Author: Diggylover88
Title: Family Business
Summary: Ziggy has secrets that he doesn't want anyone to know like his real relation to Fresno Bob. When complications arise from these, it's up to Dillon to pull him back from the edge.
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Dillon/Ziggy
Warnings: Attempted rape for this chapter but it's the canon attempted rape scene, so it's okay.
Disclaimer: I own none of this except maybe my plot but hell, you like these points? Take some. I've got tons of points to go around.

Notes: Un-betaed. Would also like to thank Netflix for suggesting the series to me. How do you know what I like, Netflix? How do you know? Anyway, the first chapter follows the first three episodes pretty closely but after the second it will break off into something completely different.

Edit: *facepalm* Made a correction. It's heroin not heron. One letter makes the difference.

Sand was all Ziggy saw as he walked through the Wastelands that used to be their world. Three years ago the Venjix virus had been unleashed, destroying most of their society. Not that Ziggy could feel the difference. He thought the end of the world would feel more... final.

It probably was stupid of him to think that something as silly as a full out cyber apocalypse could stop him from his destiny. Though, Ziggy was pretty sure he had pissed away whatever so-called "destiny" he had when he stole the medical supplies from Fresno Bob. He had tried his hardest to get that man's attention so of course the moment Ziggy decided to grow a backbone and stand up to him that's when Bob was paying the most attention.

None of it mattered as he slumped against an abandoned truck. He had left Corinth with only a black bag filled with water bottles which he had run out of a mile ago. Ziggy didn't even have anything to check if the area was radiated. There was no doubt about it; he was going to die out here.

The warehouse seemed quieter than normal when Fresno Bob's goons threw him in. It was only him, Bob, and the henchmen. There were no drug traffickers collecting crates or henchmen stuffing statues with heroin (or whatever they were selling these days), just them.

"Sigmund," Fresno Bob said in a disappointed tone. "Do you know how many strings I had to pull to get you out of prison?"

"I honestly don't care, Da-"

Fresno's fist hit Ziggy in the jaw making his head snap back. "Don't you call me that!"

"Then don't call me Sigmund, Bob-a-rino," he replied while feeling his jaw. "It's Ziggy. We had an arrangement. I wouldn't call you da-"

Another punch landed but this time it was in his stomach. "Tell me. Tell me why I waste all my time on you. Do you want to be a part of this cartel? Do want to run it one day?"

"Yeah," Ziggy wheezed. "Yeah, I do. But if you stopped making me jump through hoops to earn your respect, I'd probably have my own membership card by now."

"You'll get a 'membership card' when you get a license and rid of that smart mouth." Sighing with annoyance, he continued, "You're just like your mother, thinking you can put yourself before the family. Well, you can't. We already have enough trouble with her. The family doesn't need you embarrassing us, too. Alright?"

"Fine," he said, realizing that Fresno Bob was right. "And... and I'm sorry for embarrassing you. It won't happen again."

Fresno Bob's eyes softened slightly and for a second, Ziggy thought maybe he saw what he had being hoping for his entire life, acceptance. That didn't last long as the cartel leader hit him in the jaw again. It didn't hurt, not really. He had gotten used to the blows after awhile.

"Before you head out to get your license, do your collection rounds. And don't you think about letting anyone off again, Ziggy. I mean it."

When Ziggy nodded his head in understanding, Fresno Bob motioned for him to be taken away. The goons roughly manhandled him out of the warehouse to where Benny was waiting for him. Benny felt more like a father to him than his real dad.

"You'll get back in the swing of things eventually," Benny reassured him.

"I hope not," Ziggy sighed. "I don't like the swing anymore. Let's not mention 'the swing' ever again."

"As Bob always says, you got to know yourself inside and out. What're your insides telling you?"

"That I'm hungry. Want some pizza?"

Benny clasped his hand on Ziggy's shoulder and said, "That's the best idea I've heard all day."

Panic stretched over Ziggy as he realized that his life was flashing before his eyes. He had thought that it only happened in the movies but it seemed to be in real life, too. If he could do it all over again, Ziggy knew that he'd gladly mess up the delivery again, though maybe he would have found a quieter way of doing it. A way that didn't make it instantly seem like a traitor and lose all ties with the Scorpion Cartel, his only family.

Hope seemed just about lost and Ziggy was ready to die when he heard the sounds of a car approaching. He looked around and took notice of the truck's muffler. It was about the same size as a military grade blaster.

