AN: hey guys!

heavy one again today! sorry in advance because yikes🌝 i hope you guys enjoy tho! delilah villain era coming soon <3

TW:
mentions of torture
mentions of abuse
mentions of corpses
mentions of sexual assault by a parent
mentions of murder
attempted assault
descriptions of blood
hallucinations
chloroform
mutilation

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"i wasn't beautiful anymore. now i looked like what i was, a raw wound." - janet fitch

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If there was one thing Delilah hated about herself (and, if she was honest, there was an entire list, so this was a dangerous road to go down), it was that her father could control her more than any else in the world.

Jorge had never had this kind of hold on Delilah. She'd been a lot older with Jorge, twenty to twenty four, but she'd also had a lot more training when she went undercover with Jorge. He had some hold over her, because she loved his kids like her own, but it was not a hold like the one Elliot had over her.

Elliot was her father; her blood. He had tortured her as a child, had tortured her best friend in front of her, was going to torture her nephew in front of her.

Delilah felt like she was the little girl she'd been the first time she was here. She felt like she was Isobel again, slipping back into that hazy mindset that Delilah just knew would give her gaps in her memory if they ever got out of here.

She was breaking. Elliot was wining, and she was falling to pieces, and she didn't know what day it was or how long they'd been here, and her withdrawals were wrecking her nervous system, and she had blood under her fingernails from scratching her skin to try and find that fucking microchip.

Delilah had never broke, before. Sure, nothing had ever been to this degree, but, even then, she prided herself in maintaining a blank face through it all.

She didn't like this. She felt weak. She felt like a child, and she was supposed to protect Ziggy, this time. How could she protect him if she was quite literally having a mental breakdown in chains?

Ziggy didn't seem too bothered by Delilah's state of mind. It was clear to Delilah that he was breaking, too. She was surprised he'd lasted as long as he had, but she didn't even know how long it had been since either of them had been abducted, so, she wasn't sure what that said about either of them.

The poor kid just stared up at the ceiling blankly, one eye swollen shut from fresh beatings, chest barely rising and falling with exhausted breaths. It was like nobody was home.

Delilah eased herself up on the mattress, the chains clinking as she blinked wearily around the room.

It was dim, but not dark enough she couldn't see. She had to squint to make out the details of Dylan's bones, but she didn't want to ever see them again, so, she didn't bother trying.

She wanted to go home, but Delilah was quickly coming to realise that home wasn't a place. It was the people that gave you the feeling of being at home, at being so in love with life that nothing else mattered.

It was Penelope's smiles and joy that made Delilah feel like she'd found an angel on earth. It was Derek's jokes and teasing that made Delilah feel like she had a big brother for the first time since losing Eli.

It was Spencer's hugs and trust in Delilah that made her feel like she was actually making a difference in someone's life. It was Emily's silent understanding and constant presence that made Delilah feel like she was not alone in lying to the entire world about who she was.

It was Hotch's fatherly worry that made Delilah understand what a caring father looked like, and it was Dave's constant support and love that made Delilah learn what a real father was.

It was Liv, because Liv had always been Delilah's home, because she was her sister and therefore one half of her.

It was JJ, because her arms were where Delilah felt most safe and comfortable to let the walls around her stone castle of a heart down enough for someone to see her for who she really was.

It was not Elliot, and it never would be.

Ziggy shifted on the mattress and Delilah looked over at him curiously, watching as he sat himself up and rubbed at his eyes. He turned to look at her, and the lack of emotion was almost terrifying.

He had given up. His eyes said it, even if he didn't.

And then Delilah had an idea.

"What are you looking at me like that for?" Ziggy asked quietly.

Delilah glanced over at the door, then back at Ziggy.

"Do you want to get out of here?" Delilah whispered.

"No, I'm quite happy, here," Ziggy said sarcastically. "I've just bought a bunch of plants to brighten the place up a little bit and get rid of the stench of piss and corpses."

"You should've bought a diffuser and candles, too," Delilah said. "Do you remember what I told you?"

"You've told me a lot of things," Ziggy said.

"That he'll kill you if you give up fighting?" Delilah said.

"Yeah," Ziggy said.

"I need you to make him think you've given up," Delilah said.

Ziggy stared blankly at her, before squinting.

"You want me to give up fighting, so he'll kill me, and that'll somehow get us out of here?" Ziggy asked slowly.

"He won't kill you," Delilah said. "Not yet. He... When he was talking about why he picked Dylan, he said it was because Dylan reminded him of Eli. It doesn't take a genius to figure out what he was talking about there."

