Modulation

Sydney Alexis

I [One]

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Paramount owns everything but the idea.

Clarification: In music, modulation is employed when one is changing keys/tonal centers within a piece. Thus, the feel, idea, and emotion in the piece can change from a depressed to a happy sound.

Challenge #22: [from Angela Drews] Write a story in which the first line is, 'He could hear her screams and his heart raced.' Can be frightening, romantic, funny, sweet, whatever your imagination creates.

He could hear her screams and his heart raced. They were pained and sounded more like a threnody for the spirit that was slowly being sucked from her. As it echoed down the corridor and into his cell, Tom tried to cover his ears to hide from the sound. Each one grew more frantic as the torturing session continued, and each succeeded in making his heart ache. He knew that she was of strong will, but her body was frail in comparison. A few more sessions like this one...

She had stepped in the way of a guard's attack on another crew member today. This wasn't the first time she had been beaten for interceding, and it probably wouldn't be the last. As much as Tom had pleaded with her, she would invariably step in the way.

A heavy door slammed shut somewhere down the hall. The cacophony of un-oiled iron hinges creaking against each other followed by a guard's distant growl confirmed there was a prisoner on the row. The sound of shackles being drug along the floor grew louder as they approached. Tom felt his heart beat quicken at the sound, terrified by condition she would be in when they returned her. The massive iron door swung open and two heavy-set guards threw her into the cell.

Captain Kathryn Janeway fell to her knees; the pain too intense to remain standing. She was slowly giving into the dark light that was enveloping her. It offered a warm place to hide where there was no pain, hunger, moans from injured crewmen, and no guards to come for her in the morning. Closing her eyes, she lay down on the cold cement floor.

Tom pulled her limp body against his. His hands slowly stroked her hair as he hummed softly to her. Over the weeks they had been trapped, it had become a ritual to force her to stay with him. A gentle reminder that he was as dependent on her as she was on him.

The cell they were held in was small, no more than five feet by seven, and damp. A tiny, barred window was their only reminder that there was life outside of this prison. Early morning light would filter down through it, and, sometimes, at night, they could see a star filled sky. It taunted them, offering brief glimpses of what they had lost months before.

Food, in the form of watered down broth, came only twice a week. In the early days, they had refused it, worried that it was poisoned. However, current circumstances were such that it no longer mattered. The crew had all but given up hope, believing instead that the only escape would come in the form of death.

As he held her, he couldn't help but notice how thin she had grown. A direct result of the lack of food and the amount of work they were forced into doing. The punishment was direct; anyone not willing to work would be executed along with everyone on their cell block.

Tom slid his hand along her back, noting that he could feel each and every rib's outline perfectly as well as the scars from brutal beating she had received in the past. Kathryn began to stir lightly at his touch.

"Rest. There is still a few more hours before morning," Tom whispered. Kathryn moaned lightly.

"The guards found the tunnel that B'Elanna and Harry had been burrowing at night. Their cell block...," she stopped.

"I know," Tom said softly.

Morning came quickly just as it always did. A screech from the loudspeaker filled the compound, awaking the prisoners. The cell doors all slid open, and each inmate filed out into the main cell block.

"Roll call. Line up in five's," the lead guard barked towards the crew.

Row after row, person after person, began to call out their number. The Kamien had deemed it 'the most efficient way of keeping track of their herd.'

The lead guard, Kenoshia, began to pace behind his podium. To his left, gallows stood prepped with eight nooses. A smug smile tugged at his lips as the blurry eyed crew stared at his latest form of punishment.

"Yesterday, we discovered a tunnel that lead from cell block E towards the main gate. Those in that cell, numbers...," He stopped, checking his notes for accuracy and a dramatic pause, "120 and 121 have been...dealt with. According to Her Royal Highness's rules, everyone else on that cell block must die. Numbers 122 through 130 please step forward and form a straight line."

