It was decided to go somewhere well beyond the reach of the cartel, so they actually stopped in Hawaii for a few days to enjoy another couple days of sun and sand without being bothered. Nathan was very much a sun-worshipper and insisted he was going to go diving to check out the tropical sea life. Harry smiled at his boyish enthusiasm, Nathan going out of his way to purchase a water-proof camera for his adventure. There was a time Flynn would have been at his side, equally amped and rearing to go. But the beautifully hot weather did not fare well with Harry's recent preference for covering clothing, long sleeves and jeans. Not to mention he felt awfully exposed to the countless crowds of tourists crawling the beaches and no doubt diving alongside Drake, strangers with curious stares that rendered him painfully aware of their glances. So they rented a small motel room alongside one of the lesser-known beaches, one that actually boasted two double beds. It was still one bed less than they needed, but Flynn supposed he would share with Nathan any day over Sullivan.

While Sullivan normally would have occupied himself with his own activities, the need to supervise Flynn vetoed any plans. Flynn own desire for seclusion also rendered him incapable of being persuaded out into the sun. So to both men's distaste, they had to spend time in the motel room in each other's mutual company. Sprawled out on the left bed closest to the bathroom near the rear of the room, Flynn was watching a program about aquatic life in the local area but not actually interested. He was just pretending he was anywhere else but there, stuck in a room with Sullivan without Drake as a buffer. It was going to be tough. Flicking his bare foot idly, Harry lazily yawned as he stretched. He was not eager to fill the silence.

Drake had not been gone for more than ten minutes before Sullivan settled on the opposite bed, sitting at the side and facing Harry directly. "Alright, we need to talk," Victor murmured around the fresh cigar he pressed between his lips, no doubt needing to occupy himself with routine.

No we don't. I have nothing to say to you. Get out of my bloody face. Flynn could tell by Sullivan's tone that this topic was a serious matter, one he very rarely heard unless dealing with dark territory. He kept his gaze trained on the television screen, not really absorbing it at all. But he would be damned if he was going to look Sully in the eye for this. "Victor, pipe down, yeah? I'm not in the talking mood." Harry's voice was oddly flat, weary on the fact everyone was stepping on eggshells around him.

A metallic flick of a zippo lighter and within seconds, the pervasive scent of burning tobacco made Flynn scowl. "Only strangers and my mom calls me Victor," the older man continued, glancing about for an ashtray but settling for a clean coffee mug set aside for visitors instead. "Friends call me Sully. You can, too."

"We're not friends," Flynn snapped immediately, his temper fairly raw and ready to flare up at a given notice. "We never were, but you fucked up that chance when you forced that medication on me. Next thing I know, I was in a bloody coma and was next to useless for a day."

"It saved your life," Sullivan reasoned, his voice softer than usual. Flynn hated the tone, aware Nate and Sully knew his dirty little secret and were treating him differently. Like a victim. Like a broken thing needing to be mended. "But I have a feeling you didn't want that. Nate told me you left a note before you took off. A serious one."

Normally, Flynn would have been coy enough with a joke to dance around the subject, a deft dodge of painful emotions. But his temper was already stoked, fuming about the decision to leave a note at all. "Yeah. Had every intention of carrying it out. Made my peace and ready to go. Your boy saw an end to that." It was hard to keep the bitterness from bleeding into his voice.

Sullivan was slowly shaking his head, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees with a sigh. "Flynn, did you even have a plan?"

Plan? What's there to plan? "Victor, I thought the point of suicide is that there is no planning. That's it. It will be over, I'll be done."

"Don't be a smartass," the older man growled, two fingers pinching the cigar while his free hand swept over his face. "Nate briefly mentioned a gun. So, you shoot yourself, you're dead. What then? That poor kid was going to find you sooner or later, we're just lucky it was sooner. He finds you like that, he would be goddamn devastated. You have no idea how hard that kid fought for your life, how many sleepless nights he's spent by your side. We had to physically pry him away at times. If you do that to him, you will end up breaking him. I might have been born, but I wasn't born yesterday. I know the way he looks at you. You'd be a moron if you didn't see it too. You say you have no family, no kin. You have some now with Nate and myself. Given, you can be a dick, but I'm hoping you'll warm up to me or it will be an awkward road from here."

