A/N
This is a Dark!Fic! I'm not kidding. Please do not read if you are not ok with violence and intense whump. Early warning: Strong sexual content coming in Chapter 3 – Skip if you're not ok reading that! Thanks so much for your interest in my story, please click that pretty little "Review" button at the end and let me know what you think so far!!!


When her eyes finally fluttered open for longer than a few seconds, Magnus sighed. She closed them again, sifting through her memory, trying to remember what happened… nothing. Blank. She'd been sitting at her desk, jotting down some notes on a recent newcomer to her Sanctuary, when Will had opened the door. She remembered him taking a step into the room, and then… nothing.

She opened her eyes again, blinking a few times to try to moisten the scratchy dryness she felt, thankful that the lights seemed to be dimmed. She'd had more than her share of bright-light migraines. She took a deep breath, and a coughing fit erupted in her dry, cottony throat.

I must have been here a while to be so dehydrated already…

She took inventory of the rest of her body.

Lying down; wrists, chest, and ankles bound in thick leather medical-type straps.

She gave an experimental tug at each of the restraints. No give. Attached to the table. She frowned. She was fully clothed, but not in what she remembered last wearing. In lieu of her usual skirt, boots and blouse, she was in a pair of grey pants, of a light, cotton-like material, and a matching tank top. Her feet were bare, and all of her jewelry was missing. She shifted again, and felt a distinct twinge in her upper left arm. An attempt to twist her head enough to investigate proved a failure, but she could tell by the feel that she had been injected, or shot, with some kind of syringe, or tranquilizer.

Must have been pretty strong… I've become rather accustomed to normal sedatives.

She opened her eyes again, fully, and twisted her stiff neck around to gauge her surroundings. Small room, no more than 10 square feet or so, bland grey walls, nothing but the table she was on, and an equally nondescript chair, a few feet away from her. She couldn't see any windows from her angle, but spotted a tiny, flashing red light up in one of the ceiling corners. Surveillance.

Well this is something new. I've always been the one strapping things to tables.

I don't like it…

This wasn't anything like a police holding room… didn't look like a medical lab, despite the 'medical' restraints holding her down. No scientific equipment, nothing to indicate where she was or who had taken her. She wondered where Will was, if he was ok. Had whoever captured her got to anyone else? Her pulse quickened as she thought of Ashley being held in a similar room, tied down…

Her pondering was cut short rather quickly as a door burst open, and a man strode briskly into the room, stopping just a step away from the table she was on. He was tall, at least 6"3, and built strongly. His pants and shirt were as basic as hers, but black, as were his boots. Deep brown eyes, dark brown hair, cut quite short. She opened her mouth to start demanding explanations, but never got the chance.

"Good afternoon, Dr. Magnus, it's lovely to see you're finally up."

His voice was deep and intense, a perfect counterpart to his appearance.

"No, I'm not going to tell you where you are, or who we are. I will tell you it is 3:17pm, on Wednesday, May the 18th."

He took a step forward and unstrapped one of her wrists with one hand, using the other

to firmly hold her arm down, keeping it immobile in case she tried anything.

Her mind worked rapidly. The 18th? She last remembered the 14th…. She took a deep breath to steady her nerves. After having survived two world wars, never mind all the countless others that cropped up over the last 150 or so years, her emotional control was perhaps one of her strongest 'muscles'

The man continued.

"I will not tell you my name, but assure you that I know more about you than you would be comfortable knowing. No, we are not the Cabal; stupid creatures that they are, they thought you aren't yet worthy of capturing."

She tensed her body as he finished freeing her chest brace, and made quick work of her other wrist. She prepared to throw her upper body at him, hopefully knocking him back long enough to free her own ankles. She had no chance of overpowering his grip on her arms, but she was able to throw herself up hard enough to headbutt him pretty well, before a solid elbow connected with the side of her head, and she knew no more.

She awoke again, now with a throbbing headache; besides the obvious head injury, the lights had been turned up. She had also migrated from the table, to the chair. She wasn't bound directly to it, but her wrists were now handcuffed together, and her arms had been draped over the back of the chair so she would have to pull up and over it to be free. Her ankles were cuffed together as well, but were simply in front of her, in a normal sitting position. There wasn't quite a foot of slack chain between her feet… enough that she could still hobble somewhere if need be. The Man was in front of her. There was blood on his sleeve where he'd wiped his nose. She smiled, inwardly.

"So, Dr. Magnus, do you age at all, or just really, really slowly?" He asked.

Who are these people…what do they want with me?

"So you can never die of old age, but how about other means? Are you actually immortal, or can you be just as physically hurt as the rest of us?"

He took an experimental swing that connected with her left cheekbone. She didn't let a sound escape as her head was snapped to the right. She took a deep breath, and returned her gaze level to his face.

