Hans

Aaron scowled up at Sam. She was no pushover, that was for sure. Which was a shame. It made his job harder. He’d find an opening…somewhere. Once they got him out of these cuffs and with some crutches, he’d be halfway there anyway. Then all he’d need would be a moment of opportunity. 

“I suppose if you’re willing,” he mused dryly. “Does that mean I get a snack and get to take a nap? Maybe you can read me a story.” 

Hal’s return interrupted the rather brief conversation, and he came back down the stairs, this time with a set of crutches in hand. “Alright, Aaron. You win. Or rather, doctor’s orders win.” He offered Aaron a hand up. “Come on.” He looked to Sam, showing his displeasure, but they really had little choice. It was a hard line they had to ride… on one hand, Aaron was a dangerous prisoner. On the other, they were trying to rehabilitate him and treat him like a human so he could learn there was something outside the Agency worth living for. It was a line that Sam was going to have to learn to find on her own as she took over as Aaron’s handler. 

Hal let her take off the handcuffs so he could be prepared, just in case, but surprisingly, Aaron didn’t try to pull any stunts. “And…your crutches. Now we better not hear any more complaints out of you.” 

Finally able to lean on something and take the weight off his knee, the relief was so much, it took Aaron a moment just to get enough gumption to move again. He didn’t say anything, but maybe, just maybe if one looked close enough, there was a thanks in his eyes. 

Taking to the stairs was easier and faster, despite the awkwardness of the crutches, and the long hallway upstairs was easier, too. He put a little weight on his leg, but not enough to cause him to stumble, ceasing his complaints, at least for now. He didn’t make any trouble either, which surprised Hal, but he wasn’t going to point it out, for fear it wouldn’t last. 

Eventually, they were back downstairs again at the cell door. Having to leave the crutches outside, Aaron sighed before limping back inside and turning to look at Sam again. “I give you two weeks, tops, til you get too bored for this. See you at lunchtime.” 


Scott took the Mountain Dew and flipped it open to take a shaky drink. “You shouldn’t have to come with me… it’s… it’s all stupid.”

He frowned as he tried to keep the past images from coming back again. “I’m tired of being scared, Dalton… why… why can’t I just not be scared?” He turned to look at his friend. “Why can’t I just be the way I was before? Why can’t they leave me alone? I… I… I just don’t understand.”


Jamison was just thumbing through a few things on his phone when the nearby collision caught the corner of his eye. He was going to ignore it, but seeing the other guy just walk away, he rolled his eyes. Tucking his phone in his pocket, he got up from the table and wandered the short distance, picking up one of the books for the young woman. “Some guys make an occupation out of being jerks,” he muttered. 

Spotting her glasses in the grass, he picked them up too, before they got stepped on. “You might want these.” He gave her a wry grin. “Otherwise you might not be able to read all these books.” He couldn’t help cocking his head to read the spines. “On second thought, you might wanna keep your gasses off. Sometimes blurry calculus actually makes more sense.”


Joined at the table, Garret didn’t make a move to converse. Nate did have a point though…the longer Garret kept himself in that bedroom, the more cooped up he felt. Today’s multiple walks had helped, though. As Laura brought him some warmed up leftovers, he nodded, genuinely grateful. “Thanks.”

Laura smiled. That in itself was an improvement. “You’re welcome. There’s ice cream for later, too, if you want.” 

After taking a couple bites of spaghetti, Nate’s next words stopped Garret short, with his fork halfway to his mouth. It felt like every muscle in his body tensed, and he swallowed his mouthful before setting his fork down again. 

At the sink, Laura froze. The air suddenly felt thick, and she wished she would have sneaked out of the room sooner, but it was too late now. She dared a glance over her shoulder to see Garret simply sitting still. Was he angry? She couldn’t tell. 

It took a long time for Garret to weigh his options. He knew that secrecy here was unacceptable. Laura had just been a little smarter and faster than he’d anticipated. And he hadn’t been careful at all. Not that he really cared anymore. It didn’t matter. Not now anyway. He pushed his plate far enough away to set his elbows on the table and fold his hands. His eyes didn’t look up to Nate, though. “John Schrader is…my brother.” Saying it out loud was harder than he’d thought, and quite suddenly it felt hard to breathe. His hunger vanished, leaving his stomach to try and reject the few bites of food he’d just had. 

Laura blinked and looked at Nate, her eyes wide. Garret had no family. Not to mention, his name wasn’t the same. What was going on? 

Garret swallowed hard as his eyes concentrated on the table. “I wasn’t supposed to remember where I’d come from, so I could never investigate while I was in the Agency. At least not more than finding a couple names. So…when I was here, I… I just…” Feeling the tears behind his eyes, he couldn’t take it, and stood abruptly, aiming for the door way. 

Laura dropped what she was doing, and skirted around him to block his path. She’d wait until later to think about what a stupid move it was. Looking up at him and seeing his tears, her heart broke. But her voice was stern. “Sit back down,” she hissed, keeping her voice down so as not to alert Maggie upstairs. “You are going to stop running. I don’t care what your story is, but you’re going to face it. Right here. Right now.” 

Garret set his hands on his hips and turned away from both of them to look up at the ceiling and try to get himself under control. So much for having thought he was through the worst of it. 

Laura wanted to set a hand on his arm, but she refrained. “Sit down, Garret,” she prompted. “Please.”

Too emotionally tired to fight any more, he did as he was told, and slumped back down in his chair. Again though, it was quiet for several minutes before he spoke once more. “My real name is Hans Schrader.” His breath caught in his throat, and he swiped a tear away before it had a chance to run down his cheek. “I was born in Germany and… after my parents sold me, the Agency gave me a new name… new language… new identity.” 

He finally had enough courage to glance up at Nate. “They thought they brainwashed me but… but I hung on to enough bits and pieces to remember being sold and… my parents’ faces… and my name.” He paused, taking another moment to breathe. “I, um… there was a time a few years ago that… I was off the Agency grid and dug a little. I just… I’d always wondered what had happened to my parents and…” He shook his head and forced a dry sort of laugh instead of crying like he wanted to. “Found out they’d moved to America right after selling me, and had two more kids. John and Marie. They’re all out on the east coast… great lives… families and… I… don’t exist.” 

He nodded and picked up a napkin to fiddle with as his eyes sank back down. “That’s…why I looked up John. I…guess I couldn’t leave well enough alone.”