by W. A. R.
“I was wondering how long you were all going to be.” Michael said, stepping in from the far right, darkened corner of the hallway. Miles and Buddy immediately tensed in surprised. Miles reached to the left, placing a hand to Buddy’s chest to keep him from advancing as they took in who had spoken. Buddy, understanding, took a few steps behind Amber, his eyes darting around the hallway in search of any more intruders.
“What are you doing here? I thought you were down with the rest of the community getting things back to normal…in a sense.” Buddy said quickly without thinking but quickly he bit his tongue, realizing that he had spoken too loud. He knew that Lance had heard him and that nagging thought drove him mad. Michael appeared nonchalant.
“I wanted to be here for this as well. Riley is handling the people.” He glanced at the door before speaking again. “Let’s go in and get comfortable. I’m assuming this will be a lengthy conversation.”
Miles and Michael turned to acknowledge Buddy and Amber, offering them a questioning nod. Buddy nodded to the both of them as they looked at him, their expressions silently asking him if he was ready as well and once he did so, Miles released his hold on Amber’s wrist, breaking any contact to keep Lance from believing her to be anything other than the stranger she was to him. She knew that if Lance thought for just a moment that she was anything special to Miles, he would latch on to that. Buddy knew it too and when she felt the shiver of apprehension roll through her watching as Miles turned the doorknob, she instinctively reached out to grab his shirt. Buddy stepped forward and took her hand instead. She turned to look at him and he nodded at her, squeezing her hand in his own trembling one. She sighed in concession, relief, because she was facing more than the man, she was facing the demons that haunted her and she needed someone to keep her grounded, and if it weren’t Miles, if it couldn’t be Miles, she was grateful to have Buddy. He maneuvered in front of her as the door creaked open, every octave of sound that reached their ears, was like nails on a chalkboard. Buddy suddenly felt sick and Miles turned to look back at the two of them. Amber gripped the back of Buddy’s shirt, and they stared. They stood in the doorway and stared at the man chained, not tied, but chained to a rusty metal chair.
He had hair on his head now, his beard long and unkempt. His face was bruised, bloodied, and swollen but aside from that, there was dirt and grime, blood that didn’t belong there. Amber swallowed, unsure of how she even knew it was him to begin with. She had recognized him immediately, but how? He looked nothing like the man from before. His clothes were torn and he was beaten and his head hung low, arms twisted around the back of the chair, his knees spread and ankles chained to the legs of the metal seat. But slowly, he lifted his head to the intruders, the sunlight casting shadows against the wooden floor. And there it was…how she had recognized him. His green-grey eyes…the eyes that had haunted her memories, had kept her from sleep. In those depths rested her anger, her revenge, her guilt, and her mercy, her humanity. But they weren’t hardened….no, they were actually frightened and that brought both a feeling of disgust and strength to her and she released Buddy’s shirt. Buddy shifted, taking in the man, seeing how he shuddered with anticipation. His left eye was swollen and he couldn’t take his gaze from them, his eyes holding a yellow tint to the whiteness of them. Buddy swallowed and noted the surroundings, the bed with the pink comforter and the brown dresser and matching end table…it had been a little girl’s room. He gulped back the bile that rose in his throat and eased into the room beside Miles. Miles, however, was dumbstruck by seeing the man, feeling a rage that rivaled none and he shook with the effort it took to not turn and force Amber out of there. He recalled head-butting the man, breaking his nose and taunting him, wanting to make him angry so that maybe he wouldn’t notice Amber and Buddy across the way.
