A/N: I better get two reviews, dudes.

Much love.

Disclaimer: James Patterson owns the characters and any recognizable canon info. Thanks JP, for this chaotic universe you gifted us.

M

The moments after this realization, this new puzzle piece discovered, are chaotic and hurried. We all follow the Gasman to his bedroom to look for the magnets, but they're exactly where he last left them—on the desk under the window amidst other random pieces and parts.

"I thought there were six," he says with confusion, counting again. There are only five.

"There were," Iggy says softly, rolling one in his hand. The heaviness and textured surface had always helped him keep himself centered. He used to snag one off the fridge and play with it throughout the day.

look around Gazzy's room for a fallen magnet. When we all come up empty, we decide to move on without it for now. The curiosity of that lower level is too strong against the idea of a missing key, and I figure that if the detectives are tearing the house apart anyway, we'll eventually find it.

Back in the basement, the tension builds as we search through the small pile of keys for the first door's match. Nudge grabs one after looking at the lock and sticks it into the indent with a soft magnetic click. The door releases open an inch, and she jumps back a little.

Alana steps up next to me and grabs her walkie. "Simmons, can you get down here please? We got one of the doors unlocked on four."

A radio-distorted voice responds immediately. "On it."

Alana gives me a nod and I reach forward, fingers shaking, pushing the door open. It's dark, so I feel the inside wall for a light switch. Before I find one, the movement of my arm triggers the auto lights. I blink and stop moving to take in the room before me.

A full bathroom.

"Are you kidding me?" Gazzy mutters. Nudge whispers to Iggy that it's a bathroom.

"With a shower, sink and toilet. Pretty white counters, a lot of bathroom things," Angel says to him, my mind reeling. I take in the toothbrush on the counter, next to a half-used bottle of toothpaste. Alcohol free mouthwash, nearly empty. An electric razor, a comb.

Jeb, scattered everywhere.

I put a hand against the doorjamb, my vision feeling blurry. "Did he—?" I can't even finish the sentence. I can't believe this is real. The completely different feel of this level in comparison to the hospital-like sterilization of the first three levels, the intricate locks...

"He lived down here."

Fang's low, level voice confirming what I was already wondering sends my body into survival mode. A million questions pop into my mind, and the room starts to feel like it's spinning fast. He lived down here. Probably while we lived here. Probably the whole time.

Alana steps close to me and meets my eyes insistently. "Would you like something to help you calm down?" She reaches for her walkie when I don't respond and asks someone to bring something. I wonder for a second why she would ask me that, and then I feel Fang's tight fingers on my bicep. I am breathing fast, in short pants, and only just now realized it. My eyes water and I reach up to grab Fang's arm or shirt and shoulder, whatever I can grasp.

"Breathe," Iggy advises, his fingers settling on my back. Fang pulls me close so he can wrap an arm around me. I can't get air into my lungs yet, so I continue to gasp like a fish.

Nudge and Gazzy and Angel have taken other keys and gotten into three new rooms, but I'm not ready to see that yet. I already know we will find another entire house that Jeb lived in, probably for years. He pretended to leave, then lived right below us, still studying and watching and researching us. We didn't have any idea that he was here the whole entire time.

It's all so fucked up. A guy comes downstairs with medication and other calming things and instead I slide down the wall. Iggy instructs me to lower my head between my knees, but I'm already getting into position.

I push push push the feelings away because there are so many of them and they are so strong. It's unfair. It's unbelievable. It absolutely makes no sense, but that's only just like the rest of our lives so far. Pushing is the only thing right now that is going to work for me, because it's the only thing I've ever used to cope. So, I block out the ones around me, trying to get through and talk to me or help, and I focus on pulling air deep into my lungs while I push all the feelings that are making me want to crawl out of my skin.

You're stronger than this, you are not just a pawn. You make your own decisions. You aren't imprisoned anymore. Jeb does not win.

Jeb does not win.

I start to let in more of what's going on around me as I repeat that in my head a few times. Fang is kneeling beside me, hand on my shoulder, brushing my hair by my chin lightly with his thumb. I can breathe without thinking about it now, so I straighten up and look at him. The kids have gone on to uncover more of the rooms, and I'm thankful that the only one left to stand gawking at me for falling apart is Alana. She smiles tightly at me, her eyes sorrowful.

"It's looking like you are right," she says softly. "There's a bedroom, kitchen, office, food storage and compost room. One last room on the right, and we don't have the key."

I don't know what to say. I can't really think about what she's telling me because otherwise I will lose my balance again. And I've only barely got it right now to begin with.

"The good news," she continues quietly, "is that this is it. You've seen it all. I think we can stop for today. There's still a lot of processing that needs to be done here before we can look into anything."

Fang looks at his watch a moment before looking right back at me. He nods. I know they're right. It feels ridiculous to take a break. It feels ridiculous to ever take a break again until this is over.

But the world is upside down, painted all new colors. I feel like I exist in a new reality, with new rules and consequences. And I can still just barely breathe.

So.

We decide to call it a day.

And as we fly back to our motel rooms, somber and silent, I try to think of any explanation that doesn't just turn our lives into some means to an end. The absolute awfulness of it all is numbing, and makes me wonder and second guess any moments we had that felt pure or safe or normal. Especially the ones with Jeb present. The more we learned about him the more my memory of him changes to vile and twisted.

It's about one in the afternoon, and I know everyone is hungry. I don't even offer to stop anywhere before reaching the motel because I don't know I can make it. I wonder if I'm truly the only one shook this hard by today's adventure underground. I feel ashamed that it stops me from checking on the others. But right this moment, all of my energy goes into holding my own shit together.

When we finally get to the motel, Iggy mentions something softly about ordering pizza. A chorus of responses chime in, just as quiet. Everyone is being tender right now, as if the world is fragile. I appreciate the effort, because I know my world is.

The kids very quickly find their own things to do, retreating almost immediately as Iggy and Nudge set off to find the ordering menu. Fang tugs me toward our room.

I walk through the doorway, wringing my own fingers, rolling my shoulders and trying not to think about it. He turns and closes the door with a soft click.

A shuddering sob breaks through my chest, bubbling up and coming out of my throat in a high whine. I clamp my fingers over my mouth, astounded by this break in my composure the moment we are enclosed in our room, away from the eyes that aren't allowed to see me this way.

Fang comes up to me and wraps his wiry arms around me, burying my nose in his shirt. His hand goes behind my head and his chin rests on top. Angry, hot tears push out, my mouth wide open, no sound coming out but ragged gasps. Grasping the back of his t-shirt and letting my tears roll off my cheeks onto his sweatshirt.

I cry, hard and ugly, trying to be quiet.

Because the feelings are back, and this time will not take a message.