I came awake slowly, in fits and starts. I was first aware of tubes pushing and pressing everywhere. They were thrust down my throat, pressing against my nostrils, and even, well, you know, to drain my bladder. I was just accepting that something pretty bad must have happened to me when I felt darkness beckoning me. I tried to stave off unconsciousness, wanting to remember what had happened, where I was, how I'd gotten here, but I didn't have the energy.

The next time I managed to open my eyes, and blink the white walls and machines with flashing lights into focus. I heard the rhythmic whooshing of the respirator that forced air into my lungs, the steady beeps from the heart monitor recording every beat. I smelled the unmistakable hospital scent of disinfectants and medications and felt the cold IV needle in the back of my hand and the painful pressure of the extra fluids it fed up the vein in my left arm. I still couldn't remember anything except a vague sensation of intense pain; a pain that had seemed to strike every nerve ending in my body at once. It was so overwhelming that just the memory of it had me welcoming the safety of dark oblivion again.

I don't know how many times the cycle repeated itself. Wake up, focus momentarily on my surroundings, try to figure out what was happening, and then slip back into the void. Eventually, however, I regained consciousness with a clear mind. It wasn't as hard to open my eyes this time and my thoughts finally flowed in a coherent pattern.

As I let my eyes wander aimlessly I tried again to remember what had brought me to this room. I still remembered the agony---like being split apart cell by cell and then jammed back together in a rush. At least now the memory was more distant, like the memory of labor pains in childbirth. I knew that it had hurt, but I no longer felt the echoes of agony vibrating through my body.

Had I been struck by lightning? Touched a live wire? I didn't think I'd been shot or in a car accident or anything like that. I was pretty sure that if I had, one part or another of my body would hurt worse than the rest. Actually, right now I didn't feel too bad at all. Minor aches and pains in my chest, where the IV entered my hand, where the tube ran down my throat, but nothing I couldn't handle.

All of which left me with the same questions. What had happened? How long had I been here? Why weren't my children, at least, here to check on me?

"She's awake!" The voice that interrupted my reverie was young, male, and full of astonishment.

I hadn't heard them enter and the tubes didn't give me the freedom to turn my head and look at them. At least someone had come, though, maybe now I could get some answers about my condition!

"She's opened her eyes before, Johnson." An older male voice corrected sternly. "It doesn't mean she's aware of us."

The two men came to stand next to my bed, the younger with dark hair, an earnest expression, and amazingly blue eyes. They were almost familiar, in a foggy sort of way. I wondered if I'd seen them during my earlier broken moments of consciousness.

The older man bothered me. His expression was neutral to the point of being blank. Only his pale green eyes showed any emotion at all and that was the type of arrogant impatience that I truly hated in doctors. His hair was white and the lines on his face attested to his years of experience, but I already disliked him.

�That's okay.� I told myself. You're awake now. You'll be out of this place in no time at all and then you'll never see the man again.

"Look, Sir, she's watching us!" Johnson crowed. His eyes were alight with triumph, although I couldn't imagine why. What had they expected? Was I supposed to be blind?

"Doesn't mean a thing." The older man insisted. "She couldn't possibly have any higher mental functions at this point; she's just reacting to random electrical discharges from the brain stem."

�No mental functions?� My brows drew together thoughtfully. I still couldn't remember just what had happened to me but I had a gut feeling that I hadn't injured my head. Just why would they expect me to be, in essence, a vegetable?

Both men wore the white lab jackets that were to be expected in a hospital, but I was starting to realize that I wasn't in an ordinary hospital. It was virtually silent in the place, except for my life support machines. There were no sounds of family and visitors, no nurses bustling in and out, no orderlies or even housekeepers. I noticed that the younger man was studying me intently and I frowned slightly at him.

"Maybe it isn't just reflexive." Johnson suggested. "What if the advanced state of her brain development has given her a jump start on cognizance? Sir, I could swear that she's focused on us and no month old infant could focus that far."

�Infant?� Now I was starting to feel like I was in the middle of an X-Files episode. What on earth are they talking about? Any idiot can tell I'm a fully-grown woman! What does infant behavior have to do with me?

"Nonsense. Her visual acuity is due do the development of her eyes, not her brain." The older man quashed the younger firmly. He glared at me fiercely, as if I was responsible for the fact that his prot�g� was questioning his judgment.

My frown deepened. Surely he could see that I was fully aware, so why would he ignore it? Why would it irritate him that I could think and reason? I was beginning to have paranoid suspicion that something very strange was going on...

"Dr. Walsh, I'm sure she is aware." The younger man insisted. "At least let me try to work with her. Think of how much better our results will be if she can actually interact with him. Not to mention how much easier delivery will be if she's able to exercise before the birth."

�BIRTH?! What the hell are they talking about?� I exercised every ounce of my willpower and managed to jerk my head up a few inches before it flopped back down.

No, my stomach was as flat as I had expected it to be. In fact it was considerably flatter than I could ever remember it having been. I struggled with the respirator, needing to pant from the exertion of lifting my head but the stupid machine kept the same steady rhythm.

"Damn! She's getting excited. Nurse! 5 c.c.s of Demerol." Dr. Walsh ordered.

I was convinced that he wanted me sedated more to make it easier to ignore the intelligence in my eyes, than for my health. I wished that the tube wasn't down my throat so that I could protest but I was beginning to suspect that I wouldn't have been heeded even if I could have spoken. I was almost positive that I heard anxiety in Walsh's voice; and that my actions, my undoubted awareness, frightened him in some way. My conviction that I wasn't in a normal hospital intensified even more as I was dragged down into another period of unconsciousness by the sedative. I heard Johnson begging Walsh to let me try to breathe off of the respirator the next time I was conscious but nothingness claimed me before I heard the answer.

The next time I woke up I had a throbbing headache that had been brought on by too much sleep, or by a reaction to the Demerol. I was going to stay awake longer this time, I decided, resentful of that earlier drugging, and I wanted to start moving, to begin to rebuild my wasted muscles.

I started by slowly lifting my head up from the pillow. It felt like a concrete block! I could move it from side to side, as far as the tubes let me move, without a problem, but up and down were nearly impossible. Okay, so my neck muscles needed work, what else? I commanded my right arm to lift. It took a moment of intense concentration before it finally rose into the air, shaking and trembling with the effort it took. I was amazed at how thin I'd become--almost skeletal.

�What happened to me? Why can't I remember?� I started to feel like broken record--"what happened" being the refrain that my mind was stuck on.

My arm was no more than three inches off of the mattress before I had to lower it again. I forced myself to lower it slowly instead of letting it flop down like it wanted to. It was obvious, I told myself as I repeated the exercise on my left arm, that I'd been unconscious for a long time. I had absolutely no muscle tone at all. If I was pregnant I would have to---

If I was pregnant...

The memory of that comment about "the birth" suddenly shot into my mind. If I was pregnant there'd be hell to pay, of that much I was sure. I knew that I'd lived like a nun since my divorce 15 years ago. Once again paranoia reared its ugly head.

�Am I in some secret government research facility? Am I part of some bizarre experiment?�

Logic tried to intervene.

�Why would the government want me for a research subject? I�m not in the military and there isn't anything all that special about me. Of course I am something of a loner, so I might not be missed-----at least, not as much as someone else, but why would they want me in the first place? And what was that nonsense about pregnancy? Why would the government need to kidnap someone to have babies?�

I knew I was missing some important pieces of information and I resolved that I'd find them out this time before resting, voluntarily or otherwise. In the meantime, I needed to get myself in shape. Wherever I was and whatever these people wanted they were going to find that I wasn't the brainless fool they'd been expecting me to be.

I had discovered I couldn't do more with my legs that raise my knees into the air before the younger man, Johnson, reentered the room with a nurse.

I wondered if she was the same nurse who had given me the Demerol. I hadn't seen her, that first time, so I had no way of knowing for sure. But I knew I didn't like what I was seeing now. She wore a white dress and shoes that were practically a parody of the uniform nurses wore 20 years ago. I wondered where her starched white cap was. Her short black hair was liberally streaked with gray, and her face frozen with lines of arrogance and pettiness. Come to think of it, her expression reminded me of that Walsh guy's. I didn't really think she was all that old, maybe in her early 40's, but the pinched look on her face aged her drastically.

