Chapter 4 – Regret Is Blinding

Author's Notes: Alright sorry but there's a bit more backstory, so I got this chapter out quickly and such but the next chapter should be much more fun.

Also I know, I know – gotta cram Waylon in soon. :3 I plan to…very soon.


The days that followed Sinclair's appearance were torturous.

The hours spent cleaning, disinfecting, bandaging and in a few severe cases, sewing and resetting parts of Blaire's body, were now burned into his mind.

His 'caregiver' ignored every scream and growl of discomfort that his patient gave. Jeremy was certain that he could have begged the man to be more gentle with his practices and he'd be just as stoic as ever. However, while Sinclair was in no way soft with his procedures, he never seemed to take a great deal of joy in them either.

Never did Blaire see the manic smile he'd come to know from his time in the asylum, and not once did Sinclair laugh at him when bitter tears pricked his eyes as parts of his flesh too rotten to save, were removed. In fact Sinclair almost lacked emotion entirely when he worked on Blaire's heavily scarred tissue.

The expression he wore was usually a toss up between silent concentration and detached calculation. Jeremy had once asked about this, spitting out accusing swears and demands to know why Sinclair was so bloody heartless about the whole ordeal.

"It must be done!" Sinclair's patience seemed to have come to an end with Jeremy on that occasion as he snapped back a reply bitterly.

His hands came to rest on Blaire's knee, just above the place where he'd only moments ago been testing Jeremy's broken ankle for further weaknesses. Apparently the bone was setting together nicely in Sinclair's opinion but he was still weary of the swelling and Jeremy guessed that he was afraid it'd never properly heal. If that was the case he might really make good on his promise of cutting parts of him off.

Sinclair looked at Jeremy, an exasperated expression on his face as he spoke impatiently, he sounded wearier than Blaire and that just seemed unfair.

"Because it must be done I cannot avoid it, and because I cannot avoid it, I must endure it. And if I am to do as such I need to stay focused and treat it only as work – or I will be unable to do anything for you! Do you understand Mr. Blaire?"

He didn't.

Jeremy vaguely knew the concept behind becoming disconnected from emotions when working, it was something Rick had highly valued in employees, but Jeremy himself had never needed to worry about such things. He had never cared if what he did hurt others so what need was there for endurance?

As the mornings turned into night and the sun escaped behind the trees with each passing day, Jeremy found himself increasingly less afraid of Sinclair and more baffled. Of course things never reached the stage in which Blaire was able to stop walking on eggshells. The smallest things set Sinclair off, sometimes the male would return to the house in a bad mood and Blaire would be left wondering if today would be the day the male finally chocked the life out of him.

He almost longed for it. The rage in Sinclair's eyes in the moments he'd snap and lay hands on Blaire again was real and Jeremy could all but feel the hatred radiating off of his caregiver's flesh as his fingers closed around his throat for another time. But no matter how much he shouted at Jeremy, or squeezed his captive's throat shut, Sinclair was never rough when it came to mending Jeremy's wounds.

This in turn infuriated Blaire. Perhaps he shouldn't have looked a gift horse in the mouth and simply accepted the tender care, but it was too bizarre for him to simply accept. The man was clearly in a better mindset than he had been in the asylum, if still just a little unhinged, but Blaire wasn't ready to swallow this kind treatment nonsense.

However a result of all this was Jeremy's health, and it was improving. Sinclair only ever let him get up for the bathroom and even that right had been a fight to obtain. Jeremy drew the line at soiling himself, he drew a lot of lines actually but Sinclair stepped over most of them – thankfully a bathroom break was apparently acceptable in his captor's mind.

Thus twice or so a day Jeremy's restraints would be removed and Sinclair would help him hobble to the bathroom. These small exercises were also a way for his nurse to assess how well his legs were healing, and judging by how little Jeremy stumbled now and the approving smile on Sinclair's face – he was doing well.

Sinclair had once remarked that Jeremy may be able to walk on his own soon, to that Jeremy had made a particularly poor choice in comment and given Sinclair a snide remark about his imprisonment.

When he saw that single blue eye turn cold and Sinclair's jaw clench, Jeremy instinctively tensed, expecting Sinclair's hands to wrap around his throat for the traditional throttling. However that punishment never came, instead Sinclair had hissed some furious words at him and left early that day.

Somehow that punishment was a little more difficult to bear.

When Sinclair left, it was just Jeremy again alone in this big empty shithole. It was silent when Sinclair left, only the occasional shuffling of rats behind the walls or crickets deciding now was a good time to try crying was left behind to keep him company. Jeremy became painfully aware of time passing in those moments, knowing he'd have to wait hours for more food or a toilet break, knowing it'd probably be a whole day before his imprisoner returned.

At first there was relief, always crushing relief knowing that he was safe from the threat of Sinclair's sudden outbursts. But that feeling never lasted long enough to sate Blaire. The feelings of loneliness struck Jeremy as weak, an emotion that should not be applied to him of all people, and so he wrote it off as simple boredom.

If Sinclair didn't kill him, then the boredom would.

It was when the sun finally vanished and Sinclair left for the day that Jeremy's mind worked at its best. He began to question things he wouldn't usually bother wasting time on, he had nothing if not time to spare now.

Blaire's mind of course went to the obvious thoughts, farfetched schemes of escape and fantasies of somehow being able to take Sinclair off guard and repay him for all his 'kind' treatment. While those thoughts did occupy his mind frequently, nearly becoming a form of entertainment, Blaire never fully bought into them.

Even if he was to escape from Sinclair he wasn't sure where to go from there. He still had to worry about his condition that, while improving, wouldn't get him far away enough to feel safe. Not to mention that here he at least had constant access to a willing nurse, medical supplies and food.

There was also the threat of Murkoff and the police, a threat that Sinclair constantly reminded him of. Blaire didn't have any friends either.

Well wasn't that a depressing thought.

In all fairness Jeremy never had 'friends' he had colleague and contacts. No one that would so much as toss change at him on the sidewalk if it didn't in some way benefit them. Jeremy might have thrown the change – if only to see it hit them.

The only friend he ever remembered having was Trager, and hadn't that relationship just turned out wonderfully?

Jeremy had never been keen on making friends before that and after the experience he had sworn off the practice entirely. Sentimental connections would bring people to their knees, he'd abused that knowledge when it came to the Sinclair brothers and Park with his pathetic little family – but he'd never expected to be on the receiving end of that experience. He didn't dare let his mind wander too much further down that road, too many painful memories.