Flynn could not help but laugh, an incredulous, disbelieving chuckle. He given up the charade of watching the program on the television, flicking it off but finding himself unable to still look at the man. "So that's it, then? I got us involved with a madman that nearly murdered all of us, I sent Nathan to prison for three months, I shot and I nearly killed him, I nearly had all of you executed more than once, and you just… let me join the merry pack?"

"You never had a choice," Sully insisted again, his voice back to that soft tone that was driving Flynn up the fuckin' wall. "You were essentially a captive. A prisoner of war. You were acting out of survival and anyone would have probably done the same. I've been in the navy, I know war crimes and what some men do to others, but you never had a choice."

Flynn, still holding the remote, whipped it across the room as hard as his right arm could muster in its atrophied state. The plastic case virtually exploded on contact with the solid tile wall, sending batteries, the green chipboard components and shards of the case across one side of the room and scattering it under the bed. Sullivan never flinched, much to Flynn's rage, lunging up out of the bed to stand in front of him, fists clenched and glaring down at the seated figure with perhaps intent to strike. "Stop saying that like you fuckin' KNOW! NO ONE FUCKIN' KNOWS WHAT THAT'S LIKE!" Harry's voice raised to a volume his strained voice was not prepared for, a bellow that hurt his throat. Angry tears were clouding his vision, obscuring Sullivan's face, but he did not even appear slightly perturbed. More or less like it was an expected reaction. It was more than he could handle, wishing nothing more for seclusion. Flynn turned on his heel and literally leapt over the bed, vaulting over it and sliding into the bathroom before the door slammed behind him. He locked it hastily but found the mechanism hopelessly broken and beyond repair, scrubbing at his damp eyes and not daring to glance up to the mirror.

Flynn sat down on the wall of the tub, fighting the sobs building in his throat. He was trying not to picture how pathetic he looked, forlornly pawing at his streaming eyes like a bawling child, having retreated from a conversation due to his anger. To hell with this. I'm not coming out. I'm going to get in the bath, soak and wait for Nathan. Think I'd rather get hit by a bus than deal with that again. Stubbornly, Flynn ignored how childish that sounded even to his own mind, already pouring the water. At least this time I won't get disturbed. As far as I know, they don't owe anyone in Hawaii. Harry sighed, already feeling his tears dry out, still swiping at his eyes for any traces of moisture. He tried not to think about how often he was bathing, up to three times a day if he could sneak a shower. If Drake noticed, he never commented and Flynn hoped Sullivan would not throw in his two cents on the topic. The pouring of the water into the tub, hot and steaming enough to burn at first getting in, blocked out any words Sullivan might have had for him through the door.

A glance at his watch told Harry Flynn that his time in the tub had limited to three hours, as Nathan had returned and was cheery enough to be heard through the bathroom door. Flynn perhaps had been dozing, knees drawn to his chest and chin resting on them, jerking awake and aware his water grown chilly in the tub. It seemed Sullivan purposely lured Nathan outside to talk because Flynn heard the voices cease and a door click shut. Already, he could feel his cooled temper beginning to simmer. Great. Need to let him know about my outburst then. He'll be in here soon enough.

Exactly as predicted, within less than five minutes at the most, Nathan's light-fingered knock was at the bathroom door, Flynn growling under his breath. "Hey, buddy, mind if I come in?"

Yes I do mind, you arse. Let me soak in peace. Stop babysitting me. Flynn could feel a heavy scowl creasing his features, sighing heavily as he allowed his face to relax and form a neutral mask. "It's unlocked." Harry cringed faintly at the sound of his voice, a rusty and rough tone hoarse from yelling.

The door cracked open, Nathan poking his head into the room hesitantly until he noticed Flynn seated in the tub. The younger man's face was still lightly flecked with beach sand, the indentation of diving-goggles imprinted on his forehead. That did not alter the concern in his eyes, slipping into the bathroom and closing the door behind him. "Hey. You're back in the bath," Nathan murmured, his voice soft and surprisingly calm. "You were in one before we left Cancun."

Flynn tried to ignore the implications of what his urge to bathe often and plenty meant, but having just went entire stints without the chance for the hunt for Shambhala, he preferred more baths. "You dragged me out of it because of the cartel, mate," Flynn grumbled, unmoving from his curled position. His skin still ached from the hours of scrubbing, rosy and raw in some spots. Even though his hands and feet were pruned and numb, he had no intentions on budging yet. "How was the swim?"

