I flinched awake, then stayed perfectly still while my eyes darted across the room, trying to discern what had awakened me. I saw white walls, a black coffee table with chrome legs, a black leather sofa beneath me. A frown creased my brow. What was this? This wasn't my room.

A soft cough sounded above my head and I realized it was the sound that had startled me awake. I craned my head backwards until my eyes flew wide upon spotting a bald head, its face covered by dark glasses. An eerie sense of déjà vu washed over me, compounding my disorientation.

"Dinner," the man said in a low rumble, raising a brown paper bag.

A few seconds passed by in a silent staring contest, until my sleep-addled brain caught up with the present and managed to separate reality and dream. These were my new accommodations. The face belonged to Reno's colleague.

"Oh," I said.

The face slid out of my field of vision as the man – Rude, I reminded myself – straightened up. I sat up slowly, keeping a wary eye on him as he placed the bag on the table. Seeing a properly worn suit was a novelty. Reeve kept his blazer off and the shirtsleeves rolled up in the workshop, while Reno looked like he had slept in his uniform for a week.

The scent of food was enough to make my mouth water. It occurred to me that I hadn't eaten since breakfast.

"Reno is busy, I suppose?" I asked as I opened the bag for a peek.

"Yes."

I waited for elaboration, but the large man stood still as a statue, reminding me of a bodyguard on the job.

"Right," I acknowledged after nearly a minute of awkward silence. "Okay then."

I spent a few more futile seconds groping around for something else to say, then decided it best to just focus on my dinner. For a while, the only sound in the room was the rustling of paper while I uncovered what to my great joy turned out to be a hamburger. I couldn't remember when I had last had one of those.

"Need anything?"

The unexpected question made me flinch in surprise. A pickle slice slipped out of the burger and landed in my lap. I snatched it up and glanced around in flustered embarrassment, then down at myself. The white shirt was stained with red and the pickle had left a small spot on my skirt. I didn't even dare to imagine the state of my hair. I cleared my throat, feeling my face grow hotter.

"Some clean clothes would be nice."

I wasn't sure what the bald Turk meant with the noncommittal grunt I received in response, but he exited the room and left me to enjoy my meal in merciful solitude. Stuffing my face with a burger in front of a pristine stranger would not have been conducive to retaining – or rather, salvaging – my dignity.

Once I had finished, my eyes began to droop shut again. The fear, pain, adrenaline and overall excitement had taken their toll. My unplanned nap hadn't been enough to alleviate the exhaustion that permeated every cell in my body. A search of my rooms revealed a small stack of white t-shirts which I deemed better than nothing, despite being a couple of sizes too big for me. After discarding my bloodied clothing in favor of one of them, I collapsed into bed and sank into a dreamless sleep.

The morning brought much appreciated serenity. After a shower about three times longer than necessary, I discovered a couple of the secretarial outfits Reno had acquired for me folded on the couch, along with coffee and a sandwich on the table beside it. Some of Bugenhagen's treatises were also waiting for me, allowing me to at long last resume my studies on planet Gaia.

A little after noon Rude showed up with lunch and once more with takeaway noodle soup in the evening. He uttered fewer than half a dozen words altogether, his expressionless face never changing. While he responded to my greetings with polite nods, I couldn't help but feel a bit intimidated every time the large unreadable man entered the room. I could still recall the creak of his leather gloves as I sat helpless in the interrogation room.

On my second day in Turk custody, I got out of bed and shambled around the screen dividing the sleeping area and the rest of the room, only to come to a halt in midstep when I discovered that I was not alone. My hands automatically found the hem of the oversized t-shirt and tugged it further down over my thighs, before I realized that the redhead on the couch was soundly asleep.

Reno was curled up on his side with his suit jacket rolled up under his head as a pillow. One boot was parked beside the sofa, while the other one had fallen on its side under the coffee table. His wristwatch and some coins were discarded on the table, but the goggles were still on his forehead, askew and tangled in his mussed-up tresses.

