Chapter Nineteen - Author's note: I'm sorry. This took an incredibly long time because this is a very, very dark chapter, and I found it tough to write. This chapter is extra long to make up for how long you guys had to wait.

Amartya took Nightingale back to the hovercraft, muttering something about how he needed her to have a final checkup from his physician, that she would be back, that he just needed a few hours, and though the triumvirate seemed wary, Trevor waved them off with a smile.

"We like that you've agreed," he said. He was smiling at Nightingale, his bright eyes keen and incisive. She was shaking. "And I look forward to having her back as soon as she's ready."

Amartya tugged Nightingale out of the room. He continued to pull her along until they got into the hovercraft.

Nightingale had fainted before, of course, but not since she was very young. When she had done it as a three-week-old girl, she had earned a beating. She remembered Bobby then, still new to the Inamorata trade, had left a bruise in the shape of his foot on her ribs. He'd still made her work after it, and the next client she fucked had looked at it in horror.

It was then she learned to smile, and to blunt herself to the man's cruelty. She had smiled, and told him that she was clumsy - that she'd rolled off the bed one night, and hurt herself.

"I'm clumsy like that," she'd said, and then she'd taken him in her hand and stroked him until he was hard. "But not like this."

Then, she had become the Queen of the Bordello, strong and fearless. But such a gentility had come over her now, the product of the feather-soft love of her husband, and of her freedom from pain, that she felt as though she were new to it once more.

That past Nightingale would have been ashamed of her for fainting the moment she was on board the hovercraft, and there was enough of that Nightingale still alive that when she awoke, she shoved Amartya away with a snarl.

He had been carrying her, and they were descending from the hovercraft. They were back in the hangar. Amartya set her down and she shook herself.

She had enough time only to sway once more before someone caught her. They were slender, strong arms that held her, and long hair brushed against her cheek as she was lowered into the embrace of a woman.

"Easy," said Caroline's voice in her ear. "Easy, Gale. Easy. I've got you."

Nightingale gave a ragged sob and buried her face in Caroline's neck. Caroline stroked her hair, growling.

"Not so strong as you expect, are you?" asked Caroline, and it would have been a hideous thing to say had it not been spoken with such forceful pity. "None of us is. You don't have to pretend to me."

Nightingale had a single second of clarity, as she lifted her head and met Caroline's stare. She found her own eyes looking back at her. It was with the same motion that she and Caroline turned at the sound of shouting.

"You lying sack of fucking shit-" came the shout from David. He grabbed Amartya by the throat and slammed him into the side of the hovercraft. Amartya, smart as he was, went limp instantly and did not fight David. He would not have won. There was only one person in the room would could have beaten David in a fight, and it was not Amartya.

"If you think for a single second you'll let someone fuck her again against her will-" he began, his voice terrible.

"Not against her will, she knows what is entailed in this case, she agreed-" began Amartya. His voice was not pleading. It was rational. David was as close to hysteria as he could venture. Amartya was not. He stared David in the face, his gaze clear and calm. 

"Not to this! Not to this," snarled David. It was David shouting, but Caroline's fingers that dug into Nightingale's arm, tugging her closer to the other woman's body.

"What the hell are you doing?" It was Rory, striding out of the second hovercraft. Erica and Daniel followed. Erica's face was curled in a snarl of hatred the like Nightingale could not have imagined that the woman possessed, but it was the growling Daniel who dove at David.

It was also Daniel, therefore, upon whom David turned and, letting go of Amartya, punched him hard in the face. Daniel was thrown back much further than Nightingale would have expected - David must have put an extraordinary amount of power behind the blow. It did not deter Daniel as much as it should have, however - holding his eye, and dove at David again, but Rory grabbed him by the collar and kept him back.

"Lay a finger on me and you'll live only long enough to regret it," David spat at Daniel.

"How dare you threaten my-" began a snarling Rory, but David cut him off with a black look, full of threat and anger and violence.

"I am the senior investigator," growled David. "I'll threaten whoever the fuck I like, including the fucking morons you call your team-"

"Senior investigator? No one will give a fuck about that when I sue you for professional misconduct-"

"Sue David Beckett, five-time decorated level-one agent for professional misconduct? Good luck making that one stick," said Caroline. David's eyes flickered to her and a hard look passed between them, fierce, frank, and positively devoted.

"You might be surprised," Rory spat back at Caroline. His eyes glinted, gunpowder sparks of hatred and fury, and though she lifted her chin in a defiant show of confidence, David stepped between Rory and Caroline. His concern was unnecessary - Nightingale, too, stepped between them and shielded Caroline from Rory's anger. 