Amber relaxed at seeing the fear and uncertainty in this man’s eyes; it was something she had seen in Damien’s. Her stomach lurched at the memory, recalling how she had tortured the man, how she had finally, after some time, listened to him and understood. Some nagging voice in the back of her mind told her not to be afraid, that she had overcome this demon…no, these demons, and this man would be no different. She recalled two things that would be that man’s saving grace, two things that were what seemed to grasp at her heart and mind, urging her to remember the control she had lost the day before: how he had saved Miles, and how he had, without fight, carried Kyle and Brittany to the truck after they had died. She stealthily slid her hand to Miles’s back, feeling the tense muscles bunch under her fingertips, though he didn’t spare her a glance. Easily he calmed his breathing, which was her intention. This all happened within seconds, every detail and every memory replaying and being noticed within a time frame that was so small that when another voice in the room spoke, it took them by surprise. Michael crossed his arms, his gaze darting between Amber and Miles and instantly Amber removed her hand from Miles’s back, remembering to keep her distance.
Michael was the first to move across the room, his footsteps even and sure of his destination. Amber was next, seemingly comfortable in the room with this monster. Her arms were folded across her chest as she squeezed past both Miles and Buddy. Miles’s eyes darted to her figure as she moved from them, the swords shifting on her back, the slight limp in her right leg. Lance shifted his head a little and Miles jerked his watchful gaze to him. Miles looked on at the man and his shoulders tensed and he felt the overprotective urge of his that called to him anytime she was near danger. She was almost circling him, her gaze never leaving his and Miles shifted on his feet, anxious for her to step away from him. This movement seemed to catch her attention and she finally tore her gaze from Lance, and upon meeting Miles’s eyes, gave him a brief nod, assuring him that she was fine. She then made her way to the computer desk across from Lance’s seated form and the wooden chair that occupied it. Lance’s eyes were on her then, studying her. Buddy glanced to the side, watching Miles as he watched her. She pulled out the wooden chair and turned, straddling it and facing Lance head on. Miles took a step forward but Buddy quickly stopped him. Buddy ground his teeth together and casually took leave of him and settled against the desk behind her for all of their sakes. Miles felt a little better at this offer of security. Amber placed her arms along the back of the chair, one palm on top of the other and slowly, she lowered her chin to the back of her hand.
Miles stepped slightly to the right, inconspicuously approaching Amber while circling Lance as she had done just a moment before. He leveled his gaze at the perpetrator. “Lance.” He addressed him. He told himself that he wouldn’t be hostile with the man, that the anger and hostility that burned deep within his gut would not serve him in the long run.
“Miles.” Lance croaked out, turning his grey-green eyes to him and from Amber. A surge of relief washed through Miles’s veins. Lance nodded at Miles. “It appears you are doing fine. I’m glad.”
Miles forced himself not to scoff in abhorrence at him and instead crossed his arms tensely across his chest. “Says the man who wants me dead.”
Lance furrowed his brow in confusion. “I certainly wouldn’t have helped you had I wanted you dead.” He stated and suddenly the only two people that were in that room were Miles and Lance. There was no one else, no other danger; nothing but two men that were supposed to hate one another and yet were torn between uncertainty and what they thought was right.
“I’m man enough to admit it…” Miles stated, running a hand across his face tiredly. Yes, he was tired…very much so. His entire body hurt and there was nothing he could do about it then. There were far more important things at hand and he would worry with himself later. “You didn’t just help me. You saved me.” He shared and he noted no movement from the others, but one thing he felt for certain was Amber’s shock and approval. He smirked a little to himself. He was only taking a page out of her book.
Lance shrugged as if indifferent and…humble? “I did what I had to do.”
Miles stopped pacin
g and placed his feet evenly apart, staring down at the man. He wanted to ask the man why he did it but he didn’t think he could handle that answer just yet. “I was…surprised...to say the least, at what you did for me out there.” He wanted to move past his appreciation of his life, his gratefulness towards the man he should hate that gave that life back to him.
