Malcolm Holmes always looked and sounded like a James Bond villain to Matthew. The steely gaze, the grey hair, and Malcolm's strange accent just made the guy naturally unlikable. Not to mention; emotionally neglecting his only fucking kid really didn't earn him any favors as far as Matthew was concerned.

As a result, seeing the man holding a basket full of baby toys, clothes, and diapers was just too weird. He looked like a doting grandpa, though he sure as hell wasn't doting at all when Lucas was a child.

"You brought baby stuff for Rosalyn," Lucas stated the obvious in a monotone voice.

Malcolm gave a rare smile; "That's not all I did. I also spoke to a friend of mine who owns a children's ballet studio. I pulled a few strings and got Rosalyn enrolled in ballet classes as soon as she can walk and talk." Malcolm paused as he reminisced before continuing. "You remember when your ballet lessons unfortunately stopped when you bit your ballet instructor in the leg, causing her to get five stitches?"

"Yeah, I was like five and freaking hated ballet," Lucas huffed back before adding sarcastically, "Thanks for letting Emily or I know before signing Rosalyn up for that shit, by the way."

"Mind your attitude, Lucas Malcolm Holmes," Malcolm scolded, "As I said, it was a gift. Also, I would like for Rosalyn to learn her mother-tongue. It would be unacceptable if you denied her the opportunity to learn Russian."

"Yeah whatever," Lucas dismissed, "I'm not even worried about that yet. She's still in diapers, for crying out loud!"

Matthew could see Lucas' face turn more and more sour the more he was forced to deal with his dad.

"So, where is the wonderful little bundle of joy?" Malcolm asked, choosing to change the subject.

"She's being fed by her mother," Lucas quickly answered.

"Well? What are you waiting for?" Malcolm firmly demanded, "Send them in, Malchik."

Sighing, Lucas walked over to the intercom and pressed the button to Emily's temporary room.

"Emily," he began tersely, "there's someone here to see you and Rosalyn: my father."

There was a pause followed by a bit of static from her end of the line and a bit of murmuring from her. Rosalyn could be heard fussing in the background as well.

"Is this thing on?" she mumbled to no one in particular.

"Yeah, you're on," Lucas confirmed, impatiently, "We're in the main hallway. If you get lost, just flag down one of my staff."

Emily's voice came on the intercom again, a bit more clearly and confidently than before; "I'll be right there."

There was a bit of awkward silence before Malcolm finally spoke; "To be honest, I'm still a bit surprised you sired an heir. Frankly, I never expected with your condition that you would live long enough to do so. A bit short-sighted on my part. My apologies."

Matthew looked at Malcolm a bit weirdly. Was Malcolm admitting he was at fault for something when it came to Lucas? What brought this about? Was Malcolm dying or something?

"Yeah, whatever," Lucas dismissed, "Type 1 Diabetes isn't a fucking death sentence, old man."

"I do realize that now," Malcolm went on, clicking his tongue dismissively, "I failed to raise you to be an upstanding citizen due to my unfounded beliefs, but it's never too late for you to do right by both Emily and Rosalyn." He gave his son a stern look. "You need to get a job to support your family now, Lucas. With my name, you could get yourself a cushy job within the business world. You can't rely on your trust fund forever, you know."

"I'll think about it," Lucas replied nastily.

Malcolm frowned; "You always say that, but you never do." That doting façade shifted as he scowled at Lucas and raised his voice a bit, "When are you going to grow up, Lucas?! You have a child to feed now, for God's sake. And Emily as well."

"He's probably gonna have another one by next year too," Matthew spoke up smugly. Payback for his 'friend' implicitly calling him a pedophile only minutes ago, "From what I hear, they're already working on Rosalyn Number Two."

It was worth it to see the looks on Malcolm's and Lucas' faces. Lucas looked like he wanted to dissect Matthew and pull out his innards right there, and Malcolm looked like he regretted coming to the mansion today. Obviously, a win-win.