As he lay on the musty old mattress, wasting the hours away staring at a slowly corroding ceiling, Jeremy made a shopping list of things he wanted from Sinclair. He imagined demanding new sheets and alcohol from his captor, once again assuming the role of a boss demanding their assistant for more coffee – actually add coffee to that list, he could use the kick. In every scenario he imagined the outcome was the same. He'd made his demands and Sinclair would laugh in his face, maybe hit him once for good measure. So of course he never bothered telling Sinclair about his fantasy-shopping list.

Not that it mattered. In fact Blaire rarely ever needed to ask for anything like that.

"Ah, you're awake." Jeremy didn't dignify that greeting with an answer. He was always awake when Sinclair showed up, the sound of the rustic house creaking as Sinclair arrived had become his new alarm clock.

Knowing his prisoner wasn't going to respond, Sinclair stepped inside of the dim, disgusting little room and gently closed the door behind him. It was only once Sinclair was safely inside Jeremy's new prison that the smell hit him. The sickly sweet sent of coffee hit Jeremy more strongly than if Sinclair had physically thrown it at him.

Impulsively Jeremy jerked upright, still unable to move his arms far from the headboard of his bed, but mobile enough to look at Sinclair. He was sure that he looked like a rabid dog in that moment, a disgustingly weak image to take, but one that was unavoidable when he could smell the first hot food he'd had in what he guessed was at least a week and a half.

Sinclair clocked Jeremy's expression with a satisfied smirk. Among the plastic bags he usually carried in with fresh medical supplies and fruit, Sebastian held a cardboard container with two cups of steaming hot coffee in it.

"Well that certainly got you to perk up Mr. Blaire." Sinclair mused as he took up his usual spot on the side of Jeremy's bed. Ignoring the eagerness in his prisoner's eyes, Sinclair calmly unloaded the goods he'd brought and took the two cups out of their container. One he placed on a decrepit bedside table, and the other he held out towards Jeremy.

"Now if you burn yourself or spill it, I'll take it away." Sinclair warned seriously, but he was sporting a warm smile, as if this act of charity made him happy in some way. Jeremy couldn't accept that so he instead decided that Sinclair was enjoying the possibility of taking away the treat.

"My hands…" This was the usual fight. No matter how many meals passed Sinclair never let Blaire free of his restraints. But every time, without fail, Jeremy put forward the same argument.

"Do you want the coffee or not?" Sinclair asked, his smile dropping into a familiar impatient scowl. "I will take it away if your behavior turns sour."

Leave it to fucking Sinclair to treat him like a dog.

Blaire fixed Sinclair with the best scowl he could muster, still holding onto his pride stubbornly. The two of them stayed like that for a while, his captor watching him with frustration as the seconds trickled on by. Slowly that angry expression faded into one that almost looked sad, and finally Sinclair sighed heavily, shoulders slumping forward in defeat.

Jeremy actually made the mistake of feeling hopeful, at least until he saw Sinclair beginning to take the drink away. At first Jeremy felt anger but that feeling bleed away into blind panic when he noticed Sinclair wasn't just removing the cup of coffee, he was tipping it up to pour on the ground.

"Don't you bloody-!" The words had barely had the chance to leave Blaire's mouth before the first drop of rich coffee hit the ground, being wasted on the dusty old floorboards. Immediately Jeremy's mouth felt dry and there was a great sense of loss as he watched the once steaming hot drink turn to a miserable cold puddle on the ground. Soon it would be nothing but another stain and patch of sticky 'something' to add to the house's ever-growing list of disgusting substances.

Sinclair kept his eyes on Jeremy the whole time, watching his former employer's face drop with every splash of coffee that he let slip out of the cup. He kept a keen eye on the expressions Blaire made, recognizing the face of loss that he'd once seen on Blaire's face while working for him. It was a pitiful face, especially when seen on a man known to be so strong.

It was only coffee some might have said, but to a man who had survived on nothing but fruit and the occasional vegetable for at least two weeks while recovering from horrendous injuries at the hands of a man he loathed – that coffee might as well have been liquid gold.

When the last drop lazily hit the ground, giving a small splash before it joined the rest of the drink on the ground, Sinclair finally lowered the cup. Putting it calmly down on the bedside table, the former therapist remained silent for a few seconds longer. If he had heard Jeremy start to cry, he would not have been surprised.

But Blaire did not cry. He barely made a sound and as Sinclair waited for…anything, he realized this silence was all Jeremy could manage. He could wait for the screaming, the swearing or the crying for hours and get nothing from Blaire.

"You've become a jaded adult." Sinclair sighed quietly, folding one leg over his thigh idly. If he was actually speaking to his prisoner or referring to himself – Sebastian was not one hundred percent certain.

"I haven't seen you make that face for a while though." Sebastian added, gradually rolling his one good eye over to study the hopeless look on Blaire's face. "The last time I saw you looking so distraught you were-"

"Tied to your god damn therapy chair?" Jeremy hissed the suggestion venomously. He expected to be struck for speaking out of turn but Sinclair didn't seem particularly phased by it. They both harbored regrets from the asylum.

"No." He answered, staring off into space. "I was going to say that you made that face, the last time I saw Mr. Trage-"

"Don't you fucking dare!" Blaire shouted, not caring that his throat was raw and dry. Sinclair did not react to his screaming, and instead continued to stare straight ahead. "You have no right to speak about that, so don't you dare say his name. You piece of shit, I'll fucking kill you when I get out!"

"You couldn't kill me when I was still alive."

Sinclair's emotionless reply momentarily caused Blaire to pause. When he looked up at Sinclair's face, from what little he could see of the heavily burnt man, he appeared to be smiling. A small, sad sort of smile. From where Blaire was sitting Sinclair seemed very much alive. Maybe a little worse for wear but still in better condition than his sorry self.

But from Sebastian's perspective he died in that asylum.

He'd been rotten from the inside from the first time he was strapped into the morphogenic engine, or maybe it was the first time he picked up a knife and drew blood?

Sebastian could have picked any of these instances to be the defining moment that he official 'died', but Sinclair knew without a doubt he'd been dead from the moment Jeremy Blaire decided he was a nuisance alive.

Trust had been something Sinclair freely gave in the past, and even though he'd always known Jeremy Blaire to be irritable and perhaps immoral, Sebastian had the fundamental trust in others that they would be humane. So even though Blaire had never truly been a good person, Sebastian had still felt betrayed when his boss turned him into another patient for Mount Massive Asylum.

It was foolish the he – a trained therapist who worked day in and out with the criminally insane – had been so naïve when it came to his own employer.

I was too generous. Sinclair acknowledged tiredly. Images of his former patients flashing through his mind, those that had maimed and mutilated others, people he'd still been willing to treat kindly. He assumed all those people that he had held such high hopes for, were now dead, burned and buried with the rest of Murkoff's unwanted property.