A murmur fell across the crowd as they stepped forward. Kathryn's eyes strained against the blinding sun to make out their faces as they marched up the steps of the gallows. Ensign Kellerman, Lt. Daniel, Crewman Dunst, Crewman Holmes, Ensign Puccini, Crewman Gano, Sam Wildman and....

"Naomi," she whispered.

Anger surged through her. She had witnessed too many beatings, trying to be indifferent to them all so that no one else would be hurt, but somehow, ending the life of Naomi was something she couldn't bear to see. Naomi was an innocent. Her hands bore none of the stains of sin that any of the other crew members. She was barely able to climb up the steps...Kathryn took a step forward from the line. Tom reached out and grabbed at her hand.

"Kathryn, please..."

Kathryn smiled at Tom. A few months ago she would have scolded him for using her first name in front of the crew, but here all decorum was irrelevant. The only rule that seemed to preside over this place was survival of the fittest.

"I have to. She's just a little girl..."

Tom gave her a fearful look and then nodded slowly. She left the line and moved towards the gallows. Her path was cut short by the butt of a phaser rifle to the back of her head. She fell to the ground, surrounded by the familiar blackness.

"Well, well. It's my lucky day. Your captain seems to wish to take your places. Release them," the lead guard yelled.

Pain spread across her back as the familiar sting of the lead guard's bull whip kissed her flesh again. Kathryn could feel blood pouring freely from her wounds.

Her wrists ached from the weight of her body. They were bound into cuffs as she dangled helpless from the wall. The floor was just a few millimeters out of reach. It taunted her as mercilessly as the guards did.

Kathryn's throat had long since grown raw from screaming, an action she did not recall doing. Breathing was becoming more difficult as was ability to focus in on what was happening.

Another order was being barked out by Kenoshia. A hypospray was being placed against her neck. Darkness slipped into her subconscious. It called to her, offering freedom. This time, she gave in.

Tom began to pace his cell. Kathryn had been taken a little before sunset, and it was nearly morning. His mind was filled with ideas of what had happened to her. For the first few hours, he had heard her screams, but they suddenly grew silent.

He clamped his eyes shut trying to avoid the images that were flowing through his mind. This place brought up old demons in him. The cell was too close to the one he'd lived in while in New Zealand. The walls seemed to be moving in on him. Never had he noticed how truly small the room was until now.

"She can't be dead," he said, leaning against the back wall. "She just can't."

Tom sank down onto the floor, too weak to stand. He eyes began to film over; a haze covered them half from exhaustion half from tears. As much as he hated to admit it, Kathryn was his great hope. His voice of reason that kept him sane within these walls. She'd saved him from his old life and offered him a new one. Helpless...he felt utterly helpless.

Seven years of memories he had shared with her filtered through his mind. The numerous pool games she had won, her chiding him for the sign at Sullivan's, the reassurance she offered him every shift as she placed her hand on his shoulder, the pain in her eyes as she removed his lieutenant's pip, and the mischievous grin when it was returned to him. Slowly, Tom began to realize he couldn't imagine a life without her.

Too wrapped up in his own thoughts, he hadn't heard the door to his cell creak open. A guard, dragging Kathryn behind him, throwing her lifeless body inside. She landed on the ground near Tom's feet.

She became only vaguely aware of her surroundings. The sound of a voice speaking to her softly. It was familiar..a man's voice.

"Kathryn, please wake up," the voice repeated. She could feel his hand on her face. It was warm and reassuring. She licked her lips. Her palette was greeted with the salty taste of sweat mixed with blood ...the lead guard's handiwork.

"Tom?" She said at just above a whisper.

She heard him sigh with relief before responding. He pulled her into his arms again. Placing her head against his chest, she could hear his heartbeat quicken. A smile tugged at her lips.

"I always did have that affect on you, didn't I?"

Tom laughed lightly. "You mean being able to put me into a panic about your well being?"

"Hmm..I was thinking more along the lines of making your heart beat faster," she said, laughing.

Kathryn felt Tom stiffen at her comment. Craning her neck to look up at him, she saw him crimsoning at her comment.

