Grady Foley is used to being alone, used to being chased... even used to being scared now and again. But this level of horror, pain and paranoia is something new.

The truth comes out about he and Alan's roles in Lizzie's kidnapping, and Lizzie doesn't let them off the hook this time. Alan is arrested instantly, but Grady runs, which brings him to this situation.

He shifts, rests a hand on his forehead, breathes deeply. "Come on..."

A gunfight is the conclusion, an intense show off between he and Mallet, among other SPD officers, one of whom was of course Marina. Oddly enough, the girl proves to be his saving grace as she is the one who let him go.

"You're such an idiot," he breathes, his accent thickening. "Such an idiot..."

There is a flash and her gun has gone off, the sound startling him for a moment before something heavy and limp falls into him, knocking him down as more bullets rain down where he has just been standing.

"Cyrus... Mum wouldn't want it to end like this for us, come on... wake up, dammit..." he mutters, leaning over so his breath is tickling his brother's face. His older brother doesn't even twitch.

It takes one look at Marina's pale, shocked face to truly realize... as he stares down at the familiar form of his brother, who's wheezing and fighting to keep his eyes open. Grady has no time, he grabs Cyrus under the arms and lifts before running, Cyrus stumbling every few steps before going completely limp.

"I know this hurts," he continues, lifting his brother's shirt once more to look at the sloppily bleeding side wound, "but we need to move... You need a safer place and I need to not get arrested... Cyrus..."

Luckily, Grady somehow outruns the police and finds an abandoned, worn down cabin in the farmland area, and breaks in quickly before dragging Cyrus inside to patch him up and think up a new plan.

"Cyrus," he says slowly, patting through his jacket for something, anything that could be used to wake his brother up. All he has is a beaten up sharpie and 64 cents weighing his pockets down. He's about to throw all of it at the wall when a distant, buried memory wiggles free and he smiles, a true, rare smile. "Hey, Cyrus, d'ya remember when we were kids? Not long after Mum... well, you would... tell me that we'd always have each other, even if we weren't together..." Long forgotten emotions chokes him up a bit and he breathes heavily before continuing, gripping Cyrus' arm and gazing at it, as if he could still see the past. "You would take a marker and write on both our arms, remember? You were a horrible artist, but you would write 'CF and GF- brothers forever' and tell me to never forget it."

While speaking-- to calm himself down, or ease his brother, he's not entirely sure--, he slowly begins writing on Cyrus' arm, chuckling lowly at the stupidity of a child's attempt of comfort. "For whatever reason, I never did. Tried, sure, but the imprint remained..." His voice drifts off as he finishes, block letters sprawled across his brother's smooth wrist, showing off the childish claim. "I know you've been trying to make it up to me... but it's time for me to take care of you, I think..." He reluctantly touches Cyrus' forehead, trying not to remind himself that he screws up everything he tries to do. "We'll be fine."