Matthew's legs were still sore when he woke the next morning, but it was manageable. It was quiet on this floor but as Matthew patted down the hall he could hear voices drifting up the stairs.

The steep stairs creaked as Matthew made his way down, stopping off in the kitchen to grab a bagel before he headed into the bar.

"Ahh, Matthew, there you are. C'mon we're having a meeting." Arthur waved at him, disappearing through the swinging doors on the other side of the bar.

Matthew followed him, the smooth wood of the floor cold on his feet. The half-doors swung silently open to the room with the pool table, but the silence didn't extend to the room itself.

All the brothers were gathered one of the poker tables. Arthur and Connor were arguing. Ian was across the room, pouring himself a glass of something strong. William had his head on Patrick's shoulder. Arthur had told Matthew yesterday that Patrick was a cop, and to be honest he looked it.

Ian noticed Matthew first, raising his glass in welcome as he returned to the table.

"Our lamb is here."

Connor straightened up, fixing Matthew with his gaze. "Morning."

Matthew sucked his bottom lip between his teeth, worry gathering in his chest. "Morning…"

Connor stood up, crossing the room and threw his arm around Matthew's shoulders.

"You know, we're really liking you lad, and we'd love to keep you around, but…"

Matthew felt his heart sink, his mind going immediately to the late-night reruns of old black and white mob shows.

Connor laughed at his expression, jostling him a bit. "Don't look so scared. We just need to make sure we can trust ya is all. We want to see what you're capable of."

Matthew nodded. "Y-you can trust me, really. I mean I don't have anyone to tell anything to anyway, and I don't have anywhere to go-" He knew he was blabbering but he couldn't stop. He was terrified that they would kick him back out onto the street, or worse.

Connor didn't lose his smile. "Don't worry, it's nothing too extreme." Connor winked at his brothers gathered around the table. "We just want to know what you know, and maybe look for some backbone. We've no use for a stupid weakling."

Matthew struggled not to start blabbering again, sinking his teeth into his lip. He gasped when he felt the pinch of a needle in the back of his neck, Matthew twisted, surprised to find himself already feeling woozy as the world tilted sickeningly.

When Matthew found he could peel his eyes open again he was laying on cold tile. He lifted his head infinitesimally, grossed out by the tacky feeling of the tile as it stuck to his cheek. He tried to move his shoulders but his wrists were tied behind his back.

He sat up slowly, the world swimming into focus. His shoulders protested the movement and a headache had formed behind his eyes. Matthew groaned, closing his eyes for a long moment. Once he felt his stomach settle Matthew opened his eyes once more and chanced looking around. It looked like they had stuck him in a closet populated with various cleaning supplies, a mop, and some boxes.

Matthew stretched his back, looking around a bit longer but finding nothing more except a tiny blinking light on a camera stuffed in the top corner of the room. He wanted to flip it off, but his arms were still stuck behind his back. That would have to be remedied…

Stretching his arms to press his hands against the floor Matthew shuffled backwards to slide his hands under his legs, hissing as his shoulders protested but grinning when he pulled his legs in and got his arms around to the front.

"That's better." He relaxed a bit, crossing his legs and looking around for anything he could use to get out of these cuffs.

"You pervs would have cuffs laying around." Matthew glared up at the camera.

Turning away from the blinking box Matthew struggled to his feet, a grin stretching his lips when he saw that one of the boxes was labeled 'office supplies'. Tearing the box open Matthew dumped it out, beaming when he found a paperclip in the mess of papers.

It took him a few tries to get the cuffs open. He was out of practice with picking locks, but he sighed when the metal clicked open, letting them drop to the floor and rubbing his wrists. He turned to the door next, planning to pick it as well but he stopped when he saw a little tin with a note stuck to it that read 'Open Me, I'm a Gift', in Arthur's neat script.

His curiosity piqued Matthew opened the little tin to find two identical pills and a neatly folded note. Tucking his feet under him Matthew unfolded the crinkly paper, frowning as he read it.

'William found the empty bottle of Valium in your bag. You're probably feeling the withdrawals already, so we're giving you one to take the edge off. One of these is Valium. One of them is not. Have fun.'

Matthew debated ignoring the pills and just opening the door, but he found he couldn't. He was starting to feel the shakiness that came with withdrawals, and he wasn't going to pas up the offer. Hopefully one of these really was Valium. The pills looked right, but they also looked the same…Refolding the note and setting down the tin after examining the pills Matthew looked around, examining the various cleaning agents and the remaining boxes.

In a few minutes Matthew had set up a rather intricate testing station. He didn't want to waste his pills, so he carefully shaved off tiny amounts for each test. The testing took a while longer than the set-up, but Matthew was sure of his choice as he popped one of the pills into his mouth.

Now that was taken care of and he could turn his attention back to the door. This lock took longer than the one on the cuffs but Matthew grinned when he heard the lock click open, the hinges squeaked as he pushed it open.

"Good job lad, I'm really impressed." Connor grinned at him, leaning against a wall.

Matthew scowled at him as he stood up, honestly wanting to jab the paperclip into the Irishman's eye.

Connor pushed himself off the wall, gesturing for Matthew to follow him.

Matthew squinted when he was faced with the brightness of the bar. They had shoved him into the supply closet by the customer bathroom. The bastards.

The rest of the brothers were sitting around the bar. Arthur gave Matthew a reassuring smile, his legs nearly crossed and his hands folded in his lap. Ian was sipping, once again, from a glass of scotch, but he did give Matthew a small smile. William was reading from a ledger on his lap, and Patrick sat next to him looking a bit bored.