Bruises from such blow should take around 2 weeks healing time.

What have I done to anger these people? Besides the obvious theft from theCabal, I haven't crossed any organizations lately… have I? I help people, I don't hurt them.

"Hmm… fascinating. It seems that you do feel pain, but can you bleed?"

A small knife appeared in his hand, which he whipped out to quickly slice down her left arm. She gritted her teeth as she felt warm blood trickle down. She kept her gaze level to his face.

He switched the knife to the other hand, sheathing it at his side, and lifted his right hand up to gently touch the cut, feeling the warm redness between his fingertips.

"I hear this stuff is a pretty valuable commodity in the abnormal world," he commented flippantly. "I think I'd like some more."

She suddenly leaped up, out of the chair, ready to bring her arms around and use the chained-together limbs as a club, but with an easy kick to the groin he had her down before she fully got out.

More blows to the face; a kick to the shins and a very well placed kick to the chest knocked the breath out of her as the chair skidded back a few feet before toppling backwards. He was beside her in no time, confident that she was down for at least a few moments. She waited till he was right beside her, then swung her legs round to his feet, trying to bring him down, and succeeded. He toppled to the ground, landing awkwardly on one of his wrists. He cried out in surprise. She prepared to throw herself on him, though she didn't know what she would do after that, but he recovered with amazing speed, righting her in the chair and then somehow the small knife was out of its sheath at his belt and in her right side. She couldn't help the gasp that escaped her as heat surged out of her, and trickled down to her hip, down her leg.

Total minimum 20 days healing time.

"What do you want?" She demanded, speaking to him for the first time. Her voice was still strong.

"Why, you DO speak! I'm glad to see old age has left your communication skills as unaffected as your beauty," he replied, snidely. This was the first indication of his feelings towards her. Up until now, he'd been plain, to the point, simply asking, or commenting, without a personal point of view. Now there was definite venom.

Magnus searched her memory, angry at herself for having no clue what she had done to make this man hate her. Maybe he'd had a relative she'd encountered? A friend? But he said "We" not "I". She chuckled at the thought of a vengeful family taking the trouble to learn about her, capture her, and torture her for having whisked away an aunt who could manipulate kitchen appliances with her mind. His eyes darkened.

"Think this is funny, eh?"

She hadn't realized she'd laughed out loud.

Those blows must have been harder than I thought… I'm losing focus; my mind is wandering, slight hysteria…

With a silent, cold fury, he hauled her out of the chair with one arm, twisting her around and throwing her into the wall. She connected with it face on, and felt her nose snap.

Permanent deformation if not treated within 7-10 days.

With her arms bound behind her, she couldn't brace herself against the wall, and half slid, half collapsed to the floor. A boot connected with her unprepared stomach, flipping her almost fully around so that she lay on her stomach, with the now broken rib or three.

One to two months healing time.

The same boot was instantaneously on her back, grinding her into the ground, making it still harder to breathe, as he reached down, grabbed the little length of chain between her handcuffs, and pulled her arms up as hard as he could, while pushing her harder into the floor. Pain shot through her neck and shoulder blades as he tried to push her arms too far past her head and she cried out. Spots swam through her vision, swirling with tears as her ability to breathe dwindled and vanished. Just as she was about to be embraced by the sweet oblivion of unconsciousness, he dropped her arms, and took his foot off her back. Another coughing fit wracked her body, and she cringed as red flecks, that weren't from her broken nose, speckled the floor in front of her mouth. She tried to flip herself over onto her back, but couldn't quite manipulate her broken torso to manage the feat.

He let her catch her breath for a while, but soon became bored with her struggle. Instead of flipping her over himself and taking advantage of her broken ribs, he reached down, grabbed her cut up left arm, and snapped it. She cried out loud as she felt several pieces of bone snap. The ulna bone, probably.

Comminuted Fracture – 6 weeks healing time.

He seemed pleased with her vocal outburst. He let her arm drop down again (pain) before seating himself on the again upturned chair, and pausing to appraise her. After several agonizing moments, she regulated her breathing as best she could, and tried, valiantly, to turn herself over again. She succeeded. He was duly impressed.

"I think it's time… He will want His turn."

The man stood up and moved as if to walk out, then paused. He turned back to her, pondering for another moment.

"Just in case you still have ideas of escaping," he warned. He walked back to her, and with all his force brought down his boot, once more, on the top of her right foot, which was upturned form the floor, resting the heel on the ground. It twisted sickly inward, and more bones snapped. Possibly both fibula and talus.

At least… at least… 6 weeks healing time, with… lots more months before full function returns.

He walked out of the room without another word, leaving her where she was, writhing on the floor.

She didn't know how long she was left there.

She passed out.