It took me 6 months to get this chapter off the ground, but I figured out how to end it this month and here we are. No major warnings for this chapter: mentions of mental health and medical conditions but this is one of the tamer chapters. Please enjoy!


"Get out of my sight you impudent child, before I render you to pieces like a slab of meat thrown to starving hounds."

The way his logical, impassive mind saw it; Doyle had two options. At first, they had been carved from the same outcrop of rock, as plain as stone. He had laid perfect plans. Or, what he thought were perfect. Then the actions of the Saturdays had slashed those plans as humanely and softly as possible. His decisions weren't set in stone anymore. Their actions had left him entirely clueless, and those two options had diverged into two entirely different paths for him to walk.

Path one. Live at the mercy of the Saturdays. He wasn't a proud man. If it meant a comfortable place to live out the rest of his days where the ground didn't explode under his feet in violent fury - he might do anything to make ends meet. Especially given that they seemed far less ruthless and tyrannic than Argost described them. Especially because the woman was convinced that he was family. It was something that he was still sceptical about but reluctantly coming to believe that it wasn't impossible. Although path one seemed comfortable and lavish, he suspected that it was only a facade. There was a serpent hiding under the innocent-looking flowers. Argost would come for him, he knew. Argost always got what he wanted. In the end, no family could save him. If he was caught, he would surely pay a high price for his treachery.

Path two. Pretend to live at the mercy of the Saturdays. Take their son from under their noses and give him to Argost in exchange for freedom. Vicious. Deceitful. Self-serving. Everything that Argost strived to be. The path was thwarted with cracks and damage, but light and freedom shone brightly from the other side. The light that he had been desperately trying to reach for years, now it was closer than ever. Was he really willing to give that up?

Maybe he was.

He looked down at his palms, clenching the sheets with frustration so hard that his knuckles turned white. Nothing made sense. Everything he had ever known was coming undone. It was unsettling to realise that a drop of compassion was all it took for his training to unravel. Training to repel humanity and place them on the edge of his cold heart. Training to keep a straight face and not break in the face of death. The part of his mind that remained untainted, it bloomed and flourished without Argost's deathly presence.

The sound of the opening door tripped the alarm bells in his head. However, whoever was on the other side just pushed it clear, with some amount of force. No clicking or groaning of a mechanism. The door hadn't been locked. Interesting to know. The harsh whispers of panic in his ears dulled as he watched the Komodo Dragon barge into the room. The same one that had sunk its teeth into him days before. Though, when he gazed into its dark, beady eyes - he wasn't afraid. He had grown up around monsters. Animals didn't bother him. Much easier to predict than people. It strutted over to him boldly, tongue flickering to taste the presence of danger in the air. It had every right to be cautious. He was the stranger encroaching onto its territory. It waddled over to the side of the bed curiously. It craned its neck towards him, reaching over to sniff his arm. The lizard rumbled a defiant hiss to him, and he could only scoff. He had been close to cryptids ten-times its size by age nine. He wasn't intimidated. Though, maybe it wasn't one of his brightest ideas to reach down and scratch its head when it could easily take one of his fingers off. The lizard growled, roughly headbutting his palm. Softly scratching the scales beneath his fingers, he fell into a ponder.

It was easy to see the intentions of animals. They usually gave him warning signs before they launched an attack. Whether it was bared teeth, raised hackles or a warning call, it was easy to read their warning signs. People were so much harder to read. More often than not, he couldn't read Argost's intentions. He knew they would always be cruel, but each scheme became crueller and more heinous than the last. He suppressed a shiver. Not much scared him, but watching Argost launch into a tirade...nothing else had made him fear for his life that many times. He knew there was something sinister beneath that mask. Maybe Argost's audience was fooled. He definitely wasn't. Argost tried so hard to be human that Doyle wondered what he was hiding beneath.