Breaking it off, Ziggy climbed into the cab of the broken down truck then waited for the moment the driver let his guard down. He didn't know why he was nervous. Ziggy had robbed people at gun point plenty of times but he supposed those times he had an actual blaster instead of a simpler muffler.

Ziggy watched as the driver got out of the car. The man was handsome, well-built, and dressed mostly in black leather. This was no time to be checking out the cute stranger though since there was a finally an opportunity as the other man opened up a map on the hood of his car.

Stealthy, Ziggy approached, all while hearing some oddly haunting music. The music plus the man being dressed in all black should have tipped Ziggy off that this was a bad situation when he saw it, but he needed a car. He needed to put as much distance as he could between him and Corinth.

"Hold it right there," Ziggy shouted while pressed the muffler into the man's back and dropping his bag on the ground to free his other hand. When the man tried to turn around, he pushed the guy's shoulder forward and commanded, "Eyes front! Hands up- Hands up where I can see them!"

Slowly the other man reached up to pull what seemed like a sucker out of his mouth then dropped it on the floor. Ziggy stared at it as the man raised his hands halfway into the air. This wasn't going as planned. The man wasn't scared of him. If the way he was moving was anything to be judged by, he seemed more annoyed.

"Now, my friend," he continued, trying desperately to keep control of the situation. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way. I'm going to count-"

"No," his victim interrupted.

"What?" Ziggy asked flustered. "Maybe it's the complete dehydration, but did you just say no to me? You don't know my demands, my wants, my needs. I could be telling you that your taillight is out or that you have a flat tire, but instantly with the no."

"Are here you to tell me that my taillight is out?" asked the man quizzically.

"No, that could have been it, though. Now I've lost my train of thought."

"Want to start over?"

Ziggy frowned. He was honestly shaken. Normally a person begged or at least cried a little when they were being hijacked. This guy was patronizing him and acting like he was novice who had never done this before.

Deciding it would be best to just plow right to his demands, he said, "I just remembered that I need to take your car. If you'd been nicer, had a little less attitude, it would be borrow but now I'm taking it. The car is mine. So there."

"No," the man said simply.

"You- You can't say no! That isn't how this works! You, the hostage, give into my demands or you end up dead. I'm a very dangerous man, you know. I swear I won't hesitate to pull the trigger."

"Oh and I believe that, except that's a muffler you pulled off that truck over there, not a blaster."

"Maybe, maybe not. See a smart guy like me might disguise his blaster-"

Before Ziggy would finish his sentence, the man in black turned around and with his bare hands chopped the muffler in half. Ziggy's eye widened. Even the strongest members of his cartel couldn't do that, so for this guy to do that without even breaking a sweat was alarming.

"Wait!" Ziggy pleaded as the angry man turned his attention on him. "You don't understand!"

A misstep had him toppling backwards into the sand and he watched helplessly as the man bent down to riffle through his bag. He'd only find his last empty water bottle but it was still rude. Well, Ziggy had attempted to car jack him so there was a chance the other man was justified to take his stuff.

"I understand plenty," he replied. "Do you have any other supplies? Food? Gas?"

Ziggy raised his eyebrow. "Does it look like I have a car?"

The man only angrily thrust the bag into his arms. As he moved to the car, Ziggy struggled to get back to his feet. He refused to die out in the Wastelands.

"You can't just leave me here!" Ziggy yelled but the man ignored him. "I'll die!"

Still, the man in black didn't seem to care. He just looked at his map and continued listening to the radio. His ears perked up when the news announcer said "Corinth" and Ziggy knew that was his in.

"You want to get to Corinth!" exclaimed Ziggy casually. "There's a lot of electrical interference in this area. It makes the compasses go screwy and messes with the radio frequencies, too. You'll never find it. Unless you have a guide that is. I just happen to know the way."

Holding up a finger, the man smirked and said, "If you knew the way, you'd be there."

"Actually, I came from there," he replied while digging through his pockets for his passport. "I have an entry pass."

Ziggy held the badge out and the man took it. The plan was perfect. Once his stranger was safely near Corinth, he'd make an excuse for them to stop. When the man went out to look, Ziggy would move over and steal the car. After that, Ziggy would be in the clear with Corinth miles behind.

It seemed to be the perfect plan except the man wasn't giving him back his badge. The man seemed smug and that was when Ziggy realized his stupid mistake. All of his personal information was on that tiny, laminated square. It was all fake information that Fresno Bob had made up for him but he liked his new life and what came up when it was scanned. That little badge made it seem like he was actually normal.