Kathryn raised an eyebrow. "Tom Paris at a loss for words?" She laughed at him lightly.

"I just never thought..." He said, voice trailing off.

"Never thought what?" she repeated.

He smiled at her. "I never thought that I would see you again."

"And leave you all alone to brood? Never."

Kathryn reached up and drew her hand along his cheek until she met his lips. Her thumb brushing against the soft tissue. She sighed lightly and lowered her hand.

"Kathryn? What's wrong?"

He ran his hand along her back, feeling the blood soaking through her uniform. His face instantly changed to one of utter concern.

She shook her head slowly. "There was just so many things I had thought would happen in my life..." Her voice trailing off.

Tom remained quiet and waited for her to continue. He drew her closer towards him to offer what little comfort he could.

"I always put my career ahead of my family life. It's just my personality; the need to be in control. Mark understood it, but hated it. Don't get me wrong. I don't regret my time on Voyager, but I always thought that I would have children, a husband...maybe even a desk job someday."

"Somehow I can't see you in a desk job," Tom said lightly.

"Well, it would be worth a try," she said laughing. "Anything would be an improvement to our current situation."

"Permission to speak candidly, Captain."

"Granted." She said, raising an eyebrow.

"Why didn't you ever date anyone on Voyager?"

She sighed sadly. Given their current situation, revealing too much wouldn't be out of the question. "I suppose protocol for one, and, two, who would want to? I'm grouchy, have a full schedule, am devoted to the ship first, and I wouldn't be objective towards that person."

"Why do you say that? I've never seen you make a decision based solely on emotion."

"Then how would you explain the demotion and the thirty days I gave you?" She replied. The words tumbled out before she could stop herself. Kathryn turned her gaze away, unable to meet his.

Tom reached out and touched her cheek lightly, turning her face back towards his. He smiled down at her, and kissed her lightly on the forehead.

"Stardate 54392.05. We stopped at an M class planet in the Garrent System. We were married on the holodeck in that beach resort program mine. We went against tradition and I wore that silly, red Hawaiian shirt and you had on a black one piece and a sarong that was in shades of red, orange, and yellow. Chakotay gave you away.

"We spent two glorious weeks on Takar before we returned to duty on Voyager. When you returned for your first shift, Harry announced your arrival on the bridge with 'Captain Paris on the bridge.'"

Kathryn raised an eyebrow and finally met his gaze. "Stardate 54392.05 we were no where near the Garrent System, and the only time I have been to that beach resort is when Neelix insisted on holding a morale party there."

"Surely you remember when I proposed to you. We were on the outskirts of Fair Haven, near the cliffs looking out on the water. The sun was setting in the distance, and the water was slowly turning from a deep blue to black. The wind was howling through the sea caves below. I remember how cold it was because I put my jacket on your shoulders. You turned away from me to look out at the ocean. I placed my hand on your face and stroked your hair lightly just as I've done every day that we have been here. I got down on my knee..."

Kathryn closed his eyes, not wanting him to see her cry. "None of that happened," she whispered. He pulled her her closer.

"It could have."

"Tom, you don't have to humor me."

"Who said I was humoring you?" Tom replied before drawing Kathryn into a kiss. She didn't protest nor did she back away. Instead, she gave in to him.

II [Two]

The duel suns of Kamien rose slowly over the mountains in the distance. Their light filtered in through the tiny window above them, waking Tom from his sleep. He found himself curled up against Kathryn. His arm draped over her protectively.

With the full light of the morning, he was able to survey her injuries easily. The fine porcelain color of her face was littered with angry cuts and bruises. Her left eye was nearly swollen shut, and there was a large cut on her lip. Her right cheek was battered, and a large gash extended from the bridge of her nose to her hairline. Blood has soaked onto the ground and caked her hair around the injury.

Kathryn's uniform jacket was in tatters in the corner. She'd discarded it in the night, leaving her in only her tank top. Her back was covered in welts. Each at varying stages of healing; some had formed into scars and others must have been received during last night's beating.