After a moment of silence, Emily finally entered the room, with Rosalyn in her arms. Malcolm turned a shade paler at seeing her, almost as if he had seen a ghost.

"Moira?" he uttered; the name of Lucas' dead mother.

"E-Excuse me?" Emily stared at him in confusion, "I think you have me confused with someone else. I'm Emily LeBlanc."

"Oh-Oh, yes. Of course, Miss LeBlanc," Malcolm cleared his throat and rubbed at his old tired eyes as if they were the cause of his earlier confusion, "I've…heard your name before. Are you related to a Mary Leblanc?"

"Yes, she's my mother," Emily confirmed with a nod.

Matthew wondered how the hell Malcolm would know who Emily's mother was. A question then succinctly answered:

"Ah, yes. I thought I recognized that name," Malcolm replied, "She makes the best pie in the county. I was a judge at one of the pie competitions she'd won."

"That's her," Emily confirmed, smiling a little.

"Did you inherit your mother's skills in the kitchen?" Malcolm asked, curiously.

"Yeah, I can cook all kinds of different meals and desserts," Emily replied affirmatively, "At the restaurant I worked at, I was both a waitress and a backup chef."

"I hope you realize that Rosalyn and her father are both Type 1 Diabetics and cannot eat sweets," Malcolm informed her cooly.

"Yeah," Emily nodded confidently, "There are cookbooks with recipes for Diabetic-friendly sweets that I've been looking at. I could probably master them in no time at all."

"See that you do," Malcolm then turned his judging eyes to Rosalyn and smiled down at her before looking back back at Emily. "I'd like to hold my granddaughter if you don't mind?"

One of the staff stepped forward; "I can take that basket off your hands, Mr. Holmes, and set it into the guest room."

With a nod, he handed over the basket and waved them away. They then walked into the direction of Emily's temporary room. Emily shyly gave Rosalyn to Malcolm, who looked over his grandchild before giving her a warm, grandfatherly smile.

"She sure does have Lucas' and Moira's features…" he murmured, then speaking up to explain to Emily, "Moira was my first wife and Lucas' mother. The only feature Rosalyn didn't inherit from my son are those bright blue eyes. Those, I see she inherited from you."

Oh yeah, seeing Malcolm act like a grandfather was just too weird for Matthew.

ABABAABABABA

Later on that night after all of the visiting parties had gone home, Matthew put Lucas on night-duty for Seth. Lucas didn't really mind, assuming that, while Seth slept, he could get some shut-eye as well. It's not like Seth was going to wake up anytime soon, after all.

Lucas headed to his bathroom, past the kitchen where Matthew was eating him out of house and home. He made a silent note to himself to buy more food when Matthew and Seth were able to leave.

Once he reached his master bathroom, he took his nightly insulin. He then filled his empty syringe with the substance from the unlabeled bottle in his medicine cabinet that he'd been using lately to help him sleep at night.

Rohypnol. It all started when he was thinking of ways to debilitate that bastard Ted to kidnap him and get him to a secure location. The easiest way, as far as he was concerned, would be to inject him with the date rape drug. Earlier, he went to his dealer, who sold him weed on occasion, and requested it. His dealer had side-eyed him like he was some kind of pervert, but gave him the stuff anyway in exchange for money.

Then, after a well-intentioned decision, he started to like the drug. He just wanted to know if his dealer had sold him pure, authentic Rohypnol. So, he tested it on himself and got the best, nightmare-less sleep he'd had in ages.

The nightmares…Lucas grimaced when he thought about them. Sometimes they were of that one unfortunate day when he and his friends met Ted. Sometimes it was in the worst position that Lucas could ever fathom; being underneath Matthew as he was being raped.

He didn't dare tell anyone of his dreams, not even his friends. No — especially not his friends. Who knows how Seth would react, but, he did know that Matthew would mercilessly taunt him for being such a wuss.

