~*~*~*~*~*~ E N D   F L A S H B A C K ~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Rhaef came to and could still feel the smile across his lips as it slipped away in the darkness. He body throbbed from the beatings although the dream and the reality were melding together at this point.

Yet even then his mind was sharp and focused. He'd caged the beast. There was no one to tell, no one to celebrate with him, but yet he knew he could bear whatever his captors did next. He had his theories in those lucid moments when his wits were around him. But mostly, he hoped, it ended with him. That whoever was taking such delight in trying to break him, would leave Destiny and his friends, and Charlie alone.

He stared around the claustrophobic confines of his cell, and waited.

A long time passed - or at least it felt as though it had.  Minutes, hours, days ... none of this seemed to have any meaning anymore.  In his solitary cell with even his vision taken from him beneath the rough blindfold Rhaef had no way of measuring time passing.  He did know however that enough time had passed for the blood to dry, and for shallow cuts to heal over.  It was the longest he had gone without being dragged out and tortured.  Something was up.  Something was happening.  Or perhaps they had just decided to leave him in there to die.  To just rot away.  Or maybe he had won ... maybe they had given up - whoever 'they' were ...

~*~*~*~*~*~ F L A S H B A C K ~*~*~*~*~*~

Rhaef had been tossed out of the bar, thrown unceremoniously onto the cold, wet pavement - a drunken mess.  His body ached from the beating he had received.  In his state of self-pity and despair, his state of drunken oblivion he had been in no position to single handedly take on 7 or 8 very large, very angry men.  But that was who he was, the type to never give-up and never back down ... so now he was lying a bloody, drunken mess on the ground.  The rain poured down from the sky, dumping buckets of freezing water over his head.  It pulled him slightly from his stupor, but not enough to cease the disorienting spinning motion the world had begun to take, as though it were trying to fling Rhaef off the face of the planet.  As though the world itself had rejected Rhaef, wished to through him off and fling him into oblivion where he would die along and cold.

Rhaef tried to stand a few times, but his balance was as broken as his body. The beating and the booze had pretty much left him broken, he shambled to a nearby alley and collapsed.

Everything was gone, but he'd beaten the beast. He'd caged at the easiest to let it out, and that sustained him. Even if he died in that alley, which was a distinct possibility, he could die a happy man. He wasn't a monster, he was a man.

Yet, this realization was tinged with pain and guilt, he just wished Kale and Charlie could be here to see that he was a better man than what they thought of him now. But his friends were safer and better off without him. He reminded himself.

Suddenly a blinding light filled Rhaef's vision, it was like the light that people claim to see moments before death.  Ethreal, all encompassing ... it was the headlights of a black, high class car.  Unusual in these parts, but in his state Rhaef was in no position to be making out the make and model of the vehicle.  He was barely in the state to realize that it was a vehicle at all.

Car doors slammed and dark shadowy figures emerged.  Tall, and thickly built they descended on Rhaef.  Strong arms gripped his already aching shoulders and hoisted him to his feet.  Two men grabbed him, but there was a third.

He felt a cloth being placed over his mouth and nose and could smell the fumes.  He was being drugged.  "The Black Hand ... he's the one, throw him in the back." the third figure said.  Rhaef couldn't see the man but that voice ... that voice it sounded familiar.  Like he had heard it before.  It was all so hazy.  Everything was growing dark.

Rhaef felt himself be manhandled, yet he could do nothing about it. He was in no condition to fight, and these weren't bar thugs anyway. He tried to break through the haze in his mind to recognize the voice, but could not place it. He glanced down at his hand, not remembering if he was wearing his glove or not. What concered him most was that, they knew who he was...

~*~*~*~*~*~ E N D   F L A S H B A C K ~*~*~*~*~*~

If Rhaef had any concept of time he'd have known it had been three whole days since anyone had come to his cell.  Three days of silence save for the dripping sound that never ceased.  Three days and he was starting to be able to move again - if only a little - but every little bit counted, right?

He'd hear footsteps outside his cell sometimes, footsteps that would stop just short of his cell.  He'd imagine someone standing outside his door, waiting.  Most likely waiting for the sound of his death.  Rhaef wasn't going to lay down and die that easy though.  He could take more.  Rhaef was a fighter.