Perched on the table was a sheet of paper, folded in two and sporting the word "FITZ" in big capital letters. I tiptoed over to it and unfolded the paper to see a message inside. The next minute or two was spent squinting and frowning, until I was fairly certain I had deciphered the scrawl.

gonna borrow the couch
don't touch me, I get twitchy
PS: got u breakfast

I could only assume "breakfast" referred to the remaining slices of cold pizza inside the half-open cardboard box on the coffee table. I reread the brief message, then glanced at the sleeping redhead, wondering what "twitchy" could mean. Twitchy sleep? Twitchy limbs? Twitchy trigger finger?

My sense of self-preservation triumphed over curiosity. I placed the paper back onto the table, grabbed a change of clothes and headed to the shower.

He was still asleep when I returned. An amused smile tugged on my lips as I reached down to grab a slice from the box. Reno's appearance on the sofa may have been unexpected, but I couldn't say I was much surprised by his definition of breakfast. While I chewed on my first tentative mouthful, I considered the absence of discomfort. When had I stopped taking his unannounced visits as invasions of privacy? The man had snuck into my room in the middle of the night, yet all I felt was mild relief to know he was alive and well. It didn't strike me as a normal, sensible reaction.

Then again, "normal" and "sensible" weren't words I would use to characterize my recent behavior at all. My emotions were all over the place, as proven by the angry outbursts, culminating in the punch I had thrown. Eyeing the recovering fingers on my right hand, strapped together with white tape, I wondered if Reno was right in claiming it was a common reaction, considering the circumstances. Part of me found some comfort in that. A much larger part just wanted my levelheaded self back, to feel normal again. I couldn't trust my feelings, nor my body's reactions. Perhaps it was no wonder I found the disorderly redhead more reliable than my own instincts.

The sound of the door opening made me turn my head just in time to see Rude step inside and come to a sudden halt. He stared at Reno with a blank face, then looked at me with raised eyebrows.

I shrugged and took another bite of my pizza.

The bald man turned his face back toward his fellow Turk, then sighed with a slight shake of his head, handed me the cup of coffee he had brought and left. I munched on cold pizza, sipped hot coffee and contemplated the oddities of life while watching the red-haired Turk slumber.

I was down to the crust when Rude returned, this time carrying a steaming mug. He nodded at me, then came to a stop several paces from the couch.

"Reno."

He had not raised his voice much above conversational level, but Reno tensed and shot up, fist raised and wild-eyed. The moment his gaze fell on Rude, however, he groaned and slumped down again, limp as a noodle. The whole incident took no more than two seconds.

"For fuck's sake, it can't be morning already," he whined.

"It is," the other man replied.

I suddenly realized my pizza slice was in my mouth, forgotten halfway through a bite at Reno's "twitch". At the crunch as I bit into the crust, the redhead cracked open a drowsy eye and rolled it over in my direction.

"Mornin', Doc," he mumbled, lifting an arm in a half-hearted wave. "Apparently."

"Good morning."

"Oh fuck that, ain't nothin' good 'bout mornings."

While the grumbling man pushed himself up to a sitting position, the bald Turk took a step closer to dangle the mug within easy reach. Reno's face brightened instantly.

"Rude, my man! You're the best, yo."

He slurped down a large gulp, then yawned and wrangled the goggles into their usual position, pushing his messy hair out of his eyes in the process.

"Not gonna join us, buddy?" he asked when the other man headed for the door.

"Got work."

"Eh, your loss."

After another mouthful of coffee, Reno set the mug down and stretched like a sleepy cat.

"So, will finding a Turk on the couch in the morning be a regular occurrence while I'm here?" I asked.

"Shit, I hope not. Not that there's anythin' wrong with the company," he grinned, "but a couch just can't beat a bed. 'Sides, while I may look it, I don't sleep in my suit all the time. It ain't exactly comfy, yo."

He tugged on his white shirt until it was more or less correctly draped over his lanky torso, then leaned forward to grab a piece of pizza. I sat down beside him and did the same.

"So, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Eh, just fuckloads of overtime," he scoffed, then took a bite of the slice, chewing as he continued. "Jugglin' two jobs sucks pretty hard, 'specially with Superbitch breathin' down my neck."

"Has Scarlet been giving you a hard time?" I asked, frowning.