From her back, Tom's attention was drawn towards her wrists. They were also badly bruised and nearly twice the size they should be.

Sighing lightly, Tom began to stroke her hair as she started to sob in her sleep.

"What have they done to you?" He whispered.

He knew that she blamed herself for them being there. To be honest, it was no one's fault. The ship had been overpower by a fleet that drastically outnumbered them. Rather than killing the crew instantly, the Kamien Imperial Army had forced Voyager to land on the planet's surface. From there, every crew member was made to march through the mountains to this camp. The journey was over seventy miles long, and the guards sent to escort them had forced them to walk day and night with little to no rest. In all honesty, it had foreshadowed the treatment to come.

Upon their arrival at the camp, they were forced to work in factories, manufacturing weapons, torpedoes, uniforms, and build shuttle crafts. Each member of the crew was expected to work from dusk to dawn with only a ten minute break for lunch. The factories themselves were filthy. The walls and floor were sticky, presumably stained by the blood of those that came before. The Imperial Army hadn't even bothered to clean the walls.

Punishment in the camp was brutal and swift. Anyone attempting escape would be killed as would every member of their cell. Any member of the crew that fell ill was given only three days to recover, if they were not able to return to duties after that time, they were promptly executed. Interfering with the guards was grounds for a rather brutal beating. Their torture sessions would last anywhere from ten minutes to hours at a time, and would only end when the Imperial Guard Leader, Kenoshia, had had his fill for the day.

Kathryn had endured more of these beatings than any other member of her crew. At first, it was to protect them, but she soon realized the guards were starting to punish every member on her cell block for her actions. So, she had forced herself to remain indifferent. The good of the many outweighing the good of the few.

Just as she learned to choose when to interfere, she had also learned escape was next to impossible. However, this lesson came at a much higher price. Seventy crew members had paid for her orders with their lives. Each one made to dig a long, deep crevasse in the center of the encampment. All of them were sealed into coffins and buried alive. Their captors erected a forcefield around the area so that attempts to save them were futile. For hours those left above ground were forced to listen to the buried crewmember's screams. By dawn, only a few voices remained as they were marched out towards their work. At sunset, they were all silenced.

A chill ran through him as Tom recalled those events. Each day in this prison was a mixed blessing. To wake from sleep meant another another day had to be faced, but he also realized that he never would have truly met Kathryn if it hadn't been for their capture. She was bright, funny, and fought hard for her convictions. It was also this personality that lead to her beatings. A few more beatings like last nights...

When they had returned her from her latest torture session, it had taken her over three hours for her to regain consciousness. When she had come around, she had seemed more free in confessions. Their conversation had been sobering if nothing else. A smile tugged as his lips as he recalled the illusion he had painted for her. To be honest, it was one he had dreamt about as of late. At least in his dreams, he was free.

Tom noted that her breath was slowly growing more shallow as she began to wake. She sighed in contentment and turned towards him.

"Good morning, Mrs. Paris," he said, smiling.

"Good morning, Tom," she said, laughing lightly. "Still intent on claiming me for you own I see. As long as you don't start dragging me by my hair.."

"How do you feel?"

Kathryn pushed herself up into a sitting position, wincing in pain. "Never better."

"Maybe you should stay out of the Yard today. Stay in the cell and rest."

"I can't do that and you know it. The second I give up...,"

"You're made of flesh and blood not titanium. You can't keep this up forever."

"No one lives forever, Tom," she said defiantly.

"Don't you think I know that? I think about it every time that they haul you into that room. The only way I know you are still alive is when you scream...," he said, matching her tone, then softening he added, "I thought I'd lost you last night."

Kathryn lowered her gaze. At almost a whisper she replied. "We have to find a way out of here...or die trying."

III [Three]

The morning chime to report to roll call sounded before Tom could reply to Kathryn's comment. He merely sighed and smiled at her.

"Just promise me you'll be careful today?"

She nodded slowly and returned his smile.

