<Thanks a lot.> Radjerd crosses his arms, glancing off to the side.

<Look, I wouldn’t have shown up now if I’d have known.> Calista’s cheeks glow. <Trust me.>

<How couldn’t you? Cordelia was—ah, never mind…it’s not worth getting mad about.> Radjerd kicks the floor with his heel, letting out a disgruntled sigh. <I’m sick of being in here—any word on my freedom?>

<Well…> Calista twists her hair around with her finger.

<You don’t know—figures. She’s probably not going to tell you much, considering she knows we talked.>

<Not exactly, but she did tell me you told her about our chat. Although—she knew it was an inevitability.> She lets out a sigh of her own.

<I just don’t get why talking to me is a big no-no, unless there’s something you’re hiding from me. You said not to tell anyone anything about the watch.>

<It’s—uh—look. Willa Corp is strict on its technologies being used—even in your case.>

Radjerd crosses his arms, <That doesn’t explain why you asked me to keep silent on the watch—or why you asked about Fitz. Do you know something about him—is he here?!>

<Calm down.> Calista ushers him. <I don’t know much about the man—and if he were here, why would I ask if you knew where he was?>

<To mislead me…but you don’t seem the type. You’re probably just as clueless as I am.> He shakes his head <Forgive me, I’m going stir crazy.>

A haunted look crosses her face. <There’s a lot I wish I knew, but, I don’t think that’s possible.>

<Then elaborate. I’ve got nothing but time.>

She grips the skirt of her dress. <Willa Corp isn’t going to let you out—at least until they discover more about you. If you want freedom, I can give it to you—but you have to do exactly as I say.>

<How are you going to do that?> He waves his wrist in the air. <I still have this on—I really don’t want to know what it does if I go out of bounds.>

<I’ll get it off you, but not now. We can’t raise suspicion.> She briefly turns away. <I feel terrible going behind her back like this—Phoebe’s been nothing but kind to me. But to ignore my plea—it’s wrong.> He hears what she says, but barely. It’s not meant for his ears.

<What’s Phoebe done?>

<It’s what she’s not doing.> Calista stares at the floor.

<I don’t understand…you have to tell me something.>

<You and Cordelia are plastered across the news. She’s likely going to find out when she gets home—and decide to keep you in the facility. I doubt you’ll see the outside world again.>

His stomach sinks. Fuck.

<Which is why I’m going to help you escape.> She turns to the door. <Past midnight, expect me to knock.>

<You’re not leaving without telling me where we’re going. You seem like a good kid, but I can’t leave my fate to someone I hardly know.> Radjerd watches the black-haired girl’s mouth purse—it’s brief, but he notices. <I appreciate that you’re on my side, but I need to know. Where are we going?>

<I’m taking you to Aleck Firthe.>

His mouth gapes open. <You’re kidding!> That man is the reason he’s locked away in the first place. Who says he won’t do it again? He didn’t even need to mention that his daughter still thought he broke into the manor, or that he couldn’t speak Weltish. Calista’s cool stare challenges his incredulous response.

<Do you believe I’d lead you into danger? I’m risking a lot by doing this, you know.>

<No, I don’t know. You’ve been tight-lipped.>

<I’ll explain when we’re in the Firthe Manor. Trust me, Aleck will listen.>

<What do you have on him?>

<Nothing.>

<Then what has you so confident?>

<I’m family—well—sort of.> Right, if she’s Phoebe’s cousin, she’s distantly related to the Firthes, but that didn’t mean much. She still wasn’t a direct relation. <It doesn’t matter, I have something that’ll get him to help us out. He will keep you at the manor. I’ll make sure of it.>

<If you manage to convince Aleck, will you help me talk to him? Maybe with your help, I can convince him not to build the watch.> Calista was family—even if there was a distant connection—Aleck might be able to hear his concerns better from her lips instead of his.

Calista nods.

<Alright, I’m on board. But, you do know that you need permission to get into Diamond Lake Estates?> A ritzy neighbourhood needed security. It’d be a thief’s treasure trove.

<I know that.> She scolds him. <Just leave the plan to me, I know what I’m doing.>

<So you have the car running out front?>

<Seriously, this is the thanks I get?> She grumbles, <Listen, now that you know what’s going down, just get yourself ready. We don’t know what to expect.>

While Radjerd’s grateful for her help, Phoebe’s words didn’t leave his mind. She has an overactive imagination. God, he hoped that was an exaggeration.

He breathes a sigh of relief, <I won’t lie, I’m excited to get out of this hellhole.>

<Bet you are—Cordelia’s going to be happy to see you.> Calista smirks.

<Hey!> Was she teasing him? But, Calista reminds him that Cordelia will be there. Let’s hope she doesn’t think he’s back for a second break-in.

<Be ready. I’ll be back for two am.>

Now, that puts a smile on his face.

***

The room is cold, dusty.

His head spins.

He can barely breathe.

Shudders erupt through his body, he grips his stained white collar. Shooting up from the mattress he lies on, he gasps, his lungs attempting to store whatever air may be left. Slow breaths follow after, his fingers now gripping the sheet of the mattress.

Where was he?

His thoughts come back to him, compartmentalized. It’s the only way he can keep the bile down. No, he doesn’t want to remember. His father—dead. Everyone else? It would only be a matter of time.

His wrist shakes as he whispers quietly, “He’s gone.” The he wasn’t specific, he’s lost both his father and best friend. It’s a heavy burden to bear.