"Well, she ain't happy 'bout her new plaything missin', that's for sure. Pretty sure she's decided it's my fault."

The redhead didn't seem very concerned, but a nervous sensation jittered down my spine nonetheless.

"Does she suspect anything?"

"Nah, she just wants an excuse to yell at me some more, yo."

That didn't sound any better. I looked him over, noting the shadows under his eyes. His slouch seemed more pronounced than usual, too.

"Will you be all right?"

Reno arched an eyebrow and sent me a sideways glance, although I couldn't tell if the expression on his face indicated amusement or surprise. Perhaps it was both.

"Dontcha worry 'bout me, babe. She can't prove nothin'. Now enough 'bout Scarlet or I'm gonna lose my appetite. How are things in here? You holdin' up ok?"

"I'm fine," I replied with a shrug. "It gets a bit lonely, though. Rude keeps me fed, but he isn't much for conversation, is he?"

"I hear ya," he chuckled. "Tell you what, as soon as Scarlet fucks off somewhere, I'll take ya to Reeve's. Can't have ya go nuts in here, eh?"

As welcome as the suggestion was, I couldn't help but feel worried. Even if Scarlet was away, HQ security would be on the lookout for me.

"Is it safe?"

"I ain't in the habit of gettin' girls into trouble," he said, smirking.

"Come on, be serious," I chided, although with a crooked smile. "What if the guards recognize me?"

"Hey, if you prefer to stay here for some 'alone time' with ol' Reno, all you gotta do is ask."

I rolled my eyes. I should have known my request would only encourage him to do the exact opposite.

"You're just a fountain of innuendo this morning, aren't you?"

The smirk grew into a devious grin.

"Only 'cause you inspire me, babe. One look at ya and it just comes spurtin' out."

I nearly choked on my coffee.

"Oh god, that's just... Just no."

"Sorry," he laughed, not sounding sorry at all. "It's true, tho'. Laney doesn't get it half the time, Rude won't gimme anythin' to work with and Reeve just does that big ol' sigh of his. Ain't no fun to play with just yourself, y'know."

It was a struggle to keep a straight face, but I pulled it off. I even managed a level stare at the man.

"You're going to keep doing it now, aren't you?"

"Oh, I can go all day and night for you, baby."

"For the love of– Does this room have an alarm button? It needs an alarm button."

"Why, did I start a fire somewhere? Need me to hose it down?"

"Augh!" I hid my face in my hands, shaking with poorly contained laughter. "You're horrible! 'Need me to hose it–' Jeez, that's so bad!"

"So bad it's good, darlin'."

It was the over-the-top drawl that was the last straw. I completely cracked up, to the point that I didn't even notice the door open.

"Oh, hey Rude, whassup? Don't mind her, she just got her mind blown by my hose."

"Reno!"

"Explains the laughing," the burly man said as he handed a phone to his colleague.

I collapsed into another fit of giggles at the dirty look Reno shot him, but whatever the redhead saw on the screen of the device took priority over snappy comebacks.

"Well, shit," he sighed. "And I ain't even had a shower yet."

I sobered up quickly when the Turk shoved the phone into a pocket and leaned down to grab his boots.

"Trouble?" I asked.

"Nah, just the usual bullshit," he scoffed, getting up to give the mistreated jacket a quick shake before shrugging it on. "Gotta run, Fitz. See ya when I see ya."

The man grabbed his coffee mug and the last slice of pizza, then headed out to face the trials of the day.

Reno returned in the evening, carrying a couple of takeout boxes, but the briefcase in the other hand and the alert look in his eyes suggested this wasn't just a social call.

"What's up?" I asked, setting down my study material next to the boxes he dropped on the table.

The man straightened up and pushed his free hand into a trouser pocket. There wasn't anything alarming about the pensive look I received as such, but it put me on edge simply because I wasn't sure how to interpret it.

"Got good news and bad news. Good news is, seems this whole end-of-the-world thing is all Hojo can think about right now, so you got nothin' to worry 'bout from him."

The information did indeed provide a considerable measure of relief, but I didn't like the way Reno had phrased it.

"And the bad news?"