He made a pit stop to his extensive library to grab some reading material before heading back to Seth's room. The tattooed man was already asleep, looking more comfortable than he might've guessed given his episode earlier that day. Despite that, he wondered if he and Seth had more things in common than just being Matthew's pawns and their self-destructive habits.

He sat at the desk in the room with his iPod and headphones to drown out the world around him as he read from the Torture Tactics book laid out in front of him. He needed a stroke of inspiration on how to punish Ted for what he did nearly two decades ago.

Suddenly, though, his focus became blurred as the euphoria hit him — a side effect of the Rohypnol. He was listening to Kids in the Kitchen's 'Bitter Desire' as the tension from the day began to melt away. He almost felt like dancing to this forgotten relic of the greatest decade in existence, but his body was too languid to move.

He was uncertain as to when his body hit the floor. The music still played out as he was slowly losing consciousness. The inky black darkness clouded his vision as he stared at the floor.

ABABABABABA

"I don't believe this." Matthew sneered.

He awoke at 12 pm and was going to relieve Lucas of his watchdog duties when he found the son of a bitch laying on the floor, and Seth on what was likely his sixth cup of coffee that day.

"Drunk as a fucking skunk," he continued, "He had one job. One simple fucking job and this is what he does. I can't get good help these days."

"He's been like that all morning," Seth explained, sipping on the hot beverage, "I doubt he's drunk — doesn't smell like he is, at least. He might be on Valium or some other sleep aid that's too strong for his system."

"I didn't see any when I went through his medicine cabinet," Matthew replied, "But that doesn't mean jack shit." He sighed. "Let me know when he wakes up, will ya?"

"Will do," Seth shrugged.

After Matthew left, another half-hour passed before Lucas finally awoke. He was extremely disoriented and looked like he didn't even know where the hell he was.

"Where am I?" Lucas asked, confirming what Seth already knew as he pulled the headphones out of his ears.

"You're in your panic room," Seth told him calmly, "Maybe next time, you should cut whatever sleeping pill you took in half."

"Yeah, yeah," Lucas responded sluggishly.

He got up from his position on the floor and sat at the desk.

"Well," Seth continued, "whenever you're focused enough, I wanna talk to you about my plans regarding Ted."

That seemed to sober Lucas up a bit and he turned to his friend with wide eyes.

"Spill," he commanded wearily, "Maybe hearing your idea will spark one of my own." Lucas then looked at the abandoned book, still laid open on the desk, though severely askew from his fall. "I think that's what I was trying to do before I passed out last night."

"That's what I assumed too," Seth replied, a little confused, "You don't remember?"

"No." Lucas stated.

"Kay, well," Seth began, "I was thinking about what would be the worst, most painful places to get a tattoo. The head is one of them. Some of my customers have compared it to getting drilled in the head by Jeffery Dahmer — even under expert hands."

"Let me get this straight," Lucas grumbled, "You're going torture him by giving him a tattoo?" He shook his head, trying to figure out what Seth had planned and failing. "Way to downplay your greatest talent! And if that fucker went to the cops, wouldn't it be pinned on one of the only tattoo artists in Peach Creek and Lemon Brook?"

"Yeah," Seth admitted, "But here's the thing; I'm planning on tattooing 'pedo' on the bastard's forehead. It'll be great. Not only will it be painful as fuck for him, but it'll prevent more kids like we were from ending up in that sicko's clutches. What kid is gonna see that and not be put off by it? And what cop is gonna see that and not find him suspicious right up front?" As Lucas absorbed that information, Seth allowed his pride to show with a wicked grin for thinking of this tactic. He then added; "Best part? It'll be a stick-and-poke tattoo with a sewing needle or something. I'll even do it with my non-dominant hand to make it look like an amateur did it so it'll be harder to trace back to me."

