AN: hey guys!

just a few smaller TWs this chapter and then i'll be back again next week!

we are close to the end of this arc so you can all breathe a (small) sigh of relief for delilah and ziggy!

not for elliot tho bc fuck him :)

TW:
mention of wounds/blood
mentions of psychological torture
mentions of abuse

i hope you guys enjoy! <3

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"i have found it takes a lot of strength to endure myself." - henry rollins

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"Oi."

Something light flicked Delilah's forehead. She blinked her eyes open wearily, turning her head slowly until she came face to face with Ziggy lying beside her.

"We're unchained," Ziggy whispered, excitement dancing in his eyes. "We're unchained, and there's food, and there's drinks, and painkillers, and fresh bandages, and wipes, and-"

Delilah groaned quietly at the noise, closing her eyes again. Her leg was throbbing, and she felt exhausted as she lifted her arms up to rub at her eyes.

"Uh, you're still covered in blood," Ziggy grabbed her wrists gently. "Can you sit up? We can wipe your hands and get you some painkillers, and then you can eat. It'll make you feel better."

Delilah nodded, pushing herself up slowly and leaning against the wall. She turned herself on the mattress, taking a deep breath through the headache before looking down at her leg.

"Can you wiggle your toes?" Ziggy asked.

"It's not broken," Delilah said, shaking her leg lightly as it ached. "See? Still works."

"Okay," Ziggy mumbled, chewing on his bottom lip.

He shuffled away, grabbing everything and dragging it over. He handed Delilah some of the baby wipes, watching her wipe her hands before he handed her the painkillers, then the bottle of water.

Delilah eyed the packet of painkillers.

Oxycodone. One of the most common opioid addictions found in people after suffering injuries. It worked, but it could work too well.

"Fucking bastard," Delilah whispered.

"You won't get addicted from one," Ziggy said. "Unless you wanna just pretend you weren't stabbed. Not what I would do, personally, but I've never been stabbed, so, I don't think I get an opinion in this."

"Eat," Delilah said.

She could have a break from his voice if he was eating, as bad as it sounded.

"Not until you're sorted," Ziggy said.

Delilah sighed, but swallowed down half of the pill with water, then dropped the other half into the water bottle that was still half full from last time, so she could sip from it as and when she needed, and still have a new water bottle of just actual water to help get rid of the taste of oxy-infused water.

Elliot never took their water off them, but he did take the painkillers if they hadn't taken them. Delilah and a feeling she'd need all the pain relief she could get, right now, but not enough to develop an addiction.

She could not go through what Spencer did.

Delilah took the bandages and antiseptic wipes Ziggy held out to her, shifting to take her pants off so she could reach the bandages on her thigh now.

"The bandages aren't stained with blood. That's good, right?" Ziggy asked.

"Yeah," Delilah said.

She carefully unwrapped the bandages, throwing them aside because they were contaminated, now. She peeled the gauze off the wound, wincing at the pull on her skin as she looked down at it.

It was red, but not overly irritated, and, though it throbbed, there weren't any signs of an obvious infection right now. The only thing was, Delilah wouldn't be able to notice any symptoms of a fever other than the physical ones the wound would show, because a lot of her withdrawal symptoms were the same and she couldn't be sure what was what.

Delilah tore open an antiseptic wipe, wiping from the inside out to keep the wound as clean as possible. She used two of the six wipes, putting the other four aside but making a mental note to hide them once she'd gone to the bathroom.

"Do we have more gauze?" Ziggy asked.

"I should probably let it air for a little while," Delilah said. "I'm just not sure how clean this air is."

Ziggy shifted on the floor, eyeing the blood stained mattress Delilah sat on.

"Honestly, I don't think it's the air that'll infect it," Ziggy said.

"Good point," Delilah muttered. "Alright, take your shirt off."

Ziggy blinked.

"Huh?" Ziggy asked.

"You were bleeding on your back when I found you," Delilah said, feeling guilty when she realised she hadn't remembered that until now.

"I was?" Ziggy asked.

She felt less guilty when she realised he didn't know, and then felt even worse because he must be badly hurt to not notice a significant injury that soaked his shirt with blood.