She glared at my raised knees, apparently angered that I had taken the initiative in my recovery. Slowly, I lowered my legs again, glaring back at her as best I could through the tangle of tubes obscuring my vision. I was really getting tired of people wanting me to be mindless, helpless, and without initiative!

"---agreed to let me try her off of the respirator." Johnson was saying as they approached me. He was oblivious to our optical duel, being far too focused on me as a hypothetical challenge to notice me as a living human being. "If she can manage that then he might let me try to train her to perform basic daily activities."

"She may be thirty pounds underweight, but she's still as large as an adult woman. Good luck in teaching her to act like one. If you're lucky she's got the neural patterns of an infant. Most likely she's a vegetable." The nurse scoffed, her eyes locked on mine while she spoke as if she were trying to impress some message on me, but I didn't understand it.

I wondered, briefly, why she'd taken me in such dislike. She knew I could think---we'd just been exchanging glares. There was no way she hadn't understood our silent exchange. What was it with these people anyway?

"Hello, dear." Johnson crooned, lowering his face close to mine.

He used the same high, singsong tones that I had used with my children when they were infants. I was tempted to smack him upside the head and see if anything rattled. Fortunately for him, I didn't have the strength and I was far more interested in having the tube out of my throat so I could get to the bottom of things. Deep inside, where I carefully didn't look, a knot of fear had started to form.

"We're going to take this tube out of your throat. Just try to relax and it'll be much easier." Behind him the nurse rolled her eyes in disgust, whether at his kindness or at his utter density in not realizing that I understood everything happening around me, I couldn't tell.

�Relax my ass!� I thought with my own element of disgust.

This Johnson fellow seemed nice but not terribly bright. Just what did the government see in him? Then again, my son had often seemed downright stupid because he was so smart he frequently missed what was happening right under his nose while he worked out a particularly intriguing problem. Which was Johnson, bright, and removed from the ordinary world, or was he simply an idiot?

Regardless of his intelligence or lack thereof I had no intention of simply relaxing while he pulled that tube out of my throat. I'd watched ER and Diagnosis Murder. I knew how you removed an intubation tube. I took a deep breath as he reached for the mouthpiece. As soon as he started to pull I exhaled with all of my might. As I choked and gagged and tried to inhale I decided that this was most likely the reason people chose the "Do Not Resuscitate" option. I certainly never wanted to experience the thing again.

"Did you see that, Lisa?" Johnson questioned with confusion. "She helped like a pro. I'm sure there's far more intelligence than even I suspected."

�No kidding, Sherlock!� I thought with what would have been withering sarcasm if it had actually been spoken.

I saw the same sentiment in Lisa's eyes and we shared a short moment of female bonding before her cold mask slammed back into place.

I took a deep breath, noting that my chest ached and my throat was sore, as if the tube had scraped it on the way out, and tried to introduce myself, but I discovered I couldn't make a sound! Horror washed over me. Had the tube paralyzed my vocal chords? I dragged my right hand up to my throat and tried again. I couldn't detect even the smallest vibration but I could feel a narrow line of too smooth skin.

A scar? How did that get there?

"She's trying to speak!" Johnson exclaimed excitedly.

"That's what it looks like." Lisa agreed coolly. "Why isn't there any noise? Are the vocal chords damaged?"

In answer Johnson went to a cabinet by my door and pulled out an instrument that looked distressingly like the intubation tube. My dismay must have shown on my face because he took a moment to speak to me, still treating me like a small child, which was an improvement over being treated like a baby.

"It's okay, honey." He told me soothingly. "It won't by anywhere near as bad as the tube. I just want to get a good look down your throat. Just stay relaxed for me, okay?"

I shook my head from side to side and tried to point out the mark I knew was on my neck. Johnson's brows bunched as he tried to interpret my actions. Finally, he noticed the fluttering of my fingers on my neck and bent down to look more closely.

"I don't believe this." Johnson gasped. "There's a healed incision on her neck directly over the larynx. How on earth did that happen?"

"I ordered the vocal chords severed shortly after she was retrieved from the lab and before the pneumonia weakened her to the point that we called you in on the case." A raspy voice sounded from the door; it was vaguely familiar, but I couldn't quite place it. Johnson jumped and paled dramatically as he whirled to face the new person who had continued with his explanation.

"She moaned continuously after her removal from the maturation chamber, unnerving those asinine technicians so much that they began making stupid errors. No vocal chords, no noise." He sounded quite pleased with himself.

Suddenly what he said penetrated efforts to place his voice. He'd had my vocal chords cut out? No way! Not even the military could have gotten away with something that unwarranted, especially not just because I made a sound that bothered technicians. Who was this monster? My need to identify him took on a new urgency as a truly frightening suspicion began to gel in my mind.

�Is this really happening to me? Or am I lying in a coma right now? Worse yet, am I strapped to a bed in a padded room somewhere? This has passed beyond weird right into melodrama!� I concluded finally turning my head to catch a glimpse of the newcomer and promptly received the shock of my life.

The man I saw was older than Dr. Walsh, almost completely bald, with the clear tubes of an oxygen tank draped across his face. He didn't look like a monster and there was nothing obvious about his expression that would explain why he terrified me. After all, it wasn't as if he were glaring at me, like Dr. Walsh and Nurse Lisa had, and he didn't look Satan himself. On the other hand, he did look like Dr. William Raines, one of my favorite villains from one of my favorite television programs. (And if you don't know which one then I'm certainly not going to tell you!)

How would you react to seeing a fictional character staring down on your hospital bed? Especially if you were convinced that you were nowhere near Hollywood? Me, I did what any normal person would have done. I fainted.

It wasn't the speedy process they showed on television.

I saw the man, as he looked down on me curiously, registered who he looked like, and felt suddenly like I'd been encased in a block of ice. I saw his mouth moving but I couldn't hear anything over the noise in my ears. I kept staring, straining to find a reasonable explanation for his presence with the small portion of my brain that was still functioning, as a black fog crept from the edges of my field of vision inward. It was a relief when I finally fainted. My last thought, as I embraced the darkness, was the unformed hope that life would make sense again when I woke up.

I didn't get to stay in the comfortable void long. A pungent odor, accompanied by an overpowering stinging in my nostrils and sinuses jerked me back into wakefulness. My eyes flew open, my hand flapping uselessly at the arm that held the broken vial aromatic ammonia, AKA smelling salts, under my nose, but the first face I saw was that of the Dr. Raines doppelganger.

I'd heard of the term, "my blood ran cold", but this was the first time I'd felt it. The hand waved under my nose again as the blood drained from my face, preventing a second faint. The infinitesimally small, part of my mind that still cared about such trivialities was irritated by that action.

�By God if I want---no need, to faint, who is this asshole to stop it? Insanity apparently put a strain on my normal, polite personality.

Since unconsciousness appeared to be out of the question I did the next best thing. I closed my eyes tightly, trying to block out every sensation----touch, sight, smell, all of it, and told myself it was time to wake up now.

The sensations refused to fade, and a stinging slap on my face brought my eyes back open. Raines stood over me, lowering his hand.

�OK,� I thought, �my delusion wants me to have my eyes open. I can handle that.� �Wake up, Rose!� I interrupted myself desperately.

�It doesn't matter what made you lose your grip on reality, nothing, and I mean absolutely nothing, in reality could be bad enough to make this hallucination seem better.�

I was confident that nobody, not even a lunatic, would want to come face to face with Raines.

"You aren't real." I tried to say, making Raines smile.

"I'm more real that you are, girl." He wheezed cheerfully, reading my lips without effort.

�Great, now my delusions are telling me that I'm the one that isn't real.� I thought miserably.

Raines' battered visage blocked out everything else as he leaned in closely to inspect my face with meticulous attention, causing me to shrink back into my pillows defensively. Visions of electroshock equipment and an adorable blond boy with big blue eyes danced through my mind in an instant, reminding me why I didn't want to be in this particular fantasy.

"Have you been talking about me, Dr. Johnson? Nurse Lisa? She appears to be quite afraid of me." I felt a spark of anger at the undercurrent of pleasure in his voice, before taking refuge again in the thought that I was insane and none of this was real.

"So, our little Eve understands us and obviously knows how to speak. It would appear that Walsh's success wasn't in accelerated growth at all." Raines mused thoughtfully. "Get him in here. This opens up intriguing possibilities."

�Eve?� I questioned with dreamy detachment that wasn't a prelude to a faint but it was almost as good.