Lance glanced at Michael briefly before turning his focus back to Miles. “No; surprised is when I realized that Michael, Rusty, Riley…and I am assuming Ryder…were traitors to Adrian.” He smiled a little and shook his weary head. “Not that I’m complaining, mind you…” he stared hard at Miles, challenging him. “And even more surprising is the fact that Michael is…your son?” Miles’s eyes widened and he felt as if someone had just punched him in the gut. Michael even seemed surprised by this statement, or question rather. Lance shrugged and the chains rattled. “I must say, the resemblance is striking; I can’t believe it took me this long to notice. Surprising is you not beating the living hell out of me right now…” he paused for a long moment before speaking again. “Why aren’t you trying to kill me right now?”
Miles hesitated before responding easily. “I came here for answers, not to kill you…though it is tempting.” He glanced over his shoulder at Amber for a brief moment, thinking. “Listening to you is the least I can do after what you did for me. All I want is answers and obviously, you wish to talk to me. Think you can do that?” he asked and this response was so laid back and easy-going that for a moment it felt as if the air in the room lightened. Why was he being so damned kind to this man? It was his fault that everything happened to begin with…but then again, despite himself, a part of him wanted to understand, wanted to hear why he was so damned evil. What had made him that way? And even more so, what had provoked this man to save the life of someone he once condemned to death?
Lance easily shook his head, nonplussed by this demand. “No problem, but first…” he nodded sideways towards Amber his focus turning to her. Miles felt his nerves grow taut as she lifted her head in surprise, her eyes widening. “You are the woman from yesterday, right? The one that attacked me?”
She cleared her throat and after stealing a glance at Miles, nodded.
“Apparently, you knew me from before, and whatever I’ve done, hurt you badly. I merely want to offer you my apologies.” He glanced at her once again with a small smile and then he glanced at Buddy, then Miles. “I want to offer all of you an apology.” And things were silent for a moment as they all studied him. They knew they all looked on as if he had grown an extra head, as if he had some physical deformity that they simply could not take their eyes off of. They couldn’t help it. This was the same man that had tried to kill them all.
Miles took another step toward him, fists clenched against his chest. Disbelief is what frustrated him most. “Enough with the bullshit, Lance.”
Lance looked at Miles with a mixture of understanding and offense. “It isn’t bullshit. I mean it.”
“You tried to take us to Adrian. You tried to kill us…you…” Miles swallowed and knelt down to his level. “You tried to kill Amber. Don’t expect me to believe you so easily.” Lance lowered his eyes shamefully before casting a glance at Buddy.
“I understand…and about Amber…”
“Don’t you dare mention her name or I will slit your fucking throat.” Miles ground out between clenched teeth. His eyes were fire and ice all at once and Amber felt her scalp tighten, the prickling sensation trailing down her spine in response to his anger. “Because of you and your people, she’s gone.” Miles said lowly and Amber lifted her head, looking at Miles in sympathy, realizing as she watched his trembling body and his wild eyes just how much the whole ordeal of her death had affected him. She had overly simplified it all.
Lance lifted his brows and appeared complacent, seeming to dwell on one aspect of Miles’s statement before speaking. “You were in love with her.” he stated easily and Miles jerked his eyes back to the prisoner, his eyes once again flashing. He felt his heart grow heavy with anticipation and he willed himself to keep his eyes from wondering to where a disguised Amber sat.
“I still am.” He stated quickly, easily and there was no missing the sharp intake of breath from behind him. He ignored it, and clearly Lance did as well. “I never stopped.” He paused for a moment, hesitating, clearing his mind of thoughts that shouldn’t have been there, thoughts of what his miserable life would be like if she had actually died on that bridge like Lance believed she did. Just the thought hurt like hell and he had to force it away. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Because that’s the reason I wanted to talk to you and no one else.” Lance closed his eyes and looked to the floor. “You and Cassie are the only two here that were closer to her than anyone else. You understood her and I think that by that association, it would be easier to explain myself to you…that you would understand more.”
Miles furrowed his brow at the man. “Understand what?”
“Me…what happened…and before you make assumptions, if you haven’t already, I came here alone. Completely alone. No one is in danger.” And Amber believed him, as did Miles and Buddy, it seemed. They didn’t question his statement and their expressions never betrayed any difference in response to it.