"Yeah. Shirt off. Let me look at it," Delilah said.

"I'm good," Ziggy said, getting to his feet. "I need to pee. Wait here."

Delilah rolled her eyes, but watched him scurry around the corner to the bathroom. Delilah took a few sips of water, carefully pushing herself up onto her feet and kicking her pants off to keep the dirty fabric away from her stab wound while it was unwrapped to open air.

She was dizzy, and unsteady, but it was bearable after a minute. Her entire body ached from being in a curled up position for however long she had been chained up. She had to keep moving, though. It was important to keep herself as active as possible, because she had to find them a way out of here, and it wasn't going to be easy.

Ziggy flushed the toilet, coming back around into the main room, glancing up at the dim lights in the ceiling.

"They were brighter, last time," Ziggy said. "When I was awake."

"He changes them," Delilah said, pushing off the wall to head to the bathroom herself, for the first time since she'd been here.

She had gotten good at holding it over the years, but she knew she had to go ASAP before she developed a kidney infection or kidney stones, which was going to be a death sentence down here with her stab wound and Ziggy to look after.

"Why?" Ziggy asked.

Delilah winced at the filthy toilet, but started setting toilet roll on the seat so it wouldn't be as bad.

He must've brought the toilet roll down during their gassing, or when he brought the rest of the supplies. That just made Delilah feel worse, knowing she was so vulnerable while unconscious around him, knowing she would never know if he had done anything to her while she was out.

"To fuck with your head," Delilah said. "We don't know time, down here, or dates. Changing the lights tricks us into thinking it's day or night, when it could be the same day. You just stop trusting yourself, soon enough. He breaks your mind."

"Oh."

Delilah winced as she did her business, trying to ignore the fact that her nephew was literally around the corner from her. She wasn't shy, though. She lost any and all public anxiety over bathroom issues after having to share this basement with Dylan all those years ago.

She finished, wincing as she got back onto her feet and tugged her underwear back up, flushing the toilet as she walked back around to the main room, grabbing a baby wipe to wipe her hands.

"Alright, let me see your back," Delilah said, easing herself back onto the mattress.

"I said I'm good," Ziggy said.

Delilah fixed him with a look that would've made even Liv do what she said, and Liv point blank refused to take orders from Delilah because she was the little sister.

"Don't look at me like that. You're not my mom," Ziggy said.

"No, but you're my responsibility, now, and we're not surviving the shit he's doing to us for you to drop dead on me because of an infected wound. Liv would never forgive me," Delilah said. "So, let me look at your back, please."

Ziggy shifted on his feet, rubbing his arm with a wince.

"Promise me you won't tell Liv?" Ziggy whispered, looking up at her with teary eyes.

"What?" Delilah said. "Tell Liv what? About what he's doing? Kid, she already knows what he's like."

"No," Ziggy whispered. "About this."

He tugged his shirt over his head, and Delilah couldn't help but recoil at the sight of him.

Delilah knew Ziggy had been abused, but she hadn't really thought about the magnitude in which he'd been abused.

Pink scars littered his ribs and stomach, cigarette burns scattered on his hips and collarbones. His left shoulder looked offset, like a fracture or dislocation that had never been resolved, and his right elbow turned at a slight unnatural angle, a clear sign of an untreated break.

It was worse when he walked over, sitting on the floor in front of her with his back towards her.

Aside from the obvious wounds from Elliot that came from a belt, there were several scars from lashings in the years previous to knowing him. There were more cigarette burns, and there was a circular burn on one of the ridges of his spine that clearly came from a spoon.

Delilah had seen worse in the cases at work, but it was different when it was on her nephew.

"Promise me?" Ziggy whispered.

Delilah knew Liv would find out. If they were found, they'd go to a hospital, so, the doctors would tell Liv as Ziggy's relative. Delilah wouldn't have to be the one to tell her.

"I promise I won't tell Liv," Delilah whispered.

Ziggy nodded, head tilted down at the floor. Delilah eyed the blood on the whip wounds across his back for a moment before she gently reached out, tugging Ziggy back so he was half leaning against her chest, her leg safely out of the way and his open wounds not touching her shirt as to not make them even dirtier.