�If this were real I'd find that name pretty ominous.� I admitted to myself, but a comfortable cushion of numbness surrounded me now and I was able to ignore the implications. Raines noticed my state of shock and responded by pinching me, forcing the icy calmness to retreat.

"That's enough, girl!" He demanded impatiently. "You can faint later, right now there are questions that need answering."

�Damn! That hurt!� I thought sullenly, rubbing my arm gently.

The feel of pain made the situation seem more real and less a hallucination. Didn't delusional people imagine nice realities? Why would I put myself in hell? I was almost certain, that I shouldn't be able to actually feel pain while I was dreaming, which, of course, I was.

"Mr. Raines," Johnson spoke up deferentially. "Can you fix her voice? Imagine what we could learn from her if she could speak. There's so much we need to know about her to figure out what has happened!"

Well he'd certainly adapted to my cognizance quickly, after it had been pointed out to him, of course.

"No." Raines answered instantly. "All we need from her is a functioning uterus and the correct genetic material."

I swallowed against sudden nausea, at the term "functioning uterus". If I'd wanted to be a surrogate mother I'd have done it long ago when I would have been paid for it!

I couldn't decide which option was worse, that I was insane or that I really was in Never Never Land. Either way it seemed that I was in deep trouble.

"I imagine she knows how to write legibly, don't you?" He continued, fixing a reptilian stare on me.

I shook my head frantically in desperate denial, not of my literacy, but of the entire situation. Why couldn't I wake up?

Raines gave a dry laugh, seeming to understand my confusion and fear better than I did myself. When I thought about it, it seemed reasonable. He delighted in creating confusion and fear, so who better to understand it?

"I see that this has been something of a shock for you, dear." His papery hand patted mine comfortingly. "I understand. After all, it's been a bit of a shock to us as well." He understated with a parody of encouragement that grated on my ragged nerves.

"But I would suggest that you adjust quickly, girl." He continued with a bland disinterest that was more frightening than an open threat would have been. "I am intrigued with the notion that you might actively assist me, but I have no time for weak fools who cannot adapt to reality, understand?"

�Reality?� I thought despairingly---�This can't be reality!�

Still, I understood that he'd ordered my vocal chords cut because the sounds I made while insensible interfered with productivity. I understood that I didn't really want to know just what he would do to me if I displeased him further. Maybe this was a delusion, but until I didn't feel pain when someone hurt me, I was going to have to behave as though it was real. It doesn't matter if a person named Raines made it happen or if it was the product of my unhinged mind, I don't like pain.

Raines had moved away from my side while I was coming to that conclusion, much to my relief, and was deep into his questioning of Dr. Walsh, who'd answered his summons at last. It was only when I heard the fright in Walsh's voice that I began to listen to what was being said.

"---no way she's an accelerated growth clone." I heard Raines declare firmly. "What, precisely, happened? I want to know moment by moment."

"I-I don't know." Dr. Walsh admitted apprehensively.

I didn't blame him for being afraid. Raines had terrified me the moment I realized who he was and I still wasn't even convinced he was really there!

"The only thing that happened differently was the power surge we received from the explosion on SL-19. But I don't see how that could have altered my experiment."

His words roused cloudy memories in my mind. The storm---lightning, right on top of the house---

�Was the transformer hit?� I wondered, trying to clear the fuzzy images.

All I could bring up was a rainbow of colors and the pain. In my rapidly tiring state just the memory of it made me ache all over. I dragged myself back to the present, blocking out the recollection as best I could.

�Maybe,� I speculated, �I died when that transformer blew. Maybe this is my punishment for my many sins�---although it didn't really fit in to my religious philosophy. At this point it was easier to believe I was in hell than it was to believe that I was delusional and I was nowhere near ready to believe that I really was a guest of the Centre.

"It would appear that we have a mystery on our hands." Raines' scratchy voice snaked its way through my reflections. "At least we now know why you haven't been able to repeat your only success. You'll report to SL-19 and debrief with Professor Allen." Raines dismissed Walsh with a casual wave of his hand.

"You, Johnson." He gestured the younger man over. "Make sure to get fingerprints, retinal patterns and DNA. I want to know she has no record, no people to come looking for her. If she is what I suspect then we may have uncovered an unlimited source of risk-free test subjects."

Ice flowed through my veins at the satisfaction in his voice, my cursedly vivid imagination bringing up the picture of assembly line rows of faceless people suffering unknown agonies at Raines' hands.

"I also want to know if she's got the genetic structure we aimed for. If everything is as expected we'll proceed to stage three. In the meantime---get her a physical therapist, just in case. Even if the genetics are wrong we could always use her for the Gemini project. One way or the other we want our little girl to be up and about, don't we, dear?" Raines brushed a knuckle across my cheek in a travesty of affection that made me shudder in spite of myself.

He chuckled cheerfully as he dragged his tank away to return to God only knew what atrocity. I was thankful for the mind dulling exhaustion that swept over me the moment Raines had exited and my adrenaline levels subsided. I absently noted that Johnson had already started collecting the requested samples, but was unable to muster the strength to care. Instead, I prayed, holding complete oblivion for a few extra moments, that I would awaken in my reality. I liked watching the show but I certainly didn't want to be a part of it!

"C'mon, Eve." A gentle slapping on my cheeks brought me around. The lack of pain was the only clue I needed to know that it wasn't Raines again.

"Time to wake up-----your therapist is here."

This time I recognized Johnson's kind voice and my heart sank as I realized I was still trapped in the nightmare. I'd clutched the hope that I'd regain consciousness in a normal hospital, even if it was a psych ward, with so much energy that I'd almost convinced myself I was back to reality. The only positive that I could take from this awakening was that I was already feeling stronger, that my mind was clearer, but then I'd always been a fast healer.

"She won't be able to move from the bed for a while." The therapist explained to Johnson, as she moved my arms and legs to assess my muscle tone---what there was of it.

Her voice and manner were cold and forbidding, just like everyone else I'd seen so far, except Johnson. I wondered if a nasty attitude was a qualification listed in the employment ads for the Centre.

"By this time next week I expect I'll be able to move her to the pool." She continued, beginning to flex my arms and legs as she spoke. "I'll have her on her feet within the month but it will be at least three months before she reaches optimum muscle tone."

I kept my face impassive. I hated being spoken of as if I weren't present, and I loathed having my future decided without so much as a by your leave, but the Raines incident had unnerved me. I wasn't about to make waves until I had a handle on my situation. Besides, I suspected that the new player in my life would have enjoyed any excuse to make my life more miserable. She didn't strike me as the tender, nurturing type.

I was soaked with sweat an hour later when she left. I'd never suspected that moving my arms and legs and head could be so difficult! Of course, I'd never spent more than 48 hours in a hospital before either.

Johnson took over as soon as the door closed behind the therapist. He'd apparently decided to give me the nurturing the others around me weren't interested in. Or maybe he just felt responsible for relieving some of the discomfort this situation gave me. I'd noticed him watching me intently during the session, maybe he'd seen some of the dirty looks I'd been giving the woman when her back was turned and wanted to stave off a stupid act on my part.

"Lisa, help me get this catheter out." He ordered the nurse briskly.

As soon as that tube had been removed and the IV needle withdrawn, Johnson lifted me gently out of the bed and deposited me in a nearby wheelchair. I really hadn't suspected that he'd have the strength to lift me, underweight or not!

"Change her bedding." He commanded the nurse, wheeling me to a door that I had earlier surmised led to the bathroom.

I hoped I was right. I needed a hot bath, not just because the workout had left me sweaty, but also because this whole situation made me feel vaguely unclean. I was being treated like a prize cow and it gnawed at my self-esteem.

"Feel better now?" Johnson whispered as he toweled my limp body dry.

He wasn't experienced at nursing. He'd lost his grip on me several times during the bath and I knew I was going to have several spectacular bruises by the time the physical therapist returned the next day. He meant well, though, and I was pathetically grateful for his kindness.

I realized, on one level, that I should be feeling embarrassed by my nakedness, but it was impossible to muster any modesty. How could I when there was no way I could believe he looked at me as a woman? I was skeletally thin, voiceless, and had already been relegated to the position of property by Raines. I managed a smile and a nod for him and worked at keeping my head erect while he toweled my hair dry.