"That isn't a bad idea, actually," Lucas commented, stroking his chin. Then an idea hit him. "Needles? Fucking needles! Whatever needles you don't use for the tattoo, I could pierce under his fingernails. Ah, Seth! I could fucking kiss you for that idea! But, unlike Mattie, I ain't that type of guy."

"I would imagine that would be pretty painful," Seth agreed, "Speaking of Matthew, by the way, you might wanna hide out in one of your rooms for a while. He's royally pissed at you, bro."

"Shit, what am I going to do?" Lucas fretted, pulling at his own hair.

Seth, however, remained calm while Lucas was having his freak-out.

"Calm down, dude," he stated, "There's a way you can get on his good side. If you review that footage from your security tapes and tell him what you found, it might get you off the hook."

"Fuck, I forgot about that," Lucas gasped, suddenly upset at himself for neglecting his work on the machine. A likely side-effect from injecting Rohypnol into his leg lately. He started mumbling under his breath. "The nightmares . . . Shit! The nightmares have been too much lately…They're pretty much running my life. Then there's everything else going on with Emily and Rosalyn, and my dick of a father that's been at the forefront of my mind…"

"I understand how that is," Seth sympathized, hoping to calm his hysteria, "You've got a baby to take care of and other responsibilities going on. That's a lot to deal with on top of this." He walked over and leaned against the desk beside him. "You want to talk about the nightmares?"

"You'll just laugh at me," Lucas grumbled back.

"I'm not Matthew," Seth retorted, rolling his eyes before urging more gently, "Try me."

Lucas sighed; "I still have nightmares about what happened at Ted's house. Where he forced his disgusting tongue into my throat and groped on me all while he screamed at me to stop wailing so much and forced Matthew to do the same thing to me. Other times when I dream…I dream about Matthew raping me. And…I dunno what it means."

For a moment Seth was silent, only able to manage a weary "Well then," with a sigh. He didn't know what he could say that could help Lucas in any way. He's been having similar nightmares, himself and there wasn't much he'd found that would alleviate them. However that didn't mean he wasn't going to try. Not after everything Lucas had done for him so far.

"First of all," he began carefully, "I've been having nightmares of what happened at Ted's house too, so you're not alone there. Also, I think that the reason you've been having that dream and…the awkward one about Matthew violating you is because you're still traumatized about what happened. It doesn't mean anything other than that."

"So, I'm not going insane?" Lucas asked meekly.

"No more than anyone else who's been sexually abused," Seth shrugged.

"Thanks," Lucas gave a small smile before another idea hit him, "Hey, since you helped me out, I'll help you out." He then got up from the desk to entered the key code to the door to open it. "You're cured. You can go home today. Call up your wife and have her come get you."

"Really?" Seth stared at his friend in disbelief, "No kidding?"

"Yeah, don't worry too much," Lucas assured him, "I'm sure you'll be fine."

"Alright," Seth grinned, "I'll call Nancy, then."

ABABABABABA

Matthew was having a notably shit day. First, he woke up to Lucas' ankle-biter screaming her head off from down the long hallway. Then, he found Lucas passed out on the floor in the panic room. Now, Seth's in the kitchen for whatever goddamn reason — not locked up anymore — and pouring himself yet another cup of coffee in a novelty mug. Lucas was officially on his fucking shitlist.

In a rage, he looked everywhere for Lucas and eventually found him in the surveillance room.

"You better have a good reason why you fell asleep when you were supposed to be watching Seth," he began with a growl, "and you better have a damn good reason why Seth's out of the panic room right now."

"I…felt he was cured enough to go home," Lucas replied with a meek shrug before shooting him a sly grin, "But I think you're gonna be more interested in what I found on my security cameras, and the ideas Seth and I came up with involving Ted."

Matthew's eyes narrowed, his curiosity piqued.

"First tell me about these ideas," he commanded saccharinely, his voice dripping with venom, "I'd be glad to hear them."

