Tara did not know what it was about the simple question that seemed to have renewed the vampire's terror, and just when she had thought she was beginning to get through to him, to make him understand that she had no intentions of hurting him. He had seemed calmer, allowing her to touch him at least long enough to get the gag off, and she had begun to feel hopeful that she might be able to deal with this, after all.

And suddenly, he was pressing himself into the wall again, trembling violently, holding one hand up a few inches in a pleading gesture despite its injury, and shaking his head almost frantically.

"Hey," she murmured, keeping her voice quiet and even, "it's okay...it's okay. I'm not going to hurt you. I promise. Come on, it's all right. I'm not moving, okay? I'm not gonna touch you...you're okay..."

Her words seemed to have little effect on the panicked creature.

Tara noticed that he still wasn't breathing, even with the gag removed, but she wasn't sure if that was normal for vampires or not. She knew they didn't *have* to breathe, but it was still disconcerting to have him sitting there, trembling, every muscle tense, very much alive...and yet without the steady rise and fall in his chest that instinctively spoke of life to her.

Also to her alarm, she noticed that his brief spurt of energy, apparently born of his initial terror at finding himself in unfamiliar surroundings, was fading swiftly. His good arm was slowly giving out, its shaking intensifying with the continued effort of holding up the weight of his entire body...which admittedly was not much, but seemed to be far too much for him nonetheless.

She needed to get some blood in him, fast.

********************************

"Okay...I'm gonna g-go away for a minute, okay? I'm just gonna go...g-get you some blood, and give you a minute to...to...I'll be back in a minute, okay?"

The girl's rambling, nervous words only served to increase his confusion and anxiety, and his surety that he had somehow done something to displease her; he frowned, biting his lower lip in uncertainty, unsure if he was supposed to respond in some way, and if so, how. He still could not speak...and he had no idea what it was that she wanted to hear. He was so unbearably exhausted, and all he wanted was to go to sleep, and never wake up again - not to attempt to translate an indecipherable situation over which he had no control.

To his relief, at least it did not seem that she intended to blind him again...yet.

Unless she was going to do that when she came back, with the...

Blood? She didn't really say ‘blood', did she? Surely she doesn't mean it? Not after...after so long...

His throat constricted in an instinctive but agonizing attempt to swallow, his stomach tightening painfully at the very thought of blood, after such long forced starvation. His empty lungs spasmed as in his shock, he unconsciously tried to draw breath, when of course, he could not. They rarely allowed him to feed, and when they did, it was only to allow him to regain a fraction of his strength, in order to make him capable of responding to their sadistic games.

His heart lurched in fear, as he wondered suddenly where she was *really* going...and if she would be alone when she got back.

***********************************

Tara hesitated before rising, worried about leaving him alone while she went to get the blood, wishing that she could know he would be okay while she was gone.

She was increasingly aware of the fact that in this situation, there was very little that she could know.

Her eyes widened as she noticed what looked like a muscle spasm in the vampire's chest. She had seen it once before, when she had startled him and he had flinched away from her, but this time, she hadn't made a move toward him or any noise that might have caused him to startle. Frowning, she wondered what might be causing the strange physical reaction, which did not seem in the least healthy. It was almost as if his lungs were contracting in his chest...except, he wasn't breathing.

Maybe he's *trying* to...

The need for blood was momentarily forgotten in Tara's excitement at her possible revelation. Maybe that was why he hadn't spoken, either, if he was physically unable to draw breath. She settled onto her knees in front of him again, hesitating, not reaching toward him or moving at all as she tried to make the situation, and herself, as non-threatening as possible for her highly skittish patient.

"I have to ask you something. Can you...are you able to breathe?"

Okay, wrong question.

Tara immediately regretted it as the vampire responded only by pressing his face against the wall again, his shoulders tense and shaking with terror as he shook his head in desperate denial, obviously afraid of how she might react to his answer. Her heart sank as she realized that she had really gained no ground at all; he had no measure of trust for her whatsoever...but then, how could she blame him?