"What kind of name is Ziggy?" the man snorted.

"It's my name. Now give it back."

The man only smirked. "You can have it back when we are both inside the city walls, not a moment sooner."

"I really should have seen this coming. It's a karmic kick in the pants if I ever saw one."

"Karmic kick in the pants? Does it have to do with why you're out here?"

"It's actually a long story. We can talk about it along the way." Ziggy paused at the uncaring look the man in black was giving him. "Or I could just get in and keep my mouth shut."

"The second one," he snapped as he got in the car.

Ziggy half expected the other man to drive off with his badge but when he allowed him to get in, he calmed. They stayed silent for several moments, only driving off when Ziggy had his seat belt on. It was an odd rule for a guy who seemed to be a complete badass yet from the way this guy was driving, Ziggy was glad that he was wearing it.

Dillon- that was what he had decided to call himself- decided he kind of liked Ziggy. While he talked a lot and had tried to steal his car, the guy was actually pretty brave. Though Dillon would have never guessed the small man was capable of it; Ziggy had helped him arm charges as they rammed the barrier, stayed through the entire grinder raid, and was now talking nonchalantly to the prison guards as they were led into their cell.

"Look," Ziggy said to the guard. "I was told to talk to you about my mug shot. Caught a glimpse of it on the way out and thought it was a pretty good picture of me. Can I get a copy for my cell? Yes? No? Maybe?" The prison guard only gave him a small glare but Ziggy didn't seem to notice as he continued to babble. "Alright. You get back to me on that. If you have any wallet-sized, I'd like those, too."

"Why do I get the feeling you've done this before?" Dillon asked.

Jumping nervously, Ziggy turned towards him. The orange jumpsuit made the other man seem younger and not someone who would be tried as an adult. Of course the city was under martial law so Dillon could be making all the wrong assumptions about Ziggy.

"Done what before? Fought grinders? Placed charges? Gone to prison? It's new, all new. You know what's also new? This rash," said Ziggy, changing the subject while skipping over what Dillon had asked. "It's starting on my big toe and I'm prone to rashes. Like in middle school-"

"That might work on the guards, but not me. Babble all you want. I'm not going to forget my question."

Ziggy seemed annoyed for about a second before he began pacing. It was clear that Ziggy was hiding something from him. Dillon didn't know why he expected Ziggy to just relinquish personal information to him when they had only met a few hours ago but, it still pissed him off, souring his attitude and making him want to snap at his cellmate.

"I'm not trying anything on the guards. They wanted my life story and I told them it. Of course, I might have mixed up my life with that of Mike Seaver and I might not really have Luke Brower living above my garage. Do you think I should call them back to tell them I might have been confused?"

"I don't care what you do," Dillon sighed. "I just know that I don't want to be here much longer."

"Don't worry, my Uncle Marty, he's uh..." Ziggy hesitated for a second before chuckling to himself. "He's a very reputable personal injury lawyer."

"I don't plan on staying."

"Alright, so it's an escape? Okay, now we're talking!" he exclaimed excitedly. "When are we going to bust out of this can?"

While Dillon didn't remember anything from his past to know weird from normal, enough red flags were going off in his head to tell him that Ziggy had definitely done this before. The way he lit up seemed to imply that he had no problem with the idea. In fact, his attitude was beginning to bring doubts into Dillon's mind that "Uncle Marty" was actually a lawyer.

Instead of questioning Ziggy and getting more useless information, he merely asked, "We?"

"Yeah, you, me, we," he replied, utterly mystified why Dillon wouldn't want him along.

"Ziggy, give me one good reason."

"Shadow puppets," said Ziggy seriously. "Brilliant shadow puppets."

Using a bed sheet, Ziggy proceeded to show Dillon the extent of his skills. It was impressive that Ziggy could make a realistic chicken using only his fingers but the trick seemed like it would work better at a magic show than at breaking out of prison.

"That'll really come in handy," Dillon snorted sarcastically.

"Listen," he said while lowering his voice. "I could be a big help. I've got a lot of friends in here."

As if fate wanted to kick Ziggy hard in the balls, a few of the inmates walked by then casually threw out some death threats at him. Ziggy tried to deny them yet it was obvious what they meant. Though, that did mean Dillon was correct in assuming that Ziggy was no stranger to jail time.