He could tell Drake was still excited about his adventure, previously just brimming with manic energy, but the talk with Sullivan must have ruined his mood. The younger man only shrugged with forced passivity. "It was alright, I guess," Nathan stated plainly. "Got pictures when you are up for it. I think you would have enjoyed it more. Maybe next time you can come. Get you out of the room."

"I'd rather not, Nate," Flynn quickly interjected, already agitated at the idea of taking off his shirt in front of an entire diving class of strangers. "Too busy out there. I'm fine without a babysitter, too. Victor can take off and prowl a beach or bar, I don't need him breathing down the back of my neck."

"Yeah, he mentioned that," Nathan sighed gently, rubbing at his forehead. "We need to pay for that remote, by the way…"

"Then fuckin' charge it to my bill," Flynn snapped. "God knows I'll have enough of one by the time I get out of this 'partnership'." He was not sure why he said that. Perhaps he was used to people abandoning him. He kept seeing the image of a huge expense bill with his name on it, a charge for the various services they provided him before they inevitably bailed.

The hurt was tangible in Nathan's eyes, sitting down on the wall on the tub as he had before in Cancun. "You really think we would do that to you?" Drake asked quietly, his brow furrowed. "Flynn, come on. I said I wasn't going to just leave you. What makes you think I'd lie like that?"

"We're all liars, mate. We're thieves. It's in our job description."

Drake teased his bottom lip with his teeth, exhaling with another sigh. "Buddy, we wouldn't do that to you. Not after all this. It's just a remote, no big deal. Hey. You been through hell, we know that. You don't have to explain."

Frustration was bubbling up despite his futile attempts to batter it down. Flynn unplugged the tub and let the water drain, but did not move. He just could not stand sitting in cold dirty water anymore. "Stop saying that like you two both fuckin' know," he growled, the only tone he can manage without the hitching in his breath bleeding through. "Neither of you fuckin' know. You saw the evidence, alright, big fuckin' deal. You saw the aftermath and the wreck I am now. That doesn't mean a damn thing, mate. You two both pretend like you know what happened, but you don't have a fuckin' clue what any of it was like. The one I promised myself to, the woman I was going to spend my life with, left me to deal with it all on my fuckin' own. She left me alone with that bastard… All on my own. I couldn't tell anyone, he would have killed me, Nate. The whole fuckin' camp knew and yet he said if I uttered a single word about it, he would have slit my throat in front of Chloe. The whole damn camp. They could hear me screaming. One even fuckin' saw it, he just walked in as it was happening. How could she not have known? How is any of that even fair?"

Nathan had slowly gotten up off the tub wall long enough to grab a clean towel, sitting back down at Flynn's back directly behind him in the drained bath. Tenderly and stern persistence, Drake wrapped the older man in the fluffed towel, large enough to drape partially over his head like a hood. "It's not fair, Flynn. None of it was." Encircling his arms around the shape in the towel, Flynn felt Nathan's face press into his shoulder through the cloth. "You're right, buddy. We don't know what happened, we don't know what that's really like. Chloe isn't… good with this sort of thing. It was very hard on her to see you nearly die. I'm not saying what she did was right or okay, I get why you're pissed off at her. But you're not at fault here. Okay? If the whole camp knew and no one said a thing to her, then he must have threatened them too. There was no way she could have known, everyone was terrified of that asshole. But you're not at fault. You're not ruined, Harry. You're not dirty, he's dead and .gone, there's no traces of him left on you but the scars. You don't have to keep scrubbing yourself like this… Or stealing away for another shower or bath. You're clean, buddy. A lot cleaner than most people."

Flynn wanted to retreat under the towel, hot tears already running down his cheeks again as he huddled his face into the folds. Fuck, Nathan, why are you always doing this to me? You're not my shrink. I don't even want a shrink. "How did you know?"

The younger man pressed into his back began to rock him gently, a slow and soothing rhythm. "Okay, so I might have needed to ask. Sully explained it when I mentioned the fact you're always holed up in here. I.. never had to deal with that so the thought never crossed my mind. I'm sorry, buddy. I really am. But there is nothing wrong with you. All this is perfectly normal for someone that been through what you did. You're safe with us, okay? I got you. Sully's got your back too. You just have to let us in, alright? You're not going to get hurt, Flynn. We're not going to hurt you, we're not going to let anyone else hurt you. You're always tense, pal. I just want you to be yourself again… I know that sounds dumb. Probably immature. But I just wish you can smile again and really mean it. I just want you to be happy, buddy. It's killing me seeing you like this."