He didn't know her, and therefore had no way to know what to expect from her.

At a loss, Tara just looked at him for a moment...and her eyes fell on the heavy collar, still fastened around his neck. She could see traces of dried blood surrounding it, and it was clearly impossibly tight. The vampire's reaction to her question made it obvious to her that she was at least on to something, so maybe if she could get that collar off...

Maybe that's what's cutting off his airway...

"Okay," she tried again in a soft, steady voice, "I want to...to try something..."

********************************

"I'm not going to hurt you, Sweetie," the girl insisted in that same quiet, gentle voice, though he knew better than to believe it. "I just want to help you."

He had been deceived by such tones before, and knew by now that they were usually merely to lull him into letting down his guard, before he was attacked with even greater ferocity. Still, whatever she intended, there was nothing he could do to stop her. He simply waited, still and silent against the wall, his every muscle tensed in preparation for the inevitable pain.

"You're trying to breathe, aren't you? You want to?"

He flinched, certain that she would punish him if he answered honestly. The human privileges of breath, scent, speech - all were forbidden him. He didn't *need* to breathe, they had reminded him cruelly...and such comforting luxuries had all been stripped from him in a brutal moment. It was foolish and presumptuous to admit that he wanted such things, and would be sure to anger his human captors.

"I think you do," she mused thoughtfully, and he tensed, his heart sinking at her words. "I know you can't...but I think you want to..."

She knows...any second now...she'll...

He shook his head, not denying her words, because he knew better than to lie at this point - just silently pleading for mercy. He could not stop a slight flex of his jaw, aching to speak, if only to beg for pardon for his failure, though he knew it was impossible.

Please...I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please don't...don't...

"I just want to help you," the girl insisted softly. "Make you better. I wanna take away whatever's keeping you from breathing...like I took away the gag, remember? I wanna help you be able to breathe. Is that okay?"

He froze, in the agonizing throes of indecision. Her words offered a promise he had longed for, for longer than he could remember...and yet he knew it could not be. This had to be some kind of trick, some twisted test devised by his captors to trick him into betraying himself to them. He was terrified of this seemingly kind, gentle girl, who had to be leading him into some kind of trap. If he did the wrong thing, angered her, he was sure that she could turn as savage as the others.

Perhaps she wasn't even real at all.

The brutal mind games and torments he had been subjected to had left him unable to be sure of anything.

All he knew was that if she was really willing to remove the torment that was holding back his breath...he would give anything. He would do anything she wanted, submit to any form of punishment, if only she could take it away.

"I'm gonna take this collar off, okay?" the girl explained softly. "That's all I'm gonna do. I'm not gonna hurt you."

He heard her words, understood them, but could not suppress a shudder when he felt her hands hovering near his throat, brushing against his bare shoulders. He flinched, shaking violently, though struggling to submit to whatever it was she intended, aware that if he resisted her, his suffering would be much, much worse. With all his heart, he desperately hoped that she intended what she said she intended.

"Hey...you're okay," she murmured, and he felt her hands stop touching him. "You're okay, I'll back off. We'll take this really slow, okay?"

He froze suddenly as he felt the girl pull back slightly, wondering why she would retreat...and then his heart lurched within him at a strange and mystifying sensation, as he felt a soft, warm hand gently covering his own. As simple as the gentle touch was, it began to birth in him a strange emotion he had all but forgotten.

Hope.

Please...let it be real...please, please mean it...

******************************

Tara took heart as the vampire's shaking gradually lessened at the gentle touch of her hand. She slowly, soothingly stroked her thumb across the dry, rough skin on the back of his hand, as she continued speaking soft reassurances, encouraged as he finally seemed to be actually listening to her words, visibly calming.

"It's all right...I just want to take it off so you can breathe...all right? Is that all right?"

She waited in silence for some sign of a response, while the vampire just stayed there, still and quiet and uncertain. After a few minutes that felt interminable, he finally seemed to make a decision, steadying himself on his good arm with an effort, and sliding just a few inches away from the wall...toward her.