"Komodo!" Doyle jumped, his hand darting away from the lizard's head. He went from sitting back against the bed to leaning bolt upright. He locked eyes with Solomon as he entered the room. The expression on the other man's face transformed from surprise to caution as he met Doyle's poised gaze. The large lizard slinked away from the bed, meeting Solomon with a glare as it left.

"I hope he wasn't...bothering you," Solomon said, struggling for conversation.

"Think nothing of it," he shrugged off Solomon's concern. The room was filled with a tense atmosphere, with neither man willing to let their guard down. Solomon cleared his throat.

"Feeling better, Doyle?" Solomon asked. Doyle bristled. If he was going to lessen their suspicions, he would have to get used to them calling him that.

"Quite." His nausea had retreated, and so had the sore sensations left on his skin. His inner elbow was wrapped with a wad of gauze, but the bandages around his head had been removed. He watched Solomon with interest.

He studied the Saturday patriarch. The man who stood tall with his arms folded against his broad chest in a challenge. The man with the stone composure who would brazenly take on any foe to save his family. Doyle didn't make it apparent that he was watching, but Solomon never lifted his gaze away for more than a moment. It was all well and good that he could convince the blonde woman, but he was sure that Solomon's stonewall composure would be harder to tackle.

The silence that enveloped the room for a few minutes had Doyle preparing both body and mind for another interrogation. He had almost gotten over the shock of the bombshell that was dropped on him earlier.

The missing pieces had started to come together. These people held the pieces that would render the muddled mental jigsaw in his head complete. He needed to prepare himself for whatever revelation was about to be thrown his way.

He couldn't afford to lose control of his self a second time. Definitely not in the presence of an audience.

The words that came out of Solomon's mouth next weren't what he expected. Not in the least.

"Hungry?" He offered.

That had Come Straight out of the left field and caught him off guard. The expression on Solomon's face made his offer look honest.

"Why?"

Solomon scoffed; surprised. "Because I'm a gracious host? What were you expecting us to do, starve you?"

Yes

He tried to ignore the hunger pangs that had been reignited with the mention of food. He was ready to follow the older man's lead right at that second, but the old fears planted in the back of his mind made him pause. That offer seemed too genuine to be real. They weren't about to turn around and poison him, right?

He'd been poisoned from food before. Not something he wanted to experience again.

It was difficult finding the strength to stand up after spending a day in bed. He had never been in a position to lie down and rest for more than a few hours at a time. If they had wanted him to suffer, surely they would have locked him in a cell and thrown away the key. Right?

The walk to the kitchen was surreal. He reluctantly followed Solomon down worn corridors that were still scarred from last week's firefight. Walls dented from grenade blasts. Soot creeping under sealed-shut doors.

The end of the hallway extended into a large, open plan kitchen. It didn't look like the family home he expected; it had the same sterile atmosphere of the medical room. Everything was neutral - with grey walls and sleek white cabinets that caught the light of the morning sun flickering through the windows. He sat, perched on a seat at the end of the counter whilst Solomon rummaged through the cupboards. Doyle could feel the tension bearing down on them. Tension spurred on by the overbearing silence.

"It's Drew's night to cook," Solomon said suddenly, making him jump. "I don't want to use any of the ingredients she has lined up, but I should be able to make something…"

Solomon's distraction gave him the chance to look at his surroundings. There was another door on the other side of the room, behind him. He didn't know what that opened up into. The only 'homely' part of the place was the explosion of colour from the coloured plastic letters and tourist magnets, pining notices and photos to the fridge door. There was a clock above that fridge, reading 09:00AM.

Maybe that explained the silence. Maybe nobody else was awake yet. Maybe he could get back into the shadows before anyone else woke up.

"Here." Solomon sild a glass of water across the counter towards him."

"Thanks." He watched the water settle inside the glass, transfixed on the small bubbles coming to the surface.

"You're welcome."

He tipped it back to drink without thinking - his mouth was practically bone dry. He closed his eyes for a moment. The cold water hit like a kick to the gut, but he was too thirsty to care. If his life was going to be over in a matter of a few short days - he wanted to exploit the good hospitality for as long as he could. He moved to set the glass down on the counter. He was met by a pair of warm eyes staring into his own from the other side of the counter.