As usual, they were lined up into rows of five. This morning, however, did not run as previous days had. The lead guard stepped back to allow another man to approach the remaining crew.

He was rather portly with jet black hair and citrine eyes. Like others of his species, he had an elongated face, large eyes, and a dark complexion. However, his manner of dress was more ornamented than the other guards. In his hands, he held a data padd and phaser.

"My name is G'tan Tumeric, leader of the Industrial Order. When I call out your name, please step forward. You will not be going to the Yard today. Not complying will mean death."

A slight murmur broke out among the rows. No one that had ever gone anywhere other than the Yard had returned.

"Silence!" Kenoshia barked from behind Tumeric.

Tom gripped Kathryn's hand, fearful of what would happen next. She returned his gaze, slipping on a calm fa�ade. Her eyes, however, betrayed her. The carefully veiled terror hiding behind them was unmistakable to Tom. He offered a weak smile of encouragement.

"We'll get through this," he whispered.

A large Imperial Guard moved from his position in front of Tom's cell block and punched him squarely in the ribs. "Kenoshia ordered your silence."

Tumeric cleared his throat. "Stand down soldier. An injured prisoner can only do half the work as an uninjured one."

The soldier nodded and stepped back in line. Tumeric returned his gaze to the data padd in his hand. "Sam Wildman, Seven of Nine, Thomas Paris, Vorik, and Kathryn Janeway," he paused until each of the five listed crewmembers stepped forward from the ranks and stood in a straight line before him. He regarded each for an equal amount of time. "You are to follow Kenoshia, here. Not complying will mean death. Any questions?"

They all shook their heads slowly in response.

"Good. I will see you all at the ship."

Taking a step back, he ordered the remainder of those left to report to their stations and disappeared into the guard's station.

A large shuttle pulled up into the center of camp. It was crude in formation and bore materials from several different kinds of ships. Some even resembled the remains of Borg vessels. The hatch in the back slowly opened, and all five crew members were loaded aboard and chained onto a narrow bench. Two guards climbed in with them and sealed the door shut.

Kathryn sank back into her place, regarding those in the shuttle with her. Every one of them looked malnourished. Their uniforms were tattered and most had blood caked upon them. Sam's hands were full of cuts and bruises from the sewing machinery they forced her to work. Kathryn had remembered her comment on how unbelievable it was that a culture this far advanced didn't have replicators yet.

After the transport was underway, Tom leaned towards Kathryn. "Did he say ship?" He whispered.

"I think so, but I wouldn't get my hopes up."

"Perhaps they need assistance scrubbing down their plasma manifolds," Sam said, bitterly.

"Regardless, we should try and collect any and all data we can while aboard," Seven said.

"Agreed. Try to run sensors sweeps to find out what their security is on the camp. If we manage to find the frequency that the forcefield is on...," Kathryn started to say.

"Quiet!" The guard yelled from his seat nearby.

The hatch to the back of the shuttle opened, and the small group were greeted by the sight of a Kamien vessel. It was roughly twice the size of Voyager, clay in color, and pear-shaped in design. A good portion of her was still intact, but a large portion of her was blackened from the phaser fire.

"Glad to see you all made the transport in one piece. We've been having difficulties with that one...," Tumeric said, laughing.

"Why have you brought us here?" Kathryn said, stepped forward. She placed her hands on her hips, staring down the much larger man in front of her.

Kenoshia made a move for his phaser, drawing it out of his holster. "Not complying means death," he repeated. Tom moved in front of her blocking his shot.

"You obviously need us for some task. Bringing up new workers will only waste time."

Tumeric stepped forward, punching Tom square in the jaw. "Disobedience is not acceptable, Mr. Paris. However, you do have a point," he said, slapping his communications symbol. "Tumeric to K'nol. Transport us onto the ship."

A yellow beam encircled the troupe. They materialized in transporter room. Tumeric stepped down from the transport pad and faced them.