If Sebastian had it his way he would have burned along with the rest of the asylum, the world was no place for something like him to live. But he still had one last thing he needed to do before he could let himself die – and for that he needed Blaire.

"I would know better than most what that man went through, better than you ever could. I believe I have every right to speak about it." Sinclair muttered dryly. He had never been particularly fond of Trager, how could he be expected to? The man had frightened him from the moment they met, his one relief was that they met very little. Besides…the man had given his brother a headache when they still worked there. However he did pity Trager, or rather he understood the man better than most. There had always been a sense of mutual empathy between the patients that were subjected to the morphonogenic engine. After all when you went through hell you tended to feel linked to those that had gone there with you.

"Looks like I'll have to leave you here for today." Sinclair said quietly, knowing he should have stayed to check Blaire's condition like usual. But he didn't think today would be one of their good days, besides he hadn't checked in on his other patient in a while. If he waited any longer to see him, Sebastian was sure he'd lose his mind.

Well lose his mind again anyway.

And with Blaire in the room there was every possibility he'd turn that anger on the bound man and actually crush his windpipe. Sinclair had not accidentally killed Jeremy all the other times he lost his composure but… who knows, could be tenth time lucky.

But you only just got here! Jeremy thought in alarm when Sinclair announced his intentions to leave, but he did not speak those words aloud, and instead said.

"My leg is hurting like hell." It was not technically a lie. His legs were hurting but not enough to make Jeremy feel the need to complain. So he was a little bit surprised by the fact he'd spoken at all, but it worked so it was worth it.

Sinclair paused, glancing between Jeremy and the door. Eventually whatever noble train of thought the moron had going through his head made the blonde turn back to Jeremy, giving a small sigh as he did.

"I didn't give you enough painkillers?" He mumbled more to himself than to Jeremy as he peeled back the sheets from his patient's legs to inspect any damage he may have missed earlier.

As Sinclair ran his fingers over Jeremy's patched up legs, the older man couldn't help but marvel at Sinclair's incredible stupidity. Had he not only moments ago poured coffee onto the floor just to see Jeremy squirm? Now he looked concerned about a small amount of discomfort – that didn't actually exist –his prisoner might be in? What world did this man live in?

Jeremy let out a hiss of complaint when Sinclair brushed a particularly tender part of his leg, close to where he'd broken it. Immediately the man's hands recoiled before proceeding more delicately. Silence stretched between them as Sebastian made sure to thoroughly check Jeremy's legs, occasionally stopping to apply more of the cream he thought was so damn magical and fresh coverings.

As Blaire watched Sinclair work he wondered if this was the way he treated all his patients when he was still a respectable therapist. Sinclair had been notorious in saying sappy things like 'they're just people, there's no need to abuse them' when he was questioned about the asylum residence. Those words still irritated Blaire but now he realized there was actually a benefit to them, it meant that no matter how much Sinclair loathed him – he would try to treat him kindly.

What an idiotic notion.

When it was finally over, Jeremy was sure a solid twenty minutes had passed. Sinclair never rushed anything nor did he half ass his work – traits that in the past had actually looked pretty appealing on his application form to Murkoff. Those good work ethics had kept Sinclair out of Blaire's line of fire for months, despite his supervisor growing to dislike him almost instantly.

"Right." Sinclair spoke, announcing a close to his work. "I'll give you two more painkillers, to last you till this afternoon."

"You're coming back?" That was unusual, normally when Sinclair left he wouldn't return until the next day had started.

"Just to give you some more pills and food." Sinclair confirmed while he popped two small white tablets out of their packaging. Just the sight of them calmed Blaire, knowing they meant relief to the aching in his entire body. "I have to do something today."

"What could someone like you possible have to do during the day?" Blaire scoffed. "Don't children start crying when they see you in the street?"

"They do, they sometimes even run away." Buzz kill. "Now take your pills and be quiet." Sinclair held the tablets out to Blaire, who reluctantly took them without the usual argument. He'd already lost coffee to his stubbornness that day; he didn't want to add pain relief to that list.

Swallowing the pills dry was hardly a problem, Blaire knew his way around self-medication better than most. But he still found himself longing for a martini to help the dry tablets down.

Sinclair packed himself up in silence and Blaire didn't bother trying to speak to his imprisoner at first. He would have let Sinclair leave without another word but he noticed something odd. The second cup of coffee that Sinclair brought with him had been untouched. He could just faintly see some sort of heat radiating off of it, meaning it was still warm and full at the very least.

"You forgot your coffee, bastard." Jeremy spat, intending to make Sinclair feel like shit. For not giving him coffee or for wasting his own – either would suffice.

Sebastian took one look at the cup and snorted, not exactly the reaction Blaire had been aiming for.

"I figured you would burn yourself even if I told you not to."

At first Jeremy was confused, even more so when he felt Sinclair's slender fingers begin to loosen his restraints.

For a moment his mind was filled with nothing but white noise. Confusion and disbelief ran together to create a buzz of chaos behind his eyes. While Blaire understood his arms were being freed, his brain refused to process that simple information or what it meant was coming next.

It was only when Sebastian leant back away from him that Jeremy realized what he'd done. His lesser arm had been given some movement area. When this had all first started Jeremy had feared his arm would forever be dead weight but Sinclair had reassured him that in time he'd be able to move it again, at least enough that it wasn't completely useless. He doubted his arm would ever return to full function or that he'd ever be able to use his fingers properly again – what with parts of his hand missing and all that – but it could at least move enough to do small tasks.

Task like…oh holding a cup of coffee for example.

"Go on then." Sinclair mused, holding the cup out to Blaire, who continued to stare in utter disbelief. It was only when Sebastian added one last after thought, that Jeremy finally grasped the ideal that the coffee was never meant for the other man. "I'm more of a tea person myself."

Jeremy didn't have the time to be angry about the fact Sinclair had probably planned this from the start as his hand closed around the coffee cup, just able to hold it up to his mouth. The sudden explosion of strong flavor in his mouth coupled with the warmth of the smooth liquid was so gratifying that Blaire could have moaned in delight. He restrained himself from doing as such with Sinclair's ever-vigilant gaze on him.

As Jeremy indulged in the much-needed drink, Sinclair held onto a private smile. He didn't think he'd ever be able to fully remove his hatred for Jeremy Blaire, but in the same way he could not bring himself to be heartless towards those weaker than himself. His former tormentor was now undoubtedly weaker than he was, so seeing him happily gulp down the drink put his mind at ease. Like watching a child finally enjoy hot chocolate after months of summer had passed.

"I knew you would have burnt yourself." Sinclair mused, watching as he greedily finished off the previously scalding beverage. "Wouldn't have even stopped to think about it."