“I believe you.” Miles said, avoiding mentioning the search parties that went out, the call from Ryder. He didn’t need to mention any of it. “So, will you please answer my…our…questions now?” he asked and Lance finally pulled his eyes from Miles to examine the others in the room. Buddy tensed, Amber straightened, her eyes almost filled with sympathy, and Michael remained almost indifferent. Miles sighed and shifted on his feet. “I won’t let anyone lay a hand on you…I just want you to answer their questions, should they have any. Do we have a deal?”
Lance’s eyes shifted to one of admiration and possibly sympathy. “Your questions…what I need to tell you…it is all one in the same. I will answer all of your questions if I am allowed to speak her name without repercussion. She is involved in a lot of the answers you want, I assure you.” He stated and briefly Miles turned to seemingly look between Amber and Buddy but his eyes settled on her. As he took her in, it was as if he was assuring himself that she was still there and not really gone as Lance believed. He seemed to visibly relax and the sight warmed her heart. She nodded at him, as did Buddy and slowly he turned back to the man chained before them.
“Alright…sure…” Miles said easily before feeling his chest tighten. He suddenly felt winded and he knew that the adrenaline rush mixed with lack of eating or drinking and his throbbing chest was what was making him light-headed. Easily he made his way to the bed with the pink comforter and eased himself down to it, placing his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands in front of him, trying to keep his breathing even as his vision darkened around the edges. He licked his lips and cleared his throat. “How about we start at the beginning.” He stated, lifting his head to Lance, who gazed at him curiously. “Buddy told me how they left you.”
“Oh he did, did he?” Lance asked, some of the fire returning to his eyes. For Amber, it was a welcome sight. He shrugged. “I won’t sit here and say that I didn’t deserve it, but that was still pretty brutal.”
“She offered you mercy.” Buddy suddenly growled and Amber felt her shoulders tense, her back straighten.
Lance turned his eyes to Buddy and Miles cursed inwardly. “Yes, she did. For that, I’m grateful.” Lance’s eyes fell on Amber once again, his eyes assessing her as she analyzed him. The interaction was intense.
Miles felt the desperate need to draw his attention once again from her. “How did you make it out of there? Why don’t you tell me your side of what happened?”
“You want to hear all of that?” Lance asked and Miles found himself nodding. In truth, he would be more than willing to sit there and hear him out, to hear his side of the story. He hadn’t heard details from Amber but he had heard enough. And though his heart was telling hi
m to kill the man and rid them all of his danger, his mind was telling him to listen and so that was what he offered.
“I am willing to listen to whatever you need to tell me.” Miles told him and for a long drawn out moment the two men stared at one another, understanding looming between them. Finally, Lance inhaled deeply and he spoke.
“Alright.” Lance stated and Michael sighed like the young man that he was.
“Finally.” He breathed out in exasperation and Lance cut him a dark look, clearing his throat. Amber tilted her head to the side and Miles found himself stepping back to lean against the desk beside Buddy, behind her. This eased his constricted emotions, loosening the tight band that came with not having her in his eyesight. This way, though she was in direct view of Lance, he had both of them in his vision, and he could easily intervene if he felt he was focusing too much on her. He understood that she needed to hear everything Lance had to say.
“First things first, whatever I tell you…please, don’t become angry and please…don’t...know that if Adrian knew the truth about all of this, he would have killed me.” Pause. “He would have killed me just for saving you.” And Miles only stared at him in shock. The man was scared, properly scared of Adrian, of the compound. That thought, that realization, made Miles anticipate what was in store for them in the very near future.
“That’s a shock coming from you of all people.” Michael sneered and Amber and Miles both shot him chastising glares. They were trying to get answers and Michael’s retorts were not helping. Michael didn’t seem to notice them. “You’re his right-hand man.”