"This ship is one of our flag vessels. You damaged it while putting up your struggle. We need it repaired quickly. According to our records, you are the best suited for this job of those among you still living. Vorik and Seven of Nine, you are to follow T'nor to the Engineering Bay," he said, motioning to the man behind the transporter panel. "Samantha Wildman, you are to report to sickbay to assist doctor. Janeway and Paris, you will follow me to the shuttle bay. Not complying will mean death. Any questions? Good. After you," Tumeric said, motioning for them to walk ahead of him.

Kathryn and Tom walked ahead of Tumeric, turning left and walking way towards the turbolift.

"Impressive ship, isn't it, Captain? Little wonder our people were victorious. Pity your foul little security man had to damage her."

The trio entered the turbolift, and were moved sideways rather than vertically. Kathryn merely raised an eyebrow.

"We installed our decks as such so that, if anyone tried to take over our ship, we could use the turbolifts against them, spinning them in circles until they lost consciousness," Tumeric explained. "Ah, here we are. Deck 7."

Tom stood for a moment in awe. Their shuttles were designed for combat. Sleek, black lines with no sharp curves to any of them. They were also built for speed. A few of them bore patches and angry black marks from attacks, but most of them were in fairly good shape.

"You are to repair the damaged vessels under T'Mal's supervision. If you are viewed trying to escape or sabotage our ships, we will kill you. Not complying will also mean death," with that, he turned on his heel and walked towards the door.

"Is it just me, or does he end everything he says with death threats?" Tom whispered. Kathryn shot him her best Captain's glare.

"Do as he said," Kathryn said, walking towards one of the worse looking shuttles.

Seven hours into their rebuilding mission, Kathryn emerged from the shuttle she was currently working on. Whipping her brow on her sleeve, she walked around the outside of the shuttle. Her shoulders ached from leaning over the burned console panel for the past hour, and a blinding headache had already spread behind her eyes.

On the far side of the vessel, she found Tom, covered with splatters of black paint, wet brush in hand. She smiled at him and sank down beside him, absentmindedly rubbing her neck and forehead.

"Taking a break?" Tom said, slipping down beside her.

"I just can't seem to figure out why the sensor array won't come online. I practically took the entire relay system off-line, ran half a dozen diagnostics...nothing is working."

"Maybe the panel is faulty. I watched you replace most of the components to it..."

"That might be it..." She said, turning towards him. "You know, you have black paint all over your face...it almost reminds me of the time you tried your hand at painting in the Maestro's studio."

Tom laughed lightly. "How could I concentrate with him always berating me?"

Kathryn knit her brow together. "What did you do?"

He smiled. "He always asked me why I never came with you. Said you mentioned me a few times, in passing, of course...I suppose the Maestro wasn't good at keeping secrets."

"Oh, I think he knew exactly what he was doing," Kathryn said, laughing.

"Really? Makes me wonder what Katarine told the Maestro about her Thomas." He said, eyes shimmering with a challenge.

Kathryn smiled at him. Not one to step down from fight. She sobered for a moment. "I suppose I can't blame decorum this time."

Tom looked away, clasping his hands together. "I think what I miss most about the ship is flying her. The way she responded to the lightest of touches, and purred in response to each movement I led her through. And then there is the holodeck...Fair Haven, Sandrine's, Captain Proton...Did I ever tell you that you looked amazing in Queen Arachnia's costume?"

"You might have mentioned it once or twice, but I could tell just by the expression on your face."

"What I wouldn't give to be on the holodeck right now. You know, the 'good guys' always win in the movies."

A long pause followed. Kathryn raised her knees towards her chest, sighing lightly. "I miss the feeling of control. I liked being able to have a say in how I lived my life...the ability to keep my crew alive and safe. Now, all I have is my conscience... and the knowledge that I killed them as surely as if I was the guard that did it."

Tom sighed. They had been through this conversation before. Knowing that it would only turn into a repeating loop of mental flogging and self-loathing. He turned towards her, noting the way she was rubbing her neck.

"Still getting headaches?" He said kneeling behind her. She sighed and leaned against him as he started to massage her scalp.