"That's a long story," Ziggy tried to explain.

"I'll bet," said Dillon while unsympathetically patting Ziggy on the shoulder.

Dillon turned to move to the other side of the cell but before he did, he heard Ziggy mutter, "I didn't think he'd really do it."

Looking over his shoulder, Dillon saw the heartbroken face on the other man's face. He didn't ask for him to elaborate or even who Ziggy was talking about. Dillon had to think of an escape to plan, one that hopefully wouldn't actually need to use Ziggy's shadow puppet technique.

Depression hit Ziggy hard but he tried to shake it off in favor of convincing Dillon to let him help with the escape plan. There was something about the other man that made Ziggy desperate to stay near him. Plus after the warning the other inmates had given him, Ziggy was sure if he didn't break out soon then he'd be "ghosted" which was the wire tap/prison guard friendly term for murder.

Ziggy thought he had been making progress, helping out considerably by reviewing over the past breaks Fresno Bob had staged for him. He really felt like they were connecting and had almost convinced Dillon to actually listen to one of his plans when it was time for lunch.

Dillon didn't seem perturbed as they were guided up the stairs towards the mess hall, but Ziggy had been through this enough times to know that during lunch was when most prison murders happened. There were a lot of other inmates to hold the victim down and the guards honestly didn't care as long as they weren't disturbed while eating. Ziggy wondered if he could rely on Dillon to protect him. He doubted it, but there was always hope.

Once they entered, Ziggy knew that he had falsely assumed that death would be the worst thing they could do to him as he laid eyes on Rowan, Fresno's number two man until he had been locked up. He always disliked Ziggy because Bob had named Ziggy his protégée instead of him.

Before Rowan interfered, Ziggy had been on his way to being an official member at only sixteen. Rowan couldn't have that, so he set Ziggy up and got him tried as an adult for armed robbery and several other felonies that Ziggy may or may have not committed. In return, Ziggy got him incarcerated for nearly identical crimes when they got to Corinth which was why Rowan was especially pissed.

"Ziggy," Rowan said with a devious smile. "You've got a lot of nerve showing up in the city after what you pulled."

The other inmates stood and began surrounding him, closing him in to prevent his escape. Ziggy had seen this before. He'd never participated and Fresno Bob's protection always prevented it from being him, but Fresno Bob wasn't watching over him anymore. Without a shadow of a doubt, Ziggy knew that the men planned on raping him as a way of punishing and humiliating him.

Rowan nodded. Instinctively, Ziggy looked over his shoulder, but he didn't have to since he knew what was already happening. The guard was leaving.

"Listen," Ziggy said nervously, not liking his odds. "Listen! That was a big misunderstanding. My friend and I came here to explain-"

Ziggy turned to Dillon, grabbing onto his wrist in attempt to convey to him the seriousness of the situation. The man remained passive, obviously still upset about Ziggy's ramblings in their cell. Ziggy couldn't blame Dillon. For one, he had only just met Ziggy and had no stock in his well-being. Another point was that Dillon probably thought they were just going to rough him up. The thought would never cross Dillon's mind that Ziggy was about to be raped or killed, most likely both.

"Is he with you?" asked Rowan.

Probably in an attempt to be some kind of hard-ass, Dillon simply said, "Nope."

Grabbing Ziggy roughly despite his protests, the inmates slammed him down onto the table. Ziggy struggled as they spread his legs wider than he thought they could possibly go but more hands reached out, restraining him further. All he could do now was wiggle helplessly and glare at Rowan as every fiber of his being panicked.

"You know your problem, Ziggy?" Rowan said in a delighted manner. His eyes moved down Ziggy's body, enjoying his control over him. "Respect. Even in here, they respect me. See those desserts?"

The men holding him down allowed him enough slack so that he could turn to look at the jello trays. Ziggy could see lots of green, but only one tray of red. Personally, he preferred the green flavors yet he didn't think this was the time to say that as he was slammed back down so Rowan could taunt him a little more before he got on with the act of defiling Ziggy.

"See that one strawberry one? They make that one just for me. It's a sign of respect." Ziggy gaped as Rowan put his hands on the table. He knew what was coming next. "You have no respect, Ziggy. Not for anybody or anything. That's why you'll always be a loser. An outcast. A loner."

Rowan sniggered, his hand moving up to play with Ziggy's zipper. Ziggy stared in horror as he stroked the metal tongs that were his only protection against them. There was no denying what was going to happen to him.