"He hurt my dad," Ziggy said.

"Yeah," Delilah said.

"And... And I look like my dad," Ziggy said slowly.

"You do," Delilah said. "And, if I'm assuming correctly, Elliot did that before he started murdering anybody. Eli was his first victim, and it always comes back to the first victim. You're the closest he's ever gonna get to Elijah. He's not going to kill you unless he has to."

"So... What?" Ziggy asked. "What does that mean for me?"

"If you make him think he's given up, he'll start to trust you," Delilah said. "You're too little and weak to fight him off. You need to make him believe that you can be trusted to be left unchained. He isn't gonna leave me unchained, but, with enough convincing, he'll let you."

She hoped he would, anyway. Elliot had told her last time that, in the final days before killing the boys, he'd left them unchained. He had broken them enough by then to know that no harm would come to him. He could do what he wanted, and nobody would even try to stop him.

If Ziggy was left unchained, the next time Elliot was down here, Delilah could capture Elliot's attention long enough for Ziggy to slip out of the basement. He could lock the door so that Elliot couldn't follow him, and he could find a way out of the cabin to find help.

She didn't tell Ziggy that, though. She didn't know how well the kid would react to the idea of leaving her behind, but it was the only way for them to get out of here.

It was the only way Delilah knew that Ziggy would absolutely survive, and it was a gamble that it could even happen.

"You need to trick him, Ziggy," Delilah said quietly. "It's like being a spy."

Something sparked in Ziggy's eyes.

"I like spies," Ziggy said quietly. "Like James Bond."

"Exactly like him," Delilah smiled, relieved he was getting it. "If we can trick him, we can win. We can get out of here."

Ziggy nodded.

"What do I do?" he asked. "How do I trick him?"

"You stop fighting," Delilah said. "When he comes in, don't even look at him. Don't react to anything he says. Don't eat anything off your own plate, only off mine. Don't make a sound when he's here. Make him think you're waiting for him to kill you, and he'll start to believe you."

"What if... What if he does kill me?" Ziggy whispered.

"He isn't done with you, yet. He won't get the chance to kill you before we get you out of here," Delilah said.

"Get me out of here. You're not coming?" Ziggy asked.

"He isn't going to unchain me," Delilah said.

"I can go and get the keys-" Ziggy started.

"No," Delilah said, shaking her head. "It won't work. You have to do exactly what I say. No questions asked, ever. That's the only way you survive, and the only way I do, too. We just need to wait until he starts to fall for it so I can figure out the details."

Ziggy nodded again, watching her for a moment.

"Don't you believe Liv and your team will find us in time, then?" Ziggy asked. "Because you wouldn't make a plan if you believed we'd be saved. You'd want us to wait it out."

Delilah sat there for a moment.

"I... I don't think they'll find us in time," Delilah admitted.

Gideon said she would have to be the one to save herself again. Nobody else was going to save her from this nightmare that was her father.

"Are they shit at their job or something?" Ziggy asked.

"There's just no evidence as to where this cabin is, kid. They can look all they want, but nobody has ever found it," Delilah said.

"But you escaped. Don't you remember escaping?" Ziggy asked.

"No," Delilah admitted. "Everything is just... Blank. I try to think of the months after Dylan died, and there's just nothing there. The first thing I can remember after Dylan being killed is looking up at the sky and seeing the North Star above me, and knowing I had to follow it to get home. That was in May, so... There's about six and a half months to make up for."

Ziggy stared at her for a moment, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

"Do you remember the day Dylan died? What happened before he died?" Ziggy whispered. "Because it's our birthday, soon, maybe. He's going to make us celebrate it in some fucked up way."

"I remember him coming down here and singing us happy birthday with a birthday cake," Delilah said. "And... I remember him saying something about a birthday present, but, then it kind of just... stops. And then it's me and Dylan arguing about whether or not to leave, and then him dying."

"It just stops?" Ziggy asked. "There's a gap?"

"Yeah," Delilah frowned. "I never really thought about it before. I'd remember a birthday present. Maybe that was the record player."

"He said he got that after Dylan died so you would talk to him. Same with the diary, and the psychology books upstairs," Ziggy said. "That wasn't what he gave you for your birthday."

Delilah's heart seemed to pound in her ears as she looked over at Ziggy again.

"What do you mean?" Delilah asked. "He told you what he gave us?"

