Stuck

Receiving Ryan's elbow, Hunter threw her a look and grinned. He was glad their little episode this morning hadn't changed anything. "Eh... Lumpy's got a few good ideas up his sleeve." He stood another moment or two before turning and sitting down on a little platform of hay bales and opening up the sack of food Becky had given him. "So... we've got some sandwiches and chips and some lemonade if you like." 

He got things out of the bag, and pulled his legs up to sit cross-legged. It was still close enough to the door to enjoy watching the weather, but far enough away they wouldn't get wet if the wind blew their direction. "Aw, and... we have company."

From between several nearby bales, three fuzzy kitten heads poked out to see what was going on. Their eyes were bright with curiosity and they all sniffed the air, most likely having caught a whiff of the sandwiches.


Justin stood back and watched Misty work, thankful for her quick thinking and skill. He still wished he would have insisted Scott eat something earlier. He should have known better. He'd been tired of fighting and had given up too soon. He knew this wasn't his fault, but it didn't feel good, regardless. Leaving the scene for now, he aimed for Aaron's room.

As the bedroom door opened, Aaron glanced up from his half-eaten hamburger. Seeing it was Justin, his face automatically gained a scowl. "Now what?"

Justin smirked a little. "No games, Aaron. I've had a bad enough day the way it is."

Aaron just rolled his eyes and took another bite of his food. "What do you want this time?"

"Nothing much." Justin shrugged and leaned against the doorway a moment. He'd passed Garret and Sapphire on his way in a little while ago, and knew what had been happening. "Just thought I'd stop by and see how you were doing."

Aaron quirked an eyebrow. "I'm... just as great as I was the other day. Did you expect something else?"

"Heard about the evidence Garret found."

Aaron's eyes darkened. "If that's what you're gonna talk about, then just leave. I have nothing to say."

"So you don't believe the evidence?"

"Look, the Agency respected me for who I was and what I could do." Aaron glared at him. "You can't make me believe they just wanted me dead."

"True." Justin nodded. "But belief doesn't change fact. I could go outside and shake my fist at the sky and yell at the top of my lungs that I don't believe wind exists. But my belief has nothing to do with it. The wind still blows. I could believe with all my heart that nothing can harm me. But if I step out into traffic, I'm still going to get hit and probably killed by a moving vehicle. Belief and truth are two different things." He paused a moment before turning and leaving. Aaron needed time to think. Today was not the time for a long session.

Left alone, Aaron stared at his hamburger for a few seconds before finishing it. He didn't feel good, but he didn't want it to go to waste since he might be getting a frozen dinner for supper. Justin's words stuck with him though. As hard as he fought, those words felt like a stab to his soul. He'd endured multiple kinds of torture through the years. He'd been brought to the point of screaming from pain. But even with all he'd gone through, nothing had ever been like the Elite's methods. Never had he been brought to the verge of tears like he was right now. The mere fact that he even felt like crying at all was a clear sign he was beginning to break, and he didn't like it one bit.

Setting aside his plate, he just sat quietly on his bed, but quickly grew restless. He tried to read but tossed the magazine aside. He tried to build with legos but soon set them aside in a heap. Eventually he got up and grabbed his crutches. Getting to the door though, he found it locked. Growling in frustration, he went back to his bed, lifting the corner of the mattress to reveal a stash of paperclips. Grabbing one, he returned to the door, and within two minutes the lock popped. Once free, he swung down the hall towards the stairs. Pausing just a moment, he maneuvered carefully down until he'd reached the lower level.

Reaching the rec room, he flipped on the light and just let his eyes scan the equipment before starting forward. He set his crutches aside and hobbled to the hanging punching bag. For a moment or two, he just felt it, trying to decide if he really wanted to use it or not. Once he took a swing at it though, his instincts kicked in, and he couldn't just leave it at one punch. Settling into a rhythm of punching combinations, he hit the bag hard, taking his frustrations out on it. Every time he went to shift his balance though, he was painfully caught by his knee, forcing him to remain in one spot.

He was stuck in more ways than one. Stuck physically by his injury. Stuck mentally with dwindling hope. Stuck literally here in this building. And all he wanted was out.

As soon as the first tear surfaced, everything came to a halt. He wouldn't do this. He swiped it away angrily and hobbled to the wall where he turned and just slid down to sit on the floor. He couldn't even work out as much as he wanted to, and that just made it all that much worse. He was angry. He was alone. He was scared. And he was hurt.

Upstairs, the monitors had caught his movements from the bedroom to the hall to the rec room.


In the infirmary, it didn't take long for Scott's eyes to flutter open. He looked around groggily for a moment before turning his head to see Hope. He tried to sit up, but his head hurt too much, and he sank back down in the pillows. 

"What happened?" he asked sleepily. The last thing he remembered was leaving Hope's office.