He hadn't meant to drop the glass, but she had startled him so badly that it slipped through his grip. The half-empty glass hit the counter, bounced off, hit the tile and then shattered into millions of pieces that went skittering across the floor.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry," he tumbled over his words as he flinched back. He ducked his head, face burning red with embarrassment, how did she keep walking in without him knowing and scaring him so hard?

"Oh! I didn't mean to scare you!" She reached out to him, concern flashing in her bright blue eyes. "Let me just clean that up."

Doyle watched Solomon approach his wife out of the corner of her eye and gently grasp her arm. "You two talk it out, I'll take care of this."

"You sure?" her voice was shaky.

"I'm sure," he reassured, giving her a quick peck on the cheek.

Doyle felt dread rising up from the pit of his stomach as she beckoned for him to follow. They went out the other door, which led into another living area. Warm orange walls with cheerful decorations adorning them. He didn't feel cheerful. Not in the least.

It just made him feel worse when she suddenly threw her arms around him and embraced him in a crushing hug. He froze in her grip, shocked. He held his arms glued to his sides, reluctant to return the gesture. She let go suddenly, when she realised he had gone rigid in her grip. He averted his eyes when she looked up at him, hurt.

"You still don't believe me?" The look on her face suggested that this was slowly crushing her.

"You've not shown me any proof for me to believe," he mumbled, disinterested. She crossed her arms.

"But you do believe there is some validity in what I'm saying. I can tell." She paused for a moment, wringing her hands out, like there was something she desperately wanted to convey to him.

"Doyle, listen. Sometimes, when people experience childhood trauma," she paused, "the brain blocks it out. It buries those memories deep down where they can't be consciously accessed. That's what my mind did when I was younger, it blocked out a lot of my memories of the night I lost my parents. If you don't remember, maybe that's why."

She was right. He didn't remember much of that day. He remembered falling down that slope, watching that girl tumble away through the blizzard as the monster roared overhead. He flinched, coming back to reality to stare into those eyes that now held a critical stare. Would Argost have known where he came from? Did he know that he possibly had a family out there looking for him? Probably not.

He shuddered, cringing and feeling sick to his stomach. If Argost knew; he' be dead. It would have tickled him pink to taunt the Saturdays by threatening harm to one of their family members. He felt lightheaded. He was virtually swaying on his feet.

He was vaguely aware of her grabbing his hand and pushing him down onto a chair. "What?"

"Sit down and put your head forwards between your knees. It'll stop you from fainting."

He could feel the blood pounding in his brain as he curled over. He gagged.

"I don't think it was a good idea for Doc to discharge you from the med bay. You're not strong enough to be walking around yet."

Hell, he was strong enough. "I'm fine."

"No!" she snapped, frustrated. "You're obviously not fine! You're so determined to fight for your cause that you're okay with slowly starving your body over it!?"

That stung more than it should have. He just wanted her to go. He wanted everyone to just leave him alone to revise the thoughts in his head alone. He wanted the world to stop screaming orders at him long enough to figure out what he wanted to do.

"Look, I'd appreciate it if you'd leave me alone and stop bothering me." The cold, but courteous facade slipped.

"I'll bother you as long as you're planning to run back to Argost! Maybe if you told me what's going on I could help!"

Just stop talking. Stop talking to me. My head is ringing.

"I don't need help. There is nothing to say that you don't already know." He knew it was a lie, but he needed to get her off of his back. He stormed off, hoping to be back in the direction of the med bay.

She grabbed him by the wrist. Her face softened "I know that's not the truth." She was stubborn, he'd give her that. She didn't give up - this whole family didn't give up on hounding him.

"I said, leave me alone!" He tried to be intimidating. He tried to be rude. He tried because being awful and repelling was better than whatever this was.