Connor took Ian's drink from him, ignoring his protests and he downed it. "Ya really impressed all of us. I think we can trust you to do a few more things than waiting tables."

Matthew was surprised by the weight that listed off his chest as Connor's words. He was still pissed and feeling a little sick from passing out, but at least he wasn't going to be thrown back out onto the street.

"Well thanks…" Matthew chewed his lip.

Connor set his empty glass down on the bar with a sharp tap, turning again to look at Matthew.

"But the day is still young, and there is plenty ta do. So you'll be helping Ian organize some inventory."

Matthew struggled not to sigh. He was already tired and a little nauseous, but he had dealt with worse.

"Okay, sounds good."

Connor nodded, disappearing into the pool room.

The rest of them took that as their signal to disperse. Patrick stretched, wandering toward the kitchen tailed by William with his ledger under his arm. Arthur made a beeline for Matthew, his eyes bright.

"I can't believe how well you did!"

Matthew had never seen Arthur so happy, or seen much of a smile from him at all.

"W-well thanks…it's not the first time I've had to pick a lock." Matthew smiled when Arthur chuckled.

Ian pushed himself up. "Alright, ye can stop gushing, we have work t' do."

Arthur threw an annoyed look over his shoulder at his brother, but he nodded after a moment. "I have some calls to make."

Ian shooed the Englishman away before he turned and headed for the door that lead to the kitchen and the stairs. "C'mon then Matthew."

A sigh escaped from Matthew's lips as he followed behind Ian, tiredness eking form him.

Ian led him through the door and past the kitchen and the stairs that lead to the apartment above into the big back room that Matthew hadn't explored.

"This front section is just extra storage for the bar." Ian yawned. "But we tend t' throw things back here and it could use some organizing."

Matthew nodded. The room did look a bit like a tornado had blown through this room.

Ian stretched his arms over his head. "Well, pick somewhere to start. Connor just wanted me t' keep an eye on ye."

Matthew sighed, not looking forward to this even more now that he saw the state that the room was in. He picked a random box and knelt down in front of it.

"Am I supposed to go through them, or just stack them?"

Ian had found a seat on a stack of cartons. "Jus' tell me what's in it and I'll tell ye where to put it."

Matthew nodded again. "Okay." He pulled open the box in front of him. It was full of cleaning rags.

"Ye can put cleaning stuff against this wall." Ian pointed.

Matthew lifted the box after reclosing it, setting it against the mostly empty wall.

This continued for what felt like days to Matthew, but was probably only a few hours. No matter how long it had been Matthew hurt all over. Even with the Valium in his system, thank God, he felt like a train had hit him. Also, the pain behind his eye was quickly blossoming into a nasty headache.

And then there was Ian. The redhead hadn't moved from his comfortable-looking spot on the egg-crates, lording over Matthew and tossing out directions on where to put things.

Matthew wanted to stab him. He actually debated it when he found a box of knives. It seemed Ian was going out of his way to piss Matthew off. Several times he had changed how he wanted things organized and made the little blond move everything around.

Now Matthew had found a particularly heavy box, straining as he tried to lift it.

Ian hopped off the crates, taking the box with an annoyed-sounding tsk.

"It's nae even that heavy." He heaved it onto the shelf. "If yer nae gonna be useful Connor'll throw ye out."

Matthew shrank away from him, a prickle of hurt melding with his exhaustion. "Sorry…"

Ian gave him a sharp look. "Ye need us to take care of yer sorry ass, so ye'd better work hard."

Matthew felt the trickle of hurt in his chest thicken and he glared at Ian.

Ian picked up another heavy box that Matthew had been avoiding.

"Yer lucky we're keepin' ye, cannae even afford to eat, nowhere else to stay." Ian put the box in the pile and stalked toward Matthew. "All ye want is Valium. Cannae even handle yerself, need to crawl to drugs."

Matthew felt the anger and embarrassment burn away his exhaustion and leave him shaking. It hurt because it was so true…

Ian had crowded him against a stack of boxes, his whiskey-tinged breath hot on Matthew's cheek. The redhead smelled like whiskey and soap and lemon furniture polish.

Matthew was struggling not to cower, his heart fluttering in his chest like a caged bird.

Ian wasn't more than a few inches taller, but right now he towered over Matthew, his eyes like chips of ice.

"Ye cannae even defend yerself."

Matthew reached out blindly behind himself, a zing of relief flooding through him when his fingers closed on the cold handle of one of the knives he had found earlier.

Ian took a step away, his gaze scathing.

Matthew didn't hesitate as Ian turned away, his wounded pride wanting to lash out. He snapped his arm up, wanting to send the knife though Ian's back.

Instead he found himself gasping for air with Ian's hand around his throat, and the other around the wrist holding the knife.

"Finally." Ian sighed, taking the knife from Matthew's slackening grip. "I'm surprised ye dinnae try anything earlier. I've been trying to get a rise out of ye for hours." Ian released his grip on the little blond's throat.

Matthew crumpled through the floor, panting for breath.

Ian knelt down by him. "Sorry, Connor told me to push ye until ye snapped."

Matthew finally caught his breath, slowly sitting up and rubbing his wrist.

Ian sighed. "We're done. Ye can go get some rest or whatever ye want." The redhead stood, his boots clomping loudly as he headed back out into the bar.

Matthew sat on the floor for a while longer, his ears ringing and his chest aching from struggling for breath. He hadn't thought about how dangerous these people were.

He was really in over his head.