It was the most progress she had seen from him so far, and it was all Tara could do not to express her elation and risk sending him back into a panic.

"Okay," she whispered as she carefully lifted her hand from his, and raised both hands toward the heavy iron collar. His skin felt terribly cold beneath her fingertips, and she suppressed a shudder, aware of what he was...but also aware that he was absolutely no threat to her in this condition.

Carefully she found the clasp on the collar, and gingerly unfastened it, pulling it away and setting it aside. Her eyes went wide, locked onto the damaged flesh beneath it in stunned horror, her stomach roiling within her in sickened disgust.

The vampire's neck was in shreds, dried blood nearly obscuring deep, livid gashes that formed an entire circle around his neck. Aghast, Tara's mind flashed back to a vivid memory from her dream, a memory of raw pain made excruciating by her attempts to draw breath that would not come...a memory of suffocating panic so intense that it had driven her back to wakefulness.

Shaking her head clear of the horrific images, Tara forced herself to focus on the vampire again, aware that he could not afford for her to waste time on her own imagined trauma.

No wonder he can't breathe, poor thing. How long has he been like this?

She studied the wounds carefully, frowning with concentration as she tried to gauge how deep they were, what sort of care would be required, while taking care not to actually touch any of them, not yet. Her eyes widened in horror as she noticed something that seemed impossible...a faint metallic glint coming from deep down within the gashes that circled his neck.

Oh, God...oh, God, there's still something in there! It has to come out, *now*...but...but it's gonna hurt him so much! I can't stand to hurt him any more than he's already been hurt; how much more can one person take?

Tara was unaware that she was crying, until her vision blurred and she could no longer make out the horrifying wounds. It was just too much, too much for her to fathom, for one person to have to endure so much agony and suffering...and possibly too much for her to make better.

How am I gonna do this? Oh, God, how am I gonna fix this?

Her shoulders shook with silent sobs, and Tara lowered her head into her left hand, her other falling to the floor at her side to brace herself as she struggled to regain her composure. She couldn't afford to fall apart; this broken creature in front of her needed her to stay strong, to be in control where he could not be...

Suddenly, she felt an icy cold sensation on her hand, and she froze, startled. Cautiously, she opened her eyes and looked down at her hand; her eyes widened as she saw the vampire's hand resting on hers, very gently, very tentatively, as if afraid to be reprimanded for the gesture at any moment, yet still willing to offer her comfort.

*****************************

The vampire jumped slightly as something warm and wet dripped onto his hand, but the girl did not seem to notice. He tried to make sense of the strange sensation, confused...and then he heard a quiet sniffling sound, and it became clear.

She was crying.

But...*why*?

Not for him; couldn't be. It didn't make sense. She was here to hurt him, to deceive him into doing something wrong and earning more beatings and torture. But he could hear the sound of her tears, and even now she was trying to calm him again, in spite of her own dismay.

What had caused it? She had started to cry right after viewing the ghastly wreckage that had to have been made of his neck by this point. Of course, he hadn't seen it himself, though he knew it had to be dreadful; but that alone would not have brought her to tears...would it?

Suddenly, a new idea occurred to him.

Maybe she's a prisoner, too. Maybe she's stuck here in this hell, and she's trying to help, but she's beginning to understand...there's nothing she can really do...and all this is gonna happen to her, too.

He felt a twinge of anxious concern at the thought of this kind, sweet girl going through the same things he had been through. It was a disturbing thought, but seemed to make more sense than any other explanation he could think of for the strange events taking place. Unfortunately, he knew that there was nothing he could do, to help her, or himself, at this point.

So, he offered her what little comfort he had. He reached out tentatively toward the warmth of her hand, sliding his own cool, trembling fingertips over hers and resting his hand there in a silent gesture of reassurance, as she had done for him moments before.

It was pitiful reassurance given the circumstances, and it was all he had to give...but it was hers.