AN: Hey there! WOO HOO! This is the sequel to Fate, I HIGHLY suggest reading that one before this as you will be lost without the background knowledge. This story focuses on JJ's recovery and acceptance of her condition; not sure how long it will be. But Leaff and Doc are still free :) Please review. Also, words that are italic mean a flash back.

Her stomach cramped, her throat burned and her limbs felt as if they had been lit on fire. Blisters cascaded down her body, evidence of whatever the men had injected her with. Blisters that seemed to expand with every breath she took; ribs that screamed for relief every time she breathed in. Pain that ricocheted throughout her body whenever she moved.

And the sounds. Worse then the pain, then the humiliation, then the drugs… was the sounds that reverberated constantly in her mind. The sound of voices, the sound of footsteps, of whistling. Of imminent harm and pain approaching her and not having any ability to stop what was coming. Her mind constantly on alert for any sound at all, the sound of crickets, the sound of rain, the sound of laughter. Sound was torture.

And then there was touch. The most basic and essential of human nature; the sense that helped build trusting relationships from the youngest of ages. Trust in touch that allowed a person to function in society, trust in touch that it would be safe touch. And that had been taken as well. Touch was no longer taken for granted, touch was pain, touch was harm, touch was to be feared and dreaded. Touch, like sound, had become the enemy to her mind.

And when touch and sound came together, her brain went haywire. Her brain kept her in a panic response and there was no coming out of it. Not while she was still in hell.

And she was. She was living in hell. No. It wasn't living. This was existing. That was all. Living was being with your friends, family, your husband and son, your team. Living was laughing and walking and being independent. Living was the adrenaline rush that she got every time she walked into the field.

Existing was waiting to die. Existing was shivering on a cot as your body continued to fail you; slowly. Existing was being forcefully injected with drugs and paying the consequences day in and day out. Existing was everything she never knew she never wanted.

And as another cough swelled up in her body, a sense of fear rushed through her veins. Her brain sent her straight into hyperarousal and she heard footsteps approaching. The shaking increased, this time from the fear of what was to come, of what was to be done to her. And she closed her eyes, desperate to separate her consciousness from the reality of her life.

'Go somewhere… anywhere…" She prayed to herself, prayed to allow her brain to allow her to escape.

And she refused to acknowledge the door opening as Leaff walked in, a needle in hand.

"C'mon, little bit." The sound of his voice increased the nausea. And the shaking. And as he grabbed her arm and rolled her onto her back, JJ squeezed her eyes shut. She turned her head as she felt him lift her shirt and wipe a spot on her stomach with an alcohol wipe and count to three before pressing the needle into her stomach and emptying the contents.

She screamed.

Will had fallen asleep on the couch as he had every night since JJ had come home. He didn't have to ask about sleeping in the room with her, he knew it wasn't an option right now. JJ had nurses in the home constantly; all of them tending to her complex needs as she continued to recover from her horrific trauma. And while she was making tremendous progress, it was ungodly slow. And he knew she was getting frustrated. She was highly dependent on the nurses for nearly all of her needs; everything required assistance in one way or another.

At night, she needed oxygen to maintain her oxygen level; she still was not able to swallow and required nutrition from a tube placed in her stomach. She couldn't dress herself, or walk.

But Will focused on what she could do. What she had gained back. And he reiterated multiple times a day how proud he was of her. Because she had come far, she was able to say three words at a time, she was able to stay awake for several hours at a time, she was able to communicate her needs.

She was not open to touch. And that was creating significant problems. One that nobody knew how to address.

JJ desperately needed therapy, aside from the occupational, speech and physical, she needed to meet with a counselor. But she refused. She refused to talk about what had transpired anymore. She had completely shut it down and now would not discuss it with any of her team.

She was desperately trying to force herself not to remember any of it.

And suddenly, Will woke to a scream and ran to his wife's room. The nurse was standing next to JJ, speaking gently to her, not touching her but urging her to open her eyes.

"Shh, JJ, it's okay, its okay." The nurse cooed softly, trying to bring JJ out of the nightmare. Just another nightmare. One of the several she experienced every night.

Will stood in the doorway and watched as slowly, JJ seemed to settle back into a restless sleep. The nurse looked over and gently adjusted the oxygen cannula before sitting back down and awaiting the next nightmare.

And Will closed his eyes. Yes, JJ's physical health was improving but her mental health was going to be a battle that he was ready to take on. Even if he had to force her to do it.