"You're…" Jeremy began breathlessly, having finished the drink almost in one go. "…a fucking bastard."

"So you keep reminding me." Sinclair chuckled, in too good a mood to be bothered by Blaire's potty mouth. If Sebastian were to call his former superior's language as such, Blaire would most certainly spit out more profanities. Somehow even that thought was able to bring a smile onto Sebastian's face, Jeremy reminded him of a spoiled child more and more with every passing day. Did that make him a bully…?

When Blaire finished with the cup, Sebastian wordlessly removed it from the man's feeble grasp. As he did, Sebastian took notice of the horribly inflamed skin around Jeremy's palm. It didn't look infected but it did look painful. It truly was a miracle that Jeremy retained any function in that hand at all.

Sebastian again reminded himself not to pity Blaire too much; there were some out there who did not even have that arm anymore.

That thought reminded Sebastian of the limited window he had to finish his business in town and so with some reluctance he rebound Jeremy's arm to the bed. Of course the dark haired male squirmed and made wordless snarls of protest when he was once again restrained, but he was still too weak to really give Sinclair any trouble. At least for now.

With his prisoner correctly secured, Sinclair left abruptly. If he was caught up in conversation or overthought Blaire's condition he'd waste more time and lose his short window of opportunity for the day. But even as he descended the stairs and began to leave the little shack in the woods behind, his mind remained full of Blaire. None of those thoughts were complimentary.

He knew there would come a day where Jeremy might be able to cause a bit more of a fuss when he struggled, when that day came Sinclair guessed he'd need to be more guarded with the way he kept Jeremy contained. In other words he may need to revoke the bathroom privileges and there'd be no more coffee. Sebastian did not look forward to that day, but hopefully by then Blaire will have fulfilled his role and they could part ways.

Part ways…?

The thought seemed so alien to Sebastian after it crossed his mind. That had always been the plan hadn't it? Take what he needed from Blaire and then…what? His plan had never actually gone that far. He couldn't very well keep the man in the shabby old house forever, but he didn't see a day coming where he could wave Blaire off with a smile.

Actually, if he was being honest with himself, Sinclair had always imagined he'd kill Jeremy.

Old thoughts resurfaced, ideas and things he'd believed in during his time in the asylum. There had been no doubt in his mind as he stalked Blaire through the bloody splattered hallways that he would kill the man once he caught him. Maybe not immediately, but it was always the end goal. To see Jeremy Blaire strapped down, cut open and forced to bleed out all of his sins – that had been nirvana in his mind back then. Even now the thought wasn't entirely unappealing…

No. Sinclair chided himself with a small shake of his head. I'm better than that now. I'm better now.

His thoughts tried to be reassuring but Sebastian knew that there would always be that small part of him that longed to pull out a pair of scissors and see just what made Jeremy Blaire's insides so fucking unsightly. As if he could dissect the man and see physically what it was that made him so despicable.

He knew that Jeremy had nightmares about him; sometimes it felt like they shared the same nighttime horrors. Sinclair was no stranger to dreaming of a heavily burnt man, holding a pair of scissors and laughing as he cut someone's throat. The person that died could change from time to time. Most often the man that resembled Sebastian's former self in his nightmares would lash out at Blaire, his original target, but in rare instances that person changed. In the worst nightmares, Sebastian saw Blaire being swapped out with his own brother and occasionally the Sebastian from the asylum would even slice his own throat.

Those dreams had the grown man waking up with a scream, and covered in sweat every other night. He felt like a child again and every time Sebastian woke from those dreams and shouted out in the dead of night, he half expected Riley to appear by his side and tell him everything was okay. That it was only a dream. Sometimes for the first fraction of a second that Sebastian was awake, he maintained the illusion of being a little boy again, crying for his big brother to come and save him like he always did.

But he always remembered seconds later that such a thing was now impossible.

Trying his best to forget about that house in the woods and the asylum that was now nothing but rubble and ashes, Sinclair carried himself into town. The walk was tedious and he did find himself pondering how Blaire had managed it a week earlier when he was so thoroughly damaged. Sebastian thought about investing in a bike or even a motorcycle but he knew damn well he didn't have the money for it. All of his money was being split between hospital bills and Blaire's requirements. Who would have guessed Jeremy would be such high maintenance?

Oh, but the people around here were kind. Sebastian smiled when he thought back to the elderly man who so often gave him food at a lowered price, or completely for free. The people in town who knew his face and story might have been pitying him but they still tried to smile and act normally around him, though he knew they stared when they thought he wasn't watching.

Sebastian didn't mind, he knew his gradually deteriorating skin was a sight to behold, he wouldn't fault them for being interested or unnerved by his disfigurement. They still tried to smile and make his life a bit easier where they could, lavishing him with offers of charity and support. Most of which he politely declined, knowing everyone had it rough in some way or another and he did not want to exploit his physical ailments.

However when they offered to help him with hospital bills or said they'd make get-well cards, Sinclair did not have the heart to refuse them. So in the end he'd return to the hospital, holding a new gift almost every day. Every time this sort of gift was offered, Sinclair felt his heart warm again. He felt like there was some hope, even for someone like him if he could see that people were still good and could be kind. People like Waylon Park still existed in the world, and that was enough to keep Sinclair smiling.

With those thoughts filling his mind Sinclair found himself nearing his destination, a fairly sizable white building on the boarder of the town. To Sinclair it looked large but he knew that for a hospital it was considerably small. Holding onto the warmth that other's comfort gave him, Sinclair stepped inside of the sterile halls once more.

The unsettling beeping of the hospitals machines gradually worked their way under Sebastian's skin. He'd barely stepped foot in the hospital before the sounds and smells assaulted him once again. They were sensations he'd come to know well in his life, but even now they made his stomach churn and twist in distress. Especially for the reason he was here now.

"Oh! Sebastian you're here again." Sinclair jumped, surprised by the sweet voice that called him. He sometimes forgot how lovely someone could sound when they spoke his name, particularly after having spent some time with Blaire again.

Turning towards the voice Sinclair was greeted by a warm smile and pretty blue eyes. He recognized the kind-hearted girl's face immediately and scolded himself for not having known her voice instantly. The young blonde had a stunning smile and sparkling blue eyes, but what always struck Sinclair most strongly about the girl was the heavy flora scent that hung of her clothes. Her name was Mary, and she owned a small flower shop in town and they'd actually met here in this hospital as she was brining flowers to the patients. Sebastian had of course loved her easygoing smile and kind nature from the first time she laid a bundle of yellow flowers on his bedside table. When he was still bedridden and recovering from the injuries he'd sustained during his escape from the asylum.