"I'm sorry," Delilah whispered, kissing the side of his head. "I'm so sorry, Ziggy."

Ziggy turned in her arms, burying his face in her neck. He didn't cry, neither did she, but this was the first time they'd hugged that Delilah genuinely felt like this kid was her family.

Of course he was her family. Nobody else in the world seemed to be as fucked up as the Bellerose kids, or their kids after them. Nobody else in the world would be this stable when they were in the situation Delilah and Ziggy were in now.

"I'm gonna wipe the blood off and we'll see how bad it is, yeah?" Delilah mumbled.

"Okay," Ziggy nodded.

Delilah grabbed the baby wipes for the blood staining his back, working carefully so she could use the antiseptic wipes on the actual wounds. And, when his back was wiped clean, the wounds weren't actually wounds plural.

It was one singular cut across his back from side to side where the belt buckle had clearly caught his skin instead of the leather. It was bad, but wouldn't need stitches. It would need cleaning, though, and it was going to hurt Ziggy like a bitch.

"It's okay," Ziggy said, already knowing what she was going to have to say. "I know you're helping."

"It's still gonna hurt, kid," Delilah said.

"I know," Ziggy muttered.

Delilah picked up the antiseptic wipes, starting to clean the cut quickly but thoroughly, because dragging this out would make it worse. Ziggy hissed at the pain, but didn't move as Delilah did it.

"Let it air out for a while," Delilah said. "Scale of one to ten for pain?"

"My back is, like, a three?" Ziggy said.

"Everywhere else?" Delilah asked quietly.

"Ten," Ziggy muttered miserably. "Not how I thought I'd ever spend time with my grand-"

"He's not your grandfather," Delilah said firmly. "He did not raise your dad. He is not your blood. Remember that, Ziggy, okay? You have no genetic ties to that man, and it's for the better."

Ziggy turned his head, nodding slowly.

"You have genetic ties," Ziggy said quietly.

"And those genetic ties are going to die with me," Delilah said. "And him."

"You'll just never have kids?" Ziggy asked.

Delilah stared at him for a minute.

"I know there are other ways to have kids-" Ziggy started.

"I don't want kids," Delilah said. "Not ones that come from my body."

She wanted her kids, but she couldn't have them. They weren't here, and she hadn't heard from Maddy since she visited back in February before going undercover to Malaysia.

Maddy said she would call if she could get evidence of Delilah's kids being alive. Right now, Maddy seemed to have only heard about sightings of Albie, but Delilah hoped that, if they were out there, that Sunny was alive and with him.

Sunny had always protected her baby brother with everything in her, and Delilah had done everything she could to protect both of her babies, even if it clearly hadn't been enough to save their lives.

"What are you thinking about?" Ziggy asked, tilting his head to the side like Delilah did.

"Just old friends," Delilah murmured.

"Old friends? You look like you're about to cry," Ziggy said.

"I forgot how annoying kids could be," Delilah said, giving him a small smile so he would know she was joking.

"I'm the most annoying ever," Ziggy grinned back.

His grin faded after a minute, his dirty hand reaching out to take hers.

"I'm not gonna tell anyone," Ziggy said. "Whatever it is, I doubt it's as bad as this is right now. You've been stabbed-"

"I've been lightly scratched with a knife," Delilah said.

"You have been stabbed, you moron," Ziggy said. "And we are locked in a serial killer's basement. Well, not locked. Door's unlocked. But, I remembered your rule, so, I have stayed put."

Delilah's head swivelled towards the door, noticing that Ziggy was correct.

The door was unlocked, and slightly ajar.

"What kind of dog does he have?" Delilah asked.

Ziggy shrugged.

"I don't know. It was some black mutt thing? Big teeth. Angry. Growls a lot. Why?" Ziggy asked.

Delilah sighed.

"Trying to figure out how bad things are for us," Delilah said.

"I genuinely cannot think of how else this could get worse. Him killing us would be a mercy compared to what he's probably got planned," Ziggy said quietly.