"He told me everything," Ziggy whispered, something akin to utter pity flashing across his eyes as he looked at her.

"What did he give us?" Delilah asked, leaning forward slightly.

Ziggy stayed silent, chewing on his thumbnail as he avoided her eyes.

"Ziggy?" Delilah said. "Kid, stop ignoring me. You can't say that and not tell me what happened. I need to know. It could happen again this year. We need to be prepared."

The lock in the door clicked and Delilah's eyes snapped over to the door, eyebrows raising as Elliot pushed the door open and stepped inside.

Elliot was wearing his devil mask, still stained with Dylan's blood, and he stalked further into the room after closing the door over slightly. Delilah glanced back over at Ziggy, who had wiped his face of any and all emotion and was trying to act like he was suicidal.

Delilah would be convinced, if she didn't know the truth.

"What's up with him?" Elliot asked, eyeing Ziggy.

"I don't know," Delilah said. "Maybe this is taking its toll on the poor kid. It's not every day this happens to an eight year old."

"He'll be nine in a few days. You'll be twenty nine," Elliot said. "Funny, isn't it? How you and Dylan had the same birthday and ended up here, and how you and Ziggy have the same birthday and ended up here?"

"Not very funny, no," Delilah said. "Why did you do this now?" she asked.

She'd wanted to know since it happened. Why now? Why sixteen years after it originally happened? Why wait so long?

"Well, there was a few reasons," Elliot said, tilting his head as he looked at Ziggy again. "I won't hurt kids under the age of eight, so, I had to wait for Ziggy to grow up a bit."

"How kind of you to show some restraint," Delilah said sarcastically.

"I know," Elliot said, clearly missing the sarcasm. "Secondly, Jason Gideon proved a threat to me. He knows this better than anyone else in that team of yours. If he'd seen the balloons in Oregon, he would've believed you. He would've found me while I was still there. But Aaron Hotchner is not Jason Gideon, and he was so much easier to trick."

"How did you even do the balloons in Oregon? There was no evidence," Delilah said.

"Magic," Elliot chuckled.

Delilah rolled her eyes. Elliot shrugged, starting to talk again.

"No, I was hiding behind the tree when you saw the balloons, and then it was just grabbing them, covering my tracks with more dirt, and running once you went inside. You didn't even come over to the tree to check if I was hiding behind it. Silly girl. Luckily, the cameras did not look in the direction I ran, and I hid with my balloons to watch you spiral. It was very risky, but I got lucky, and it paid off, didn't it? They thought you were hallucinating. Nobody was ever going to believe you if you saw them again. I made damned sure of that."

Well, shit. Delilah had been right. She knew she wasn't insane. She knew it was real.

She didn't blame Hotch for not believing her, though. Elliot had clearly been careful with it if he'd put more dirt down around the tree to cover his footprints. He must've stuffed his pockets with it, or something.

"Now," Elliot said, looking back at Ziggy. "This attitude simply won't do. Fix him," he said, looking at Delilah.

Delilah squinted.

"How am I meant to fix him? You're the one that's breaking him," Delilah said.

Elliot's eyes lit up through the mask, and Delilah knew she'd made the right call.

He always preferred his victims without being chained. It was a step in the right direction for him, but it was also a step closer to freedom for Ziggy. It might actually work.

"Well, that's a shame," Elliot sighed. "I was hoping for a little more excitement today. Oh, well. I guess you get a day off, Ziggy."

Relief spread through Delilah's body at the thought that Elliot was not going to rape her nephew in front of her.

"You know, it's funny," Elliot said, turning back to look at Delilah. "I remember all the first times. I remember Eli's first time, and I remember Dylan's, and I remember Ziggy's. You took it so much better on your first time than any of them ever did."

The silence that settled in the room seemed to suffocate Delilah, her mind spinning as she blinked at him. Bile rose in her throat as she thought about what this meant, her skin crawling as his eyes swept over her body.

"I had some restraint, you see," Elliot said, walking over to the hook with the chains wrapped around it, starting to wrap it tighter so Delilah's arms were pulled above her head, unable to help her fight him off. "I waited until your thirteenth birthday. Recorded it and everything, so we would always have the memories. I don't think your team will enjoy watching it, but I made sure they'd find it. You will always be Isobel to them, now, won't you?"

Delilah's head spun violently, flashes of touches long forgotten ghosting over her skin. She could hear Dylan's voice pleading for it to stop, for Elliot to stop hurting her, could feel those same touches and words on her skin now as her chest ached with sobs.