The bathroom had no mirror, naturally, but I could tell by the feel of the towel against my scalp that my hair was little more than a downy fuzz. I mourned the loss of my waist length, thick tresses. It had taken me years to grow it that long! Had I'd lost it in whatever process had brought me to this place? Somehow I found it easier to pretend I wasn't in hell if I focused on trivialities.

"Now, before you go back to sleep, Eve," Johnson fumbled a clean hospital gown onto me while he spoke. "I want you to eat some breakfast for me. Take just a few bites of these scrambled eggs." He coaxed encouragingly when I tried to refuse.

I didn't feel up to the task of chewing and swallowing, even if eggs were soft, but I found myself cooperating anyway. Not only was I hesitant to hurt Johnson's feelings, I was also afraid of alienating the only kind person in this place. And it was a distraction from thinking about the name Raines had given me; that Johnson kept calling me by.

�Eve.� I didn't like the sound of it. �Mother to an entire race? God forbid!�

I suppressed a shudder of dread, not wanting to upset Johnson. He didn't strike me as the type to have hidden depths of personal strength. In fact, he struck me as the stereotypical wimpy scientific whiz kid. He'd probably come to work at the Centre because he thought it would be a good place to hide from reality.

I knew that my arrival, had to have ripped some impressive holes into his shield of ignorance, but he was the sort to turn a blind eye to what didn't suit his carefully constructed illusions. I strongly suspected that when the time came that Johnson could no longer hide his head in the sand about the atrocities the Center perpetuated that he'd break completely. But I didn't see any reason why I should hurry that day along. He wasn't a bad man, just stupid, in a brilliant sort of way.

"Now, go ahead and get some rest." I realized with surprise that I'd actually eaten the tiny breakfast while I was brooding. "I'll return this afternoon, okay? I thought I could start teaching you some sign language."

I nodded absently, still caught up in my thoughts. Johnson obviously felt guilty about my situation and wanted soothe his conscience about me. He had to know that what Raines planned for me was repugnant, to say the least. He also had to know that my cognizance wouldn't change Raines plans in the least. His conscience insisted that he needed to do something, so he settled for trying to help me communicate.

I didn't care a fig about communicating; I just wanted out of this place, preferably by waking up safe and sound in my tiny little apartment. I knew that if there were no record of my existence on this world, as was probable, that I was entirely at the mercy of Raines and his team. Mercy, unfortunately, was not a term that could be applied to the bogeyman of the Centre.

I had accepted, finally, that I really was in the Centre and I wasn't going to wake up in my sagging, beat up bed, or even in a padded room. Admittedly, I didn't know a whole lot about insanity, but I was pretty confident that even the strongest delusion would have had some cracks by now.

No, the physical sensations were too strong to deny. Somehow I had left my reality and now resided in another.

I was slightly surprised, in the part of me that lived in the corner of my mind and observed the world, that I accepted my situation so easily. After all, it really was impossible. On the other hand, I'm a survivor. I really don't worry overmuch about what is or is not possible; I just worry about what is. Right now, reality was demanding that I carefully watch my caregivers, obey, and avoid inciting the displeasure of those who had power over me. It was the mindset I'd grown up with and it was frighteningly easy to return to it.

Once I stopped worrying about was or was not real and started focusing on survival, the days passed more quickly than I believed they could. I supplemented my twice-daily physical therapy appointments with exercises. At first it was nothing more than clenching and relaxing my weakened muscles while I lay in bed. Soon it had progressed to walks around my tiny room. Finally, I was starting my mornings with a series of Katas that I'd learned the martial arts classes I had taken since my divorce.

Johnson never returned for the sign language courses, not that I was surprised. Since his daily visits were suffused with apologies and renewed promises to make time I assumed that Raines was deliberately finding problems to keep Johnson busy. I supposed that if I were a sadistic, power hungry monster that wanted unlimited influence over a subject that I'd try to keep them trapped in silence too. I had to wonder just what had occurred in Raines' life that made him enjoy the suffering of others so much.

Ms. Weldon, the therapist, drove me like the fate of nations rested on my recovery and attempted to take all the credit for my speedy return to health. She had to have known that I was supplementing our sessions, but apparently she didn't realize that Raines almost certainly knew as well. I never doubted that I was under constant surveillance via hidden cameras in the room.

I was present when Raines cut her down to size---purposely, I suspected. Raines wanted me to see that he dealt with a minor infraction harshly so I could imagine the increased consequences of a major error. It was obvious to me that he wanted my wholehearted cooperation with something, but I really couldn't think of what I could do for him that someone else couldn't do better.

"It would appear that the patient has exceeded expectations." Raines stated, as close to praise as he was ever likely to come.

"I experimented with some new techniques." Weldon claimed, eyes lowered with false modesty.

"Interesting." Raines raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "And here I thought it was all due to her extra work after you left."

Weldon flushed angrily but Raines ignored her, more interested in seeing my reaction to his revelation that I'd been observed when I should have thought I was alone. Since it was hardly a shock to me it was easy to remain impassive but that, appeared to interest him even more.

"You and I, Eve, are going to have a long talk today." He promised me quietly, raising fear in my heart, even though there was no hint of threat in his voice. "I am intrigued by your unexpected understanding of Centre procedures. I can hardly wait to find out where they originate."

I returned Raines' gaze as calmly as I could, knowing better than to reveal my unease by dropping my eyes, but I was sure he saw through my facade. He was, after all, well experienced in intimidation and, like all bullies, he knew exactly what to look for in his victim. I salved my pride by refusing to show any sign of trepidation and kept my sigh of relief inside as he turned his attention back to Weldon.

"Your services are no longer necessary." He told her coolly. "Collect your final check from personnel and remove your belongings from the premises. The Centre does not employ liars."

�More accurately,� I corrected inwardly, �The Centre doesn't employ people who lie to you and get caught. You probably can't swing a cat here without hitting a liar.�

"Johnson." Raines quiet voice drew Johnson's attention from where he stood at the foot of my bed studying my chart intently in a pathetic attempt to hide his interest in what was happening. "Is she fit?"

Johnson apparently suspected that Raines had more than a simple update of my status in mind because he hedged a little with his answer.

"She's still considerably underweight." He hedged nervously.

"Is she healthy otherwise?" Raines pressed.

Johnson reluctantly admitted that I was. I could tell that he wanted some excuse to say I needed to remain under his care----probably he knew that my recovery would be compromised under Raines' undivided attention, but there was no medical reason for me to remain under his constant supervision.

"In that case, your services are no longer needed here. You will return to your interrupted research. Your assistants have had no luck in continuing work on the enhanced memory agent and your genius has been wasted on this relatively trivial medical issue far too long."

Johnson clearly didn't agree but even he wasn't stupid enough to think he could argue with Raines. He ducked his head submissively, gave me a quick, troubled look, and left the room, setting my chart down on the bed before he left.

"Well, Eve." Raines broke the silence that followed. "It's just you and me now." This observation failed to cheer me but my obvious discomfort seemed to please Raines immeasurably.

"Follow me, girl." He ordered curtly, walking toward the door without a glance to see if obeyed.

He'd summed me up that first visit, I knew. We were both aware that I was afraid of him and that I wasn't about to risk angering him. I wondered, not for the first time, why the accident hadn't thrown me into a totally unfamiliar reality instead of one where I knew just enough to get me in serious trouble.

I followed him down a confusing maze of corridors to an elevator and then through yet another maze of hallways. As we passed the occasional white coated employee I was grateful that I at least had been allowed to start wearing the dark blue drawstring pants and shapeless shirt that were standard long-term, hospital patient garb. A backless hospital gown would have been far too humiliating while walking through the Centre. The large garments were dehumanizing enough.

I ruthlessly suppressed the fleeting thought that this would be a good time to attempt an escape, with only Dr. Raines' feeble presence to keep me in line. Not only was I completely lost inside this huge building, but I was also dressed in a fashion guaranteed to make me stand out like a sore thumb even if I did, by some miracle, manage to escape the building.

I had a strong suspicion, as well, that Raines had chosen this situation precisely to see if I did make an attempt to escape. I'd cooperated completely up to this point, but, unlike the others involved with me, Raines didn't underestimate my intelligence. He knew that I had to have a pretty good idea of what he had planned for me and he further knew that I wasn't likely to be thrilled at the prospect. Apparently he wanted more evidence that I was resigned to my fate. Or maybe he just enjoyed playing mind games.