"Enough," said Amartya, his gaze flitting between Rory and David, as he approached them. His hand was on his neck, massaging a red mark, the testament of David's anger. He looked cautious, and Nightingale could not blame him - never had she seen two people more ready to draw blood, and she had seen Magenta threaten Bobby in a prison visitation room. "There's something more important to discuss now. You all heard the triumvirate's offer."

There was a moment of uneasy silence before David spoke.

"You don't have to do this, Gale," said David. He was not looking at her. He was spitting the words at Amartya, who was still rubbing his throat and glaring warily at David. "Not this. Not ever again. Nightingale, you don't. They can't force you, no one can. There's some other way. We have enough evidence for a-"

"David," said Nightingale, very softly. Very gently, Caroline's fingers relaxed, and she released Nightingale.

"Listen to me," said David, his head snapping around to look at her. "Listen to me, there's another way, there always is. A more minor charge can be laid, and then we can nail them on a bigger one before-"

Nightingale leaped forward and took David's face. She made him look at her and when he did his face was terrible - angry and sad and horrified, all at once. She held him very gently and he let her.

"No, David," she said. "You listen to me. You know we don't have enough evidence. The only way we seize the inamoratas is to arrest the triumvirate on meaningful charges and we don't have those yet. Otherwise you know what will happen to them."

For a moment, Nightingale's words hung in the air. Half the people in the hangar had been part of the liberation of the bordellos, and all knew that any halfway intelligent bordello owner would put down his merchandise before risking prison.

"And I know I don't have to do this," Nightingale went on. "I know you won't make me. For that I am grateful. You gave me my freedom once, and you will defend it to my death, I know. But in my freedom this is what I choose - freedom for those who they have enslaved. I choose this, David. I choose it."

He stared at her and Nightingale wished the whole world gone for a moment. The look on his face was so frank, so full of unmasked emotion, of fury and sorrow and pride, so much pride, that she felt it was indecent for anyone else to see. This was for her, this look. It was hers alone. She let David go in that moment, for he looked so fragile she feared her touch would break him.

"You choose it," he repeated.

"Yes," Nightingale affirmed, to herself and to David. Part of her shook with fear. The other held fast.

He lifted his hands, as if to take hers. They stopped an inch from her, but Nightingale could feel his presence so intimately it was as though they stood skin to skin.

"They do not deserve it," he spoke in a quiet, firm voice. "They do not deserve your suffering, Nightingale. You should not suffer, not for the world."

Nightingale smiled. "They're innocents, David. I will suffer for them. Who else will?"

David's jaw clenched and he bowed his head. He turned away.

"Her word is our bond," he told Rory, with his back to the other man. "If she will do it, we can proceed."

Then David turned on his heel and went into the hovercraft. After a moment, Caroline followed him. Erica began to murmur to Rory, neither of them looking satisfied, and Nicholas and Pierce drew up next to Nightingale. Daniel, who was trailing them, reluctantly followed. His eye was already darkening.

"That was, uh, tense," said Pierce.

Nicholas shrugged, seemingly unimpressed. "Not really. I've seen him do worse," he said, though Nightingale doubted he had.

Daniel, however, was unimpressed. "Worse?" he demanded. "Worse? You know, for such a decorated team, the level of unprofessionalism is astounding. Your lunatic fucking leader goes apeshit and then he nearly fucks you with your clothes on and-"

Nightingale's nails bit into her palms as her hands curled into fists. "Agent Collier, our 'unprofessionalism' blacked one of your eyes. Would you like a matching set?" Nightingale smiled, sickly sweet.

Daniel stormed off and Nicholas, the second he was gone, grabbed Nightingale and wrapped her up in a gigantic bear hug. He was very warm and very big, and Nightingale felt instantly comforted. Nicholas squeezed her and then kissed her temple. Then he set her down and patted her head.

"I think I offended your friend," she said, gesturing after Daniel.

"Nah," said Nicholas. When Nightingale raised her eyebrows at the sight of Erica and Daniel glowering at the three of them, Nicholas shrugged. "Maybe you did. So what? He's kind of a dickhead, anyway."

"I thought you liked him, Nick," said Nightingale.

"Well, Nick's kind of a dickhead, so-" began Pierce, with a little smile, but stopped as Amartya drew up.

"Sorry about that, Amartya," said Nicholas, gesturing to Amartya's neck. 

Amartya smiled. It was brittle. "Not your fault. Now, I'm afraid I need Agent Brightley," he said. Nicholas and Pierce muttered amongst themselves and left. "I'm sorry, Gale, but you're going to have to get ready. We can't be long, they'll get suspicious."

Nightingale nodded. "Just another day at the bordello," she said.

"What was that?"

