Author: J.D. Tyler

"I want to see my face," he demanded stubbornly.

After hesitating, Melina agreed. "Okay. Dr. Grant."

Mac handed him the mirror. He took it with the hand not encumbered by the IV and heaved a deep breath. Lifted it and stared for endless moments at his reflection. Then slowly his hand began to tremble. And then shake until his fingers lost their grip and the mirror landed in his lap. Mac retrieved it and gave it over to Noah, who hovered anxiously.

"I'm a freak," he whispered. "I'm a goddamned fugly son of a bitch."

"No! You're not. You're still handsome and-"

"Why? Why would anybody do that to me?"

The explosion Rowan feared didn't come, but the quiet anguish was worse somehow. His chin dipped to his chest and his shoulders started to shake. She hurried forward, nudging Mac aside, gathering her brother in her arms. "I don't know why anyone would hurt such a wonderful, beautiful man as you," she choked out. "I wish I could kill them all for you."

He clung to her as he'd done when they were kids, wrapped his arms around her and hung on. She hated what he'd been through, how thin he'd become. His tears soaked the front of her T-shirt.

"How did it happen? What did they do to me, Ro?"

"Sweetie, I don't think-"

"Tell me."

She cast a look at Melina on the other side of the bed, silently begging for help with the subject. Melina gave a quick nod, indicating that she'd take over. Rowan eased back from Micah and he gave the doctor his attention, wiping his eyes.

"The damage to your face, and the fact that the skin scarred the way it did, suggests your captors poured hot silver on you."

"So it's going to stay this way?" he asked with a catch in his voice.

"I'd say it's highly probable, yes. There is a chance that with our advances in healing various types of shifters something could eventually be done, but it's beyond our capabilities at this time."

"What else?"

"What do you mean?"

"What else did they do to me? I want to know everything."

"We don't know everything your body was physically put through, and we may never know. Even if your memory returns, you might not be clear on certain things. We have ascertained that you were tortured, extensively. There were also incisions to your torso and groin, indicative of experimentation. What this group hopes to gain is to create a breed of super-shifters."

"Ro filled me in on this Orson Chappell guy and his operation, and that there's a Seelie prince living here now whose father is probably this guy's boss."

"That's right."

There was a heavy silence before her brother spoke again, bitterness creeping in. "Finish. I know there's something else you're chewing on."

"I think," she said slowly, "that some memories are best left to resurface in the patient's own time. When a person is ready, they'll remember."

"You don't think I'm ready?"

"It's early days and you have a long road ahead before you're ready to rejoin the team."

"I'm a head case. I get it. Doesn't matter. I want to know what I'm up against so I can deal with it, or I'm going to go even more nuts trying to figure out what you're all hiding." His gaze encompassed everyone in the room.

Mac moved close, gripped his hand, and took over from her colleague. "All right. I can see this is going to hurt just as much if we keep it from you." Rowan could see how Mac struggled with the decision to tell him. Even a doctor sometimes didn't know what the best course of action was, psychologist or not.

"Micah... you were raped. I'm so sorry."

He stared at her, uncomprehending at first. Then the shock bled in, the expression of a man who'd just watched his house burn down, or witnessed the death of a loved one. In a way, perhaps it was a death of sorts. The demise of any remaining innocence the soul might've clung to all those years, writhing and screaming on the ground.

"Once?" he rasped. "Just once, right?"

Rowan couldn't see what difference once or a bunch of times made to a man who couldn't remember, but it mattered to Micah.

"Tests suggest ongoing sexual abuse. But you're physically healed now," Mac emphasized. "As for mentally, you're going to be all right. We'll get you there."

"You guys keep saying that, like I'm ever going to be normal again." His laugh was painful, on edge.

"You will be. You are normal-"

He cut Melina off. "I'll never be anything but fucked up!" His voice rose to a shout and he bolted upright, yanking at his IV. "Why bother with all of this? I'm ugly, tainted inside and out! What the fuck does anything matter?"

"Micah, calm down," Melina ordered. She and Mac grabbed his arms, and Rowan pushed his chest, pinning him to the bed.

"Micah, stop!"

"Fuck you!" he screamed. "Let go of me!"

"Noah," Melina called. "Reach in my right pocket and get that sedative into his IV."

The wide-eyed nurse leapt forward to do as the boss said, retrieving the syringe while the three of them struggled to hold Micah still. Noah hustled to grab the spout attached to the IV tube, yanked the cap off with his teeth, and inserted the needle into the tiny hole. Clear liquid flowed into the line and by the time the last of the medicine went in, Micah's struggles were already becoming weaker. One minute max, and he slumped, eyelids drooping.

"No. Please..." Then drifted closed.

He was out. They released him and Rowan studied her brother, overwhelming love and grief clogging her throat. His entire body was lax, his torment washed away, albeit temporarily, by a drug-induced sleep.

This wasn't fair. To Micah, to the missing ones who might still be suffering. None of it. Her brother was such a good man. He didn't deserve this.