Raines was completely silent as we traversed the halls. He ignored me utterly, most likely as an object lesson on my status as a non-entity. It was effective. Even though I knew that Raines was trying to destroy my self-esteem, to tear down any shred of individual initiative, I was unable to prevent myself from feelings of inadequacy and despair. It was a relief when he finally stopped and opened an anonymous door even though I knew this would be my prison cell.

It led to a rectangular, cell like room. I recognized it as being identical to the rooms that had held Jarod and the other children of the Pretender project. The room had a hard, narrow cot with an unadorned wool blanket and thin pillow. There was a small desk with a simple wooden chair, and a large mirror built into the wall over the desk. I was sure that the mirror was really a one-way window and felt my unease grow at the knowledge that I could be watched now from just outside my room. To distract my thoughts I switched to wondering if I was in the Pretender project area or in the re-education wing. My apprehension grew as I remembered that Raines could always decide to brainwash me, if he wanted to be certain of my total cooperation.

"Sit." Raines ordered briefly.

I felt like a well-trained dog as I seated myself at the desk and picked up the pen that lay next to a yellow legal pad.

"You are remarkably cooperative for a person in your situation." Raines said idly, seating himself behind me on the cot. "I would have expected rebellion, tears, maybe even a hunger strike. At the very least, I should think you would have subjected us to an attempt to convince us that we couldn't possibly get away with this. The average person is depressingly unaware of what an illusion their so called "rights" really are. Your lack of voice does not adequately explain your behavior." He continued, almost as if he were musing to himself. I knew better, though. Raines was building up to something.

"There is also your dramatic reaction the first time you saw me. As if you knew something about me that frightened you, even though I know that we have never met. And your knowledge that you were monitored in your medical room, even though great care has been taken to hide that camera. Perhaps you would care to enlighten me?"

�Well, no, not really.� my irrepressible alter ego thought disrespectfully.

The real me trembled with indecision, my mouth dry with apprehension. Would he believe me if I told him the truth? I knew that nothing less would convince him---as bizarre as my story would seem, nothing else was even remotely possible.

"I will not ask again, girl." He said, his blandness once again more frightening than an open threat. I began to write.

"I recognized you as a character from a television program I like to watch. I thought I had lost my mind."

"Parallel world?" Raines was far more willing to believe than I had hoped. "Tell me precisely what you know." He ordered after a moments thought.

"You are a member of a mysterious organization. I suspect that this is The Centre, in Blue Cove, Delaware. This organization kidnapped a little boy named Jarod from his family a long time ago so you could exploit his genius. He escaped and you want him back." I summarized, hoping that it would satisfy him.

"You know more than that." Raines guessed shrewdly. "You've cooperated entirely too willingly. You're afraid of me and Johnson and Lisa swear that they've never even mention me to you."

I nodded my head slowly hoping he couldn't tell how hard my heart was pounding just then. It was tolerable for him to know I was afraid, but not for him to know just how afraid. So goes the reasoning of the helpless, trying to hang onto some control, no matter how insignificant.

"I know about Angelo, the experiments you conducted on Jarod where you killed him, that you are not handicapped by remorse or pity." I showed him the answer on my pad, hoping that he wouldn't need to know more. I wasn't even sure at this point if I could remember much more of the show than I had already told him. I was too nervous to think.

"You know me well." He admitted. I thought I caught an undercurrent of pride in his response.

"There's more, I'm sure, but you've told me enough, for now at least." He told me casually. "You know too much to be trusted on the outside, as bait for a trap. I suspect you are far too sympathetic to Jarod's cause. On the other hand, you have Jarod's rare blood type, eliminating a host of reproductive complications, and you carry most of the genetic codes that we believe produced him in the first place. You will still be useful as the mother of his child."

I put my head down on my knees weakly as shock caused the blood to drain from my face. I wasn't shocked at the plan Raines had just revealed he had for me; there had been too many unsubtle hints for me to be surprised about that. No, my shock was because my blood type was O+, not AB-, as I knew Jarod's was supposed to be. How had that changed? Not even a complete blood replacement---extremely risky in it's own right---could have changed my blood type. The face in the one-way mirror had looked like mine, even if my short hair now curled and had more red in it than brown. Who was I now, really?

"Not expecting that news?" He studied me dispassionately. "Why? You must have known that we'd never have spent the time and effort to nurse you the health if you weren't special."

"My blood type is O+." I wrote with a shaking hand.

"Not anymore." Raines smiled complacently. "Very odd. I shall have to consult Allen and Walsh, but I suspect that you merged, on a cellular level, with the fetus that Walsh engineered. That would explain the anomalies we detected in the DNA scan."

I shook my head, half in denial, half in an attempt to shake off the dizziness this conversation had produced.

"You don't really exist, Eve. You might as well accept that now. We created you. Even if you managed to actually escape this place, you'd be recaptured in days, maybe even hours. Without an identity, you couldn't even get a job to feed yourself." Raines got to the point of our conversation in a relentless barrage of statements designed impress upon me the utter hopelessness of my situation. "I can, and will, do anything to you I desire, and no one will ever lift a finger to help you. However, I am not an unreasonable man. I am willing to give you an opportunity to prove your worth to me. I treat those I find useful quite well, you know."

No, I didn't know that. I'd seen him destroy at least three young lives on the show and every one of those children could have been useful to him if treated with simple respect. He eyed me shrewdly before going on.

"Sydney may delude himself that Jarod can still be convinced to cooperate with us when we recapture him," he went on, once again as though talking to himself. "But I know better. Without an extraordinary incentive the boy simply will not cooperate. Even with his own children as hostages we'd have to supervise him every moment to prevent sabotage and escape attempts. However," Raines' fixed a demanding look on me. "With the help of someone close to him, say the mother of his children, we might just get some use out of him while we wait for the children to grow up enough to be productive. With the correct encouragement he might even be convinced to help us to train them."

�They don't have him.� I told myself encouragingly, willing away the horror and nausea that the picture of servitude and torment Raines was painting raised in my heart. �They can't do anything without him and he could possibly elude them forever.�

"No, Eve, he won't." Raines seemed to read my thoughts with terrifying ease. "He may be a genius but his Achilles' heel is his obsession for righting injustices. I've already set several traps with bait that he will find irresistible. He'll try to save one unfortunate too many and once again be in our possession, undoubtedly before the year is out. And this time he won't have the opportunity to escape again, if I have to keep him drugged senseless day and night to accomplish it."

I clung to my faith in Jarod's cleverness anyway, even though I'd often wondered why the Centre hadn't tried just such a trap to capture Jarod in the past. I had to believe that Jarod would never be captured---the alternative was unthinkable.

"You'll lose that unwarranted faith in the boy soon enough." He told me coldly, once again reading my expression all too accurately. "And when you do, I just hope that you will be ready to consider my offer. If you cooperate and engage his affections---I'm sure you'd know how to do that---then your life will be significantly improved. While you're considering your options, remember that you'll be doing the boy a favor, as well. His life will also be improved if he's a productive member of the team. I might even allow you some say in the upbringing of the children." He smiled blandly at me, sure of the success of his arguments---or maybe he was just sure of the superiority of his position.

I shrank back from the fiend sitting on the cot, not able to even attempt to hide my horrified denial. How could he even contemplate that I would be a part of that kind of emotional blackmail? Even if Jarod was a total stranger to me, he was discussing training children---my children, if he had his way----to be virtual slaves.

"In the meantime, you will continue to rebuild your strength." He ignored my reaction with the confidence of the one holding the winning hand. " And reflect on what I've said. Life could be considerably better, or considerably worse, depending on whether you choose to be sensible or not. Don't kid yourself. You've had it downright easy up until now. You don't want to know how bad it can be."

I brooded on Raines' message in the oppressive silence that filled the cell after his departure. He was totally wrong when he implied I had no idea how bad things could be. I had a pretty good idea of the arguments Raines could use to convince me that life would be better serving him than it would be standing on my ethics. Physical violence would only be the first step in his campaign; I would be open to the same emotional torture he planned for Jarod, should I ever actually conceive a child. After my emotional response to his plans he couldn't possibly miss how strongly I felt about the well being of my children.

Now I wondered how long I had before he demanded an answer from me.