Delilah could think of a million ways this could get worse, but she'd seen a lot more evil in the world than Ziggy, so, it wasn't hard for her to create scenarios that could happen.

For every scenario she thought of, Delilah mapped out every survival technique to get through it. For every psychological, physical, emotional torture Elliot would inflict, she would be prepared.

"Can you hear that?" Ziggy whispered.

Delilah frowned, holding her breath as she tried to listen.

Dull thuds were coming from upstairs. It wasn't like footsteps, or even like something was being moved. It sounded like something hitting something, but it was different to someone using a hammer. This wasn't like a punching bag thud, either.

She had no idea what it was.

"What the fuck?" Delilah whispered.

She'd never heard that sound before. She was undeniably curious, but she wasn't going to check.

"It doesn't matter," Delilah said. "You need to eat. Let me bandage your back."

"We don't have enough for both of us," Ziggy said. "And you need them more than me. I'm okay."

Delilah didn't argue. He wasn't wrong. She just pushed his tray of food towards him, picking at her own plate.

"This is boring," Ziggy murmured between bites. "I feel like I'm going insane."

"Then it's working," Delilah sighed. "He wants you to go insane. He wants you to beg him to kill you."

"Oh," Ziggy said. "Why the fuck would you surround yourself with shit like this at work?"

"So that other people don't go through shit like this, too," Delilah said.

Ziggy shifted for a moment.

"I don't get it," Ziggy said, looking at her. "They never saved you. Nobody saved you. He told me you saved yourself when you escaped. Why would you want to save people when nobody bothered to save you?"

Delilah stared at him for a moment.

"I guess I wanted to do everything I could to become the opposite of Elliot," Delilah said.

"That's a low bar, Lilah," Ziggy said. "You're not a killer. You're the opposite of him. Why would you want to save them? I don't get it. Aren't you angry that nobody saved you?"

Delilah shifted.

"I... Of course I'm angry," Delilah whispered. "What happened to me down here ruined my life."

"You don't seem angry," Ziggy pointed out.

"It's been a long time since it happened," Delilah said.

"It's happening right now. Elliot said Hotch didn't believe you about him being back. Didn't that make you angry?" Ziggy asked.

Delilah made a mental note to ask Elliot how the fuck he had managed to stalk her and evade the FBI while doing it, because he knew a lot more than he should do.

"I'm sorry," Ziggy said, taking her silence the wrong way. "I'm not trying to upset you. I just... I'm angry. If somebody believed Liv the first time she went to the cops when you were a kid, if Hotch believed you, maybe we wouldn't be here right now."

"We can't change what's already happened, kid," Delilah said.

"No, but you're not exactly moving on from it, either," Ziggy said. "Like, you're family, and I guess I, like, love you, or whatever, but you're fucked up, man. This isn't normal, and you're acting like it's nothing. You're... Maybe you don't get better because you didn't stop to let yourself be angry about what he did to you. You just threw yourself into saving other people instead of yourself."

Maybe a proficiency for psychology and profiling ran in their blood. The kid was smart, but all Delilah wanted was for him to shut up.

"Maybe you should stop talking," Delilah said.

"You can't just avoid this conversation," Ziggy said. "In case you forgot, we're stuck in here together."

"Exactly, so, maybe stop trying to profile me, yeah?" Delilah said.

"Is me telling the truth profiling?" Ziggy asked.

Delilah was half tempted to go upstairs and try and hold a conversation with Elliot so she could stop having Ziggy psychoanalyse her, but that would solve nothing. She would be punished, or he would go back on their promise and hurt Ziggy.

"Why aren't you angry about this?" Ziggy said, glaring slightly at her. "Why are you more annoyed with me than him?"

"Ziggy, can you just not, right now?" Delilah said, rubbing her temples.

Ziggy scoffed, standing up and moving over to his mattress, flopping down with a huff.

"Fine," Ziggy said. "Don't talk to me. Just be all miserable over there with your repressed emotions like a little fucking robot and pretend that this is all fine!" he yelled.