Beside the multiple screens displaying different angles and areas from the cameras watching the house, he took notice of the strange, unlabeled bottle next to a syringe. It was the same one he found in Lucas' bathroom yesterday. However, he couldn't focus on it long as Lucas told him the ideas he and Seth had discussed about how to torture Ted before they put him on the rack. While these were certainly creative ideas, it didn't answer his initial questions.

"Also," Lucas continued, "in order to incapacitate Ted, we might need to roofie him so we can get him into the vehicle."

"Is that what that shit is?" Matthew asked, nodding to the unlabeled substance.

"Well, yeah," Lucas shrugged, "I wanted to show you that I'd already purchased it."

"And how do you know you've got the right shit?" Matthew asked, suspiciously.

Lucas began fidgeting, "Trust me; I got it."

"Yeah, but how do you know?" Matthew pressed, unwilling to let that question slide.

Lucas sighed and defeatedly rolled up his pant leg, revealing fresh track marks all along his flesh.

"Because…I've been testing it on myself," he explained, adding hastily, "It helps me sleep at night."

Matthew was livid. He did not want to deal with fucking junkies again. It's bad enough he had to deal with Seth's smack addiction years ago. Though, if there was one thing that had to be said about the situation; Rohypnol addiction was relatively unique. Usually people use it to intoxicate victims to sexually assault them. This is the first time he'd heard of someone using it to intoxicate themselves.

"Alright fine," Matthew grumbled, gritting his teeth as he chose to let it go for now and restraining himself from punching Lucas in response, "So what did you find on the security cameras?"

"Oh, well…" Lucas looked a little too smug as he turned back to his controls, "If you look at the footage, your little lover boy broke into my basement after we went in and was there for two hours after we left. Long enough to dismantle the machine. He must've been hiding somewhere." Pleased with himself, he showed Matthew the footage to prove that he wasn't full of shit. "As you can see, your little boy toy has been naughty. I trust you'll take care of that?"

Matthew had heard enough. In his rage, he pushed Lucas into the desk and prepared to strike. He threw a left hook towards Lucas, but he dodged it.

"You motherfucker!" Matthew shouted.

Weaseling out of Matthew's grip, Lucas grabbed the syringe and the bottle of Rohypnol and darted to the other side of the small room.

"Don't kill the messenger, man!" he begged, "It's not my fault your little girlfriend is a sabotaging slut!"

"And just what are you gonna do with that?" Matthew snarled knowingly as Lucas filled up the syringe.

"I-I'm not going down without a fight!" Lucas replied determinedly, "I told you what you wanted to know. Why don't you go take your aggression out on your boyfriend already?"

Matthew lunged at Lucas in an instant. Lucas held the syringe out in front of him as a shield — Motherfucker was going to inject him with it! Matthew grabbed Lucas' hand holding the needle, crushing it and injecting the syringe into Lucas instead.

After that, he pushed Lucas onto the floor and sent a barrage of kicks into his torso, even after he'd passed out from either the blows or the Rohypnol. He continued until Seth finally pulled him off his unconscious friend.

"What the hell, man?!" Seth exclaimed, "What's gotten into you?"

"He tried to slip me a mickey!" Matthew shouted, wrenching away and turning around to face Seth.

"What?" Seth asked, dumbfounded.

Matthew explained the whole situation to Seth, not leaving out any detail.

"Damn," Seth sighed, kneeling down beside Lucas, "You really don't take bad news well…You're lucky his staff went out for lunch and that Emily went to her mom's house with Rosalyn or the county cops woulda been called here for sure."

"I don't care," Matthew replied as Seth checked Lucas' pulse, "Take care of that, will ya? I got business to attend to."

"He's still breathing," Seth announced, relieved, before asking, "What do you want done with Lucas?"

Matthew groaned; "Put him in his own bed and put a blanket over him."

He stomped away before Seth could say anything else, intent on taking the next bus back to Peach Creek. Then he'll teach his princess not to touch his things.