The team were going to see something she had no memory of happening until now. He had ruined everything for her. They were going to hate her anyway because of him, but that tape was going to burn everything to the ground.

Everybody was going to despise her, and that was crushing. She was going to lose them.

"Don't touch her! You promised me-" Ziggy's voice echoed through her head, foggy in the haze in her mind.

Delilah's mind was shutting down. Her body was frozen in fear at his touches, frozen in the past, forever frozen at thirteen years old when Elliot took her girlhood from her, when he took everything from her.

He was going to take everything from her again, and she was shattering with every breath her lungs couldn't inhale, with every feeble beat of her heart as her body started to betray her instincts to fight, with every flash of this memory that ricocheted around her mind like the bullet that killed Dylan.

"I didn't promise anything, because you didn't follow through on our deal," Elliot's voice joined the fog.

"I'll- I'll do better. I promise! You can- You can do whatever. Just, just please don't touch her again! She's your daughter!" Ziggy cried, or maybe it was Dylan, because that was exactly what he'd said, once upon a time.

History really was repeating itself in its full glory.

"Stop it! Please!" Ziggy yelled. "Stop it! I'll take it! Let me take it! Stop it!"

Delilah met Ziggy's eyes, forest green against ocean blue. He had Liv's eyes. He had JJ's eyes. He had Dylan's eyes.

Dylan was on the mattress, fighting in his chains to try and free himself to save her. He was yelling, but nothing was legible over the static in Delilah's head. He was screaming, pleading at her to do something, but all she could do was stare at him, because she hadn't seen Dylan alive in almost sixteen years and she had missed him so much.

"Delilah!" Ziggy yelled. "Delilah!"

Delilah.

Not Isobel.

Delilah.

She was not Isobel. She was not a victim. She was a survivor, and she was going to fucking survive if it was the last thing she did.

Delilah kicked her uninjured leg out, catching Elliot in the leg. He yelped above her, but all she could feel was his weight crushing down against her as he pinned her to the wall. His eyes were furious behind the mask, the mask that she only remembered the significance of, now.

He'd made that with her as her Halloween costume the year Dylan died. They'd started it in the spring because of how excited Delilah was about Halloween, and it had disappeared the day Delilah did.

Delilah lurched forward, headbutting Elliot again. He recoiled back, but his grip was still tight on her waist, and she could feel his anger seeping into her where their skin touched, could feel his blood dripping onto her face through the eye holes in the mask where it had clearly cut into his skin.

He leaned forward again, Ziggy's screams faint in the background, and Delilah let her impulses take control. She let herself inherit her father's anger, because the only way to fight off a monster was to become one, yourself.

Elliot screamed, falling back onto the floor and clutching the side of his face. Delilah spat the chunk of his left ear out of her mouth and onto the mattress, chest heaving as she quickly assessed herself.

He hadn't raped her, and she'd torn half of his ear off with her bare teeth.

She spat his blood out of her mouth onto the mattress, chest heaving for breath as she tugged her knees to her chest, arms still held above her with an ache in her shoulders at the strain.

Elliot stumbled to his feet, blood slipping through his fingers and slapping against the floor. He removed the mask off his face with his other hand, throwing it into the corner of the room as more blood spilled across his skin.

Delilah had sliced through his eye with the mask when she'd headbutted him. It went from the top of his forehead, through his eyebrow, and down onto his cheek towards his chin. It was deep, too, judging by the amount of blood pouring out of it.

Elliot moaned weakly as he stumbled towards the door, shoving his way out of it and locking it behind him.

Delilah's body ached violently as soon as he left, the feeling in her body returning to her in crushing waves as the adrenaline wore off. She was shaking, teeth chattering as tears spilled down her cheeks, mixing with the drops of her father's blood on her skin.

She felt disgusting, and like she may collapse, but she managed to use the wall to push herself to her feet. The chains around her wrists slackened as she stood up, and she flicked her arms a few times until the chains unwrapped once around the hook.

She sank back to onto the mattress, wrapping her arms tightly around her knees now she had the movement to do it. She rested her head against her knees, forcing herself to catch her breath so she could regulate her nervous system.

"Lilah?" Ziggy's muffled voice came from across the room. "Lilah? Are you breathing? You have to breathe. It'll stop hurting in a minute. You just have to breathe, okay? And it'll stop hurting in a minute."