At the time he'd snapped at her, still not quite in his right mind, but she'd brought him fresh flowers the next day without fail. Since that day they'd become considerably familiar with one another, having one normal friend in all this madness was a relief Sinclair hadn't dreamed of having.

Sebastian was glad to have met Mary, in a way she was the therapist he'd always wanted to be. But instead of diagnosis and questions she brought comfort in the form of flowers and an understanding smile.

"Do you mind if I join you?" Mary asked as she approached Sebastian, holding in her arm a bundle of familiar yellow flowers. "I was hoping I might run into you, so I saved these for last."

Sweet girl. Sebastian managed a smile that he remembered having once been well acquainted with.

"I think having some company would do us both good." Sinclair agreed, making a small gesture for Mary to join him. The hospital was informal, which suited Sebastian's needs currently but he did often worry about the security in the place. If Murkoff poked their noses around here there was the risk they might find them.

As they walked down the sterile, white bleached halls Sebastian felt his heart pick up anxiously. Thinking that maybe today would be the day he finally got his wish. Stopping outside of an opening sliding door, Sebastian and Mary cautiously peeked into a small hospital room. The room had become decorated in flowers and cards, full of colour so that when its occupant finally woke up again, they'd be greeted with something worth looking at.

"Riley, we're here to visit." Sebastian spoke out loud, holding onto the faint hope that his big brother would respond today. But as always he was greeted only by the beeping of hospital machines. His brother was still asleep. His heart dropped.

Mary must have noticed the crushed expression on Sebastian's face and decided to try and help him along. "Look Riley, we brought you more flowers. Yellow is your favorite right? Well hopefully you'll like these." Mary stepped into the hospital room, leaving Sebastian in the door way as she set down the flowers on the windowsill.

Finally Sebastian's legs seemed to unlock and he was able to step into the small room and see his older brother's face properly. His beard was starting to resurface after only two weeks of going unshaven, and Sebastian chuckled at the sight, knowing that when Riley woke up he'd be mortified.

But that smile didn't last, as gradually Sebastian's eyes dropped to his brother's torso. To the place where his brother's arm should have been, it was nothing but a stump covered in bandages.

Briefly Sebastian thought of Jeremy's arm and the poor state it was in. When he'd considered cutting it off in the past, he'd almost thrown up. Just thinking that he could actually remove Jeremy's arm like what had been done to his brother made him physically ill. So despite common sense saying it was better to remove the limb rather than risk infection and more pain, Sinclair had tried to save Jeremy's arm rather than remove it.

He noticed that Mary had started to speak with the sleeping Riley. As Mary chatted away casually, Sebastian felt his nervous heart waver, one day he was going to have to leave this place, and these two behind. He could also abandon Blaire and the horrors Murkoff left with him, but somehow when he looked at the beautiful flowers in Mary's hands and the careless smile on her face as she spoke to Riley like he might respond, Sinclair didn't feel much like leaving anymore. Instead he decided to join them.

Gradually Sebastian eased himself into the chair by his brother's bed and managed a small smile for the sleeping man.

"Hey Riley…I got a lot to tell you."

His sins were piling up again, and all of them had Jeremy Blaire's name on them.


Jeremy was positive that if he didn't get out of this place he really was going to go insane. The scent of coffee lingered in the room long after the taste began to fade, leaving a dull ache of longing in Jeremy's stomach as he continued to stare at the ceiling, once again counting the cracks he could see.

Today had been a surprisingly good day. He'd gotten coffee, his wounds weren't aching too bad and Sinclair only showed his stupid fucking face for a few minutes at best. Well there was an up and a down to that, as always. Without Sinclair around and having already caught up on all the sleep in the world, Jeremy was left with nothing to do but sit and wait for the miserable hours to tick on by.

Sinclair must have only been gone for half an hour when Jeremy's patience reached breaking point. In an attempt to give his body anything to do, Jeremy began to test out his legs. Twitching and flexing them to see just how good they were coming along. The gashes he'd suffered had scabbed over and thanks to Sinclair's diligence there was no infections worth worrying about. Really his greatest source of discomfort came from his ankle. He knew it was swollen and tender but Sinclair reassured him that it was not a nasty break; he had even been optimistic enough at one point to say it might not be broken at all. Told Blaire it could just be the sprain from hell, it would explain why he managed to hobble on it so well. Somehow that didn't boost his confidence all that much.

As Blaire tested his body with small muscle tenses and twisting what joints he could move around, his mind wandered. After having calmed down enough to think straight after the whole coffee ordeal, Jeremy was struck by how incredibly careless it was to just drink whatever Sebastian gave him. Granted he didn't have much of a choice when the man was literally his only source of food, but there was always a chance of Sebastian poisoning him with something mild. Not enough to kill but enough to get Blaire squirming for Sebastian's entertainment.

"As if that spineless sap would ever." Jeremy growled under his breath and found he was surprised by his own words. He had feared Sinclair in the asylum, who wouldn't? The man was a raving lunatic, but now…now he wasn't so worried. It seemed like Sebastian really did want to see him improve, to be comfortable.

Jeremy still couldn't wrap his brain around this idea, or rather he refused to believe it.

Idiots like Sinclair and Park got under his skin for reasons that Blaire could never fully pinpoint. Park with his goddamn puppy dog eyes and clumsy smile managed to infuriate Jeremy every time they met, and Sinclair was no bloody better.

"Stupid Park!" Blaire hissed furiously, jerking his healthy hand violently against his restraints as he spoke. Needing to released a small bit of his pent up aggravation. What he would have given to have Park's face within punching distance again was criminal.

Creak.

Jeremy froze.

The sound of wood straining and splintering sent an electric jolt down his spine. For a few seconds Jeremy remained deathly still, not daring to believe he'd actually heard the sound at all. Then slowly, hesitantly he pulled against the rope that bound his arm a second time.

Crea-snap!

Something in the headboard broke with a sharp snap, sending a small piece of wood flying past Blaire's face. It was giving away under the pressure of his tugging!

Suddenly Blaire was frantic, pulling again and again at the heavily eroded wood. With every fresh tug a bit more off the wood seemed to crumble and fall away. It was no easy task and it took all of Blaire's energy to begin making a considerable difference, but eventually his restraints began to loosen as the wood that held their prisoner in place began to splinter apart.

Finally this old house was good for something. In a feverish flurry of excitement, Jeremy was able to tear his arm away from the headboard. The rope fell uselessly into his lap, looking dejected as it now lay in failure on the bed sheets. He'd escaped it.

Without pausing to consider the repercussions of this course of action, Blaire began to try and undo the knots that tied his less functional arm to the bed. He found his fingers to be clumsy as he rushed but the rope wasn't tied as securely as the other had been and after a few minutes of focusing he was able to pull the second item of bondage away from him.