"Don't talk to her like that-" Solomon's voice cut a clear authority across the disagreement as he strode up beside them and firmly but slowly turned Doyle around to face him.

"If she's telling you something: you listen."


"Heart and lungs sound healthy. That's about all that does." And you can't expect it to last.

He wasn't surprised that stunt had landed him back in the infirmary. The husband hadn't been too happy that he'd yelled at her, but she had begged her spouse that it was down to delirium and Solomon had wanted to investigate that.

Solomon had a grim look on his face. Your blood sugar is concerning. You're dehydrated and you've got virtually no fat stores. Just muscle, which is going to start disappearing very soon." He looked him right in the eye, tone becoming more intense. "Your body is on the verge of catabolysis. It's going to start breaking down whatever it can to keep your vital organs going. Most adults suffer fatal organ failure after 8-12 weeks of total starvation. However, I don't think that's what's happening here. You're miraculously undeterred by the fact that you're starving yourself of vital nutrients."

He revised his notes for a second. "I noticed signs of stomach atrophy too. This has been going on for a lot longer than you're admitting, hasn't it?"

He wasn't admitting it.

"Drew thinks it's just the malnutrition that's draining you. She's correct, that's part of it. Starvation can commonly cause hysteria and depression, but I have to respectfully disagree with her opinion that your behaviour is just down to physical illness. I think you're doing this to yourself because of stress. You've got secrets that you're trying so hard to keep that you're about to keel over. No mercenary would get this stressed over missing out pay from a failed mission. You're working for something else; something that you might not even want to be a part of."

He met Solomon's eyes, meeting the challenge. "Is that right?"

"You tell me," Solomon replied. "Call me crazy for not thinking you're just blindly following orders, but I think you're still here because you want something else."

He wasn't intimidated by Solomon. Sure, some of the things he said threw him for a loop, but Solomon didn't cling to him and threaten to pick apart every factual part of his life. "Yes?"

"I think what you desperately want, is clarity."

Solomon wasn't stupid. His wife wasn't either - she was just blindsided by her emotions. Clarity would help. It would help him make a decision.

"Clarity about everything that Drew has been saying. I believe her; and I think that you do too, below all of that denial."

"What are you suggesting?"

"I've got the necessary information on this ship to determine the truth and Drew has desperately sought the truth about her lost family for years. If you would agree to a DNA test I'm sure she would-."

"No." That would be a raw piece of evidence. Hard, raw evidence that would be fatal if it got into the wrong hands.

"No?" Solomon didn't seem angry. "Why no? If you know it's not true then you've got nothing to worry about. If the test is positive; you are welcome to stay - so long as you drop your alliance with Argost. Or do you know already know that Drew's correct?"

"If, by any chance, it was correct - then we'd all be in danger."

Doc raised a brow at him. "Why would that be? Because you'd be prepared to go against your own family to keep your place at Argost's table?" His tone rose slightly. "If that's what you want to do; then I'd like you to know that you're no Argost. I don't care if you're Drew's brother. I'll take you out myself. I'm not letting anyone harm my son."

Being threatened helped bring some normalcy into the situation. "How is he?" He hadn't seen the boy around at all."

"Why are you concerned? You tried to kidnap him last week."

"My intentions were never to kill anybody."

"Right, you were prepared to have Argost do that for you." Doc sneered. " Zak is doing much better. He still has a few minor burns, but nothing serious."

"That's good."

"That's what's stopping me from throwing you out of this ship. That and the fact that you don't have the strength to stand for more than 10 minutes. I don't think I'll ever know how you managed to follow us to Easter Island and then find the bunker in the middle of a sea storm."

"Can you give me some time to think about it?"

"About what?"

"The test."

"Yes." Solomon paused for a moment. "Sleep on it if you want; but the longer you put it off, the longer my wife is going to be upset. Then I won't be so happy to negotiate with you."


