Miranda is well aware of Donna's attachment to her dolls. She's curious how attached she is to her new subject. Natalya has proven to be hardy and resilient. She'd be a fine subject for the cadou. Granted nothing would ever return her limbs. And she's not keen on giving Karl any allies in his hatred of her. If there would ever be someone who could defeat her, it would be a soldier.

"There's no more pus filling the scabs and the infection is gone."

Miranda pokes around the healing Y shaped scar stretching from her ribs on one side to just above her hip on the other. Natalya doesn't squirm, she just watches. As does Donna.

Watching Miranda run her bare hands over Natalya's skin causes two reactions. Natalya wants to squirm and throw a punch that would break the woman's lower jaw, and Donna wants to kill her. She hates Miranda, but hates her even more than usual. This is a cold, controlled, slithering hate that starts gears turning in her mind.

"Donna, hand me those scissors."

Instead Donna shakes violently. So much so that Angie shudders too so her porcelain bits clatter.

"Get your own damn scissors," Natalya growls, "Hell give me my fucking knife and I'll cut it out myself."

"No."

After getting the scissors herself Miranda takes Natalya's arm and pins it to the headboard. Natalya growls and Miranda smacks her across the face. It's a stunning blow that leaves her reeling.

Donna's hands are balled into tight fists at her sides. She's still shaking but it's changed from fear to rage again. The air is thick, and if not for Miranda's immunity and Natalya inability everyone would be in terror.

With Natalya's hand pinned Miranda cuts the sutures with her other hand. The scissors aren't sharp, but they're sharp enough to cut the poor quality suture thread. Once it's done Miranda plucks out the strings, watching Natalya's face for minute movements.

Natalya's lips curl into silent snarls and a few winces of minor pain but nothing more. Natalya refuses to give Miranda the satisfaction.

"You should be fine. No strenuous activity for awhile but you should start moving around more to develop muscle you've lost to atrophy. You'll develop new muscles as well to help walking and handling things," Miranda says matter of factly. She smirks to herself, "Enjoy your toy Donna, she should live."

While Natalya is left alone in her room Donna follows Miranda to the door. Angie speaks for her, as usual.

"Can she take a bath yet? She stinks," Angie cackles.

Miranda smirks, "You're practically eager."

"Get out," Donna growls. Her voice is deep and hoarse and she barely contains her shaking.

"She can bathe. I would suggest salt to help clean the wounds while they heal," Miranda replies, and leaves.

This leaves Donna with a conundrum. She can help Natalya into a bath. She'll certainly smell better. But that also requires her to disrobe, and she's still upset with Natalya for talking to the maid. Not really for speaking but for frightening her.

"She can sit for a little longer," Angie groans.

So Donna decides she will. Natalya will sit. Just as long as it takes her to get her thoughts in order on how to proceed.

Sitting in her bed for much of the morning Natalya can hear Donna rustling around. She knows when the dolls in the room shift that her mistress is watching or checking up on her. Each time she's laying letting sunlight pour across her skin, still examining the gnarled scar with interest.

Finally Donna appears at the door. Natalya waits, not saying a word as Donna takes a few deep breaths before entering.

"Rise and shine stinky you need a bath."

Natalya cracks her toothy smile, "You drew me a bath?"

"Yes," Is all Donna can manage. She's changed into a pair of trousers and a white shirt with suspenders. The sleeves and cuffs are both rolled up and she's barefoot.

But the veil remains.

"Thank you," Natalya murmurs as Donna helps her attach her legs so she can walk to the bath with dignity.

Being in the middle of the house the bathroom is dark and dingy. Donna doesn't really take baths, only brief showers every now and again and they're at best cool, at worst bitterly cold.

Candles sit on all the corners of furniture and around the bath itself for light. The water has a film over it from the salt and is still steaming.

"This looks heavenly."

Donna finds herself grinning. She nods, "Sit on the edge."

Getting Natalya out of her legs is a feat in and of itself. In the process of getting out of her clothes, however, she falls in. Donna falls on her knees grappling at anything Natalya is wearing to ensure she doesn't drown. With one strong arm Natalya hoists herself up, sputtering and laughing.

Angie cackles first, then Donna laughs too. She quickly grabs her veil to keep her laughter from being blown up by the force of her laughter.

Natalya pulls her hair free and sets the tie aside, pushing her hair out of her face. In the dim light her eyes are gorgeous. Donna's breath catches in her throat. But it's more than just her eyes.

This woman. This mangled, healing, war torn soldier looks at her with the gentleness of a puppy. Complete adoration. Her expression is soft.

"Donna," Natalya murmurs.

"Shh," Donna trembles. She smiles and touches Natalya's lips, "Your, clothes."

Not caring anymore about her clothes Natalya and Donna manages to wriggle Natalya out of her now soaked clothes. Donna dumps the clothes into the sink with a smile.

For several minutes the two sit staring at one another. Nothing is said. There's just the soft drip of the bathroom flooded from Natalya's tumble into the tub.

"Thank you," Natalya smiles, "This is heavenly."

Donna's heart swells and melts and beats wildly all at once. Her face is burning and her hand is too close to Natalya's despite the fact that they're not touching. She stands and clears her throat, looking around for an excuse to leave. She grabs the wet clothes and hurries out.

This leaves Natalya alone with Angie rattling silently on the bathroom sink. She stares at the doll.

"Angie, are you okay?"

Strangely, there's no reply. She usually has something to say. Usually something snarky but now the rattling filling the quiet bathroom is unsettling. Natalya balances herself with her upper arms on the tub, "Angie, can you hear me? Are you alright?"

Out of the room Donna is still fully aware. Her hurricane of emotions has rendered Angie completely immobile. But she can still see. And it's even more endearing the way Natalya cares about the doll.

Donna returns, bringing with her soap and a basket of clean cloths. As soon as she gets near Angie stops rattling. Putting over a stool she sits down and dips the cloth into the warm water and rubs the soap into it before applying it to Natalya's back.

Never in her life has Natalya been keen on human contact. She stiffens and flinches away. Donna jerks back.

"Sorry," Natalya murmurs, "Sorry. I'm, not usually comfortable with being touched. You should've seen doctors when I was a kid. I kicked a guy's tooth out once."

Donna stifles a snort.

"Go-Go ahead. I won't move."

This time Donna is hesitant. With the washcloth as a barrier between Natalya's skin and her fingers she feels comfortable to explore the expanse of her back. The atrophy in Natalya's left side is already apparent. Anyone else might think it hideous, but Donna doesn't think anyone could be less attractive than herself.

Now that she's prepared Natalya doesn't flinch away from Donna's touch. Her soft fingers work their way into muscles. Natalya bites back a moan, her eyes fluttering closed.

"What's wrong?" Donna murmurs.

"Mm?"

"You, moved," Donna isn't sure how to state it without also revealing the fact that she notices every minute movement in Natalya's body.

Natalya chuckles, "Your fingers feel nice. I was trying to relax. My friends used to make jokes it isn't physically possible for me."

"To, relax?" Donna cocks her head, working her thumb into the knot at the base of Natalya's neck again.

"Mhm," Natalya growls and sighs when the knot is finally worked out, "I don't miss those fuckers."

Donna hesitates. She cocks her head, "Tell me about them."