Alexis stepped up behind Max and wrapped an arm around his chest.

She was grinning at me.