Knowing he couldn't show any sign of weakness or Rowan would when, he kept his eyes open and tried to vacate his head space. Ziggy tried desperately even as Rowan talked about making an example of him, even as one of the inmates stuck a hand down his shirt, even as Dillon daringly came to his rescue.

His last thought made him pause. It had to be some kind of delusion. There stood Dillon with his tray full of red jello, defiantly staring down Rowan. Maybe Dillon had caught on to what they were about to do or possibly he had actually come to care for Ziggy in their short time together. Whatever the reason, Ziggy was just glad his ass was literally saved.

As Dillon made some witty, tough guy banter to prove that he wasn't protecting Ziggy, Rowan and the inmates moved towards him. While Ziggy didn't like the idea of Dillon getting hurt, he hated the idea of being raped even more. So when the tension finally reached a head and a full on prison fight broke out, Ziggy took his chance to the other side of the room.

The way Dillon moved was amazing. He was light on his feet and seemed to be several moves ahead of everyone else. If Ziggy was still with the cartel, he might have suggested that they take Dillon on as one of their enforcers.

Ziggy just wished he could help. Fresno Bob never encouraged him to take part in the fights, always telling him that they had people for that. He did have other skills such as lock-picking, safe-cracking, and various other criminal skills but hand-to-hand wasn't one of them.

Soon the fight was over and all the men who had been in on Ziggy's attempted rape were on the floor. He stepped over them happily, making sure to gloat while they were unconscious. They'd be awake again soon enough and make another attempt. For now he was just going to enjoy his small victory.

"Dillon," Ziggy said as he sat down, wanting to clarify the situation.

"Forget it," he replied, possibly thinking he was going to thank him. "I just wanted some dessert."

He would have made another attempt, but some late eaters came in and interrupted them. Dillon promptly kicked their asses, too. If the man kept protecting him like this, Ziggy was pretty sure he was going to fall in love.

When the Power Rangers had come to Dillon and asked him to join, he thought they were crazy but he didn't really have a choice since it was either go with them or stay in prison. It wasn't hard to decide but he still felt reluctant to leave. Deep down, he knew Ziggy would be defenseless in there but at the time Dillon didn't have any leverage.

As the rangers showed him their secret base, what he should be fighting for, all he could think about were his lost memories... and Ziggy. He knew. Dillon knew what those men had wanted to do yet he was going to let it happen, had almost let it happen, and left Ziggy there to deal with the mess he made.

"Have you decided?" Summer, the yellow ranger, asked.

"Yeah, but one condition," he said with a smirk.

"Oh," the red ranger, Scott, mused. "You have conditions now."

"Just one."

Dillon was trying to play the situation cool, making it seem like they needed him. He knew it wasn't the case. They could say no, but still, Dillon had to try. He owed it to Ziggy.

Ziggy was surprised when the warden had told him he was being released. Only when he heard that he was being put into the ranger's custody, Ziggy knew that Dillon had come through for him. The excitement and the happiness had made him a bit overzealous but it didn't seem to matter since they seemed to be instantly best friends. Summer had even volunteered to take Ziggy shopping for clothes since really all he had were the smelly ones on his back that made Flynn need to take a shower after Ziggy had hugged him. Ziggy didn't blame him since he had been through the sewers, the Wastelands, and prison without using the provided showers all in one very long day which seemed more like three.

"Thanks for letting us use your car," Summer said as they pulled into the mall.

"He smells and no one wanted him drooling on their leather," Dillon replied. "Besides, he's my responsibility. I need to take care of him."

"Stop treating me like a dog," complained Ziggy. "I can take care of myself."

"Which is why I have to buy you clothes." The eye roll was obvious in Summer's statement but he instantly forgot it when she said, "We'd just lend you some, but you're skinner than even me. So, just pick out what you like and keep it within my limit, okay?"

Ziggy grinned stupidly. "Do you mean it? I get to pick out my own clothes?"

If Summer looked over her shoulder at him in confusion, Ziggy didn't notice. All his time in the cartel and with his mother, he was told what to do, where to go, and what to wear. They both seemed to take an adverse pleasure in preventing Ziggy from wearing his favorite color, green.

That was why when he was set loose on the unsuspecting store, he made sure to grab as much green as possible, loading it into the cart Summer was pushing. She didn't seem amused at his antics and had actually started putting some of the shirts back, replacing them with more purples than anything else.

