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"No, she dumped me into limbo and I woke up here. Showing off."
"I heard that," a distant voice in my head said. Paige.
"She's still here," I said. "There. Somewhere. Eavesdropping."
"I'm not eavesdropping," Paige said. "You have my body. Where am I supposed to go? I wasn't showing off. I knew you'd want to speak to Jeremy, so I wanted to surprise you. It should have been a smooth transition, but I guess your lack of experience--"
"My lack of experience?" I said.
"Ignore her," Jeremy said.
"I heard that," Paige said, quieter.
"How are you?" Jeremy asked. He laid his hand on mine. I saw it, but couldn't feel it and felt a pang of loss.
"Lonely," I said, surprising myself. I lightened my tone. "Not for lack of company, though. Seems I'm quite the popular 'guest' around this place. But it's--I'm--" I inhaled. Pull yourself together, Elena. That was the last thing Jeremy needed, to hear me on the verge of an emotional breakdown. Where had this come from?
"I'm tired," I said. "Not sleeping well, not eating well, no exercise. So I'm touchy. Cabin fever, I guess. Physically, I'm fine. They aren't torturing me, beating me, starving me. Nothing like that. I'll be okay."
"I know you will," he said softly. He pulled up a chair. "Do you feel up to talking about it?"
I told him about Bauer, Matasumi, rattled off some details on the guards and the other staff like Xavier, Tess, and Carmichael, giving him a rough picture of the situation. I explained as much as I could about the setup of the compound, then about the other captives, remembering Paige's silent presence and stopping myself before talking about Savannah.
"I'm only interested in getting you out," Jeremy said when I'd finished. "We can't worry about the others."
"I know."
"How are you holding up?"
"Fi--"
"Don't say 'fine,' Elena."
I paused. "Is Clay ... around? Maybe I could talk to him ... Just for a few minutes. I know we have to keep this short. No time for socializing. But I'd like--if I could ..."
Jeremy was quiet. Inside my head, Paige muttered something. Alarm zinged through me.
"He's okay, isn't he?" I asked. "Nothing's happened--"
"Clay's fine," Jeremy said. "I know you'd like to speak to him, but it might not be ... a good time. He's ... sleeping."
"Sleep--?" I began.
"I am not sleeping," a voice growled from across the room. "Not voluntarily, at least."
I looked up to see Clay in the doorway, hair tousled, eyes dimmed by sedatives. He lumbered into the room like a bear awaking from hibernation.
"Clay," I said, heart tripping so fast I could barely get his name out.
He stopped and fixed me with a scowl. My next words jammed in my throat. I swallowed them and tried again.
"Causing trouble again?" I asked, forcing a smile into my voice. "What did you do to make Jeremy drug you up?"
His scowl hardened with something I'd seen in his face a million times, but never when he looked at me. Contempt. His lips twisted, and he opened his mouth to say something, then decided I wasn't worth the effort and turned his attention to Jeremy.
"Cl--" I began. My gut was solid rock. I couldn't breathe, could barely speak. "Clay?"
"Sit down, Clayton," Jeremy said. "I'm talking to--"