"Nothing," she replied, and went back into the hovercraft. It did not take her long to get ready. She was too practised at it for it to take long. She laughed to herself, very quietly and very bitterly. 

"Great fucking whore, that's me," she snapped at her reflection.

"You don't have to do it, you know," said David. He had appeared behind her. Nightingale looked up and smiled at him, reflected in the glass above her shoulder. Then she turned.

"You've said that already," she replied. She turned to look at him. She watched as he drew up to her and knelt down at her feet. For a moment, they were silent. Then he touched her ankle, very gently, above the anklet.

"I'm here, listening," he said. "Say the word, and I'll kick down any door and blow his fucking head off."

Nightingale smiled because she knew that if she did not her fear would show on her face. "Sounds good," she said. "Except leave blowing his head off to me, okay?" She reached forward and tapped the gun at his waist.

He nodded, gravely.

"Now go. They need you. I don't," she added, gesturing to herself.

David quirked a little smile and stood. As he left, he turned back. "No, you don't," he said. "And I don't think you ever will."

He left her to ponder that, passing Amartya on his way out. Amartya was removing a comm from his ear, his brow creased.

"New development," he said. "I just contact with Renatus - first time he's ever called me on the comm. Voice was chewed up on purpose, so I couldn't analyze it. But he gave me his password, so I know it's him. Password is 'Dido,' said he wanted you to know that."

"Why?" asked Nightingale, remembering another password, so many years ago.

"No idea. But it probably means you're going to meet him. If you do, that's good. He says everything is going exactly according to plan, so tomorrow, provided Trevor is satisfied, we'll be able to go forward with the mission," said Amartya.

Nightingale nodded. "One night only," she said.

"One night only," said Amartya. "Tomorrow we'll come for you. You remember the plan?"

Nightingale nodded again. Amartya nodded back and the two of them went into the cockpit.

"Oh, and Nightingale?" said Amartya, as they buckled themselves in. She looked up at him. "You should know that I neither like nor trust David. I don't trust his leadership, and I don't like his methods. But I like his team, and I trust you."

Nightingale smiled as the hovercraft lifted off the ground. She tried to convince herself that this was just another day in the bordello, and that Amartya was one of her sisters - Magenta, maybe, or perhaps Sparkle or Emerald.

"Oh, it seems like you really like part of our team," she replied.

Amartya's eyes flickered over to her, a little too fast.

"If there's anything I can do, it's read what a man wants. Even if he thinks he's being subtle, I can tell what he wants - who he wants," she said. She leaned over to him, smirking, all bravado, oozing a confidence she scarcely felt. "She's married, Amartya. And besides, even if she didn't tear your head off for trying anything with her, he would."

Amartya smiled. Then he laughed, and Nightingale tried to focus on the sound. She was shaking in her seat, quivering with fear, and she gripped her armrests. She flatly refused to allow Amartya to see her terror.

The flight was quiet. Amartya landed at the triumvirate's building to nothing but the sound of the engines humming. When the two of them exited the hovercraft a guard immediately joined them.

Seizing Nightingale by the arm, he tugged her away from Amartya. Nightingale imagined ripping each one of his fingers off, one at a time.

"Ooh, honey," she purred at the guard, smiling at the idea of bloodying his face with her nails. "Like it rough, do you?"

He ignored her. "I'll take her from here, Mr. Tijare," he said to Amartya.

Amartya looked at Nightingale and then he laughed. "Whatever. And you," he added, to Nightingale. "Make me proud, won't you? You cost enough to make, you know."

Nightingale winked at him. "I'm worth every penny," she said.

The guard towed her away. As he pulled her along by the arm, Nightingale wondered if the man knew she could have broken the hand that was holding her. She supposed not, but she smirked at the idea. It was a far more comforting thought than what she knew was waiting for her.

The guard pushed her through the door of a room, which proved to be a sumptuous bedroom. The door shut behind her and all of a sudden Nightingale was alone with her thoughts.

She took a deep breath. For a moment, she thought of Robin, but the idea of his gentility and sweetness only made the cruelty around her seem harsher. She settled instead on a thought of Magenta.

Magenta would scoff at her fear. "Oh, please," she'd say. "Trevor isn't even the worst of your regulars. And that anklet can't even hurt you. Pull yourself together. You going soft, Gale? Not the Gale I know - the Gale I know is a hard-assed bitch."

"Thanks, Maggie," said Nightingale, to the empty air.

The door opened and for a moment, Nightingale expected to see one of her sisters. Instead, it was Trevor, dressed impeccably, smelling sweet, and completely repulsive. She smiled at him and did not back away.

