She stood over him, the bright light that limned her from behind making her short, dark hair glow almost like a halo. How could someone so thin - so fragile-looking - loom like that? He felt himself wanting to shrink down into the chair away from her. He couldn't, of course. The ropes made sure of that. But it didn't stop him wanting to try.

"So, Jack." Her voice was light. Mocking. No more concern in it than if she'd been asking him for the time. "What do you think this one's going to be for?"

He bit down hard on his bottom lip, refusing to answer her. Training taking over - just for an instant - he unconsciously pulled at the bindings - testing them. But they'd known - the people who'd put him here - what they were doing. There was no give in the ropes, and he didn't bother trying for long. Wearily, he closed his eyes. It would start soon, he knew it.

"What's the matter, Jack?" There was just a hint of a silky purr mixed in with the taunting now. "Afraid to look at me?" He couldn't look at her. When he looked at her, he saw every failure he'd ever made staring back at him out of her clear, grey gaze. He couldn't - *couldn't* - meet those eyes.

"Look at me, damn you!" Her hand shot out, backhanding him across one cheek, then curling cold and vicelike around his chin, forcing his head up until his eyes couldn't avoid hers.

The sting of the slap burned a moment - but it was ignorable. "Teri..." her name was a rasp in his throat as he felt the nausea rising inside him.

She quirked one of her immaculately winged eyebrows at him. "I asked you a question, Jack." The playful taunting was back in her voice again - bringing to mind nothing so much as the cruelty of a cat toying with its prey. "What's the next one going to be for?"

"Teri... I..." he tried again. He shook his head. He couldn't find the words - didn't know if there were any.

"Am I going to have to tell you, Jack? Am I going to have to enumerate for you each and every crime you've committed?" The playfulness was gone now and he could hear cold, clear anger in her tone. "You don't want me to have to do that for you, Jack. Trust me on this."

He tried - he truly did. He tried to find the words, but what did you say to the person you'd failed so incredibly? What did you say to the woman you'd sworn to love and protect? There was nothing he could say.

"Fine." Her voice was a snarl. "You want me to tell you? I'll tell you what the next one is for."

She reached into the pocket of her grey wool wrap. Drew out a length of dark, heavy steel chain that looked as though it might have once graced a dog's leash. Proceeded to slowly, link by link, wrap it around her delicate knuckles.

"This one, my love, is for not realising Kim was planning to sneak out that night." She brought her fist back, then drove it, hard, into his solar plexus. The blow forced the breath straight from his lungs and left him gasping, nauseous, fighting to breathe in again. Fighting and failing. Just like he did with everything else. He felt his head rolling forward. He'd taken far worse in his life before. But this was coming from her. And he couldn't honestly tell himself he didn't deserve it.

"And this one?" she moved around from in front of him, stopping at a point just inside his field of view. "This one's for not trusting Mason earlier." She reached out - grabbed the front of his hair, pulling his head up and around until he was looking straight at her again. She held him there a moment, letting him see the depth of contempt she had for him written clearly in her features. Then the back of her chain-wrapped hand slanted up hard towards his jaw - rocking his head upward with the force of it. This time, he tasted the blood. Hot. Coppery. Flooding his mouth and washing away any words he might have managed.

"And how about," she moved again - around to the other side this time, "This one?" She paused, and from a distance, he found himself wondering which of his many unforgivable errors in judgement this one would be for. "Oooh, I know!" The mocking was back in her voice, and he felt her elbow slamming down onto his collarbone - not hard enough to break it, but plenty hard enough to hurt. "How about... how about we make this for having fucked up so royally with Victor Drazen - killing the only ones that didn't deserve to die, and leaving the monster alive and well? How about that, hmmmm?"

"And how about *this one*," another elbow - this time straight back into his ribs, "for not seeing what Nina Meyers really was in time? And this one," her chain-wrapped fist, burying itself in his stomach, "For thinking with your cock - thinking that just because she'd graced your bed, she could be trusted. Was it worth it, Jack? Was what she gave you worth everything you paid her for it?" The contempt in her voice threatened to flay the skin from his flesh. He wished - god how he wished - he could argue with her. But he knew she was right. She was only saying what he thought anyway. He let his head fall forward.

"Oh, and let's not forget the best one, shall we, Jack?" He'd stopped noticing what she was hitting him with now - he was barely noticing where the blows landed. "Let's not forget your fuck-up to end all fuck-ups."

He knew what was coming now. All those other things, he could have forgiven himself for eventually. But not this. Never this.

"Oh yeah, you know what I'm talking about, don't you?" Her voice was harsh now - harsh, and full to the brim with all the loathing and disgust she had to be feeling for him. "This is for letting me die, you bastard. This is for saving everyone but me." The blows were falling thick and fast. Ribs. Gut. Face. Every part of him the chair left even vaguely exposed. "This is for letting our baby die." And oh god, oh god he deserved every single one of them. "This is for letting us *die*." Over and over until he slumped forward in his chair.

And then - only then - did they stop.

For a moment or two, there was nothing. Just the cacophany of abused flesh, screaming its protest at what she'd just put it through. But at least, for those few moments, the physical pain was loud enough to drown out the self-recrimination and the unending, unceasing voice of the guilt in his head. So he relished it while it lasted.

And then she crouched down in front of him, and ever so slightly, loosened the bindings around his wrists and elbows. Not much - just enough that he'd be able to work them off himself eventually, if he gave up time and a fair amount of skin to do it.

She stood, pausing a moment, and he made the mistake of looking up at her - of meeting her eyes. Something inside of him physically recoiled at the sympathy he saw there, and he found himself jerking away against the ropes, groaning raggedly at the new agonies it sparked.

"No!" The word came out a rasp of frustration, pain and denial from deep inside of him. "No sympathy, damn it. I'm not *paying* you to pity me." He didn't deserve sympathy. If Teri couldn't give that to him any more, nobody could, not even this woman who looked so much like her. All she could give him was respite. And his few brief moments of that were almost at an end.

She nodded sharply, turned on her heel, and walked away, collecting the money he'd left on the countertop for her on the way out.

End

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