�And even if I do agree to cooperate, would he trust in an agreement obtained by threats? Why doesn't he just have me brainwashed and get it over with? Maybe he thinks Jarod could detect brainwashing----but wouldn't he see coercion as easily?�

I finally dropped the entire dilemma, deciding I couldn't figure it out on my own, and spent the next few hours adapting my Katas for the tiny space I now had to work with. I worked myself to a state of complete exhaustion, trying to stave off unanswerable questions and speculations. It didn't work.

My sleep was tormented by nightmares full of crying babies and menacing, faceless men. I awoke repeatedly, bathed in sweat. The fact that the light in my cell never changed made it hard to tell how much time had passed. Finally, I got up again and repeated my Katas until I couldn't stand up anymore. I still couldn't sleep.

�So he's begun the mental arguments.� I conjectured, lying on the cot and trying to relax enough to drift off. �He obviously doesn't have much faith in the possibility that I'll cooperate willingly.�

�And he's right, isn't he?� The other me pointed out sensibly.

�But light 24 hours a day, while a nuisance, is hardly torture. I wonder how long it'll be before the next level of intimidation begins?�

�Don't be in such a rush.� My sensible side pointed out. �It's not like you're going to enjoy it when it happens.�

Sometimes I can really irritate myself.

I don't know how long it was. Meals were served several times, but I couldn't detect a pattern that would indicate the passage of time. I developed a routine consisting of a frantic period of physical activity followed by an attempt to sleep. I ate when I was hungry and had food available and ignored the meal if I wasn't hungry. And I worried, and fretted, and eventually started losing weight that I couldn't afford to lose. Finally, I started ignoring food, sleep, and exercise and just lay on the cot, watching the ceiling and concentrating on not thinking.

When Lyle entered my small cell I thought I drifted off and was in the middle of another nightmare, so didn't move from where I lay on the cot. Lately it had become difficult to find the energy to move anyway. A casually cruel backhanded slap split my lip and convinced me that I was awake. Suddenly I had energy again and I scrambled up and backed into the corner of the cot, pushing my thin pillow on the floor in the process.

"Hello, Eve." He smiled, a charming, open expression that was diametrically opposed to the cruelty in his eyes.

I huddled with my back pressed into the corner and my arms clutched protectively around my knees. Later I realized that I'd instinctively chosen that position because it allowed me to protect the most vulnerable parts of my body.

"I won't expect you to answer me," he continued, his voice as affable and casual as if he were visiting with a good friend. "Raines explained that you've---lost---your voice."

I watched him, feeling like a trapped animal waiting for slaughter. Once again I cursed my foreknowledge of the character of the people around me. If I'd been ignorant of Lyle's penchant for cruelty and violence I wouldn't have been nearly as frightened.

�Now begins the physical argument.� My ever-calm internal companion offered as a matter of fact.

�I know that, you moron!� I screamed at myself. �Now tell me something useful!�

"He asked me to stop by and explain to you just how bad life can be." He confided, seating himself next to me on the cot and running a gentle finger along the red mark his hand had left on my cheek.

I flinched back, straining away until my head came against the wall beside me. My eyes were closed, anticipating another blow, but instead his finger came to rest on the trickle of blood oozing from my lip. He wiped it off with his index finger and my eyes flew open in shock as he studied the bright red fluid with frightening fascination.

"You see," he fixed a mesmerizing stare on me, "I do so enjoy convincing people to cooperate."

He held my horrified gaze as he slowly licked the blood off the tip of his finger. My heart was beating so hard that my entire body shuddered with each beat and my stomach rolled queasily. His gambit had succeeded---I was completely terrified.

I could feel my mind retreating as Lyle slowly stood, pulling me up from the cot with an iron grip on my upper arm. By the time the first blow fell I was almost completely removed from everything connected to my body. I observed the brutality of the next several minutes from a safe place outside my body, grateful that I'd discovered that trick of detachment many years ago.

I eventually blacked out. I still don't know if I fainted, or was knocked out, or if I just simply willed my mind to completely shut down. All I know it that the next thing I was aware of was the cold cement floor pressing against my cheek and a medley of painful sensations.

"Oh my God, Eve! What happened to you?" Johnson's absurdly young voice penetrated the red fog of pain that surrounded me.

�Funny,� my irrepressible alter ego mused, �I didn't remember that pain is red.�

I felt myself being lifted and laid on the narrow cot.

"Eve, Eve! Look at me." He demanded insistently. "Tell me what hurts!"

�Everything!� I snapped in the privacy of my own mind. �And how the hell am I supposed to talk without a voice, you imbecile?�

Once again I wanted to slap some sense into him. I settled for prying open the one eye that wasn't swollen shut so that Johnson would know I at least heard and understood him, even though I wished he'd just go away and let me suffer in peace.

"Don't be absurd, Larry." Nurse Lisa's voice showed more animation, in her disgust, than I'd have thought she could stand. "Raines cut the girl's vocal chords, remember?"

"Eve?" Her gentle voice and touch on my battered face drew my attention. "Can you show us where it hurts the worst?"

I forced myself to sit up, wincing as every movement brought more bruises to my attention. Lisa, wisely, held Johnson back from helping me. Lyle had done a good job and very little of my body remained unblemished. His help would have hurt worse than the actual movements. I knew that my face was puffy and discolored and I suspected that lip-reading would be pretty hopeless at the moment, so I mimicked writing. Lisa immediately handed me the legal pad and pen from the desk.

"I'm going to hurt for some time, but nothing is broken." I wrote, using my left hand because my right wrist ached abominably. I wondered, faintly, just how I'd managed to sprain it. "I'm sure Raines ordered Lyle not to do any permanent damage." I added as a matter of fact.

"Raines ordered this?" Once again Lisa and I exchanged speaking looks. I was finally starting to understand the silent message the nurse had tried to give me when I first woke up. Maybe if I'd understood then how dangerous actual intelligence was going to turn out to be for me, I would have pretended to be the vegetable they'd all wanted.

"You'd have done better to play dumb." She whispered in a barely audible voice, using the excuse of examining a bump on my scalp to put her lips near my ear and confirming my prior thought.

I couldn't argue with that.

"There isn't much we can do, Dr. Johnson." Now Lisa retreated to her cold nurse's persona, but I could still see sympathy lurking in her eyes. I guess acting ability is definitely an asset when you work for the Centre. "It appears to mostly be fairly superficial contusions."

"Let's get some ice packs on the worst of the bruises, and definitely on that eye," Johnson responded, functioning much better now that he was acting within familiar parameters. "And we'd better put some antiseptic on the broken skin." He pulled a pencil thin flashlight out of his pocket and began checking the responsiveness of my pupils.

Lisa nodded, pulling an ice pack off of the small cart that they had brought with them.

"I'm really sorry about this, Eve." He told me, gently pressing the ice to my right eye, which had swollen shut.

I shook my head slightly, it wasn't his fault after all, but I don't know if he understood my silent message. As I may have already mentioned, he wasn't the most perceptive man around. When I lifted my left hand awkwardly across my face to hold the pack Johnson finally registered that I was protecting my right.

"Damn!" He growled, pulling my arm forward probing the swollen flesh. I pulled back, instinctively trying to push him away from me and stop the pain his prodding awakened in the abused joint.

"Stop it, Eve!" He muttered. "I need to know if it's broken." He fended off my initial jerk for freedom easily.

He was stronger than I wanted to give him credit for! The probing gentled, though, in response to my silent protest. I tapped him on the shoulder, getting his attention, and spelled the word, s-p-r-a-i-n-e-d, with my left hand.

"We're going to have to x-ray this wrist." Johnson called over his shoulder to Lisa, ignoring my diagnosis. "I need a wheelchair."

Eventually the poking and prodding was finished and I was returned to my Spartan cell. The sprained wrist had been wrapped with an ace bandage and lay on an ice pack, another ice pack rested once again on the badly blackened eye, and the rest of my body ached with varying degrees of intensity. Raines had refused Johnson's request to give me a painkiller, condescending to explain that a painkiller would nullify the effect of the lesson.

"I want her to remember this." He'd announced---his voice as dry as fall leaves.

I watched sympathetically as another rampart in Johnson's wall of obtuseness crumbled and fell. It was strange, but I almost felt guilty to be the catalyst that tore away the stubborn ignorance he'd surrounded himself with. I had to keep reminding myself he'd have eventually been confronted reality anyway. No one could work for the Centre and remain as naive as Johnson forever.

I carefully kept my sympathy to myself, however. I didn't want to give Raines any more ammunition against either of us and I knew he was watching me carefully. I wondered what he was making of the fact that my face was set in a grim mask of neutrality.