The world stopped spinning, but he doesn’t care. Grief comes out in full force, as he slams his fist against the wall. His breathing is laboured.

Damn it, why?!

His head shoots up as he sees the metal door turn. He wipes away all signs of emotion; a strong composure will always be second nature to him.

Staring at him was a woman a little on the pouchy side, short brown hair with bangs held back by a black headband.

“You’re lucky one of my employees found you.” She says with uncertainty. “If anyone else did, it’d be hard to explain to the media.”

He takes a look around the room—walls with no windows surround him. Just a light bulb overhead. He runs a hand through his unkempt blond locks.

“I know you’re in rough shape, but if you don’t mind, can you tell me where you came from?”

He attempts to speak, but nothing comes out. His mouth gapes, a cough replacing his words.

“Judging by your outfit, you’ve had quite a trip.”

“I.” He tries to speak, but his mind’s swirling with images he wishes he could forget. His hand trembles upon his leg, the lost look in his eyes returns.

“You had a watch in your possession. I have it here—maybe this will strike your memory.” She unveils the golden contraption, the blue orb within it now lifeless.

Pressing his hand to his forehead, the man groans. A sharp pain interrupts the man from formulating words. “I’m going to assume it is.” She writes down in a notebook. “If that’s the case…can I safely assume you travelled with it?”

Did he? God, he can’t remember a bloody thing!

“I’ll get you a drink.”

“I-I-I’m fine.” He’s frustrated. This isn’t how he normally handles things. He can do better than this.

“I don’t mean to prod you, but I do need to understand where you came from.”

He raises his hand, but it falls soon after. He twitches his head, the best way he can communicate. A stuttered pair of words soon follow.

“Alright, just hold on—I’ll get something to calm you down.” She leaves the room, leaving the man with his thoughts.

How can he speak of something he barely understands himself?

He doesn’t wait long until someone opens the door—except, it isn’t Phoebe. It’s the sound of someone’s sharp gasp—a woman’s if he were to identify it. Normally, he’d scold them for being nosey, but his head isn’t right—given what he’s been through—he can’t blame himself.

The second time it opens, the brown-haired returns with a glass of water and two blue pills.

“I know this is unorthodox, and I understand if you don’t trust a strange lady handing you brightly coloured drugs, but these should help.” She hands the man both items. “Extra fortified nerve-calming pills—not to be released to the public.” His hand shakes as he swallows them, gulping the water soon after.

Within a minute, his shakes stop.

“Th-thank you.” He manages to spit out.

“You’re welcome.” Her grin is small. “Before we begin, I should introduce myself. I’m Phoebe Willa.”

“He said to talk to you.” The man calmly says. “The man named Willis.”

Her brows raise, as her mouth forms an O shape. “You know Willis?”

“Yes.” He speaks softly. “He helped me escape them.”

“What do you mean, them?!” Phoebe’s unnerved.

“The group that helped my father—the bastards responsible for his death. I still don’t know why they did it…” He coughs, gripping the sheets. The memory cuts through him; a sob escapes his throat.

The woman leans towards him, placing an empathetic hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay, take your time. We’re in no rush.”

“I can’t remember it all—my mind’s fragmented.”

“It’s safe to say that you’re from the same place as Radjerd then. You wouldn’t be Fitz by any chance.”

The man blinks. “You know Radjerd? Is he here?!” He scampers up but quickly loses his balance.

“They might be miracle pills, but they can’t fix everything.” She calms him down. “Radjerd is here, six floors above us to be exact. You’re in the basement of Willa Corp. Sorry to put you here, but we had to be sure who you were, and, we had to make sure you weren’t dangerous.”

“Can I see him, please?” Fitz pleas.

“Of course you can, but give yourself a half an hour to let the drugs work their magic. I promise you, he’s not going anywhere.”

Fitz didn’t know her, but he had no choice but to trust her…did she say her name was Phoebe Willa? He didn’t recall hearing that name before.

“When did Radjerd show up?”

“A week and a half ago, at least,” Phoebe says quietly. “He’s been living here since.”

“I see…” He falls silent. All this time he thought Radjerd died when the fracture swallowed him. Right…it’s coming back to him. That’s when his father—his father—No. He’s not ready for that memory.

“He’ll be thrilled to see you.” Phoebe laughs.

“Likewise.” He nods slowly, his mind slightly foggy.

Phoebe pulls up a chair, the scraping noise causes his shoulders to tense. “Sorry. If you don’t mind, can I ask you for your full name?”

It should be okay to tell her. “ Yeah, sure. Fitzpatrick Cornelius Firthe.”

“Ah, so Aleck’s son does exist.” Which meant he didn’t exist here, wherever here was. “That’s been something we struggled with. Radjerd assured us that you were real.” She cocks her head to get a better look at him. “You look an awful lot like Aleck Firthe.”

“…So I’ve heard.” Fitz gulps down his water. “Can you get me another drink? I’m parched.”

“Of course, the kitchen isn’t far. Be right back.” She signals off.

Fitz watches as she closes the door; he decides to test his strength. He stands, keeping his balance as he reaches for the handle. It’s unlocked—good. Fitz closes the door behind him. Taking his best guess, he chooses left. The elevators were on the left side of the building from what he can remember. He’s right, as the blond approaches one. He presses the button quickly.

Rad’s only six floors above him.