They left him alone after that. Left in complete silence in soft light, his mind started to relax. It started to tune everything out and switch-off. His mind didn't spend long whirring. With an empty stomach, he didn't have the energy to stay awake for long.

He hadn't known just how long he had passed out for until he woke up to black windows and a darkened room. The only light came from the warm lamps on either side of the bed. Light spilt out from underneath the entrance door but there were no dark areas to indicate that someone was standing there, ready to enter. He was giving the room a quick look over, making sure that there was nobody standing in a dark corner somewhere, ready to surprise him, when something else caught his eye.

There was a bowl of food left under the lights of one of the lamps. Still warm and steaming, so it hadn't been left there long. Whoever had left it must have woken him up when they left. The bowl of vegetables, nuts and meat sure looked appetising. The blend of colours and the sweet aroma of soy was almost overpowering. His mouth was watering when he picked up the note stuck to the side of the bowl.

· Leftovers from dinner. It's Kai Med Ma Muang (Thai Chicken with Cashew nuts). I hope it's not cold by the time you wake up. Don't eat it too fast, or else you'll get heartburn. - Drew

He looked at the overpowering mixture of colours and flavours in the bowl. It looked good. It certainly smelled good, but smell could be deceptive. The scent and taste of poison could easily be covered up. Not that he thought it was poison. More likely a sedative.

But the smell dragged him in. Against his better judgement, his mouth was watering. He could only imagine what it would have smelt like cooking. It smelt more than good enough sat at his bedside starting to go cold.

He was usually content with a plate of whatever stock was left at the back of the pantry. Used to sitting down at a hauntingly quiet table, with Argost at one end, tucking into a rare delicacy by candlelight while he sat at the other end, humbly pushing a reheated amalgamation of mush around his plate. Things that could survive the freezer and didn't lose their taste were the best. Fruit would always go rotten, Meat would go tough and lose its taste.

He was partial to fast food. But that was because Van Rook was partial to fast food. Mainly because it was convenient for him to scope out a burger joint after a mission in order to spend as little as possible. The sudden jolt of ridiculously unhealthy amounts of salt and sugar were a kick to his system every time. Wherever they were in the world, the quality was different; but he appreciated different. He liked having a change.

He cautiously prodded one of the pieces of chicken in the bowl. One mouthful wouldn't hurt him. He could just take one and wait to see if anything bad happened.

Right?

He wasn't prepared for the explosion of flavour that hit his tongue. If it had been laced with something, it had been hidden incredibly well. One bite turned into another. The most powerful thing was the sweet, syrupy taste of soy, which left him smacking his lips. Another. Then it was the bright, crunchy tang of the peppers. And another. Then the dull, earthy crunch of the nuts.

And then, then he was looking at an empty bowl. The only sound was the irritated scraping sound of silverware against the sides of the bowl. He was only irritated by the fact that there was no more and only slightly embarrassed that he had wolfed the entire thing down. He placed the empty bowl to the side and tried to cling onto the strong taste lingering in his throat. There was an instinct somewhere, screaming in the back of his mind, but hunger was far too demanding for him to listen.

Lying on a satiated stomach always threw him for a loop. It didn't happen very often and his body had almost trained itself to deal with the deficit of food. It was going to be hard going back to that after living in this hospitality. The worry of being poisoned was still there, gnawing at the back of his mind. He felt drowsy, so there was the potential that they had slipped a sedative into the food - probably to keep him quiet and keep him from snooping around. Clever. It hurt; playing the waiting game with his body to see if the stinging pain of poisoning made an appearance.

Maybe he was safe. The things that were poisoned before were things that had been left out; but not for him. This had been clearly labelled as his.

He rolled over, watching the clouds whizzing by outside as they coasted along in the night air.

Someone would have to come and end this stalemate soon. He didn't know how long he could keep adapting to change for whilst maintaining his cover.

"Once you lose you mask to hide behind, boy. Once you show them your true, ugly colours - the real world will hit you like a blow to the face. And I won't be there to scrape your sorry carcass off the ground again."