How much more though ... it was starting to become a waiting game.  When?  When would it be too much?

Rhaef looked around his cell, his shoulders and knees stung with sharp pains which suggested a modest bit of recovery because they were no longer dull aches. He was not near fighting shape, but he was starting to find sensations in his extremities again. A day or two more to recover and he'd be dangerous to his captors again. His mind was no longer fogged by alocohol. And even unarmed the Black Hand was still a very dangerous man.

All of this, he knew, led to one inevitable conclusion he'd be killed very soon. He smiled briefly to himself, he had not given up his friends, his family, her...and he would not know - no matter what else they could bring against him.

After another long period of silence Rhaef heard it again.  Footsteps.  But something was different.  It wasn't just one pair.  There was more then one person coming for him this time.  And as Rhaef strained to hear he caught something he hadn't heard in a long time ... voices.  Human voices whispering outside his door.  He couldn't make out what they were saying but there could be no mistaking it.  Someone was whispering.  Someone was coming for him.

Rhaef pushed himself to the wall and pushed himself painfully up. If he was going out, he was going fighting and on his feet. Best tribute I can give 'em, he thought to himself.

Steeling himself for the coming fight, he smirked, as he waited for the doors to open.

For a few more moments Rhaef could hear the footsteps and voices growing closer.  Every muscle in his body began to tingle with anticipation of what may very well be the last fight of his life.  Three pairs of footsteps.  Two voices that he could make out.  It was amazing what adrenaline could do.  Just a few moments ago he couldn't of even imagine actually getting his muscles to work well enough to stand up - and now ...

The footsteps and voices came to a halt right outside of his door.  There was silence.  Then the sound of someone fiddling with the lock to his cell.

Rhaef waited.  It felt like forever.  And then the door opened.

No one rushed forward to attack him though, just a single voice spoke, a voice whose smoothness only barely concealed the raw emotion of relief and joy, a voice Rhaef had not heard in a long, long time ...

"It's you.  It's really you ... my god, Rhaef, what have they done?"

Rhaef was physically stunned when the door openned, the physcial torture had been survivable, but now they were breaking down his mind. He tried to back away, but what little strength had been drained by the act of standing, he collapsed in a crumpled heap on the floor, passing out again before hitting the ground. As he fell, he cried, "No, you're dead! Leave me alone!"

At first Rhaef thought that he was still blindfolded.  Everything was dark.  So he strained his ears.  The first thing he noticed was the dripping was gone.  Everything had changed with the dripping sound absence.  Instead he heard the soft hum of some sort of machine, and a steady beeping sound.

It was then that he realized that he wasn't blindfolded - his eyes were closed.  He struggled to open them.  All he could see was light.  It was too bright so he snapped them shut again.

"Hey." a voice he didn't recognize said, "Hey get over here, he's waking up."

There was the sound of shuffling, of people moving around the room.

"How are his vitals?"

"I think he's going to make it."

"Thank God." there was a pause then before Rhaef felt a hand on his shoulder.  The slight pressure hurt but not terribly, "Rhaef?  Can you hear me?  You're home Rhaef, you're finally home."

Rhaef was slowing coming to despite the blinding light and the haze of drugs, rather than pain. He looked at the voice speaking. "Am I in hell? Cause you're dead, so if I am seeing you, I must be in Hell." His voice was empty of rancor or emotion. It was more simply echoing his thinking without an edit box.

Curio's expression was unreadable as he stared down at the Rhaef.  A mask for the millions of connections, thoughts, and plans going on in his mind, "Don't be stupid, Rhaef, I'm just as much alive as you are.  What is the first thing you learn?  Trust your own judgment.  And if you were dead - you'd know it.  Besides, its not in your nature to die.  So snap out of it." Curio said sharply, although not uncaring.

Here was the man who had taught Rhaef everything he knew.  The man who had shaped the young boy into a man.  Who had taken him under his wing like a son - who had made Rhaef everything he had tried so long to be rid of.  Here was the man who was supposed to have died four long years ago ...

Rhaef began to come to his senses, the sights and sounds suggested not hell, but a medical facility of some sort. "But, boss how can it be? You were dead, killed by me most said." He looked at the man that had been a surrogate father to him, "If you weren't dead, why'd you let me think you were, let me run, let me take the fall?"