Soft sobs were hitching his breath freely now, Flynn could not stop them even as he physically tried to swallow them down. Being separated from Drake, however short of span of time, weighed heavily on him. How am I ever going to function without him? How pathetic is that? How do I get through life looking over my shoulder like this, afraid of getting jumped? Flynn did not have any answers, but he supposed they were not important at the moment. He might learn the answers eventually, but Flynn decided he would stick around to find out. He owed Nathan that much. Sullivan, I'd never have expected you of all people to talk me down from a ledge.

The trio boarded Sullivan's plane the next day and left Hawaii, an unspoken drive to flee hot climates and less crowded populations. Flynn never asked why, he supposed he did not really care. The cost in fuel must be brutal, but it must have been a burden because Nathan mentioned it would be a while before they took off anywhere else, unless they were on the run again. He was told it was an unlikely scenario, but to still be kept in mind with their history. Flynn was back to clamming himself up, he could not bear to find words most the time. And Drake had honed in on it like a bloodhound.

Sitting back on the damned couch in the plane, Flynn was curled up with legs folded, a blanket draped over his bony shoulders. There was a bit of turbulence at the beginning, the seatbelt still tight around his hips, but Nathan had already taken his off and stretched lazily before glancing to his friend at his side. "Hey, you can take that off now," the younger man joked, a dare of a grin on his lips. "Never would have pegged you for a scared flyer."

"Oh, eat a bag of dicks, mate," Flynn snapped back, but not without a bit of a smirk himself. "Alright, so a bit of one, yeah. Not afraid of heights if I can climb down. Little out of my control in a tin tube hurtling through the air above clouds, yeah?"

"Alright, you got me there," Nathan laughed, giving his companion a light pat on the shoulder. "We got enough parachutes, if that's what you're worried about. But I doubt that's going to happen twice in five years."

Flynn's playful grin ceased abruptly, eyes narrowing as his lip raised in a partial snarl. Leave it to Drake to talk about plane crashes when I confide in him about my fuckin fear of flying. "What?"

Drake's expressive green-blue eyes widened in response, about to backtrack his statement. "Wait, it's not like it sounds, okay? That was on the hunt to El Dorado. Sully's plane, the old one, wasn't in the best of shape. Plus all the gunmen waiting for us…"

Another bump of turbulence rocked the cabin, Flynn's heart leaping up in his throat, both arms flying out to grip the armrest and Drake's knee in a death-clutch, knuckles whitening. It was a small one, but the topic on hand already had him dreading the worst. He forced his eyes closed, struggling to keep his breathing slow and even, not to a rapid, panicked hyperventilation. Jesus. Keep it together, asshole. Don't freak out. You're looking a lot like Cutter that one time he got wasted and got stuck in a bin on a dare. It was funny watching, yeah, but Charlie was shitting himself. Bet I look pretty close too. Flynn swallowed, forcing his eyes back open, to the greyish murky haze outside the window. What, are we flying into a fuckin storm? Lovely.

"Hey buddy," Nathan's voice called through the momentary delirium, the tone still playful and Harry forced himself to look at his friend. The younger man was almost reclining, relaxing and very much at home. Those big puppy eyes still held concern, though. "You okay? Don't worry, we got our most capable pilot—"

"So who was flying when it crashed?" Flynn interrupted, hardly comforted and not even slightly amused.

Nathan averted his gaze guiltily, sheepish and ashamed. "That was me. I mean, it was a technical failure, but I hardly know emergency drills and what to do when something like that happens. Sully was… not with us, just Elena and me. He took a bullet to the chest, but it was stopped by Sir Francis Drake's journal. I thought he died, had no time to look. Long story."

Long stories are better than memories, Natey-boy. Or awkward conversations about what you got in your journal. "Dunno if you noticed, mate, but we got time. Tell me." If it means you'll stop asking me questions and let me be quiet to myself for a while.

Drake grinned with that boyish enthusiasm Flynn found endearing, already setting up for a long-winded saga of the fabled El Dorado, telling it with the same gusto as he would fictional ghost stories around a campfire. Flynn allowed a weak smile to play across his features, but just a small one. Even if he ended up tuning Nathan out, it was a welcomed distraction from the flight.