"No business meetings today?" I asked.

I felt better with the blood off my body. I was changed into something comfortable, and surprisingly, so was Jim.

He sat on the couch, my head in his lap, body sprawled along the length of the couch. The rhythmic running his hand through my hair was calming. A part of my brain told me this was wrong, but I was too content to listen to it. I wasn't in danger. He wasn't hurting me.

"Every now and again, I need a day to myself. Gets exhausting having to run around all the time."

"I hear that." I crossed my legs at the ankles.

"How I've missed this," he crooned. "The simplicity. The bliss."

"It is nice." I glanced at my left hand. There was something missing, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. I was trying hard to remember, but I kept drawing blanks.

Jim kept scrolling through the TV channels until he settled onto one playing soft, classical music. "Just the station I was looking for. Come on, love, up we go."

I sat up as Jim got off the couch. We found ourselves dancing in the middle of the den room, a slow rhythm. I put my head against his shoulder, and I listened to him hum along with the music.

"This brings back memories, doesn't it?" he murmured.

I thought about two instances where we were like this: the first one was good, the second not so much. "I guess."

"You're not getting sleepy on me, are you?"

I shook my head. "Not at all. I'm just...good. Content."

"As you should be, darling." He grabbed my one hand and kissed it. "You're a guest here, not a captive."

"But yet I can't come and go as I please." I frowned.

"No, you can't. But why would you want to? Everything is right here, in this place. Why would you want to venture out?"

"To breathe in fresh air. I feel trapped, Jim." I pouted. "Is this your definition of 'fun'?"

"Oh, that. We're not to that surprise just yet. It'll come soon, I promise." He combed through my hair. "I always preferred you as a brunette. Blonde looks strange on you."

"I was born a blonde," I said firmly. "I like my natural color, thank you very much."

"But you dyed it brown."

I shrugged. "I don't dye it often, just when I'm tired of the same old thing, you know?"

Jim sighed. "I miss the simple conversations like this. I hated being away from you, Rachel. Watching from afar." A darkness clouded his eyes.

"Well, you're not away from me anymore." I almost smiled, but I couldn't bring myself to.

Jim moved my head with his fingers under my chin. I didn't let him kiss me, I turned my head to the side. Kissing him felt like the wrong thing to do, and for the life of me, I couldn't figure out why. I couldn't figure out why I was so content being near him. How I felt even felt off. Like it wasn't really me. Like someone was putting me on autopilot, or someone was behind the controls.

"What is it?" he asked me, taking notice of my facial expression.

"I'm just thinking," I said nonchalantly.

"About?"

"How I feel like this, when I feel I should be some other way." I sniffed.

"And how do you think you should be feeling right now?"

"I don't know." And that was the scary part.

"Well, you shouldn't worry. You're right where you're supposed to be." He pulled away slightly. "I think it's time we do that little surprise I had planned."

"Which is what?" I asked curiously.

"You'll see. But, unfortunately, it requires something to wear that's not what we're wearing. I'll wait for you outside your door. Go on now."

As I headed for my room, I felt a little bit of clarity. I knew why I had to feel a different type of way—Jim Moriarty was a killer. He housed killers. Mandy was dead because of him. Or me. I hated to think that. What did he do to me? How did I wind up dancing with him?!

I made sure to shut my door before I went to the closet and picked out different clothes. As I dressed, my worries disappeared, and the fog was back in my brain. He hasn't hurt me. He's taken good care of me. I'm...safe? More like I'm alive. That's a better description.

I opted for all black, and Jim was in his normal getup when I left my room.

"Black is your color," he noted with a smirk.

We entered a room I hadn't been in before. Set up was a projector, a laptop with the web camera on. I was a little wary that Sebastian was looming in a dark corner of the room. It made me uneasy.

"Just sit there, kitten," Jim said, gesturing to the chair. "Be a good girl, sit pretty, and don't speak."

Don't speak? I still obliged, sitting in the chair. I watched the image projected on the wall, watched as it connected. A fuzzy image was what came on.

And a few familiar faces.

My mouth parted slightly. Sherlock's face was the first thing to be seen. Behind him, I could just make out John—my biological father. I noticed that Jim stood in front of the laptop, blocking me from view.

"Did you miss me?" Jim crooned, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"Why the sudden conference call?" asked Sherlock. "No texts?"

"I didn't realize you loved the sexting so much. Besides, I think this way is more...visual." He snapped a piece of chewing gum I just realized he had in his mouth. "I'm getting rather impatient, and disappointed. Almost to the point where I'm getting bored, Sherlock. It's taking you so long to find us."

"Where is she?" demanded Dad. "Where's Rachel?"

