"But Da found you again, didn't he? Because your sentimental Mum missed him so much? And then he beat Meghan so badly that he caused her irreparable brain damage, correct? Such a shame. So, you murdered your own father."
Maura stilled, then took a deep breath that at last filled her lungs. "Are we at the crux of your 'This Is Your Life' game, Mr. Pine? Do you think I'm ashamed of killing my father? When I found him standing over Meghan, I stabbed him through the throat with the same knife that nicked you. My only regret is not doing it sooner."
"Ah, but in front of the other girls, didn't you? That's why you've let them think you're dead. They think their sister Morrighan was a murderous whore." He smiled in a mockery of sympathy.
"Yes. You'd know something about being a monster, wouldn't you, James? Your hands are red with the blood of dozens, if not hundreds of people. You are fuckingdrenchedin it. Youbathein blood! My sisters can think I'm evil for the rest of their lives, as long as they're allowed a good long one!" Maura was half out of her chair, eyes blazing with hatred.
He suddenly chuckled. "There's the vicious goddess of death and destruction. A pleasure to meet you, Morrighan." James leaned forward; his voice was poisonously cold. "And if you'd like to keep your dear sisters enjoying that good, long life you're paying for, you'll obey every single thing I say."
It's almost as if he expected what happened next, when Maura exploded across the desk, going for his throat. The needle held ready in his hand went into her upper arm, and she was unconscious before she could even moan.
Chapter 14: Helplessness
In which bruised pride is likely even worse than a bruised heart for men like James Pine.
Kingston watched her second in command, lips pinched with disapproval. "This is completely unlike you, James."
He looked up from his drink. "How so?"
"Getting... soft." Kingston spat the word with distaste. "Letting this creature live." The two were sitting alone together that afternoon in the Boardroom.
Laughing, he took another drink of Islay. "You think that's what this is, mercy? Affection?"
Raising an eyebrow, she looked over her glass at him. "What do you call it, James?"
Absently swirling his scotch, he lifted his gaze, his blue eyes gone polar again. "Everyone fears something very specific. That's how to spark the intensity needed during the interrogation phase, finding the one thing that terrifies them the most."
"And what does MacLaren fear?"
Pine smiled and finished his drink. "Helplessness."
“Regardless,” she admonished, “you know the rules. Follow through, or I’ll finish the girl myself.”
***
Groaning, Maura woke and rolled over. "This is the second time I've been drugged in two days," she groaned, "God, I hope this isn't turning into a habit." She rubbed her face, hating the soft and woozy way her body responded. Trying to get out of bed, she fell to the floor, trying to fight off a bout of dizziness. She'd seen plenty of drugs flow through the tattered neighborhood of her childhood, saw many friends and family fall prey to the false comfort of a powder or the needle. But Maura never touched a thing. The idea of being weak and unable to protect herself was utterly horrifying. She barely drank.
Clumsily getting to her knees, she sat still for a moment, trying to gather some strength to stand. She looked around. She was still wearing the green sundress, and in a bedroom that she recognized as a guest suite in James’s house. The fading light outside was slanting against the west wall, telling her it was nearly evening. "I've been out all day," she sighed.
The bedroom door suddenly opened, James walking in to stand over her, looking down expressionlessly. "There's a dress hanging in the closet, put it on and get dressed for the evening."
Flushing, Maura put a hand on the bedpost and forced herself to stand. I'm done looking up at him from my knees, she thought bitterly. Standing unsteadily, she put her hand on the bedpost for support. Hands in his suit pockets, James watched her, not offering to help. When she finally looked at him again, his eyes were still the silver-blue she'd come to dread.
"You have thirty minutes," he said, straightening a cuff under his jacket sleeve and walking out of the bedroom.
"This is fucking insanity!" Maura raged to herself in the shower, turning it up full volume so nothing could be heard outside the bathroom. "Dressing for dinner? What the hell is he playing at?" Nonetheless, she tried to wake up a little under the cold spray. Finding her makeup bag on the counter, she assumed they'd combed through the houseboat. “I know you were disappointed,” she whispered with a sneer. “As if I'd have anything that mattered to me where you could touch it.”
The dress in the closet was beautiful – a pale cream silk, with long sleeves and a floor-length skirt. Grateful that it covered most of her bruises and scrapes, she failed to notice until she’d managed to pull up the zipper that it fit tightly around the waist and was off-shoulder, ending in a low scoop at the swell of her breasts.
Her anxiety grew as she looked for some underwear- there was nothing attached to the hanger, no other clothes in the closet or dresser drawers. She was shutting the last one as James walked back into the room in a beautifully tailored charcoal grey suit with a blue silk tie.
His expression was impassive as he looked her up and down. The sheer long sleeves covered most of her bruises, making the damage from yesterday less noticeable to an outside eye. "You're ready. Come."
"Wait, there's no underwear here, I need-" Maura tried tugging the neckline up, but that only made the long slit in her skirt edge alarmingly close to her bare ass. She looked up to see a corner of his thin mouth turn up.
"You're wearing everything you're allowed. Now, come." James moved behind her, forcing her by proximity to walk out and down the stairs to the front door. Brusquely ushering her into the large Mercedes, he told the driver to head towards McKittrick Hotel. Maura shook her head at the unreality of it all. Her two senior agents murdered in front of her yesterday, and now she was all dressed up, like a tart? As if this was a date?
The image of Yagura's brown eyes closing as she pressed her forehead against his made her eyes fill with tears. Looking away from James and out the window, she forced herself to stop. Crying over Yagura wouldn't bring him back, and she couldn't afford to show weakness in front of her - boss? Lover? Ex-lover, she corrected herself, he'd never touch her again. Brought back to the present as the door opened, Maura looked up at James, waiting for her to emerge.