Delilah couldn't help it when she moved to the side, emptying the bile out of her stomach onto the floor. Ziggy's chains rattled as he tried to come and help, falling back onto the mattress when the chains reached their length. They rattled as he tried to do the flick thing Delilah had done, but he was too short to do it.

"Lilah? Just breathe through it. I'm right here. You're not alone, okay? I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere," Ziggy said.

Delilah wiped her mouth and sank back against the wall, looking over at Ziggy again.

It wasn't Dylan. Dylan hadn't been there when she thought she'd saw him.

She'd gotten lost in the memory of what Elliot had done to her when she was thirteen, had confused memory for reality.

"I love you," Ziggy said, holding her gaze intensely. "And we are going to get out of here. I'm gonna trick him, and I'm going to find help help and bring it back for you. You just have to hold on, okay? We're gonna get out of here. Just keep fighting."

Delilah couldn't talk. She just nodded.

•

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Delilah didn't know how much time had passed. She hadn't slept, but neither had Ziggy, and the two of them just stared at the door as they waited for Elliot to retaliate.

The chunk of his ear was still on the floor, and Delilah's skin was still crawling from his hands on her body.

She refused to think about the team, about the tape. She didn't know if he was lying, but she had a sick feeling that he was being perfectly truthful.

The team would find that tape. They would watch it, and they would learn the same thing Delilah had only just learnt: she was one of her father's victims.

She was the only one lucky enough to be guaranteed survival.

For now, at least. He may change his mind and kill her. He had broken from the profile by hurting Delilah years ago, by trying again now, but it actually did kind of make sense if Delilah thought about it.

He'd always been overly affectionate with her as a kid, especially after her mom died and Liv had moved out. She'd been so upset over Liv moving out that he'd let Delilah sleep in his bed with him most nights, and she could never sit at her own chair in the dining room. She'd always had to sit on his lap when it was the two of them alone.

Delilah hated her brain for hiding these memories from her, but she wasn't exactly happy that they'd appeared. This was one thing Delilah did not know how to heal from, and she didn't like the idea that she had been in the exact same boat as her brother, as Dylan, as her nephew.

Vince was going to be able to buy a private jet of his own once Delilah got out of here and could go to therapy.

"Do you think he lost enough blood to die?" Ziggy asked. "If he dies, we die."

No shit, genius.

Delilah couldn't talk, though. It felt like her throat had closed over.

He'd taken her voice, just like he'd taken everything else from her. He destroyed everything, just like a hurricane, and Delilah was a hurricane, too. She was just like him.

She was going to take everything from him, too.

It wasn't going to happen now, though.

The vent being opened echoed through the room, their eyes darting upwards as the familiar hiss of chloroform gas started to enter the room.

Elliot was alive and conscious enough to be gassing them. Delilah hadn't killed him, yet.

Delilah braced herself in a ball, knowing that she'd be able to tell if he'd moved her when she woke up this way, because she hadn't moved during the gassings since she'd got here. 

The gas cut off before they were unconscious, though. The vent scraped closed, and Delilah's head started to feel fuzzy as the chloroform spread through the room. Delilah's body relaxed into the mattress as it took effect, but she was lingering on the verge of consciousness. She barely managed to move her head to see Ziggy was out.

Of course he was. He needed less gas in his body than she did.

The door creaked open a moment later, Delilah watching hazily as Elliot stepped into the room with a gas mask on. He had a bandage wrapped around the side of his head, the straps moved around to not hurt the wound, and his face had been badly stitched up, clearly by his own hand.

He had a knife in his hand.

Delilah watched Elliot walk over to her, crouching down at the side of her mattress and tilting his head as he stared at her.

"Do you hate that you and I are so similar?" Elliot asked. "Do you hate that we have the same green eyes, the same smile, the same blood? Do you hate how so much of who you are now is because of who I am?"

Delilah entire body felt disconnected from her mind. The chloroform was too much for her to do anything but blink wearily up at him.

"No," Elliot whispered. "You can run, Isobel, but you can never hide from what you are. You are my daughter, and you will never forget that. I won't let you. Whenever anybody looks at you, whenever you look in a mirror, it'll be me that's staring back."

Elliot lifted the knife in his hand, holding it over Delilah's right eye, the same eye she'd cut through with the mask.

"An eye for an eye, right?" Elliot whispered.

Delilah could see the knife move, could see her father move his hand. Blood spilled into her eye and she squeezed them shut, but she couldn't feel what he was doing to her. She couldn't feel the cut he was carving into her so it would match his.

All she could do was lie there and wait for him to finish maiming her.

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