A/N: Hello again everyone! I'm back with another new chapter! Before we get started, I wanted to thank everyone that read last chapter, and give a huge thank you/shout-out to winterschild11 and Side1ways for reviewing last chapter!

So you all have been wondering where Kendall is, and you finally get to find out in this chapter!

I hope you all enjoy!


Hot. So hot. Why was it so hot in the summer? And humid. Like drowning in the air.

His mother's yellow walls made it seem even hotter. He could've been standing on the sun. Kendall lingered in the kitchen, sitting on the floor in front of the refrigerator. Shouldn't it be bigger? He shifted occasionally, turning his head to rest the other cheek on the cool fridge door. It was temporary relief from the oven the rest of the house had become. I hate it here. I wish Mom had taken us for ice cream like she promised.

His father was going to be home soon. His stomach dropped toward his feet. Dad had been having a lot of problems lately. Small things were setting him off. Like when Kendall was in the way. And Kendall was always in the way.

The stove was getting too warm. He scooted over toward the fridge.

"Good idea, honey." His Mom dropped onto the ground beside him. Her hands were bright red from the hard powder she'd used to scour the front hallway. "This is nice, isn't it?"

"I guess." His mother was smaller than she should have been. "It's too hot."

"You keep complaining about the heat like it'll change. Sometimes I think you'd be happier living in an igloo."

"It's easier to warm up than to cool down." He sighed. "My throat hurts."

"I know, honey. I know."

His mother ruffled his hair. It felt different. His hair was shorter than usual. Most of the time, her wedding ring caught in the tangled mess. Not now.

Of course not now.

Ignoring the heat, he rested his head on her shoulder. It was damp with sweat and splattered blood, and the prominent bone dug into his cheek. As he looked out over the kitchen floor, he saw the blood pooling from where his mother had fallen. He hadn't been there. He'd been hiding, like she'd told him, sending him away when his father had finally put two and two together and made four. They'd eventually found him hidden in the small space between the washer and dryer and marched him past the kitchen door where he'd gotten a last glimpse of his parents before being taken away.

He sighed. His mother's scent was off. Her perfume was supposed to smell like daisies. This had to be a dream. "I miss you, Mom."

She kissed his head. "I miss you too, sweetie."

He woke with a start, taking in a choking breath. The heavy air, overheated with humidity, made it even harder to breathe through the pain in his throat. His neck throbbed and, as he fought back to full consciousness, he remembered what had knocked him out.

Someone had bound his hands behind him. They'd also dropped him haphazardly onto the warm concrete floor. At least he was still alive. Kendall twisted his wrists and gagged on the leftover pain from the all too brief fight that wrecked his shoulder. His wrists hardly moved. Fucking peachy. This certainly puts a dent in my chances of escape.

As subtly as possible, he took in the rest of the room. It was tiny. Barely the size of a prison cell. A high wooden table took up most of the opposite wall, a single gas lamp dimly illuminating the room. Pictures covered the surface behind it, hundreds of photos of women. There were so many that they overlapped in a glossy montage. The closer they came to an adjacent wall, the edges curled up. It had to be where the heat was coming from. A few of the snapshots had fallen to the floor, the shiny film finish blistering in the high temperature emanating from the stone.

Something was off...something…

No doors. No windows.

I've been walled in alive.

His heart squeezed in panic. He swung his head from side to side, trying to locate anything resembing an exit. Nothing. A scream welled in his throat, choking his next breath and trapping it, burning, in his chest. He struggled violently against his bonds, trying to pull himself free. The movements strained his shoulder, sending bolts of pain crashing through his left side. The shock calmed him for a moment.

Easy, Knight. Look around. There was no sign of brick or recently laid concrete. How had Patterson gotten him in? Because it had to be Patterson. It had to be. Think.

He stilled. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. Order your thoughts. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. The room didn't have any doors. Patterson had appeared in the basement out of nowhere, and the hospital staff saw him in two places at once. Patterson could move himself around. It was all pointing to him being a teleporter. So somehow he'd slipped the muting cuffs, or the doctor had taken them off, and he'd escaped.

