Flight #4

Everett was wary of the darker figure in the doorway, he wasn't doing anything troubling, just watching. The boy obviously had a more level head then he or his sister had.

"What is he going to do, Everett."

"I'm... not sure honestly. Varus is crazy, almost every officer in the military knows that. He's trying to take control, I think, mess with our heads, mess with his."

"Do you have any idea where he could be?"

"Harper is doing what she can, but see if you can find any maps." Annette started shuffling around one of the bookshelves as her brother did the same.

"Thank you." He looked at Annette, who nodded and headed up the the stairs. He turned to the darker boy who had been standing in the door."I don't believe I know your name."

"Thank you, Damien," Everett appreciated the calming mood he gave off. He sighed, pausing as if to arrange words in his head. "I believe I owe you an apology as well as Jack, and I do apologize for acting in such a manner."

"Good hearts are needed in a time like this." He spoke, intrigued by the dark ones manner of walking, as well as calm personality. Perhaps one day he would ask why a person involved in an organization like this acted the way he did. "You don't have to answer me if you don't like, but did you see anything or anyone you didn't recognize or found suspicious during the fire?"

"Then thank you, Damien." Everett had to stop himself from asking anything further. The air that came off of the man was calm, but something made an alarm trigger in his mind. How the hell did he know his title?

"Everett I found them!" His sisters voice rang from up the stairs, breaking the alarm his mind had set. Her footsteps on the stair broke the uncomfort he had as he saw her slightly boucing hair. Somehow, she reminded him of home in new York.

"Unless you would like to stay and help, yes." She looked down at the pile of maps she had placed on a wooden table within the library, determined. She stole a glance at her brother who had begun to unroll one of the maps. He looked stone cold, conflicted. He had always attempted to hide his emotions from her, grandfather, and even their father sometimes. She had learned to look through his exterior shell from a younger age.

"Thank you very much, Damien."

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The sutures had begun to itch on every inch of Harveys body. He wanted to scratch them. He needed to scratch until the itches stopped. He desperately clawed at the chains restrictng him, burns and deep wounds opening on his wrists. It hurt, everything hurt.

He couldn't tell how long he had been in the cell, but it didn't matter. He was here too long, and the cuts had began to cover too much of his body. Every move he made made another bleed, and after a while of fidgeting, his breath heaved and he slowly began to calm.

He would do that too often, it would make him worse and he knew it. Varus would tell him to calm down, and he would after a bit of coaxing. He couldn't remember acting this way, and it confused him why he was now.

Flashes of smiles and white hair and faces he didn't know the names of twisted his mind. He needed to remember, he couldnt, and it killed him. Nightmares had begun to plague what little sleep he got, sometimes he would wake up and for a second think he was home, with his sister, but that was never the case.

He wanted to go home.

Harvey couldn't bring himself to speak. His throat hurt from the lack of clean water, and th screetches that he couldn't control whenever Oliver came to visit. He lightly nodded his head, turning his gaze back over to the wall. His arms had been chained at his head level as he sat, able to maybe move a foot in any direction.

He appreciated the fact that Varus had been so kind to him, despite his pained pleas for help and whiny disposition. His head hurt as he moved himself slightly, more open for help. He had felt his own breath get warmer over the past few days and his entire body felt so much weaker than he had before.