The door to her cell, opened with a clunk, and Rowan scrambled to her feet as two guards walked in. "Turn around and face the wall," one of them instructed, and Rowan did as she was told. "Hands above your head."

The guards came over and unlocked her shackles, then stepped back. "Put the clothes we've left on your floor on," the other one said, and the door shut behind them once more.

Rowan turned back around and picked up the bundle they'd left on ground beside her. She shook it out, revealing the same shapeless grey shirt and grey leggings she'd seen the other prisoners wearing. She pulled off her ballgown, which, at this point, was more of a collection of rags somehow clinging together, and shrugged on the new clothes. They were scratchy and too big, but Rowan figured it wasn't important.

A few minutes later, the door opened again, and two different guards marched in, cuffed her hands back together, and then marched her outside. Neither of them said a word as they pushed her down hallway after hallway, and she was almost glad. If they'd talked, she might have been tempted to speak her mind and tell them exactly what she was thinking, which would have just gotten her into trouble.

The men stopped in front of a sturdy door, unlocked it, uncuffed her, then slammed the door shut behind her. She heard a lock click into place.

Rowan looked around, taking in the room they'd flung her into. It was obviously a lab, but without most of the tools most labs contained. There were no metal tools, nothing sharp, no chemical compounds that could be mixed together into anything immediately dangerous, and, instead of any electronics, there was paper everywhere.

There were also two people inside, a guy and a girl, both around her age. Rowan guessed the girl was the biochemist Dr. Beech had told her about, and the guy was probably the engineer. Both of them looked up when she was flung inside. "What do you do?" the girl asked. Not, what's your name? or Who are you? but What do you do?

"Geneticist," Rowan answered. "And environmentalist."

"Oh," the guy said. "Good. It means you won't get moved around. None of us are either of those things. I'm an engineer and a mathematician, and she's a biochemist." The girl gave a little wave.

Just then, the door slammed open again, and Dr. Beech was shoved inside. "Ah," he said when he saw Rowan. "It's you." To the others, he explained. "She's in the cell next to mine. Okay, let's get down to business. Today, we've been asked to start working on a new bioweapon."

The biochemist looked up, her eyes wide. "But this isn't a biosecurity lab!"

"I don't think they care," the engineer told her. "So we'll just have to be careful, yeah?"

The girl nodded, and they both turned to Dr. Beech, who picked up a notebook and a pen. "Anyone have any ideas? We really need some, cause they won't let us out of here until we do."

The biochemist spoke up. "What if we were to make a dispersing device that would make things airborne?" she asked, and Rowan felt her stomach lurch. The last thing she wanted was to help the Red Night make a weapon that destructive, but, like Dr. Beech had pointed out, they didn't have a choice.

"I can work on the actual design," the engineer said. "If you could all work on how to make chemicals and viruses actually transmit through the air, how to disperse them, and how to make sure their effects aren't altered by the change in state."

The biochemist slipped over to Rowan. "We can work on the first and the third," she said smiling shyly.

"Okay," Rowan agreed. She would hate herself for this, but she didn't want to put her companions at risk.

"I'll work on the second one," Dr. Beech announced. "I can calculate the results different dispersal devices would have."

"Great!" said the biochemist, linking her arm with Rowan's. "Come on. I'll show you where everything is, and we can get started! Now, I know it's awful, doing this work, but if we don't, they kill whole teams then reassign the person who refused to work. So we do the work, because the alternative is so awful."

She led Rowan over to a workstation and began with a tour of where all their tools were kept. Then, she pulled a stack of blank paper over, grabbed a pencil and handed Rowan one, too. "Okay," she said. "Let's get started, shall we?"

They worked like that for what Rowan thought was several hours–impossible to tell, without windows or a clock. Then, suddenly, out of the dead silence that Rowan had begun to get accustomed to, came the sounds of a scuffle right outside the door to the lab.

The door opened, and six men came in, one of them dragging someone very small with a bag over their head. "Everyone, step away from your stations!" one of the men ordered. "Put your hands behind your backs."

Everyone complied, so Rowan followed their lead, stepping up next to the biochemist, putting her hands behind her back. One of the men stepped inside and began lazily leafing through Dr. Beech's notes while two more trained their guns on the scientists, waiting. The other three dragged the small person into the center of the room, and one of them pointed to Rowan. "You. She's in your cell, now. Your responsibility. Make sure she behaves."

And he tugged the hood off her head, revealing the tear-stained face of a little girl who couldn't have been more than eight or ten. The guards flung her at Rowan, who reached out and caught her, wrapping her arms around the girl's too-thin shoulders.

The guards took one last look around the lab, then sauntered out, locking the door behind them. Rowan glanced at each of the others in turn. "Is this normal?" she asked, ashamed to realized that her voice was shaking. What the hell was she supposed to do with a kid in this place?

