Max rushed to his daughter's side, but as he threw his arms around her, his smile soon morphed into a look of horror. The unmistakable feel of warm blood draped over his fingers like a silk burgundy sheet. Lizzie's eyelids fluttered feebly, as her body began to lose its fight to stay conscious.  

Blood was pouring from a deep wound on Lizzie's left wrist, the culprit, a red stained knife lying on the cold, stone ground.

Max couldn't tell if they blade had severed an artery, or whether her wounds were life threatening, but he did know that they couldn't stay here. If they stayed, she would die either way.

Lizzie's eyes opened for the briefest of seconds, as she gazed up at Max, almost certain that it must be a dream; her last dream.

"I'm sorry, Max," she whispered, imagining him maybe finding her dead body in this cell one day.

"Shh Lizzie, save your strength," Max spoke softly in return, as he scooped her up and backed out of the cell door.

Lizzie had just enough time to weakly beckon for Sky to come with them, "Skyyy..." before the darkness overcame her.

As Max turned back towards the stairs, Han was desperately fumbling through the keys, which Max had left in the cell door.

"What are you doing? We need to go!" Max urged.

"Hey," Han snapped. "You have your people to save, I have mine!"

Han unlocked the cell door opposite Lizzie's and charged in, emerging seconds later with a battered, shell of a man. His hair had been torn out in places, and his skin burnt and peeled from his face. His bare feet were a dry, deep red, and his toenails and fingernails had been ripped from his body. Cuts and bruises littered his torso like a patchwork quilt, and the pain from all of these scars still lingered in his dark eyes.

"Can you stand?" Han asked urgently.

"I'm used to the pain," Saunders grunted, his eyes showing an immediate glimmer of life as soon as they settled on Lizzie's limp body. "Lizzie!"

"You know her?" Max questioned.

"Know her?" Han scoffed. "The mad bastard as good as broke her out of here."

"We need to get her to my lab, immediately," Saunders interjected before Max could enquire any further.

"Doc, we really don't have time on our sides here," Han exhaled.

"If we leave now, she's not going to make it! Hell, half of you look as if you're on your last legs!"

"The last thing they'll expect is for us to go back up," Dawson added.

"We're doing it," Max decided.

And with that, they were on the move once more, hammering back up the stairs down which they had escaped moments earlier. Max carried Lizzie in his arms, wincing with every step, Han propped up Saunders, and the twins heaved Paulo along. It was like a team of medics, leading the wounded off the battlefield; only the battle was yet to come.

***

Saunders stumbled around his lab like a man possessed, tearing open packets of bandages with his teeth, while unscrewing an unholy amount of bottles of tablets.

He ordered Max and Paulo to shovel down the mystery pills, without a second's explanation; Max just hoped and prayed that they were pain killers and nothing more.

Saunders expertly cleaned Lizzie's wound, before dressing it in pristine cotton bandage, hiding the gruesome cut below. He then proceeded to prep some kind of tubing, cleaning a mark on Lizzie's wrist as he did so.

"What are you doing?" Max asked worriedly.

"She needs blood," Saunders grumbled.

"Where the hell are you going to get that from?"

"Trust me, I have it on tap," Saunders assured, as he tore open a nearby refrigerator, retrieving a packet of red liquid marked 'Lizzie' as proof.

He linked the blood up to a stand next to the bed in which Lizzie was unconscious, and fed the blood drip into her wrist. After he was happy with the set up, he moved swiftly onto Max, throwing rubbing alcohol into every visible wound and dabbing it down with a clean cotton ball.

Max clenched his teeth at the intense stinging as the alcohol seeped into his cuts and scrapes.

"Fucking hell, Doc!" He seethed.

"You want to get these infected?" Saunders retorted.

Max paused for a second, "Carry on."

"That's what I thought."

Saunders bandaged up the worst of Max's cuts, sticking thick plasters onto the smaller ones, particularly on his face.

He then moved his attention towards himself, doing his best to clean out what looked like old wounds on his body. He wrapped his hands and feet in some kind of bandage tape, before placing a huge white plaster over the peeled side of his face.

"Did- did Joey do that to you?" Max trembled.

Saunders nodded, averting eye contact.

"For helping Li-"

"Yes," Saunders interrupted.

Max stared at the Doctor, waiting patiently for him to be able to look him in the eye. He had clearly gone through physical and extreme mental pain for Lizzie.

"Thank you," Max said sincerely, looking Saunders straight in the eye. "Thank you so much."

***

Every second ticked past like an hour, and every minute like a day, as the group waited for Doctor Saunders to give the all clear on Lizzie.

Max had refused to leave her side, but the rest of them kept watch at the door, rifles raised in anticipation for an inevitable fight.

Finally, Saunders unhooked Lizzie from her drip and stuck a plaster over the tiny drop of blood emerging from the wound left behind.

"She should come around before long," Saunders said.

Max's eyes narrowed, "Why did you say that, as if you aren't coming along?"

Saunders busied himself, packing away the equipment, washing it, even tidying away the rubbish to avoid Max's glare.

"Doctor..."

"You're correct. I'm not coming. I can't come," he finally admitted.

"Why the fuck not?" Max exclaimed. "You'll die here! And what if she needs you again?"

"What use am I out there?" Saunders asked honestly. "I've been on the road, I have seen the things you have seen!"

"And that's why you don't want to leave?"

"No, that's why I must stay. I'm close to something big here, something that might end all of this madness. I don't know," Saunders sighed. "I have to keep trying."

"A cure? Is that what we're talking about here? A cure to this whole thing?" Max mocked. "Doc, if there was a cure to be found, it would have been found by now. Please, just come with us!"

"What did you do to get here, to save her, to make sure that she didn't die?" Saunders asked.

"Everythin-" Max started, before realising what the Doctor meant.

Max bounded across the room and rifled through the pack on Rodney's back, returning with a map clutched in his hands.

"Paulo, get over here," he commanded, spreading the map out on top of an operating table. "You got a pen, Doc?"

Paulo staggered over to the table, and, as requested by Max, marked on the general direction of the so called 'safe haven'.

"I'm not for a second saying that this shit is real," Max smirked. "But that's where we'll be heading. Just in case you change your mind."

Saunders smiled, returning Max's gesture with an appreciative nod, before extending a hand to him.

"Good luck to you all."

"Good luck to you too, Doc," Max smiled, shaking Saunders' hand firmly. "I will always be in your debt."

"Just keep that one safe, ay?" Saunders grinned, his eyes glancing down at Lizzie.

Max smiled, "Of course."

Max stooped down to lift Lizzie back off the bed, before JJ jumped in and nudged him out of the way.

"Don't be stupid, you can barely walk yourself," JJ said.

"I'm not leav-"

"Don't argue, Max. You're a better shot than me anyway. We need you up front if we're going to get out of here."

Max opened his mount to counter the young man's argument, but he was right, it made more sense.

"Don't worry, I'll keep her safe. Promise," JJ assured, and Max believed him.

JJ heaved Lizzie off the bed and into his arms, keeping a hand gun squeezed in his right hand, just in case.

Max picked up his rifle, which leant against the lab room door, and filed out of the room, behind Han and Dawson as they made their desperate escape.