"Hello, lovely Nightingale. More beautiful and more radiant than you were all those years ago," he said. The door shut behind him and he approached her, smiling.

"Thank you, Mr. Trevor," she said.

"Call me Victor," he replied.

"Okay," she said. She forced a smile onto her face. "So, baby, how do you want me to-"

He held up his hand. "Don't do that, Nightingale," he said. "I think we're both know what you're doing here, and who you are."

Nightingale continued to smile. She approached Victor, reaching for his belt. As she spoke, she undid it. "I'm your girl, Nightingale," she said, as sweetly as she could. "And I definitely know why I'm here."

He smiled. "You're my girl, you're right. And you are Nightingale, aren't you?" he asked.

Nightingale nodded, biting her lip. She giggled, and kissed Victor quickly, a brief peck on the lips that made her skin burn as though doused in acid. She drew back.

"The real Nightingale, I mean," he said, very softly.

Nightingale froze. Her eyes rose to Victor's. Panic seized her and she doubted she would be able to make it out of the building even if she called David for help, even if she got away from Victor the guards would shoot her dead and-

"Did you think I wouldn't know the real Nightingale, when I saw her in front of me?" said Victor. He laughed quietly. "I am Renatus."

"Oh. Oh. Thank God," said Nightingale. She turned away from Victor. Her whole body shook and she nearly collapsed, sinking to the floor to avoid fainting. Relief washed over her. Renatus. He was Renatus. She would not have to - never have to again. She turned to him and hated him just as much, but did not fear him.

He came forward and cupped her face in his hands. She wanted to rip his hands off his wrists for it, but she knew he wouldn't fuck her, wouldn't, he was the source, he knew who she was.

"Oh, my lovely Nightingale," he said. "The years haven't changed you at all."

"You're the source?" she asked. She did not contradict him. She was changed quite considerably. She was confused - such a man, turning spy for the government? It made her hate him no less - but relieved. She was desperate to assure herself of his identity.

"Of course. Dido," he added, to prove the truth of his claim. Then he stroked her face, staring down at her. His fingers turned hard about her cheeks. "You sweet, lovely thing. Just as you were."

He leaned down and kissed her and Nightingale, since he was the source, since he was on their side - if such a cruel person ever could be - flinched away and wiped her mouth. She skittered back a few steps and stared hard at him.

"I am not what I was," she told him. I am not a whore, she meant to say. I am not yours, would have done just as well. I am my own, was what would have been best.

"Of course not," he said. His tone was winsome and mollifying, but Nightingale could see the coldness in his eyes and she hated it and feared it. "Of course not, no. No. Lovely creature, you're so much more than you were."

He took two steps toward her and she backed away, scrambling backwards over the floor, something she had not done since she was a month old and didn't know how to please a client. There was a look on his face that she had seen before, she knew what it meant, and she would do anything, anything to avoid it-

"Come here," he said. He had backed her into a corner. His voice had risen in anger and Nightingale flinched. "Come here, what are you afraid of? Dido, Dido, Dido, how many times do I have to say it?"

She could not say no. He would beat her and then bring Bobby, who would shock her into submission-

"Lovely thing, come here," he said, and leaned down. He pulled her to her feet and she could not meet his eyes. Because though she had been Queen of the Bordello, she was too long away from it, she could not let him touch her, not when she knew who he was-

"But you're our source," she whispered, as he pushed her up against the wall. He brushed a strand of hair out of her face and one of his hands went inching up her thigh until he slipped one finger inside her. She could do nothing.

Client, client, client, repeated in her head.

"Yes, yes, I am," he said. "And think of all the good I am doing for this cause. Thousands of Inamoratas freed. You would like that, wouldn't you? And you'll have it, my darling. But I have still paid for this. Quite a lot, I might add."

"No," said Nightingale. Her voice was weak. She was near tears. She was ashamed of herself. She hated him. She was afraid. She was not Nightingale Brightley then, freer and fiercer than anything, touched only by reverent, respectful hands. Nor was she that Queen of the Bordello, who hated and feared her clients but fucked them like she loved it. She was that five days' old girl, unable to keep from crying though she knew the punishments for it, as someone shoved her up against a wall and fucked her.

"No?" he said, and pulled back. "No?"

For a moment she thought he was going to let her go. She had never told him no before, maybe it meant something to him.

Then he smiled, stroking her face with one hand. "I won't hurt you," he said. "I wouldn't ever do that. I love you, Gale."

Nightingale began to shake, unable to break Victor's gaze. She stared, terrified, into his bright eyes. He smiled again and kissed her. He took her head in his hand, fisting his hand in her hair at the nape of her neck. He shook her a little.

"Now, pretty Gale, why don't you show me what it is I've paid for?"