Breanna woke to silence in her room. Familiar cooling colours ataractic the rising panic. She took stock of her motor abilities and found her lower legs throbbing, reminding her of the most current experience. It wasn't a dream, vaguely remembering success and Darcia unable to control the key players. Where were they now? There was something else she should remember. The answer hung in the back of her mind. Pushing up in the bed, she groaned against the pain ripping through her body and mind, leaving her breathless.

"Easy … take it easy," the deep soft voice came through the dimly lit room to her ears.

"What happened?" she groaned, sinking into the pillows.

"We made it back," the voice whispered, frowning she tried to place it. "The key players are being treated as we speak. They will be back in play within a day or two. The conference is cancelled," the voice continued, "are you okay?"

"L ...l...legs ache," she stammered, "who … who are you?"

Her lungs felt starved of oxygen, but her chest rose and fell. It seemed to work fine.

"Breanna," the voice moved forward from the shadows into the light. "Breanna do you recognise me?" squinting, she tried to focus, but pain ran along her nerves and filled her senses, "your brother Craig. I pulled you from the tunnel before the fire from the explosion could get to the rest of you."

The rest of her? White flashes happened in her mind as his words worked against the foggy band around her head. Clutching her head Breanna panted. Calloused gentle hands covered hers.

"Breath, little sister," he said gently, "you'll remember. You will be okay."

"Darcia," Breanna panted, "she wanted everyone," as white flashes stabbed her mind. "I didn't want to follow the orders," she gasped, "… an explosion … everyone... gone."

"Breanna," the voice called, "Darcia didn't get everyone."

Breanna panted as the words sank into her mind, "I was there," she tried to focus. "I ended up strapped into a lab chair," she panted again, "Darcia told me everyone was dead."

"Breanna," the voice hesitated a little, "Darcia didn't get anyone. You went in and pulled us out. Your team covered our backs. There were some injuries, but we're alive. So are those who were in those prison cells. So is Michael."

Breanna felt something snap, releasing a rush of memories like a tidal wave, "Michael," she closed her eyes, "Michael wasn't with me."

"Michael is fine, Bre," the voice said, "thanks to you."

Hot white sliced through her mind. Pain wrenched a groan from her as her hands gripped the side of her head, and darkness pulled her into dark oblivion.

Sitting in the oversized chair opposite Michael's desk, Craig flipped through the file on Breanna; he felt sick. The chill in his bones couldn't be warmed by the brandy he had downed. Never could he condone one type of torture for another. Michael had been able to find the information on the procedures Darcia performed on Breanna. She had tortured her own flesh and blood. The notes told of Breanna's behaviour her non-acceptance of what was happening to her. The defiance she showed by continually breaking out of her cell and looking for information or deleting procedures from the schedules. The short, concise notation about Breanna's escape put truth to the rumours. It was followed by a long rambling, haunted documentation. The only missing link in Darcia's insane obsession with domination was obsessive singular attention to finding Breanna. Darcia did not accept she was one of two. The repetitive word "oneness" concerned Craig deeply. The only way of obtaining oneness was the death of at least one of his sisters. By the last notation, dread settled deep inside. Darcia wanted it to be Breanna and then be Breanna.

Could he stand by and watch Breanna fight this on her own? Knowing Darcia was an unbalanced force to be reckoned with, could he walk away? Could he allow one sister to destroy another before moving on to the rest of humanity?

"Why did you want to see her file before making your decision?" Michael asked, easing into his desk chair, "she doesn't know your team are being headhunted. Does she?"

"No," Craig looked up, "the offer is tempting, and the team have said they will go wherever I decide, but I need to see all the angles before I give an answer."

"Fair," Michael nodded, "why do I feel you want to hit something?"

"Reading this," Craig shook his head, pointing at the folder, "what makes D think she can get away with any of this?"

"She told me she was invincible," Michael said, "she believes she can. So she does."

Craig frowned, "For what?"

"To get what she wants," Michael said, leaning back painfully.

"How are you doing?" Craig asked, watching his younger brother.

"A few aches and pains, but the biggest hit is on my pride," shaking his head, "can't believe I let myself get caught. I feel like an idiot."

"It happens to the best of us," Craig grinned.

"How is Breanna?" Michael asked.

"She..." Craig cleared his throat, "she is fighting something."

"What?" Michael asked, suddenly alert.

"She keeps saying she lost everyone," Craig frowned, "she begs me to change the orders. To help them. To get them out. Do you know what she is talking about?"