"What are you doing?" Ziggy asked in a panic. "You said I could pick out my own shirts!"

"That was before," she said seriously. "Ziggy, you weren't recruited to be the Green Power Ranger. Buying all these shirts is pointless."

Looking down at the remaining shirts in the cart, he replied, "I know and you're right. You did just pick me up from prison and all. Becoming one of you is way out there for someone like me."

"That's not what I meant," Summer tried but Ziggy babbled on over her words.

"It's my favorite color, but I'm sure we can reach a compromise. How about olive? I like olives. When I was little, I used to put them on my fingers and pretend I was a frog, so olive is good."

Summer opened her mouth then closed it. When she finally decided on her words, she said, "Alright, a compromise is good. I'll put the shirts back but the rest of what you pick out can't be green."

"Thank you," he said happily. "I'll pick out every color but green! Maybe even some yellow!"

As he walked away, Summer yelled out, "You better not!"

Ziggy only chuckled to himself then began to scan the clothes racks again. He was just about to pick up an olive green vest when a hand wrapped around his wrist. Fear took over Ziggy for a second before he looked to see that it was Dillon.

"Hey," Dillon said hesitantly, "I've been meaning to ask. Did... Did they touch you?"

"Touch me?" Ziggy repeated, pretending he didn't know what he was talking about.

"When I left," he reiterated in a small whisper. "Did they touch you... sexually?"

Grinning, Ziggy replied, "Nope."

It was the truth. Dillon had put Rowan in the infirmary, so Hector was the one in charge of his punishment. Before the warden had interrupted, the inmates had been using Ziggy as a piñata. But, he was used to the pain so it didn't show as he walked.

A part of Ziggy was glad that Fresno Bob had helped him move past pain because of the utter relief that was reflected in Dillon's eyes. The silly man thought he had gotten there in time to save Ziggy. No one ever got there in time to save him, though he didn't have the heart to tell Dillon that.

"I'm glad," Dillon said with a smirk. "Hate to think that I failed on my first day as a superhero."

"Weird how that works. Of course it does make sense since you were wearing all black when I met you. Though, you could have been a villain. They're color-coded black as well."

"That mean you're the green ranger?" he asked with a quick glance over at Summer and the shopping cart.

Ziggy laughed nervously. "No, it's been made perfectly clear that I'm not even being slightly considered for the job. Honestly, I had no idea it was illegal to wear your favorite color in Corinth if you didn't have the intent on suiting up in spandex of a matching color."

The smirk on Dillon's face grew to the point where it looked like he was almost going to laugh out loud. Ziggy had no idea what was so funny but it was good to see Dillon happy. The man honestly brooded too much for someone his age.

"You don't want to be one. Seriously, I don't know how any of those other guys became rangers. They were easy for me but any normal person probably would have died."

"True," he agreed though he didn't know exactly what those tests were. "You don't have to make me feel better. I really don't want or deserve the suit."

Silence stretched between them and Dillon finally let go of Ziggy's wrist. Ziggy went back to looking through the racks when he felt something brush his hair. Glancing back at Dillon, Ziggy was slightly amused by the fact that the other man had taken an interest in his curls. Even though today had been Hell, his hair normally looked like a wild mess. He never bothered to comb it even though Fresno Bob always told him that the hairstyle was unfit.

"It's really dirty," Dillon commented.

"All the guards gave me were moist towelettes for my face," he replied. "I still think there's some sewerage in my hair. It feels gross."

"Remind me to never try that escape route," mused Dillon while still carding through Ziggy's hair casually. "How'd you even get like this? Wait, let me guess. Long story?"

"You'd be correct." Ziggy laughed but the happiness didn't reach his eyes. "My past is almost as mysterious as yours and that's saying something!"

There was a sharp tug then sudden pain and suddenly before him in between Dillon's fingers was a cherry lollipop covered in his own hair. Ziggy grimaced at the fact that it was in his hair. He really did have a rough day.

"I've decided I don't care," Dillon said while tossing the lollipop aside. "If you want to keep your past a secret then that's your business, but let's make a deal. When I recover my memories, I'll tell you all about them. In return, you'll tell me all of yours."

"Deal!"

Dillon walked away looking satisfied but Ziggy knew the man had a better chance at getting hit by a meteor than actually recovering all of his memories. He knew tricking Dillon was wrong, but Ziggy couldn't allow him to know about his past. No one could.