Phil was hunkered down in one of two very comfortable chairs of the cozy sunlit sitting area of the bedroom upstairs where they had brought Zia. He was reading a book that had caught his eye as he was leaving the library. He had brought it with him, sensing that he might have some waiting to do.

Zia was on her back, still in her dirty work clothes on the right side of the nearby bed. His new colleagues had locked both her wrists and ankles into full shackles. Phil had noted that the cuffs all had cushioned pads, they were designed to restrain, with as much comfort as possible. The thin but strong chains connecting everything were also long enough that her arms were down at her sides. The one between her ankles would allow her to walk slowly but there was no way she could make another run for it. One final chain dropped over the foot of the bed and was locked to the floor. They weren't taking any chances. They had placed her on top of the bedding, but a light throw was covering her. A heart rate monitor was on her index finger and beeped quietly along with her vitals.

Phil had pulled the bedding aside next to her and had laid down for a while, needing a rest himself. Before he drifted off, he had positioned on his side with the pillow tucked under his head, watching her. Her profile gave a pleasant image. He decided it was really something he could enjoy waking up to.

He had taken what basically amounted to a cat nap and was now reading. He had just turned the page of the book when the heart rate monitor started beating frantically and Zia shot up awake, sitting up in the bed. She thrashed against the restraints. Phil popped up out of the chair, dumping the book to the floor in his haste. He was at her side in a second but held back from touching her, sensing it would make her panic worse. "Easy! You're safe. You're ok. Breathe. Just breathe," he soothed, keeping his voice level.

"Glasses!?" she croaked out.

Phil glanced around, and quickly lifted them from the nightstand. "There here. How 'bout you give me at least three slow, deep breaths and then you can have them."

"How about you give me my glasses and I'll think about it," she countered.

Phil figured, depending on her eyesight, she might be more relaxed if she could see, so he conceded. He handed then to her, making sure that he kept out of reach. He had already gotten enough info to know that she had been a Marine and had managed to crack one of the men's ribcage with one kick. She wasn't some damsel in distress. He respected that.

She greedily placed them on her face and then looked up at his. "You're," she paused, "him," her voice trailed to just above a whisper.

Phil moved to his side of the bed and sat on the corner.

"Don't touch me!" she all but shouted.

"Relax, wasn't going to. Again, you're safe."

She glanced down and lifted her hands as she spoke, the chains following. "Um, this doesn't feel very safe, and if you tell me this is for my own protection so help me…"

He cut her off. "No, its for ours. But, you are safe. We just can't let you go anywhere at the moment either."

She noticed the rumpled sheets on his side of the bed. "Did you…did anyone…DO anything to me, you know when I was out?"

"No," he answered quickly.

She gave him a look that said she wasn't sure she could believe him.

"Scout's honor," he swore, giving a three-finger salute.

Still skeptical, she asked "So, what the hell is going on? What exactly did I walk in on and what's so important to warrant abducting me?"

"To the first part, not entirely sure myself, its my first day here and sorry you had to see that. To the second part, I've been told you came on around the same time Owen and Claire did. So that's, what? Like seven years ago?"

"Closer to eight," she admitted.

"Wait, how do you know Owen and Claire?" she asked with surprise.

"Let's just say we go back."

"Uh-uh, not good enough. You got to give me more than that."

Phil knew the room was being monitored and that he was probably being given the opportunity to converse with her. Ken had told him to talk to her, get to know her, and keep her calm. He figured speaking honestly was they way to go. Ken had told him to he'd figure it out. So, Phil started talking.

"Well, my brother has been one of Ken's guys for even longer than you've been here."

"Which one is your brother?"

"You probably know him as Seal."

Zia certainly didn't know all the militant men that her boss kept around, but a few of them had stuck out to her, and Seal was one of them. The guy was hard to miss. The man in front of her was a little smaller, softer in appearance, but the family resemblance was definitely apparent.

"It was Seal who caught me wasn't it?"

"That's what I heard."

"I was hoping that my motivation, at least, was going to be stronger than the guys chasing me."