"Sometimes this place is almost bearable."

"You've got to be kidding. We've been working on these shuttles for hours now. I'm tired, hungry, and sore."

"But you're alive and with me," she said quietly.

A rather large guard turned the corner, and regarded the pair of them. "What are you two doing? Get back to work!"

Tom got to his feet quickly, offering Kathryn his hand. "Do you think you could bring me one of those panels from the store room, Tom?" She said, showing him her badly blistered hands.

He flashed her a look of concern, but nodded slowly. He disappeared behind a sea of black shuttles. Sighing, she walked back into the main cockpit. She slid beneath the open panel casing, housing the casing of the isolinear chips.

"Just set the panel down in the back, Tom. I'll need it in a second..."

She felt two large hands wrap around her ankles and pull her with force out from under the console. Yet another Kamien guard loomed her, snarling. She was caught unprepared for the blow to her head.

"You are recallibrating the sensor array incorrectly. Your work is sloppy. You are not complying."

He removed a large baton from his belt and began beating her about the back and shoulders. She threw her arms above her head to protect herself, but didn't make a sound. Instinct and experience told her that screaming would only encourage him.

Growing more enraged, he drew a phaser from his belt and fired at the center of her chest. Pain spread through her chest like a thousand pin prick, then she lost all sensation in her arms and legs. She was, essentially paralyzed. Eyes wide with horror, she watched helplessly as he tore her uniform open and lowered himself towards the her.

"Please, don't do this...," she whimpered.

"You have to learn. Beating you has taught you nothing," he said. Kathryn's gag reflexes were fighting her. The smell of his breath and his body...the idea of what he was going to do made her ill.

"Tom..." Kathryn whispered. She was barely able to see from the blood pouring down her face.

Tom approached the guard cautiously from behind, swinging the heavy bulkhead fragment at the him. The shuttlebay echoed with the sound of cracking as the large object came in contact with the guard's head. A labored scream followed as the man fell backwards in agony. After dropping the fragment, Tom continued his assault, oblivious to everything but the anger surging in him. His muscles ignored the pain of the continuous strain they had been under as of late. All rational thought left him. Kathryn's face - her eyes wide with horror and the look of defeat on her face filled his mind.

From a haze of pain, Kathryn watched as Tom beat the guard to death. Splatters of blood joined those of the black paint that were already dried onto his uniform. His face was flushed with exertion and hatred. His fists were bloody and his eyes...god his eyes seemed so distant. Is was as if she were watching a movie. It was just an actor that looked like Tom. Surely he would never kill a man with his bare hands...

"Tom...," She moaned lightly. The familiar darkness was enveloping her again.

Tom stood, for the first time noticing the pool of crimson on the ground at his feet, his hands and clothes bore the same liquid. His gaze went from the guard, whose face was unrecognizable, to Kathryn. His eyes filled with terror. She was so pale.

In the distance, he could hear the footfalls of guards approaching. "Hang on, Kathryn," Tom said. His mind swirled with images of the last few seconds, analysis of his violent behavior the sight of Kathryn curled up against the shuttle bleeding. Swallowed hard, he forced himself to focus. Tom took on a deep breath and closed his eyes. "Think Paris, think."

It was as beautiful as she remembered. Tall, proud, red beams of solid construction towering high above the water below. The ancient cables still connected between each section supporting the bridge together. Though not used today in a daily since, the Golden Gate Bridge was always quite a spectacle to see. Without a doubt, it was the best attributed landmark for San Francisco. Why she never really paid more attention to it, she didn't know.

From her perch on the balcony of a somehow familiar apartment, she looked onto the ocean. The water was a deep blue. The air smelled of salt and the rose bushes, presumably from those that grew in small planters on balcony beneath hers. A man's arms gently wrapped around her waist. He buried his face in her hair, kissing her neck, nipping on her ear.

He whispered his her name so lightly. It seemed like he was speaking from a great distance.

"Kathryn, don't leave me...hang on, please...I need you here with me."



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