Nodding, Michael pulled a dense file from a cabinet drawer behind his desk, "Don't judge her too harshly."

Craig reached across the tabletop, pulling the file toward himself, "What am I looking for?"

"You'll find the information at the red filing marker," Michael said.

Craig flipped to the point indicated and began reading; the realisation of the contents of Breanna's torture drained the remaining heat from his body.

Rain sluiced over the window panes. Its continuous calming noise filtered through her senses. Seeping into her soul. It washed through her. Voices whispered near the point of a garden scented draft drifting through the room. Breanna could feel the needle-like cold rake over her skin.

"Breanna," the voice called, "can you hear me?"

Nodding, she kept her eyes closed, "Where am I?" the words rolled thickly across her tongue, sticking before falling into a sentence.

"In my room," the voice spoke, "you're safe. You can rest."

She tried nodding, but the sucking darkness drew her in.

"Has anyone seen her?" Kyle asked, taking his seat with the subdued group sitting around the fireplace in a spacious lounge. A few heads shook.

"Does anyone know how she is doing?" Cara whispered.

A few heads shook.

"I can't even feel her," Cara whispered, "it's as if she is … gone."

Oran wrapped his hand around his twins. Silently comforting her.

"What are we going to do if she dies?" Tina asked, placing a tea tray on the coffee table.

"She isn't going to die," David tensed, the possibility making him edgy.

Clio rose and walked to the window watching the rain sluice down the panes, "Did you notice it started raining the night we got back and hasn't stopped."

No one answered. Consumed minds pondered the possibilities of the spoken and unspoken.

"It's been two days," Tania stood pacing to the fireplace poking at the fire, "surely we could be informed of something."

"They moved her from her room into Craig's," Tula sighed, "it has to be bad for them to do that."

"We did that to be in the position to give her around the clock care," Michael said, entering the room, "Breanna will live. The unconventional medical attention she has received seems to be working. She is unconscious at present."

A sigh of relief rippled through the room.

"Can we see her yet?" Clio asked, turning from the window.

"Not yet," Michael said gently, "as soon as there are clearer signs of recognition, visitation will be allowed."

"She doesn't recognise anything," David stood, "that can't be good."

"It seems that something Darcia did to her is unravelling," Michael said. "Craig is worried Breanna may unintentionally respond in a way that will harm someone."

"Has he seen this before?" Valencia asked.

"Something similar," Michael nodded, "that has made his decision easier to make."

"Decision?" Tina asked, "what decision?"

"He wanted to tell you himself, but Bre takes priority at the moment," Michael indicated for everyone to gather closer. "Craig and his team have been headhunted for another military department."

"He's taking the opportunity," Clio grunted, "why wouldn't he?"

"Actually," Michael pushed his hands into his pant pockets, "he turned them down after meeting with them."

"Why?" Jarred asked, "it makes sense for them to move on."

"You would think," Michael nodded, "he explained he felt more at home here with all of you than at a table of his peers."

"They know about his enhancements and treated him differently," Tina whispered.

"He didn't elaborate," Michael shrugged, "his attention is on where Breanna left off in her mission to stop Darcia. He asked me to find out if anyone would be interested in working with him."

"He could ask us himself," Reilly said, staring into the dancing flames in the large fireplace.

"He could, but he is with Hana and Rose, who are working with Breanna presently," Micheal said, swallowing hard before continuing, "he is their personal protection."

"Tell him he only has to give the word," Oran said, "we'll be there to work with him."

"Thank you," Michael nodded, "if anyone wants to talk, I'm in the study."

Turning, he left the room.

"Does anyone else feel as if Craig is taking over," Reilly muttered.

"Yes," David said, "but who else is going to step up to the plate?"

"Point," Reilly sighed, "how long will Breanna be out of action."

"That depends," Rose said, entering the room, "we did a transfusion on her last night. Thanks to those who helped."

"Transfusion for what?" David sat forward.

"Bre wasn't healing; her blood count was dropping instead of increasing," Rose sank tiredly into an open space on the sofa. "Craig has a blood enhancement which assists with healing, and it can adapt to anybody."

"Is it working?" Clio asked.

"So far, it seems to, but we will have to wait and see," Rose leaned back, closing her eyes.

Murmuring conversation filtered around the room. There was a lot to discuss and a lot to think about.

A nagging light shone on her face. Moving her head, she could not find a space filled with darkness.