"She's in good condition, Doctor Watson. What, does Daddy miss his little girl? Oh, yeah, I know all about that."

"How?"

"I'm Jim Moriarty, Johnny boy."

"I want to see her."

"You're in luck, the both of you. I've got her right here." Jim stepped away, and I took the spotlight on the screen.

"Oh, god, Rachel."

"Rachel!" shouted another voice. In addition to Dad peeking behind Sherlock, my heart skipped a beat. Bayley. My fiancé. I teared up. That's what I'm missing! The engagement ring! Moriarty took it off me! "Oh god, baby."

"Well, look who it is," Moriarty sneered. "Her current lover. Does she know you tried to kill her?"

"I didn't try to; I purposely missed. You alright, Rach?"

"You can talk, kitten," Moriarty encouraged me.

"I-I'm fine," I coughed.

"What have you done to her?" Bayley growled.

"I've kept her warm and happily fed."

"Where's Amanda?"

I let out a quiet sob.

"Oh dear, I'm afraid you asked the wrong question," Moriarty simpered. "She didn't play the game properly."

"What did you to do her?!"

"I'll let you figure that one out. Cutting to the chase, boys, Rachel and I are getting a little bored and lonely over here. I can only hold her here for so long before someone snaps."

"If you've done anything to her," Bayley threatened him, "I'll make sure you rot in Hell."

"Heard that threat one too many times before." Moriarty rolled his eyes. "I've been to Hell, and it spat me back out. Besides, threats don't scare me."

"Listen here, you son of a bitch. When I get my hands on you—"

"Which you won't. Few people have. Sherlock, I notice you're being unusually quiet. What gives? I'm bantering with the idiots, and that's growing pretty exhausting."

"Is this your way of giving us a free hint?" asked Sherlock. "Have you become that bored?"

"I'm just that eager to keep the game moving. It's been in a lull lately, and I hate lulls. Nothing happens. It's so boring." Moriarty walked to me, and I saw all three men on the screen visibly tense. I flinched as he stroked my hair. "I would tell you where we are, but that's too big of a hint. Come find us. Let's end this once and for all. What do you say?"

"Rachel," Bayley pleaded. "Keep fighting, sweetheart. We're going to come for you. I promise you."

"Oh, how disgustingly sweet!" Moriarty fake gagged. "If you don't come find us soon, boys, I'm going to have to start entertaining myself. And all of us can only imagine how I'll do so. You might just walk in on something when you get here."

Dad held Bayley back as he nearly pushed his way towards the front past Sherlock. Moriarty chuckled, tickling the side of my neck with his fingers.

"You can be sure this will be the last game you ever play, Moriarty," Sherlock growled.

"Mm, we'll see, my dear. Get here and we'll most definitely see. Oh, one more thing before we end this: I just want you, Sherlock. Johnny boy can come too, being it's his daughter. But if I find anyone in addition to you two...You can see where I'm going with this." He walked towards the laptop and shut it, cutting off the feed.

I didn't realize I was crying until I tasted salty water. Even though I wasn't restrained to the chair, I felt like I was. Sherlock, Bayley, Dad. They were there. They didn't give up.

"That was exhausting," Moriarty drawled, looking back at me. "Hopefully that'll spur them to haul ass here."

I rose from the chair slowly, giving him a dark glare. "You don't know what you've done."

"I do, kitten." I took a step back as he advanced towards me. "Ah, the drug is wearing off, I see."

"I knew you did something to me." My hands went into fists. "I knew I was too calm to dance with you."

"You liked it, though. You didn't refuse."

"How could I with a foggy brain?" I spat.

"You're going into lockdown until our guests arrive. It'll give me some peace and quiet to plan how to play this."

"How about give yourself up? Sherlock won the last game. He beat you."

"Technically, he didn't. I call that a draw. It's not a win if both players fake their deaths."

"If you drug me again—"

"I won't for this. I'll let you be you, Rachel. I promise, the drug won't be in your room when you get back there."

"Never trust the word of a snake."

"Not even a snake who gave you a memorable first trip to London?"

I made a face of disgust. "Thank god I never slept with you."

"You're the only person to have ever told me that, darling. A shame, because we could've made some good memories together under the sheets."

"If you don't mind, I'll go back to my room without an escort."

"I'll let you have that request, too, since there's the chance of you not walking away from this."

As I left the room on my own account, I tried to not let his words sink in. I survived this long, I could stick the rest of this out. I had to. For Mandy. For Bayley. Dad. Sherlock.

Most importantly, I had to live through this for myself. 

**It's pretty bad when Moriarty makes Rachel comply via a drug. It's not genuine that way, my dear.

P.S. That's not how you get people to like you.**