It was only as the second rope landed with a soft thud on the ground that the severity of the situation truly hit Blaire. He was free, he could escape and thanks to Sinclair's precious fucking need to see him in better health, he was positive he'd be able to make it to town with much greater ease than the first time.

All at once his fantasies of escape came back, fresh, vivid and for the first time since he was captured – obtainable. He couldn't risk getting his revenge on Sinclair though, he had to get out before the man came back. He said he would return in the afternoon right? So that meant Blaire had a few good hours to get to town and find a way to get further. He could risk a bus trip and maybe steal some money from someone to get wherever it was he was going to run to.

Anywhere was going to be better than here.

Funny how earlier he'd been thinking this place was his only salvation. Give a man even a sliver of hope and they'll run with it. Even someone as meticulous and well bred, as Blaire was susceptible to desperation. Oh and he was desperate, even if he'd never admit it to himself.

As Jeremy pulled himself out of bed he was stunned by how weak his body was. He'd been getting fed and fixed up routinely but his poor muscles had been out of use for a solid week, excluding the minor trips to the bathroom where Sinclair all but decided to carry him. It took Jeremy a while to get his legs and arms accustomed to having weight on them again but he knew that time was not his ally in his endeavor so he had to force himself to move earlier than his aching joints would have liked.

As he cautiously crept down the stairs, Jeremy found that Sinclair had moved a few things around. There was less dust hanging around he he'd cleared out most of the forest oddities that had found their way inside. Annoyingly that included the stick that Jeremy had used during his first trip to town, he'd have to find something else to help him.

As Jeremy escaped out into the forest again, he only had one regret and that was not being able to see Sinclair's expression when he found him missing. He would have to privately enjoy that victory with his own imagination.

And just this once Jeremy's imagination did not let him down.

It was a beautifully pathetic expression he imagined.


Mary had left them after a while, knowing she had to return to the shop before her only other employee got angry and decided to just leave. Heaven knows they would. Sinclair had waved goodbye to her with a smile, quietly relieved that she'd left. He still had things to say, things he couldn't have her hearing.

She still seemed pure and gentle to her core – Sinclair wanted to preserve that after having seen the effects of destroying it.

"I found him." Sebastian told his comatosed brother calmly. "I know it's probably not what you would have wanted…but we need this. We need Blaire."

Sebastian rest his elbows on his brother's bed, placing his face in his hands as he spoke. All of his weariness pouring out of him as he spoke to what was essentially a brick wall. He just had to…confess? How appropriate, Father Martin had always said it was better to confess to the darkest actions and thoughts of the human mind.

But up until just recently…Sinclair had nothing to confess to.

"I haven't hurt him." Sebastian added, as though that resolved him of blame. "He's pretty badly hurt already…but I'm doing what I can for him. Hah…you were so angry with me when I stopped to check on him in the asylum, told me I was trying to fix up a corpse. Those were your exact words weren't they? I guess I can rub that in your face when you wake up."

For a moment Sebastian paused, risking a glance at his brother's sleeping face through the gaps in his fingers. Riley's face was pale and sunken, he looked horrible really. The dark circles under his eyes looked more like bruises than lack of proper nutrition. Riley had always been the larger out of the two of them, a sturdy wall that Sebastian could hide behind when he was afraid. Sebastian dearly wished that Riley had never protected him…if he hadn't been protecting Sebastian then he wouldn't be in this hospital bed at all.


"Where did he go?" Sebastian snarled furiously, turning to look down the halls he'd just seen Blaire vanish down. How was it the man was still so spritely on his feet? After Sebastian had stabbed him, he'd expected Jeremy to be a little more compliant. But he'd been both infuriated and impressed by the older man's resolve. This little game of cat and mouse was actually sort of fun – but Sinclair was getting bored now.

He could hear things shifting in the asylum, there were whispers going around already.

"The groom is dead." One variant had chattered as he rushed past Sebastian, caught between hysterical sobbing and laughter. "Dead, dead, dead. Killed by his little bride. Pretty, lovely little bridey."

"The doctor, the doctor!" Another had been ranting with an air of glee. "Did you see? Did you see it? He's been split in half by the witness, sliced in two. Two doctors got to be better than one right?"

"Father Martin is lighting up Christmas day. Candle Martin, candle Martin!" It was almost a song coming out of the third variant. The sort of carol that one might have cherished in childhood when the snow began to fall and the chimes of Christmas bells could be heard throughout the world.

"Shush, hush." One variant had come directly to Sinclair only moments before with a word of caution. "Careful brother Sinclair, careful, cautious. The big one, our walker is dead. Mashed and mulched by our darling god. Hush, shush, speak not a word of it to our Warden. Heart breaking, Warden is sad."

Sinclair did not rejoin in hearing these things. How could he? His heart was breaking all over again.

The groom was dead? Walker to? Even Father Martin, the kind priest he'd known so well?

His patients…they were dropping like flies.

Gritting his teeth, Sinclair tightened his grip on the scissors in his hand and began to stalk Blaire with renewed vigor. It was Blaire's fault, all the bloody man's fault! Eddie might have been mad as a bat and Walker was certainly a force to be evaded rather than reckoned with, but they had been his madmen.

All because Blaire didn't know how to play nice, all because he needed to be taught a little lesson on empathy. Well, Sinclair fully intended to teach it to him, one strip of flesh peeling at a time.

A sudden clatter down towards the administration block caused Sebastian to snap his head eye, eyes narrowing into thin slits as he listened for more movement. The echo of many heavy boots rushing through the building abruptly reached Sebastian's ears and his immediate reaction was irritation. More complications come to bother his patients, really? Holding the scissors up a bit Sinclair wondered just how many people he could take down with the small weapons if they were to be carrying guns on their person. Perhaps two or three, more if he got the element of surprise. That would be enough for him.

Flipping his scissors once in the air, Sinclair followed the sound as it grew louder with every step the men took into the asylum. When the first dark shadows appeared at the end of the hall, they showed up in pairs. Quickly Sinclair pressed himself up tight against the wall, concealed behind a bookcase. He listened to the two stumble closer, spitting curses and slurred words of disgust, they were judging them. Calling them monsters, freaks, and crazies. Those words grated on his nerves and Sebastian very nearly lashed out too early. But he waited, biding his time until the first of the pair took their first step past him.

All it took with one slash and the world once again turned red. A splash of red filled the air and the horrendous gurgling of a man choking on his own blood. Behind him the man's partner let out a cry, it sounded like he was trying to say the first man's name but Sinclair already knew they'd made too much noise and immediately turned on the second man. This one took more effort, he'd been alerted to the danger and so he blocked his throat with his arms when Sinclair tried to do him in quickly.