Okay, now he had some idea of what was going on. So how could he get out of here?

There was a sudden flutter of cool air and Patterson appeared out of the air before him with the sound like a breath blown between gritted teeth. He gripped a folded chair tightly in his hands. When Kendall had last seen him in the hospital, he'd been in fairly decent shape. Now, with stringy hair and dirty clothes, he didn't look so good. Plus, he reeked.

"Awake? Yes, awake." Patterson snapped the chair out and set it to the ground. With awkward movements, he hauled Kendall up, his hold jerking Kendall's injured shoulder and he shouted in pain. "Quiet." Patterson muttered as he sat Kendall in the chair.

"Patterson, listen to me-"

"No. No, you get to listen to me." Patterson knelt down, bringing them on eye level. "All this time and you look for me. Why? Why are you looking? Blake… you locked up Blake. Not me."

His breath stank like gutted roadkill. Kendall dipped back toward unconsciousness, the overwhelming stench and high temperature almost enough to knock him out again. Frustrated when Kendall didn't answer, Patterson cuffed the side of his head and stepped away. He was less than two feet from the heated stone wall, and sweat was already gathering at the man's neck and armpits. He stripped off his dingy undershirt and tossed it to the side, where it stuck to the wall for a second before falling to the floor.

Oh, that's nasty. There was something wrong. Kendall stared at Patterson's bare torso, trying to figure out what it was. Kendall was weaving in his chair-his body swaying back and forth as it tried to decide if unconsciousness was a valid option-and Patterson forced him back, stretching the long scar running up his left side.

One scar indicative of childhood trauma running along the right-hand side of his torso… What the hell?

"Hey." Patterson smacked his head again. "Stay awake."

"Sorry, I'm having a few problems with that."

"Stay awake or I'll make you."

"If you're offering, I could really use a coffee right now-"

Patterson choked off the last two words by shoving a thumb into the soft spot just under Kendall's chin. Kendall managed a strangled "Ow."

"Blake wouldn't talk. Why are you looking? Why?"

Kendall blinked, the heavy press of Patterson's hand choking the remainder of his air and cutting off his ability to speak.

Almost as if he hadn't realized what he'd been doing, Patterson pulled away. "Stupid, stupid Blaine. Have to be careful."

"Blaine?" Stay sharp, Kendall. "Are you Blake's mirror self?"

"Mirror-self. He's called me that since we were kids. He's useless. But me, me… I knew things. I knew things he didn't. I knew how to hide. How to find things out. And they hated it when I learned things. Except the doctor. She liked me. She liked me just fine."

"Dr. Dalhousie?"

"She thought I was perfect. She even said so. You're perfect for this, Blaine." His face twisted in anger, and he punched Kendall's thigh, like a petulant child trying to make his point. Kendall doubled over in pain. "I was perfect! And then she called me 56. But not Blake. Blake was already broken. 'You're not what I need. You're not perfect.' She called him 57, and when it didn't work on me, she was going to try on him. But it was me. I was her special success. But not really. Not strong enough. She said, 'You're not strong enough.'" He hit Kendall again, two quick strikes sending bolts of electric agony running up his leg. "But that's when they found us. That was when they stopped her."

Ooooooookay, the new popular theory for this is evil twin. Eviler twin. Isn't shit like this only supposed to happen in soap operas and B-movies?

"I've been looking. Looking for others. Others like 38. She was the key. She was the one. The doctor told me she was the one. I've tried the others. The same thing. Over and over. The way the doctor did it. 'You need to be in pain,' she said. 'They don't work if you're not in pain.' But they're not like 38. None of them. I'm still looking and… why am I telling you this?"