Turning, she fled the room. Outside, she leaned against the wall and slapped a hand over her mouth, fighting to win the battle over the tears threatening to spill. She succeeded, but it was a near thing.

The trio inside filed out, and Melina spoke softly to the nurse. He hurried away, and the two women faced her, prepared to give their best rah-rah speech. Rowan wasn't in the mood to listen, but she did, anyway. Micah's welfare was at stake.

"You know he's going to be all right," Mac said. "We won't accept anything less than his full recovery."

"I know, and I appreciate that. But you saw him in there-the only reason he didn't shift again was probably because of the drugs."

"Maybe so, but honestly, he handled the conversation better than I expected. Don't you think?" she asked Melina.

"I agree. It could've been much worse."

"I don't see how, so I'll have to trust you both." She sighed, regaining some control of her raging emotions. "What happens now? Will you continue the sedatives?"

"In low doses," Melina answered, "just to keep him calm and suppress his ability to shift until he's mentally stable. We'll wean him off as he shows real progress in his recovery. And before you ask, there's no telling how long that could be. Months would be my professional guess, but that's a shot in the dark."

"Months. God, I have to go back to L.A. soon. How can I leave him like this?"

"He'll be fine," Mac assured her. "He's got the whole team plus a bunch of staff looking out for him. The guys are in and out of here day and night checking on him, and when they find out he's really awake, he'll have tons of company. He won't be left alone for extended periods of time, I promise."

Damn, having to go was eating her up inside. And if she was honest, not just because of having to leave Micah.

Don't go there.

"Then I guess I'll have to hang on to that until I can get back here to see him."

"When will you go?" Mac asked.

"In a couple of days. I took some vacation time in addition to my mandatory leave from the force, and it's almost gone." Belatedly, she realized they might not have heard why she was on leave from the LAPD. Then again, she hadn't exactly kept it quiet and they didn't ask for the story, so maybe word had gotten around.

"Make sure to say good-bye to us before you leave," Melina said. "That way we can keep an extra close watch on your brother, make certain he's handling your departure. I think he will, but it's only a precaution."

"I'll stop by, no worries. Thanks for all you're doing for him..." Damn it, she wouldn't lose it. "Anyway, I'll be back later."

The walls were closing in. She had to get outside for a bit, and didn't want to run into anyone. Not until she had herself under control. She exited through a side door and started walking, making sure to stay close to the building. If she was violating Nick's "group of four" rule, well, he wasn't her boss. It wasn't like she could get fired.

Heading toward the back, she found herself standing at the edge of what Aric had said was the ball field. The grass was somewhat trampled, evidence that they weren't all work and no play. Would Micah be well enough one day soon to join them in a game?

The thought of all he had to overcome was overwhelming to her; she couldn't fathom how he must be feeling. Spinning around, she planned to head into the building again-and ran straight into a solid wall of muscle. A pair of hands steadied her, engulfing her shoulders, and she looked up, half-expecting to see Aric. Only this man was far too big and tall to be her lover.

"Hammer! I'm sorry. I wasn't paying attention to where I was going." She stepped back, not out of fear or discomfort due to the man's towering size, but simply so she could see him better. She could swear he'd been nowhere around just a second ago.

"That's okay."

His rare smile was blinding and she blinked. The huge bald man was truly stunning, the epitome of a beautiful, gentle giant. Especially with his usual reserve banished by a bright, welcoming smile. He sort of resembled Vin Diesel, only way hotter. And that was saying a lot.

"Did you... need something?"

"What?" He seemed startled from some deep thought. "Oh, not really. I spotted you through the window of the rec room and wanted to make sure you weren't alone. I'm not sure if Nick's rule applies this close to the building, but I wanted to, um, keep you company."

The way he said it, kind of shy, was so sweet. The typically reticent man didn't usually have much to say, but his quiet demeanor obviously hid a big heart.

"Thanks, Hammer."

"John."

"I'm sorry?"

"My name. It's John," he said softly.

"Oh, wow. That's a great name," she said, studying him. "Big John. I love it!"

"Thanks." He actually blushed, and suddenly seemed fascinated by his tennis shoes.

"You know, the guys are all betting your name is something really nerdy or embarrassing. And here you have a strong, solid name that suits you so well." She leaned forward. "But why'd you tell me?"

He shrugged. "You're a cop, and you're Micah's sister. I know I can trust you. I feel it here," he said, placing a plate-sized palm over his gut.

She was beyond touched. "Thank you. Your secret is safe with me. After all, we wouldn't want to upset the betting pool, would we?" He laughed quietly. As she watched him, gave the man some thought, the pieces began to fit together. "You joined the team with Nick six months ago."

"Yeah."

"He said you were in the FBI together. You were undercover, weren't you?"

"Yes."

"You were deep inside and you got made, didn't you?" she asked, gauging his reaction to see if she was right. He tensed, looked into her eyes, and she knew before he spoke.