"Pity." Sinclair muttered as he lunged at the man, throwing his body onto the unprepared guard and knocking them both to the ground. As soon as the man's back hit the floor, Sinclair threw his arms up into the air and flung the blade down towards the man's face. They had goggles on and the sharp scissors managed to pierce the material covering the guard's eyes, barely scrapping along those wide, frightened orbs.

He tried to get up, tried to struggle but once the scissors were in his goggles, the man froze. He was afraid, Sinclair understood and he even smiled sympathetically as he withdrew the blade from the plastic.

"This could have been quick." He murmured sadly before throwing the scissors down again, smashing them through the already fragile goggles and straight into the man's face. One hand had to cover his mouth as the guard tried to scream and thrash about, while the other tried desperately to dig through the poor soul's eyes and find his brain. Sinclair did not know this man, he saw no reason to prolong his suffering, and so he did his best to find the quickest way to end that pain. Only when he stopped twitching and trying to push Sinclair away, to became deathly still did Sebastian stop digging.

Slowly he retrieved the scissors from the man's eyes, not bothering to stop and admire the mess he'd made. There was very little left of the man's face, he did have some faint hope that he would be recognizable enough for people to tell his family where he died. But that was hardly his problem now.

Tilting his head up Sebastian listened for more sounds of guards but found it to be oddly…quiet. Confused Sebastian head towards the administration block, figuring a few might still be prowling around there. Sebastian was frustrated to find that the only way to get to the administration block from where he was now, was to go through the underground lab. He hadn't really been through the main section of that place since this all happened, he wasn't keen on navigating the cold halls again but it was his only choice, so reluctantly he went. How long had the guards been here that they'd made it this far into the building? Had they killed many of his patients?

Concern mingled with his rage and Sebastian turned a blind eye to everything around him except the path to the lobby. But as he made his way trhough the underground labs, Sinclair felt as though something was not quite right.

The place was a mess, not unusual considering the circumstances, but there were things that just didn't add up. The machine he'd learnt to fear the mere mention of did not seem to be working and a rather grotesque sight of the bloodied containment spheres greeted Sebastian when he investigated.

"The machine is not running… So where is the Walrider?" Sebastian whispered to himself as he rest his palm flat against one of the glass spheres, whoever had been inside of it was now nothing more than a blood stained, mangled corpse.

"This…this isn't Billy is it?" A horrifying thought struck Sebastian. Had Billy been killed? Could this motionless body truly be the host that Walrider had chosen?

"No, no, no. Oh please no." Feverishly Sebastian run his fingers over the glass, tapping and prodding at it to see if the body within might stir. Nothing, not a twitch. The person in there was dead, Billy was dead.

"That's impossible!" Sebastian slammed his fist against the glass, grief turning to rage as he stormed away from the core of the machine and towards the corridors that lead back upstairs. "Walrider would have protected Billy! So why? Why did it fail?"

Thoughts swarmed in Sinclair's head. Ideas of men in guns and armor cutting off Billy's vitals. There was no way a stray variant or single lone survivor could have done this. Sebastian's mind refused to believe that a human capable of such a feat existed.

He had not yet met Miles Upshure.

Abruptly Sinclair's monstrous grief was cut short as the sounds of frantic gunfire and screaming echoed from somewhere ahead of him. The screams did not belong to variants though; Sinclair could clearly distinguish desperate orders being shouted when there was a distinct lack of order. As he drew closer Sebastian could hear men screaming like they'd seen a monster, exclamations of faith and questions of humanity all came flooding down the hall, accompanied by the sickening sound of flesh being shredded.

He knew that sound.

"Walrider." Sebastian felt weary but also relieved. So perhaps he misunderstood something before? Perhaps the Walrider had protected its host and Billy had simply…been asleep. Yeah, that was all. Or maybe he'd even left the chamber somehow?

Foolishly Sebastian believed these fantasies and continued down the hall as the sounds of death began to fall quiet. When Sebastian entered the room that the guards had no doubt come storing through, he was greeted by a pile of bodies – or at least parts of them.

The stench was unbearable, even for Sebastian. Violently bile rose up in his throat and the former therapist dropped to his knees, gagging on what small amount of food was left in his stomach. Bitter tears stung the corners of his eyes and began to traitorously leak out down his cheeks.

And as he crouched there, barely able to breathe as the stink of blood and vital organs strewn around suffocated him, Sinclair was finally found.

"Sebby!" The sound of a familiar childhood nickname caused Sebastian to jerk upright, lifting his tearstained face from his bloodied hands. He knew the nickname, and oh how well he knew the voice that spoke it, but for a moment Sebastian forgot entirely whom it belonged to.

Who-? The thought barely registered in Sebastian's mind as he turned towards the sound of his name being called.

What he saw was an exhausted asylum guard, frantically reaching out for him in the madness with a ready smile of overwhelming relief. For a moment Sebastian's mind remained blank, refusing to process the information his eyes was giving it. This person did not fit the hellish surroundings Sebastian had come to know in the last few weeks, this person was too bright to belong here.

This person was…

"Riley!" Sebastian screamed his older brother's name, not in joy or relief but in terrified warning.

Behind Riley a monstrous wall of shadow was looming up over him.

Dead.

Walrider was very much alive but it seemed that fact was about to render Riley unable to continue to be so. Riley took one look over his shoulder and Sebastian saw his jaw clench in a familiar way. He knew immediately that Sebastian was more stupid than he was afraid, more chivalrous than he was smart.

Without warning Riley's entire body turned on the spot, leaping back a few steps as well as turning his back to Sebastian. One arm was thrown out across his little brother's body, pushing him down behind Riley's larger figure and the other was held out towards Walrider like it might somehow shield them from it.

It did not.

Sebastian watched with wide, terrified eyes as Walrider's ghostly claws wrapped around Riley's arm and gave one sudden violent yank. Its claws shredded through flesh with ease and its impossibly strong hand pulled Riley's arm right out of its socket and Sebastian watched helplessly as his brother's elbow split and tore at the joint – taking Riley's right arm with it.

It was the sound.

That ungodly sound of his brother's bones beginning to crack and strain under the pressure, and the distant echo of Riley's skin abruptly being forced to part with a sickening tearing sound – almost as though it was mere fabric tearing at the seems.

But above the sound of Riley's body being torn to bits, it was the echo of his brother's uncontained screaming that truly crawled under Sebastian's skin. It was the most agonizing sound Sebastian had ever heard. Far above the wails and sobs of variants, even more disturbing that the times he'd witnessed the cannibalistic tendencies of some of the others around the asylum. This…this was the most horrible thing he'd ever heard, all because it came from Riley's lips.