It was involuntary, a response pounded into me with years of abuse. I could have no more shown emotion at that point than I could fly. But Raines was a gifted sadist, I knew. He'd be reading something into my reaction, or lack thereof.

�Now what?� My internal companion questioned calmly as soon as the door closed behind the others, giving me the solitude I desired so fervently. That aspect of my internal self never felt fear, or pain, or anger---she just carried on through every disaster in my life, watching and commenting.

�Yes,� I answered myself, �Now what?�

�Well you'd better figure out what he wants, and give it to him, or you know Lyle will be back.�

We know what he wants! He wants us to sell our soul, Jarod, and our possible children to this place! We can�t give him that.�

�No,� my other self agreed. �We can't give up our soul or children, but Jarod�s a big boy, why can�t we sell him to them for our safety?�

�Because if we did we�d be no better than they are.�

�So? We�d be alive, at least.� My alter ego insisted.

�I don�t want to live if it means I have to become like them. Go away---I'm going to rest.�

I pushed away the skeptical, analytical portion of my mind and rolled over on my side to face the wall, protecting myself at least a little from prying eyes. Then I reached backward in my mind, far back to a beautiful place I'd created for myself when I was 8 years old and needed to escape an ugly reality. It was still there.

I could smell the apple and cherry blossoms and I walked in the sun-dappled orchard, enjoying the gentle breeze in my hair and the golden rays on my skin. I found my favorite tree and climbed it, settling into the wide crotch that was higher than the tallest man I knew. I was safe again and pain was just a distant memory as I drifted gently to sleep.

I was pulled from my rest long before I wanted to awaken by the conviction that I was no longer alone. I rolled over on the cot, ignoring countless messages of pain from every part of my body, and saw Raines sitting patiently in the hard wooden chair. My heart lurched painfully; would his presence trigger another session with Lyle?

My face, however, remained frozen into the same blank lines that had claimed it immediately after the beating. I sat up slowly, preferring to deal with whatever was coming next from an upright position, pulling unconsciously back into the corner of the cot again.

"I find your reactions, or rather, your lack of reactions, most intriguing, young Eve." Raines began abruptly, his reptile cold eyes fixed on me intently.

Once again my heart lurched, but I revealed the renewed fear with only the barest flicker of my eyes.

"You respond to violence like a veteran. The way you sit--in a corner, huddled up to present the least possible open area, your lack of expression, falling asleep after an encounter guaranteed to leave you weeping in a corner for days---who trained you?" I pulled my eyes up from where they'd drifted to the floor to Raines face. Surely he didn't expect me to answer that? Yes, the gently inquisitive look on his face proclaimed, he did.

I knew the sign for "father" and I quickly made it, looking firmly at the floor. I didn't want to see the comprehension in his eyes or see him plotting to use it to his benefit.

"I see." I heard the understanding that I was trying to avoid in his voice. "Well, it would seem you know how to play the game then."

�It's not a game from my end.� I thought resentfully, eyes still prudently focused downward.

"Look at me, girl!" Raines demanded sharply.

My snapped up; my body remembered that tone of voice and how one should respond to it.

"You realize this changes things, don't you?" He asked me, genial now that his authority had been confirmed. I stared stonily at him, making no response, but he didn't really seem to need one.

"I imagine that you already know too much about pain to be properly trained." He mused. "You'd pretend to cooperate, just as you've done since the first day you saw me, but I see the rebellion in your eyes, girl. You're simply biding your time."

His eyes narrowed as he examined me intently, looking for something inside me, but I couldn't guess what. My face remained set in stone.

"Fear will only motivate you if the threat is imminent, but as soon as we leave the room you will return to your plotting. I'm not even sure we could re-educate you properly." He used the Centre's sanitized term for brainwashing blithely, making my jaw clench in an effort to remain blank. "However, you do bruise well." He looked at my mottled skin like an artist contemplating a painting.

"Very well, Eve, I'll just have to make use of you as you are. I think your natural personality will be quite effective as it is, in fact, this might possibly be better. You've already won the sympathies of both Johnson and Lisa---and I thought Lisa was downright invulnerable---with your fragile air of stubbornness."

Raines paused, making me think it was simply second nature for him to look for a reaction in his victims. Finding no response, or at least not the one he wanted, he prodded at my emotions again.

"Jarod's protective instincts won't stand a chance against your pathetic little, I-can-handle-it-myself attitude. He'll find himself doing anything to spare you more pain. Yes, I think this will work out quite well. You just rest now." He chuckled shortly. "I'm sending a hot drink to you--make sure you get it all down." He ordered from the doorway. I was looking at the floor again, jaw clenched so tightly that my molars hurt, but I gave a brief nod, acknowledging his order.

"That's my girl!" He approved, shutting the door behind him with a decisive click.

�Now what?� My alter ego demanded in the silence that followed.

�SHUT UP!� I told it firmly.

The hot drink was an herbal tea of some sort. Usually I love herbal teas but this one was tongue numbingly bitter. I followed directions, though, and drank it all. My suspicion that it was drugged was confirmed as a strange lassitude swept over me in the minutes that followed. I didn't even try to resist sleep as crept irresistibly closer. I didn't want to think, I didn't want to hurt, and I found myself once again praying that I'd just wake up in my own bed as I sank into oblivion.

This time when I awakened I was in a queen-sized bed, in a room that seemed so normal that I believed, just for a moment, that I had dreamed the entire nightmare episode and was now back to my real life. Bruises and hot, swollen welts, however, swiftly convinced me otherwise.

I hissed through my teeth as I cautiously pulled myself into a sitting position.

Tender skin pulled over contusions, threatened to break where it had scabbed over, and reminded me why I avoided men wherever possible. I associated these sensations with men, which made it amazingly easy to remain single and unattached.

�Now why did they move me? And why while I was out?� I wondered, looking around the large room as soon as I'd reached an upright position. My new accommodations were the proverbial guilded cage.

Ah, yes. I had forgotten. Never pass up the opportunity to impress upon the subject her total state of helplessness. The sooner you convince her she can't resist your power the sooner you can start thinking for her.

�Sorry, Raines, no go. Been there. Done that. Bought the T-shirt, even. I do my own thinking.� I told him silently. �I�ll admit that you scare me---I might even be scared enough to do almost anything you want me to, but I do my own thinking!� I clung to that conviction tightly.

I knew that the more I moved the easier it would become, so I forced myself to stand up and begin exploring my new quarters. It was easily ten times larger than the previous room and the two doors on different walls hinted that I might even have a suite! I went to a pair of blue velvet curtains on the far wall and pulled them back to reveal a painting of a scenic view of the ocean.

�Only in the Centre.� I thought with disgust. �Why have real windows when you can have fake ones?�

I realized that I was undoubtedly still in the extensive underground portion of the Centre, but still, why pretend there was a window at all? I left the curtains open; at least the picture was pretty.

An expensive wardrobe was waiting in the double closet. It was a little large, but no doubt intended to fit me after I'd put on some needed weight, but the clothing was of the highest quality. I finally noticed the long, white silk nightgown I wore, feeling a little queasy at the thought of someone handling me while I was unconscious. Who knows what they did to me while I was unaware?

�Ignore it.� My internal commentator advised. �There isn't a thing you can do about it now and worrying about "might haves" will only play into Raines' sick game.�

I continued my exploration, resolutely pushing apprehension to the back of my mind. There was a wide chest of drawers, with the mirrored back and triangular nick-knack shelves framing the mirror. The shelves had been decorated with delicate china figurines. The drawers contained jeans and T-shirts, exercise outfits in silk and Lycra and extensive array of lingerie.

The tall chest of drawers held men's clothing, as did the second half of the closet. Obviously this was where Raines intended Jarod and I to play house. I wondered if I was going to find a nursery on the other side of one of the two doors in the room. In a small room in the back of my mind panic beat frantically on the door I'd locked on it. Time was running out, I could feel it in my bones and I still had no idea what I could do about it.

The first door opened easily to my cautious touch--it had no lock. A larger room waited on the other side, set up like a living room. There was the typical couch, overstuffed with color coordinated pillows, an easy chair and a recliner, and coffee table in the center. No TV or radio, though, nothing to distract my mind with concepts of a life outside the Centre. Nor were there any books, magazines, papers, pencils, or anything else that might occupy my mind. Maybe Raines thought I'd find boredom more torturous than physical blows.

