A/N: Once again, I am terribly sorry about the unforgivably long wait. Things haven't exactly been great at home recently . . . Anyway, on with the fic! I spent extra time editing it this time around and I used a new method, so it should be much better in terms of grammar and spelling now.

The door was thrown open so violently it smashed into the wall and left a goodly sized dent. Matt was amazed the doorknob didn't snap off.

"That is it!" Professor Chambers cried in fury, flinging herself down into a squishy red armchair and snatching a bottle of whiskey off the side table, "I've had it up to here with those people!"

"I take it the Nexus were a pain in the backside, as per usual?" Richard questioned dryly, an eyebrow arched.

The professor took a swig from the glass decanter before she answered him. "Yes. They didn't even acknowledge that they almost got these two killed," she jerked her head in Matt and Scott's direction as she said this, the former seated on the sofa in between Pedro and Jamie, the latter perched on the arm next to his brother.

"What did they have to say about the girl?" Pedro asked in his low formal voice.

The woman shrugged, her anger draining away to be met by unhappy resignation, "That they're going to monitor her for a little while to make sure it's her and then pick her up when they're certain."

"Why wait? If the Nightrise Corporation was able to track down Scott and I, it's pretty likely that they've got the right girl." Jamie exclaimed in a mixture of shock and anger.

Scott nodded in agreement with his twin, arms folded tight across his chest, "Yeah, and every minute they waste watching her, the more opportunities they give the Old Ones to take her out from under our noses."

"I said all that but the damn fools won't listen to us!" The professor took another shot of whiskey.

Scott snorted. "For a group dedicated to help us, they're not all that helpful, are they?"

Richard nodded wearily, "True; that rather defeats their purpose, doesn't it?"

Simultaneously, though without prompt, six pairs of eyes moved to gaze at the contents of the black box Matt and Scott stole littered on the surface of the coffee table. Photographs, school reports, minor mentions of scholastic athletic achievements in newspapers, they all spoke of the same girl: Scarlett Adams.

The last of the five.

Though outwardly he appeared calm, internally Matt cursed. Finally, after all this effort, all this worry, they had found her, she was within reach and they still couldn't touch her. Matt was all for the tactical advantages of being cautious, but now was not the time to employ them, now was the time to be decisive. The war was beginning and they had to be ready, they had to be united, not divided.

Though they were divided in more ways than one . . .

Matt's eyes darted round to look at Scott, who, like the others, had his attention fixed on the photographs of Scarlett. Then, as if sensing his gaze, he glanced over at Matt and for a brief second their eyes met, blue staring into brown. Then Scott looked away.

'I have to talk to him . . .' Matt thought decisively.

XXXXX

"Scott, hold up a second."

The Native American boy closed his eyes in defeat as Matt's voice called out to him. He paused in the hallway between their conjoined rooms, waving Jamie on when his brother hesitated. When they were alone, Scott turned to face the English boy, keeping his face a neutral mask of calm.

"What's up?" He asked nonchalantly.

Matt gave him a sharp look that clearly said he was not fooled. "Scott, we have to talk about what happened in the warehouse."

Trying not to gulp, Scott shrugged. "Nothing to talk about. We went in, we got caught, you saved us and we got out. What more is there?"

As he turned to head to his door, he felt Matt's hand drop onto his shoulder, not quite restraining him, but it's insistent grip stopped him from moving any further. Matt's voice was low and soft, "You know what I'm talking about. What that guy said to you – about what happened in Silent Creek . . ."

Scott spun violently, throwing Matt's hand off. He wasn't angry, as Matt had expected, instead, he looked almost scared. "We don't need to talk about it. It's in the past. Let it go, okay? It's not important."

"It's hurting you, Scott. That makes it important." Matt replied gently, but persistently.

"No." Scott said firmly, almost defiantly, as he looked Matt in the eye. "It's in the past, Matt. It can't be changed, so there's no point dwelling on it."

"It's important to me, because it's hurting you, Scott."

"Yes, it's hurting me!" Scott suddenly burst out, though he wasn't quite shouting. "Of course it's hurting me! It haunts me! It was the worst thing that ever happened to me in my life – so far anyway – and believe me; I've had a lot of crappy things happen to me in my life. So what? What can I possibly do about it?"

"Talk to me," Matt whispered. He reached out and brushed Scott's fingers softly. With that brief contact, all the fight seemed to melt away from the other boy as he sagged slightly. "Just talk to me, Scott. Let me help you."

"You can't." He murmured, eyes downcast. "You can't, Matt. I can't. I don't want to drag you down."

"Drag me down?" Matt frowned, not understanding.

Scott looked up again, his eyes full of pain and sorrow. "I don't want to make you dirty too."

"Make me – what are you talking about? Tell me, Scott. Tell me."

Scott said nothing. He just stood still and stared into Matt's eyes, his own dull and his eyelashes a little damp as if he were fighting back tears. But he wouldn't cry. Scott never cried. His sad eyes came nearer as he stepped towards Matt, closing the space between them in a matter of seconds. Emotions Matt couldn't even being to name or describe began to well up within him as Scott's thick black hair fell forward and lightly tickled his cheek.

"Matt . . ." he whispered, bringing his lips closer and closer.

Matt's eyes slid closed as he stopped fighting.

"Boys!"

The teenagers froze, a mere centimetre seperating their open mouths. Richard called again from the main room, "I'm getting food now; who wants what?"

Matt wasn't a particularly violent person, especially not to someone like Richard, who he loved like family, but at this specific moment, he felt like could easily cause him minor harm. Disappointment rose in Matt's gut as Scott sighed and pulled away; he turned around and entered his room as quickly as possible, not once looking back.

Matt remained where he was for a moment to regain control of himself before turning and heading back to the main room. He resolved to give Scott his space – for now.

XXXXX

Scott stared up at the moon from the dark shadows of the alleyway besides the hotel. It was cold outside and his breath made little puffs of misty fog in the air as he exhaled, but he didn't want to go back in, not yet. Memories were washing over him, from Silent Creek and all the other painful times before.

And then there was Matt. He wanted to be close to him and far away at the same time. He supposed Matt must be feeling pretty confused after the incident a few days ago, before Jamie, Pedro and the professor came to London, and then again in the hallway . . .

But Scott wasn't confused. He knew how he felt; he knew what he felt.

"Hello Scott."

He just had time to jump away from the wall in shock and spin around to face them before they got him.

A/N: Just so you know, I said that Pedro speaks formally because he seems to in the books, at least more than the other boys, as well as the fact that people who learn English as a second language tend to do this as they typically don't yet have the hang of the colloquialism and such like that makes language informal, yes?