Walrider tossed Riley's disconnected arm away like it was nothing and it seemed ready to do more, approaching the two brothers a second time without the need to take firm steps. It glided over leisurely, as though it had all the time in the world and again it raised its clawed hand.

"No, don't!" Sebastian's voice freed itself and he let out a pleading screech. His body was rapidly becoming soaked in Riley's blood as it poured from the gaping hole left in his arm, but Sebastian still wrapped his arms around his brother's body. The larger of the two Sinclair brothers had collapsed, his shrieks becoming low guttural moans and groans of indescribable agony.

Sebastian pathetically tried to protect Riley's mortally wounded body with his own meeker form. His arms wrapped tightly around Riley as he let out senseless sobs. "Please, please don't hurt him anymore! Why Billy? Why would you hurt Riley?" Sebastian wept openly, squeezing his brother more tightly.

The brother he thought he'd already lost – the brother he'd wronged by daring to forget him for even a moment, was no bleeding out in his arms and Sebastian had no way of protecting him from the Walrdier. For the first time since he was put into the morphogenic engine program, Sebastian had no thoughts of bloodlust or hatred for his former employer – his only thought was of his brother's heart beat and the feverish desire to keep it beating.

As he sat there crying over his brother, Sebastian failed to notice that they were still breathing. The Walrider had not torn into them anymore than this. Sebastian wouldn't have noticed this at all in fact, had he not heard footsteps approaching them. The Walrider made no such sound and so he knew it had to be a human making the sound. Instinctively Sebastian held Riley closer to his chest as he looked up at the person that approached them.

This person was not Billy, in fact they didn't even look much like a person at all anymore.

Sebastian stared up at the figure shrouded in shadows and noticed the Walrider seemed to be lingering over their shoulder. Oh…they were the new host? Sebastian felt cold tears continue to slide down his face as he stared up at the stranger, waiting for whatever they would do next.

"He protected you, did not try to harm." The stranger spoke in an emotionless echo, his words only just faintly resembling something akin to confusion or surprise. "Why, why protect?" Sebastian could hear the strain in the male's voice, like speaking was a difficult task to accomplish. The Walrider's possession must have been excruciating at first, perhaps even more so than the man's two missing fingers were. He must have had a rough time in the asylum.

"My brother." Sebastian replied thickly, his voice choked by tears and the irritating need to sniffle. "He's my big brother."

The man's eyes had no pupils; they were nothing more than large empty voids that stared straight through Riley and Sebastian. He lacked emotion but there was some sort of calculation going on behind those black pools. The host was judging them, using his divine power as the god Walrider's host to see if they should deserve to keep breathing or if they would become another pretty blood splatter on the ground.

Slowly he approached the two Sinclair boys and Sebastian hugged Riley closer once again. The protective motion did not go unnoticed by the host, who paused mid-step when he saw Sebastian's fear. He could practically smell the fear coming off the blonde variant.

"Get out." He said finally, the host's voice came out in a low, feral rumble – but it spoke words of comfort. "Escape from here."

Ah, there it was.
Their god had spared them.

Neither brother would refuse the generous offer.

He'd started to cry again. Sebastian took hold of his brother's sleeping hand and held it up to his forehead as the silent tears escaped him.

"If I hadn't been there, you would still have two arms." Sebastian whispered with a dry chuckle. His choked on that laughter and it quickly turned to a dry sob. "Please wake up, please…you're all I have left now. It's just us; you always said you'd stay with me right? So please…just wake up."

He could have begged all day and his brother would not have responded. He would not be roused by pleas – Riley needed money.

Sebastian grit his teeth and furrowed his brows in concentration. Yes, he needed funding and he finally had a source of getting that money. He had Jeremy Blaire.

"I'm going to save you this time, just you wait and see Riley. I'll protect you." Sebastian smiled meekly as he held Riley's hand against his lips, as if his sleeping brother might be able to feel the smile. "Just you wait and see."

Sebastian had stayed a little longer after that, until a nurse had to ask him to leave for the night. He had been polite and composed when he left but it tore at his heart to leave his brother's side again, especially when he looked so vulnerable and lonely in that hospital bed. But he left reluctantly like always and promised to come and visit again as soon as possible.

It was chilly outside when Sebastian left the hospital and he had to pull his jacket around his shoulders more tightly. His body gave a small shudder against the chilly air and as he let out a shaky puff of hot air, Sebastian realized that it was probably very cold for Blaire back at that old house. It had too many holes in it to retain any heat and Blaire only had a light blanket to keep him warm – Sebastian would have to get back to him quickly.

With hands stuffed into his hoodie pockets Sebastian head back the way he'd come. However out of the corner of his eyes Sebastian noticed a dark figure lingering by the backdoor of the hospital. Sebastian almost completely passed the silent figure, but slowly he came to a stop not far from the male lingering in the shadows.

"You came to visit again…?" Sebastian murmured quietly but the other did not respond verbally. Instead they turned and walked in the opposite direction, going to do god only knows what that person did in their leisure time.

Sebastian smiled all the same, knowing that the eerily quiet man was no threat and that he really had just been there for a 'visit.' Sebastian knew that the man wanted to apologize in some way to Riley when he woke up, so he never shooed them away.

"You could have just asked to come see him you know. You're surprisingly shy, Miles." With a private smile, Sebastian tugged his hood over his eyes and continued on his original path.

Having decided that he'd get better results with Blaire when the man was comfortable, Sebastian had dug up some blankets and instant cups of soup from the local store for Blaire to have when there were cold nights like this. Sebastian hoped that he could make Blaire comfortable and get the money he needed more quickly in the process.

Actually the thoughts had him in a pretty good mood as he entered the old abandoned house that night. He even had a smile on his face when he opened the door to Jeremy's room, and then he dropped everything he'd brought when he realized – Blaire was gone.

Sebastian stood in the doorway, staring into the darkroom that was lacking the most vital part of all this. His smile slowly fell away and gradually thoughts of offering warm blankets and soups were trampled.

The previously kind thoughts were being drowned out by old feelings. Sebastian calmly reached into his bag and found his new choice of tool when it came to persuading Blaire to see things his way.

"Jeremy." Sebastian sighed in an almost lyrical voice, speaking in the same voice he'd used when he caught sight of Blaire for the first time in the asylum. "Where did you get off to in such a hurry at this time of night?"

Sinclair stepped over the blankets he'd abandoned and once again left the house, this time all he had in his hands was an old pair of scissors.

Perhaps they needed to have a small trip down nostalgia road, just the two of them reliving old times.
They were going to have to do something about those hamstrings.