The light continued to pull her from the sucking oblivion. Surrendering, she slowly opened her eyes. It took her a moment to focus on the masculine furniture, heavy drapes hanging around the bed. The nagging bedside lamp lit the room. A nearby window brought the garden's scents mixed with the ocean to her on a salty, crisp breeze. Groggy, heavy limbs and dry throat hit her list as silence swam around her. No voices from the shadows. Her mind felt foggy, fuzzy and drugged.

"How is she doing?" a woman's voice filtered to her sensitive hearing.

"I'm checking now," a man's voice spoke, "Michael left the drapes open. He said the window was opened a little."

"Apparently, that is how she preferred to sleep when she was younger," another male voice spoke.

"Craig says she recognises her surrounding now," a female voice said quietly.

"Who is there?" Breanna croaked, clearing her throat; she tried again, "who are you?"

Four people moved out of the shadows. Relief and joy sparkling in their eyes. Breanna blinked as her memory began to stutter to life.

"Clio, Valencia, David and … Kyle," she whispered.

"That's us," Valencia smiled, tears shimmered in her eyes, "you're back with us."

"Guess I am," Breanna whispered, "where am I?"

"Craig's room," Clio said quietly, "you've been out of it for three days."

"Three days?" Breanna whispered, "what has been happening with Darcia and her fanatics?"

"Craig has been running operations while you've been down," David said, sitting on the bed. "He's been going out with teams day and night looking for Darcia and her group of hot-headed people."

"What do you mean going out day and night?" pushing herself into a sitting position. Breanna reached for a glass of water, but Kyle anticipated her requirement, handing it to her.

"Exactly that," Kyle said quietly, waiting for her to drink before replacing the glass on the side table, "Craig has been doing recon and coordinating search parties. Stopping groups of Darcia's fanatics from terrorising bars, parties, riverboat tours. You name it. Between seeing to you and running the operation, he's been busy." Nodding, Breanna pushed the bedding aside. A spongy silver bandage wrapped her legs from just above the ankle to below her knees.

"What is this?" she whispered, fear running through her. How bad had her injuries been?

"Its burn bandages," Clio said, "you should be able to walk with them."

"Burn bandages?" Breanna frowned a little, "how bad were the burns?"

"From your toes to the top of your thighs," David said, easing off the bed, "Craig was able to get those to heal without a scar, but the ones on your lower legs may or may not be scarless."

"Craig has been looking after me?" Breanna frowned as memories popped.

"Both your brothers," Valencia nodded. "This is the first time anyone other than Rose, Hana or the two of them ... has visited."

Breanna nodded, "Can I shower with this on?"

"No idea," Clio said, "we can ask."

"Never mind asking," Breanna pushed off the bed, "point me to the bathroom. I'll need some clean clothes."

"Bre, exactly what are you doing?" Valencia asked.

"I'm getting cleaned up, and I'm going to get a briefing on where we stand," Breanna said, moving slowly toward a door David held open.

"Breanna," Clio walked beside her, "don't you think you should rest a little before you get active."

Breanna came to a stop turning to look Clio in the eye, "I've been in bed for three days. Darcia is not going to stop because I'm on bed rest," she looked between them. "Craig may be putting a stop to her fanatics terrorising the neighbourhood," Breanna sighed, "but Darcia is still busy moving forward to her end goal. There will be no stopping her if she gets it right and wins what is quickly becoming something resembling a war, and I don't allow anyone to fight my wars for me."

"I'll get your clothes," Valencia said, "you stubborn, lovable idiot."

David closed the door behind Breanna as she shuffled through.

"Doesn't she mean battles," Kyle looked at the others.

"She said wars," David grinned, "I'm guessing she doesn't do battles."

It felt like Christmas had arrived early. Breanna raised her head toward the warm water raining on her from the large circular showerhead above her head. It felt like a waterfall running through her hair and over her sensitive skin, relaxing tense muscles throughout her body. Manoeuvring with the burn bandage on her legs felt awkward, but she managed. Her thoughts mingled and twisted while contemplating what Darcia's may make her next move. She was finding it hard to focus. Hard to meet that point where she could uncover what Darcia may be doing. Her near-death experience was definitely one for the books, and vague fractured memories floated fuzzily in her mind. She could not let anyone know that staying in bed right now was all she wanted. She had come to realise while living in the fractured world of her tortured dreams the only person capable of putting an end to Darcia's machinations would be herself.

A small smile played on her lips at the luxury of the warm, soft towel wrapping around her; the feeling remained while drying. Pulling on comfortable clothes was more challenging, but she managed. Bracing herself against the wall, she took a moment to catch her breath before opening the door.