Curio smiled, "Ah, dying is not in my nature either." his expression became more serious as Rhaef inquired on why he had let him take the fall.

"It was an unfortunate necessity." he didn't continue however, instead he smiled again, "But come, there will be time enough to talk about all this unpleasantness later, after you've gotten something to eat.  Now is a time to celebrate the return of the prodigal son."

He clasped a hand on Rhaef's back and his voice was completely sincere when he spoke next, "You have no idea how grateful I am that I found you, how good it is to have you back.  It'll be just like old times, Rhaef."

For the next few weeks Rhaef let his questions go unanswered.  His primary focus was to regain his strength.  To become a whole man again.  For the most part he rarely saw Curio.  'Business matters.' was the mans only explanation to his long absences when Rhaef inquired.  Soon he stopped asking.  If Curio did not wish to tell him more that was his business.  Rhaef knew the man well enough to know that if it were something that he needed to know - he'd tell him.  That's how it had always been.

Rhaef hadn't yet been outside the compound where Curio had brought him - there was no need, not yet.  But after a little silent snooping about he had discovered only one exit.  It was a smart move.  One way out meant only one way in.  The door was guarded constantly.  Not that Rhaef was being held hostage ... he was sure that if he had wished to leave Curio would not protest.  The man had saved his life.  Searched for him, found him and rescued him when no one else cared ...

There were other people that moved in and out of the compound.  Curio had explained to him one night over dinner that he had started his own organization which lately had been thriving.  He talked in hushed tones about how someone had managed to take out the entirety of the Burnt Hand.  Something to do with a yacht party as rumor had it.

Most nights Curio would join him for dinner.  Inquiring on his health, reminiscing about the past.  Neither spoke of how they had lost touch, or the present circumstances.  Not yet.

The hours drifted into days, the days into weeks, and Rhaef was not above playing the games that Curio was playing, he needed to recover and the medical attention and the end of the regular beatings was helping that.

He also knew from his scouting that escape was an option. He had only two options, Curio would let him leave, or he'd fight his way out. He knew there was a third option, but as Curio had said earlier, dying was not in his nature.

He walked to dining hall where he ate, having made a decision. He'd hear out Curio's offer, give it reasonable consideration, considering it was not like Destiny was coming for him, and then make his counter offer.

Curio was already seated at the table when Rhaef entered the dining hall.  He smiled and made a motion for him to sit, "Smoked salmon, trust me, its the best." he dug his fork into a piece of meat, "You know, I've never needed the finer things in life - but sometimes they are a pleasure."

Rhaef laughed as he sat down at the table, "Curio, you may be able to lie to others, but not me. I am partically your son. You've always had a taste for the finer things in life, you just did not have the stomach to pay for them." Rhaef flashed a glint of the trademark cocky smile, he'd lost over the last few months.

He lifted his arm from the table, making a clear production of placing a gray glove, that he had lifted from the facility's service room over his tatooed hand before reaching for a plate and helping himself to some food. "Let's do something we're both good at Curio. Let's talk business. What do you want? And more importantly, what are you offering?"

Curio glanced up from his plate with a bemused expression at Rhaef's response, "Ah, there's the old Rhaef I've missed so much.  Still as cocky as ever, still as observant."

He watched then as Rhaef placed the gray glove over his hand.  Rhaef had always been funny about the mark of the Burnt Hand.  He was the only member to have not gone through with the actual burning, Curio had made an exception for him by allowing him to receive a tattoo instead.  An exception he'd have made for no one else, save his most prized pupil.

He set his fork down when Rhaef spoke again and folded his hands together on the table, the fingers coming together to form a temple.  His own left hand covered in a similar gray glove.

"It's simple.  I want my right hand back.  I want you, Rhaef. The Black Hand.  Just like old times." he leaned in, "We'll no longer have the silly restrictions of the Burnt Hand.  Thanks to you - they're all dead or in jail." Curio smiled, "Yes, I've been following you for sometime now.  You and that floating milk cart you've been traveling around the 'Verse in.   I must admit I was a little disappointed, you are so much better then that, Rhaef.  You are so much more."

He sighed then and continued, "Anyway, I became worried when I discovered that you were no longer aboard the ship - that you had vanished.  And so I searched you out, found you, saved you - like I had saved you once before."