"You got a new fan. This dude Kerrigan from Dr. Freaky's team got in touch for a deal. Wants to get his hands on ya before Scarlet."

The name rang some faint bells, but the memories were too fuzzy to provide a face to go with it. Regardless, the fact that I recalled hearing the name had to mean this man had been present during my stay in the Science Department. The sudden discomfort made me shift in my seat on the couch.

"Why?"

A humorless smirk raised one corner of the redhead's mouth.

"He didn't bother to explain much to a dumb Turk who knows nothin' about science, but it's obvious the guy remembers you from the lab. Seems your sneaky appearin'-and-disappearin' tricks got his attention again. Wants to poke 'round your genes or somethin'."

"He's not going to find anything in my genes about that," I protested weakly, trying to reign in the apprehension.

Reno responded with an indifferent shrug.

"That's his problem, yo."

"So... What did you tell him?"

"Made the deal, 'course."

My heart skipped a beat.

"What?"

"Chill, Fitz. It was just so I could get him to gimme these."

It was the satisfaction that seeped into his smirk as he placed the brown leather briefcase on the table that told me what had happened, rather than the item itself. My fingers relaxed, undoing the deep gouges they had dug into the cushy sofa seat.

"You played him."

The smug smile widened, confirming my suspicion before the man uttered his reply.

"Never trust a Turk, babe."

"Now you tell me," I sighed with a nervous giggle, reaching for the briefcase to take a peek inside. "What's all this, then?"

"Buncha files from the Science Department. A bit of this and that, to make it tricky for him to guess what we're really after, but there oughta be somethin' on their Mako research in there."

I counted ten folders of varying thickness, presumably containing information on ten projects of varying levels of secrecy. Ten projects in return for one new one, namely me. I wondered if I should be flattered.

"Won't he expect you to uphold your part of the deal?"

"Gotta find ya first," the Turk pointed out with a wink. "Besides, it'd be a real bad idea for him to cause trouble now. I've got pretty solid proof the guy sells company secrets, after all."

A smile spread across my face as it occurred to me I was holding the evidence in my hands.

"Won't that get you in trouble, too?"

"Nah," he grinned. "If anyone asks, I was just doin' my job. All part of an internal investigation and the files never left the Turk offices. No harm, no foul."

"You're something else," I chuckled, shaking my head.

"That's what the ladies keep tellin' me," he said with a wry smile, which faded as he watched me pull out a handful of folders. "It ain't gonna be fun readin', but I guess you already know that."

I nodded as I looked over the labels attached to the pale blue folders, each with short lines of text printed in a neat font. The project name, followed by the subject's code. The researcher in charge, usually Hojo. Dates, occasionally the name of a place.

"You sure you're up for it?"

"Only one way to find out, right?" I answered with a tense excuse for a laugh.

I didn't look up, but I could sense his eyes on me while I set the folders down on the table and pulled out another stack for a brief inspection. Once the briefcase was empty, Reno reached inside his jacket and produced one more file, bent and folded.

"He also gave me this."

The code "TU-021" was written on the first line of the label. I recognized it immediately.

"My file," I whispered.

"Yeah. Would've been weird not to ask for it, y'know? If you don't wanna read it, I'll just get rid of it."

Just looking at the drab blue cover of the damned thing instilled an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. Part of me was tempted to burn it straight away, but that wasn't going to happen. The need to know what had been done to me was much stronger.

"No. Leave it."

"All right." He placed the file next to the pile that had formed on the coffee table, then looked me over with uncharacteristic concern furrowing his brow. "So, uh... D'ya want me 'round for this or should I just leave ya to it?"

"Stay. Please." I glanced up at him and attempted a weak smile. "I think I'm going to need your awful sense of humor."

He smiled, then grabbed one of the takeaway boxes and dropped himself down on the couch beside me.

"Admit it, babe. You really just want me here for the eye candy."

I snorted softly, shaking my head in fond amusement.

"Starting already, huh?"

"I like to give women what they want," he drawled, fishing out a piece of food with his fingers and popping it in his mouth. "I'm nice like that, yo."

"A bona fide gentleman," I mumbled to myself as I reached for the first folder.