He lashed out, knocking Kendall backward and sending him crashing to the floor in a jumble of limbs and flimsy metal. The searing pain in Kendall's shoulder reawakened and his lip split, pouring blood down his chin, cool against his fevered skin. Patterson-Blaine Patterson?-lifted him off the ground. Kendall's toes dangled a bare inch off the floor and he screamed when Patterson crushed his arm. He tossed Kendall aside like a rag doll. Kendall slid across the floor, slamming into the far wall.

Blistering heat shot through him like a bullet. It was worse than going barefoot on a hot sidewalk. Kendall forced himself to roll away. More than a couple of seconds and there'd be permanent damage. A half-formed plan to escape sprang to mind. If he could only maneuver it properly…

He groaned when Patterson grabbed him again.

"Not interested. The Society… they're the ones who stopped the good doctor. They stopped her. They're the ones who wouldn't let me get stronger. And now, now you're after me. I knew you'd come after me. It's why I made Blake do it. It's why I told him Kate was no good. And he listened. He always listens. And Kate died and then I hid. I'm good at hiding because I knew you were looking. Always looking. And watching."

Kendall channeled his pain into his growing anger. He was sick of getting smacked around. "We weren't looking for you until you killed Agent Wainwright, asshole."

"No. No...I...I don't know that name."

Kendall's stomach clenched. "Kelly Wainwright. You killed her and cut out her eyes."

"No. I didn't. Never. She wasn't like 38. I didn't need her." Patterson turned him to face the wall of pictures. "See? Was she like that?" He moved Kendall closer to get a better look, shoving him up against the table.

That's all I need. Kendall kicked backward, his leg connecting with Patterson's knee. Patterson grunted and dropped him, and Kendall braced himself against the heavy table. Using it to launch himself at the man, he slammed his good shoulder into Patterson's stomach and sent him spiraling into the heated wall.

Patterson howled, wrenching screams of pain ripping out of his lungs as his bare chest connected with the heated stone. Kendall kept himself shoved up against the man. Do it. Do it. Do it. Teleport, you asshole.

There was a flicker before Kendall's eyes, and the world shifted. The heat disappeared and rapidly cooling sweat clung to his skin in its wake. Patterson swung around and shoved him away and Kendall crashed into a line of chairs. Hitting the floor dragged a pained gasp from his lungs. Patterson stood over him, glowering. The combination of sweat and the super-heated rock had left bubbling red blisters creeping up his chest. He whined in pain, even as his foot descended into Kendall's side. And again. And again. When his toe connected with Kendall's chin, sending his head snapping back, Kendall slammed into a heavy table leg behind him and the world shifted toward fuzzy grey.

"Hey!" The crisp voice broke through the strangely blurred quality to his surroundings. Patterson, still glowering, popped out of existence. Kendall let himself rest against the floor, taking carefully timed breaths to try to stay awake.

Concussion. Cracked ribs. Dislocated shoulder. Busted lip. First degree burns. But alive and kicking. That counted for something.

A face suddenly entered his field of vision. He was wearing some sort of familiar uniform. Blue. Like a nurse. Kendall squinted, trying to focus. After a split second, he recognized the institution's name on a nearby badge.

Explains why the doctors saw him in two different places. Wonder how long Blaine's been mooching hospital supplies.

He opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was an inarticulate gurgle that preceded his sudden trip into the wonderful world of blissful unconsciousness.


Done! So Kendall finally made it out, and he figured out a little more information about Blake/Blaine. But now it seems that maybe he wasn't the one responsible for Kelly's murder. Which leaves the question, if he didn't do it, who did?

I'd love to hear your thoughts on the chapter!

I've pretty much finished the next chapter, so that will be up on Saturday!

A little update for you guys: For those of you that are waiting on that Wattpad story, I'm planning on posting it at the start of next year! I'm waiting until then because I want to focus on posting on this site since Wattpad will start taking some of my time away from posting here. I also have a BTR Christmas story I'm working on! Right now it's looking like it'll be a one-shot, but who knows, it might turn into a full story! That will be up in December ;)

Until Saturday!

-Epically Obsessed