There was another door in the living room, on the wall directly opposite the one I'd entered through. It proved to be locked from the outside, so I returned to the bedroom to try the other door in it.

It was also sans lock and it opened to reveal a lovely bathroom with a large sunken tub and separate shower. The bathroom vanity had an array of bath oils, bubble bath, soaps, and after bath body sprays. I debated with myself for a moment---did I care that I had no way to ensure my privacy?

�No, not really.� I decided practically. After all, even if there was a lock on the bathroom door, there are undoubtedly cameras hidden everywhere.�

Mentally resigning whatever voyeur currently watching me to perdition, I chose a bath-oil scented with lilac and ran myself a hot bath.

In a short time my abused skin was soaking in the heat and soothing oils and my abused sensibilities were relaxing with the pampering. I took Raines advice, though, and didn't kid myself. I wasn't in any better situation than I had been in the little cell. I didn't know why Raines had chosen to improve my situation, but my feeling of imminent danger grew. I feared, greatly, that his trap was closing in on Jarod.

When I finally emerged I choose a loose, silk dress with a dropped waist, and long, flowing sleeves and slipped it on. I ran a brush through my short curls and re-entered the "living room", feeling almost human again. That lasted until I saw Lyle relaxing in the recliner.

I stopped dead in my tracks and swayed slightly with the shock. Lyle watched me with a small, self-satisfied smirk but he didn't move from his relaxed pose. I took a deep breath and forced my feet forward, settling into the easy chair that faced the recliner with the coffee table in between. This conversation would set the tone between the two of us most likely for the remainder of my stay in the Centre. I really wanted it to be a calm tone.

"Like your new accommodations?" He asked with a perfect imitation of friendly concern.

I nodded, knowing that my face showed my wariness, but unable to pull on my impassive mask. He'd caught me off guard, doubtlessly on purpose.

"Good, Raines was concerned that you find everything to your liking." Lyle went on. "You aren't to worry yourself about anything, just relax and heal over the next few days. Monday we'll begin visits to the gym."

Lyle rose abruptly in what I was sure was a deliberate attempt to trigger my flinching reflex. He wasn't disappointed.

"Also, you're to eat everything sent up, whether you want it or not. Apparently your dear friend, Dr. Johnson, is concerned by your failure to gain weight. He's quite worried that you'll become ill---which, of course, none of us wants."

He loomed over me, a deliberate ploy to intimidate with body language, and cupped my cheek in a sick parody of tenderness. I didn't move, physically, but I stilled as completely as a deer caught in the headlights of a car, withdrawing my mind to a quiet center that wasn't my safe place, but was a place where I could reach my refuge in a heartbeat if I needed to.

"And, Eve---." He breathed, his lips practically touching mine. "Don�t worry about this shyness of yours---I�ll be happy to help you get over it."

I stopped breathing, my mind on the verge of total flight, but he pulled back without actually touching me, the satisfied smirk back on his face.

"But not today." He decided smoothly. "You�re a little too damaged at this moment for my tastes."

So that's the tone he chosen to take.� I thought numbly. �Not just physical intimidation, no that would be too simple for Lyle. I wonder if this is Raines' idea or his?�

Satisfied that I was properly motivated to obey instructions, Lyle sauntered to the door, letting in some faceless flunky carrying my breakfast on a tray. He gave me a quick glare when I failed to move immediately toward the food, but seemed content when I correctly interpreted his look and hurried to the small table set against the far wall from the living room ensemble. I was studying my depressingly tasteless looking mush as he locked the door behind him and left.

My meals were delivered at regular times after that. Of course no one asked me what my preferences were. Raines took nutrition to the level of absurdity, not a refined sugar or deep-fried item to be found. At least he did include a few high calorie items like cheese and avocados, undoubtedly to help me put on weight. Actually, I considered myself fortunate to be served dairy foods at all; Raines had apparently decided I was going to be a vegetarian from now on, but I obediently ate every morsel, considering it a small sacrifice if it kept Lyle away from me.

After a week of excruciating boredom, I decided to rearrange my living room furniture to leave a wide-open space in the center, and began doing my Katas again. Lyle appeared while I was in the middle of "fukio-kata-di-nee". Moving through the familiar ritual had soothed my damaged self-esteem to the point that I had the courage to ignore him and continue with the ancient choreography.

It was a stupid act of defiance. Lyle pounced like cat, whipping one of my arms behind me and pulling it painfully up towards the shoulder. To make it even more painful, he was wrenching on my sprained wrist.

I was catapulted onto the couch with a powerful shove. Where I immediately rolled over and pushed myself up off of my back. I wasn't going allow myself to be brutalized while lying down.

Lyle towered over me, his handsome face red and contorted with a rage that petrified me. I edged slowly towards the far end of the sofa until he blocked me with an arm on either side of my head while he leaned in on me, practically touching my face with his. I realized that I'd pushed him too far with my minor rebellion and I wondered at that moment if I was going to survive this encounter.

"Hold still, woman!" He hissed malevolently

He pulled back far enough to deliver a vicious backhanded slap, so angry that he didn't even realize that I minimized the impact by rolling my head with the blow. He got a good grip on the short curls at the nape of my neck and held my head fast.

My ever-calm observer pointed out that at least if he killed me I wouldn't have to worry about getting hit again.

�Raines would probably kill him if he damaged the prize cow. That's worth dying for, right?� It added cheerfully.

"I was called away from my very pleasurable personal life to deal with your delusions of independence." He went on, shaking my head for emphasis from time to time. "Now, I don't like to have my free time interrupted, so pay attention!

"You-have-no-thoughts. You-have-no-mind. You-have-no-wants,-needs,-or-desires. Do. You. Understand?"

The final rattling of my head was so vigorous that he pulled out a handful of hair. He resumed his grip immediately, though, forcing me to pull painfully against the tension to nod my head.

"That's better." He finally released my hair, leaning in on me and bracing himself against the back of the couch.

He had his rage under control now, but his lips were still pinched so tightly the corners were white and his eyes still smoldered balefully.

"Now let's go over this little lesson, shall we? Do you rearrange furniture?"

I shook my head, "no".

"Do you ever ignore my presence?"

This question was accompanied by the weight of his free hand on my neck, fingers clenched tight enough to make it hard to breathe. I shook my head again, thoroughly cowed.

"Very good!" My neck was released to pat my cheek sharply enough to sting. "Now---pay close attention to this part---I may have been kind enough to give you a break this time; in the interests of allowing your bruises to heal, but don't imagine for a moment that I won�t happily beat you within an inch of your life if you cross me again. I can, and will, make your life such a living hell that you would cheerfully cut your own wrists to escape it if I am called upon to discipline you again.

"In fact, I�ll might just begin by educating you in the art of pleasing a man. After all, we can�t have Jarod thinking you�re some kind of a shrinking virgin, now can we? So, by all means let me know if you are finding your days to be boring. Got it?"

I nodded frantically, barely daring to breathe as he slowly lowered his head. He was only about two inches from my face when my resolve to remain still broke. I squeezed my eyes shut, pulling my face against the shoulder furthest from him and hunching the other shoulder in a useless attempt to block him from touching me.

Yes, I would have huddled into a pathetic ball of fear if I'd thought for an instant that Lyle would have let me get away with it.

"No, my dear, that's not the way at all." He chuckled ominously, his breath hot on my cheek as he spoke.

He drew his mouth along the throbbing vein in my neck in a sick parody of affection, making me shudder with fear and revulsion. My abject terror seemed to please him and excite him simultaneously, and my shudder became a constant trembling as he drew my face around to his with one finger.

"Relax." He advised me huskily, capturing my numb lips with his own. "This is just a taste of what�s to come. Something to tide you over when Jarod�s here."

He released me then, pleased with the tears leaking down my cheeks. Hoping it wouldn't trigger another assault, but unable to stop myself, I huddled into the corner of the couch, knees drawn up and encircled by my arms and my face buried firmly behind the knees. His voice was completely calm, even pleasant, as he bid me good day and headed for the door.

"Don't worry, Eve. I�ll find the time to come again and visit you soon." Lyle promised cheerfully from the doorway. "You�ll hardly have time to miss me." He added just before he pulled the door shut behind him. His chuckle turned into a full-fledged laugh as I shuddered again, still huddled into a ball of misery.

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Ending Two

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