"Mr. Sycamore?" Desmond was silent, hugging his knees to his chest. His eyes were half-lidded, staring at nothing. Owl bit her lip. Her hand reached and landed gently on his shoulder, and Des's body shuddered violently for a brief second, as if her touch was ice, sending a chill over his body. Raymond's blood was still on him, beginning to dry and brown. Owl sat on the side of the bed, looking into his blank eyes. "Mr. Sycamore, I want to clean you up. Is that alright?"

Desmond had woken up not long after Sparrow had set him – it wasn't a gentle movement, Sparrow almost dropping him – down, jolting and his hands flying to his side with a sharp, clipped cry. Owl glared at him, then walked him out of the hospital wing before returning to Des's room. This was how she found him, curled up and shivering lightly.

Some of the sutures had come undone, and Owl needed to fix that. She brushed a lock of messy hair from Desmond's face – such a soft, gentle movement – and went to work on trying to unlock his arms long enough to remove the now soiled shirt. Desmond refused to give, his grip iron. They locked eyes after a moment, and Des's eyes flashed with a moment of brief clarity.

"He's dead, isn't he?" Des's voice was hoarse. Owl didn't answer, looking away and pursing her lips. "Tell me. Please." The nurse was silent for a long moment.

"Mr. Sycamore, I would prefer it if I answered la –"

"I need to know." Desmond's voice turned desperate. "Please tell me Raymond is alive. Please tell me that I didn't kill him because of a mistake I made… because I let my anger control my actions again." Owl chewed on her lip again, drawing blood. She couldn't lie to him. No matter what she did, she couldn't. She looked back at him, into those eyes that conveyed so much emotion, so much raw emotion, so much fear. Owl took a deep breath before speaking.

"Mr. Sycamore… I'm sorry." Owl watched with sad eyes when the man's face crumbled. "He's gone. I'm sorry." Tears streamed down Des's face – slowly at first, but they gradually gained speed. Owl placed a gentle hand on his cheek. "It wasn't your fault. Whatever you think, it wasn't your fault. I promise." Desmond didn't answer, wincing when he hiccuped, gritting his teeth together. Owl frowned slightly, lips thinning into a straight line. "Can I clean you up? I can see if I can get Violet or Olivia down here as well." Desmond cringed at the names, his tears falling even faster.

"They – they're dead. I told you they were." Owl's heart broke. She made a promise to herself then – she would get either Violet or Olivia (preferably Olivia) down to the infirmary to talk to Desmond.

"It's alright. I'll clean you up, and give you medication to help you sleep, okay?" Desmond didn't respond. "...Okay. I'll do that."

She began by urging him into the bathroom. It took him a long moment before he finally stood and allowed himself to be guided to the bathroom. She slowly and carefully undressed him before placing him in the bathtub. She couldn't get the wounds wet, as they were so new; a few, large pieces of plastic, gauze, and tape were used to seal the bullet holes (She made sure the seals were tight – she couldn't allow those to get infected, despite the gnawing fact that he would be able to stay longer if she did that – she didn't want to cause more pain for Desmond).

She turned on the shower head, taking it off the wall and running her hand over it. Desmond's head lolled to the side, watching the streams of water with dull, blank eyes once more. Owl took one of his hands and brought it to the shower head.

"Temperature alright?" She asked gently. Desmond blinked slowly, then gave a soft shrug and a wry, mirthless smile.

"Doesn't matter."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm going to get questioned, aren't I?" Desmond's voice was quiet. "This isn't my first time here, you know."

Owl felt her heart sink. "It's not?"

"No." Desmond held himself close in that moment. "Never thought I was hurt enough to send me here, though. They kept me in that same cell, every day. They tortured me for information."

"When did you come here?"

"When they had killed…." Des swallowed, then shivered slightly when Owl moved the water over his body. "It was the perfect opportunity. I was lucky enough that… he wasn't there when they took me. They would have…."

"It's okay. I understand." Owl ran the shower head over Des's head, shielding his eyes when she ran it over his hair. "Can you tell me what they do?" She had never heard much about what exactly went on in the 'interrogation' area – she only knew the consequences, the poor victims coming to her barely alive and afraid for their lives.

Desmond shuddered. "Everything under the sun. They had tried everything with me." He looked at her. "They start with simple things. What they consider simple. When you don't answer, they slap you, threaten you with knives and promises of… assault. When you still don't answer, they act on their other methods. They…." Desmond bit the inside of his cheek. "Forgive me."

"You don't need to talk about it if you don't want to. I was just curious." Owl watched as dried blood washed off of the man's body and drifted in lazy red streaks and small clumps towards the drain. She ran a hand through his hair, untangling it while she turned off the water. "They never tell me what happens."

"...Huh." Desmond tensed at the hand carding through his long, dampened hair. "Thought you'd know. You do work here, don't you?"

"Yes… however, I was placed in the medical wing when I refused to conform to their rules. I know too much, and I keep people alive."

"Figures," Desmond muttered, then was silent for a long time, contemplating. His red eyes threatened to dull, flashing with fear and desperate anger. Owl realized he was talking to her because he didn't want to be lost in his thoughts. Desmond spoke again. "You don't seem like the type that'd fall into their trap, their gilded smiles and promises. What… how did you join?"