The biochemist shrugged. "Not uncommon," she said, shrugging. "I mean, they never just tell us to take care of kids; it's usually other prisoners."

"Yeah," said the engineer. "They put me in his cell at first." He jerked his thumb at Dr. Beech. "Told him to make sure I toed the line, essentially."

"Oh," Rowan said, and she knelt next to the little girl. "Did they hurt you, sweetie?" The girl shook her head, her eyes wide, and she clung to Rowan's shirt. "Okay," Rowan went on. "Look, I have to work with these guys right now, so, uh, why don't you help? If we show you where everything is, do you think you could get us the things we need when we need them?"

The little girl nodded. "Yes, ma'am," she said brokenly, the first sound she'd made so far. Rowan smiled at her and smoothed her mussed up hair.

"Why doesn't this nice lady show you where everything lives?" she suggested, getting the biochemist to take the little girl's hand, while she held the other one. "Shall we?"

They fell into a rhythm, Rowan and the biochemist asking the little girl to get them what they needed, as long as it wasn't dangerous, and, the rest of the time, they got her set up with a pencil and paper so she could draw or something. Rowan wasn't really sure what else to do with her.

After what Rowan presumed was a few more hours, a pair of guards came in with a tray of food, then left again. Rowan made sure the little girl ate, then served herself, and, once the food was gone, they all got back to work.

It could have just been Rowan's imagination, but the time after the meal seemed to pass much more slowly. Normally, this kind of work would have at the least intrigued her, but, right now, all she wanted to do was curl up in a ball and cry. She wasn't okay, she could admit it to herself, even if she would never, ever, tell another person how she felt.

Her mind kept running through memories of what they'd done to her, of what Nash had done to her. It made the food they'd served her churn unpleasantly in the bottom of her stomach. Twice, she thought she would actually throw up, but twice, she clamped her jaw shut and fought it. She needed to be strong, right then, for herself, for the other scientists, for the little girl.

Finally, after an indeterminate amount of time, the doors opened again, each of them was told to turn around with their hands behind their backs, each of them was handcuffed again, and then they were led out by a pair of guards each.

Rowan was flung back into her cell, and then her cuffs were taken off before the little girl was tossed in, too. Rowan caught her, keeping her from a nasty fall, then told her to wait while the guards undid her tiny shackles, too.

Finally, the two of them were alone, and Rowan pulled the little girl into her lap, wrapping her arms around her. "What's your name, sweetie?" she asked the little girl. Undoubtedly, the guards already knew, so she could ask.

The little girl clung to her and whispered, "Cailee," then burst into tears. Rowan rocked her slowly from side to side, talking while she did. Mindless chatter, mostly, anything to soothe the poor child. Hell, how cruel could the Red Night be, locking a little girl up like this.

"Cailee, my name is Rowan," she told the little girl. "It's really nice to meet you. Have you been in this place long?"

The little girl shook her head violently. "No, I was somewhere else before," she whispered hoarsely. "They said they were taking me back to my daddy, but they brought me here instead. Where's my daddy? Can I see him?"

Rowan froze. "Sweetie, what's your daddy's name?" she asked.

Cailee shrugged. "I don't know." she said. She buried her head against Rowan's shoulder, and Rowan tightened her arms around the little girl.

"Okay," she said softly. "Well, you can stay with me now. I'll take care of you, I promise. But, for now, we should get some sleep, yeah?"

"I don't think I can sleep," Cailee whispered.

"That's okay," Rowan told her. "Why don't I tell you a story?"

Cailee snuggled into her arms. "Okay," she said. "I think I'd like that."

Rowan smiled. "Once upon a time," she began. "There lived a beautiful girl, and–"

Her words were drowned out by an almighty bang, and she sat bolt upright. Then, out of the ringing in her ears, there came another sound, one that was intrinsically familiar: gunfire. Rowan picked Cailee up, set her down in a corner, and planted herself in front of her.

If anyone wanted that little girl, they would have to go through her.

The sound of running feet echoed outside her door, accompanied by panicked voices. Rowan settled into a fighting stance, waiting. Then, the running feet stopped, and a new sound took over. Feet pattered, rather than pounded, and a steady murmur of voices echoed through the stone halls. Suddenly, a metallic bang made Rowan jump, then a word she knew very, very well. "Clear!"

It was repeated over and over, always after the sounds of the doors being thrown open. Then, between one shout of "Clear!" and the sound of another door being opened, there was a new sound, the repetitive noise of shots being fired.

Then, a voice slowly drew near, one Rowan could have sworn she knew. "...all clear... got to be here somewhere!"

Then, there was an almighty bang, and her own door slammed open. Cailee screamed, but Rowan didn't even hesitated. She sprang forward, colliding with a solid body, and then she was in Levi's arms. Her legs wobbled, then gave out, and he bent and picked her up bodily.

"Stark!" he called back over his shoulder. "I found her."