Delilah knew he'd snap eventually, but she'd wished he'd done it when the door was locked, because it was creaking open before he could even finish yelling, Elliot stepping into the room with a gun in his hand, head tilted to the side as he studied the two of them.

"I see tensions are running high, in here," Elliot said. "Does somebody need a nap?" he asked Ziggy in a patronising voice.

Ziggy's jaw clenched, but he didn't move off the mattress.

"You know, you should be nicer to your aunt Izzy," Elliot said. "She's the only reason I haven't killed you, yet."

"I'm sorry," Ziggy said.

He didn't sound it. Delilah didn't expect him to be sorry. She was sorry.

"I don't think I like your tone," Elliot said.

"Can I ask you something?" Delilah asked quickly.

Elliot looked over at her, blinking for a moment before he nodded.

"Of course, Izzy. Anything," Elliot said.

"How did you find me?" Delilah asked.

Elliot chuckled.

"You think there was ever a moment when I didn't know where you were?" Elliot asked. "Oh, I know all about where you've been. There was Boston, then you travelled around the states for a while with David Rossi, and then you went back to Boston for college, and then you were in Washington to join the FBI academy, and then there were four years undercover in Thailand, and you've been in Quantico on the BAU team since you got back in two thousand and four."

"Okay," Delilah said, feeling like she might throw up, "But that doesn't explain how you knew that. You couldn't have followed me back to town. You had to leave, or they would've found you. That's how you're still alive. How did you know everywhere I've been?"

Elliot stared at her for a moment before grinning, looking over at Dylan's bones for a moment.

"Do you remember Cosmo?" Elliot asked.

Delilah's mind brought up a blank.

"Who?" Delilah asked.

"That dog that Olivia brought home with her, once. Mangy mutt. It had been hit by a car. No collar. It was a stray," Elliot said.

Delilah shook her head.

"Oh, well. I put Cosmo out of his misery, but you insisted on naming him before we put him down, made him a little cardboard headstone for the grave in the backyard," Elliot said.

Delilah had no idea if he was lying to her right now, or where he was going with this. It didn't make any sense. Why was he talking about a dead dog?

"You can learn a lot about dogs from their owners," Elliot said. "Good dog owners are smart. They get their dog vaccinated, and neutered or spayed, they get them chipped, trim their nails, take them to the dog groomer. They take care of them."

It only took a second for it to click in Delilah's had, though it clearly had not caught up to Ziggy, yet.

"You fucking chipped me?" Delilah asked, something cold creeping up her spine. "You chipped me?"

"I don't know," Elliot said. "Did I? I don't quite remember."

He laughed, turning around and leaving the room, locking the door behind him. Delilah stared at where he'd just been for a moment, the shock settling into her system.

And then the panic set in, her hands quickly moving over her skin as she tried to feel for a bump, or for a scar which could've been from getting a microchip. Her head spun when she realised that, if he'd chipped her back when she was thirteen, then it could've easily moved through her body.

It could, quite literally, be anywhere inside of her.

Delilah had no idea how the fuck he managed to make a microchip that could track her location but never showed up on any scans or metal detectors before, but he'd always been handy at computers and Delilah had never thought he'd use it for more than using the dark web.

Either that, or he hadn't microchipped her at all, and was just trying to break her. She didn't know, but she couldn't be sure, so, she had to check. She had to find it.

A pair of hands grabbed Delilah's wrists, small fingers digging into her skin until she could feel the ache. Her eyes darted up, meeting Ziggy's eyes as she tried to breathe through the ache in her chest.

"It's okay," Ziggy said quietly. "I'll help you look. Stay still."

Delilah nodded, watching Ziggy start to move his fingers over her arms, up and down as he pressed gently on the skin to try and feel for the microchip.

"He could be lying," Ziggy whispered, once he'd finished one arm and moved to the next. "You said he fucks with our heads. This is what he wants."

It was working.

He still had that hold over Delilah, even after all this time, and she wanted to crawl out of her skin so that she could be in a body that he had never contaminated, before.

But she couldn't do that. She just closed her eyes as Ziggy poked and prodded at her arms, wishing that she'd never come to the Highlands in the first place.

She wanted to go home. She wanted to go to JJ.

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