"I think not disappointing Commander Wheatley is also pretty strong motivation." He paused. "Seal was impressed, by the way. But I don't think you stood too much of a chance, and that's not meant as an insult."

"Yeah," she begrudgingly agreed. "So, Owen and Claire?" she prompted.

"Well, I guess you could say I'm the one that handed them over to Wheatley."

Zia looked shocked. "You why?" She had always convinced herself that Owen and Claire had found out about the Wheatley's willingly, as a great job opportunity, and had helped bring her and Barry on board for the same opportunities. Sure, there had been more than one red flag over the past few years, but the perks outweighed her concerns. Back then, she had also just graduated Colorado State with her paleo vet degree, and the only place needing paleo vets had gone under courtesy of one genetically manufactured evil dinosaur. Slim pickings was an understatement. Considering her current predicament, she was starting to regret not paying more attention to those pesky flags.

"So, let's back up a minute," Phil suggested as if reading her mind. "In all the time you've been here, didn't you get some kind of sense of what Ken does with all these former military guys? How he makes his money? Why he's got a dinosaur in the first place? You're a doctor. You've got to be smart."

"Ok, yeah, I knew things weren't totally on the up and up around here. I chose to ignore it. I got to doctor the most amazing dinosaur that's ever been created. I got to work with Owen Grady, who's basically the father of dinosaur behavior. And I mostly got left alone to do my own thing. Not to mention my paycheck was more than enough to make a dent in my student debt and not be homeless. So yeah, I overlooked a lot. Sue me." She paused. "Actually, don't. My student debt is still atrocious. Do you have any idea how much vet school costs? And don't forget you have to go to college first. And I actually got some financial help from my time in the Marines. I have classmates that pay student loan amounts monthly that are more than mortgages on most people's homes."

"So, put the pieces together and I think you'll realize that the Commander wasn't going to just let you waltz out of here."

"If I'm putting pieces together, I think you're probably going to tell me that Owen and Claire didn't exactly get here on their own free will either, did they?" she inquired.

"Nope," he confirmed. "Elaborate set up orchestrated by Ken and allowed to happen by my dad the Air Force Colonel. I was the middleman. Ken and my old man go way back."

"What does Ken knowing your father have to do with anything?" she questioned.

"Well, he's an Air Force Colonel. Air Force was tasked with bringing Owen and Claire back to the island under the guise of InGen and Masrani Global initial assessment and clean up. Dad sent me in with two other guys that didn't know anything. I dumped Owen and Claire in Ken's lap. Owen helped Ken and his team get Blue, and well, you know the rest."

"Well, I thought I did, and that's crazy by the way."

"This still doesn't explain Ken allowing his apparent slut of a wife to have some bondage fetish thing with you; and considering I'm the one tied up now and you're walking around Scot free I'm wondering if you're just as nuts." She paused. "Is everyone around here just as insane?" Zia at this point was fast hitting babble mode. "Wait a minute, what's your name anyway?"

"Phil."

"Phil?"

"Yeah."

"Phil, got a last name?" she patronized.

"O'Neill."

"Phil O'Neill. Sounds like a regular guy. Not a crazy pervert."

"Regular guy," he confirmed. "And I think that Wheatley and the missis are just used to doing whatever the hell they want. They don't have to answer to social convention, and they like to have a little fun. It wasn't that bad."

"It wasn't that bad? Did you see yourself? Oh, wait you couldn't, 'cause you were strapped down to a desk having your new boss's wife get you off while he what? Hung out? Do you have Stockholm syndrome or something? Maybe you are crazy."

"I don't think it's the norm or anything. My brother's been here since his early twenties. He's happily married. No sexual perversion."

"Yeah, that you know of," she countered.

"I know him pretty well. And Ken and Miranda sure seem pretty happily married too. You know maybe you shouldn't be knocking it. What gets you off? Most people have a little kink."

"Oh no, I am not discussing that with you. I do not know you well enough."

"Yet," he countered. Then realization hit, "Oh, so there is a kink?"

Zia opened her mouth, rapidly closed it, and then blurted out, "I did not say that!"

"Ok, sweetheart, whatever helps you sleep at night. So, Zia with no kink. You got a last name?"

"Rodriguez."