She is dying. Rather, what's left of her is dying. Even through the constant barrage of information from the dozens of her who have taken her place, she can feel the decay of her own body, the wasting away as flesh gives way to bone and metal. Her mind is slowing down, stuttering, hesitating, breaking, as irregular as her heartbeat and the few breaths she still takes.

There isn't much time. She never asked for this life, but she knows it could be worse; her mind may not be fully hers, and it may no longer be fully human, but she still retains a spark of humanity, a few scraps of her soul, a shred or two of dignity, an ounce of pride. She's done everything she can to protect her charges, sheltering them behind her disability, preserving their memories and their personalities. Whoever replaces her won't do them the same favor. Through their eyes, she's seen the other teams, seen how tightly controlled they are, how their mistresses have destroyed everything they once were and rebuilt them in new, twisted images. Maybe there's one last thing she can do. Maybe when she's gone, they'll still remain.

She's dying and she doesn't have much time left. It's rare that she's had to override their free will, even rarer that she's wanted to, and this last compromise is a sure sign that she's falling apart, but sometimes a woman has to do what a woman has to do. She seizes them all in her mental grip and pushes a message through to the most basic portions of their minds, a message that can't be ignored, can't be denied, can't be disobeyed, a compulsion that is irresistible, all-powerful, intense and important.

Run! Get out! Leave! Get away! Save yourself! Take your freedom and go!

Every ounce of her power and will drives the message along the connection she shares with her team like an arrow, sure and on target. It takes everything out of her. She sags against the chair that has held her imprisoned for six long years, drawn-out gasps she'll never hear rattling in her lungs. The link is broken. She's alone in her own head, silence upon silence.

Her vision blurs. For the first time in those six years, she blinks, her eyes tearing. She blinks again, and this time her eyes don't want to open back up. With a sense of relief, she lets go and falls into the darkness.

When the techs come by on their next go-round, the gentle smile that brings a ghost of old beauty back to her ravaged face baffles them all.