Owl frowned. "I prefer not to say."

"...I see." Desmond looked at her, narrowing his eyes, studying her.

A long, uneasy silence stretched between the two. Desmond took in a few, uneven breaths, hands clenching into fists – one gripped at his other arm. Owl's frown deepened. She needed to keep the conversation going. She reached over to the side, grabbing a small bottle of soap and pouring a good amount of the substance onto her hands. She worked it into a good lather before working the suds into Des's hair and body.

"What kind of tea do you like?" She asked. Desmond blinked away the haze that was beginning to glaze his eyes over – it was a calmed glaze, compared to the dull, empty one that had threatened to take him before.

"A-Ah… I like oolong… or herbal." Owl smiled.

"I like green and blends with more of a kick to it." Owl turned on the water again, grabbing the shower head and rinsing off the suds. "I can make some oolong for you, if you want."

Desmond furrowed his brows. "I didn't think this place gave you such… luxuries." He spat out the last word, eyes flashing. For a second, Owl thought she'd messed up; Des's voice had deepened, eyes seeming to turn a sharper red.

"I've been able to stock on teas whenever people go out on missions." Des exhaled after a moment, closing his eyes for a few long seconds. "Would you like some once we finish getting you cleaned up?"

Des opened his eyes after a deep breath. "Yeah. I'd like that."

Owl helped him out of the tub, wrapping a towel around him and drying him off carefully. "I'll get you a change of dry clothes while I'm grabbing the tea, alright? Will you be okay?"

Desmond looked at her before looking at the ground, fingering the towel. He nodded after a moment. Owl gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile.

"I'll be back as soon as I can." She left, closing the bathroom door behind her. She gave a long sigh, running a hand through her hair. She walked to the main door, opened it, then began to walk towards her room at a brisk pace.

"Oi, Miss Owl!" A voice called. She slowed her steps, turning and smiling gently.

"What is it, Raven?" He approached her at a slight jog. "Nobody been giving you any trouble, right?"

"Nah, no' yet." He gave a small smile. "The wing's been busy – d'ya know what's goin' on?"

"I'm surprised you haven't heard the word." Owl motioned for Raven to follow. "We have a new…." She hesitated. She hated calling the people here 'prisoners'. She tried again. "We have a new development."

"Wha' kind of development?"

"Have you ever heard of Desmond Sycamore?"

"Can't say I have. Are they importan'?"

"He's important to Targent's goals, yes." She opened the door to her room. "He's an expert in the studies of the Azran; a very well-known archaeologist, as well." She rummaged through the cupboards, looking through tins of tea leaves. Pulling out one, she held it out to Raven. "Can you hold this?"

"'Course." Raven took it, holding it carefully. "So we go' 'im here?"

"Yes. We have his wife and daughter under heavy guard upstairs. Had them here for around… ten years?"

"Really? Why?"

"Boss says it's to keep an advantage over Sycamore. Nobody questions him." Raven's mouth pulled into a small scowl, but he nodded.

"I see." Raven watched Owl take out a tea kettle before speaking again. "'E hasn't hurt anyone, 'as 'e? Tha Boss, I mean."

Owl had almost forgotten Raven was new. He wasn't exactly privvy to everything yet. "Hon, he's hurt a lot of people to get what he wants. That's why we have so many corrupt people here now." Like Sparrow, Owl thought to herself. He was one of the worst.

"Did 'e hurt tha Sycamore fam'ly?"

"...Yes." Owl passed the kettle to Raven after a moment. "Had to come to me first before they were locked up."

"Tha's… terrible." Raven thought for a moment. "So now we have tha professor. Wha're we gonna do with 'im?"

"Currently? Try to keep him from falling into shock. Keep out Sparrow and Bronev if they try to take him."

"Li'e we do with all the other…." Raven's brows furrowed. "Wha's tha word?"

Owl smiled gently as she began looking for clothing. "Patients?" Raven smiled back.

"Yeah, yeah. Patients."

"Exactly." Owl grabbed a change of clothing. "Let's head back."

"Alrigh'." They smiled at each other, then began to walk back to Des's room. Their footsteps echoed through the empty hallway, their combat boots clicking against the tiled floor. As they approached the door, a new pair of footsteps started to sound. Raven looked around, brows furrowing.

"Owl? Y'hear tha'?" Owl opened the door, then ushered Raven in. She looked back out into the hallway, spotting a figure approaching them. She squinted, looking them over quickly, then spotted the messy blond hair. She relaxed.

"Hi, Swift." Swift waved, slowing as he got closer to Owl.

"Hi, Owl."

"What're you doing here?" Swift's mouth pulled to the side slightly; his scar twitched.

"... Boss wants me to keep an eye on Sycamore." Owl frowned. "I know how ya feel about people doin' that. I'm sorry I have to do it." Owl sighed, then let Swift inside the room.

"Better you than anyone else," she muttered as she led him to the couch. "Stay here."

Swift gave an uneasy smile, giving a small, soft laugh. "Alright."