"Come on in, Spike. Please."

The air of the room had shifted again. It was the feeling from the plane all over. Perhaps not as pronounced, yet still just as uneasy. Still, Spike straightened his shoulders and entered the room fully, being sure to keep his head held high. He had this, after all.

Right? Yes, sure he did. He could handle himself, regardless of the circumstance. This would be no exception.

"We were just discussing how to move forward," Davenport explained. The man was being so nonchalant about the whole situation. Had he been expecting Spike to be listening? Spike frowned, running over all he just heard. It had seemed like a natural conversation between three people, yet was there something more? Had that been what they wanted him to hear?

He kept himself a couple steps away from the counter, where everyone was waiting. He might need the space. It would give him time if things went south. His eyes quickly darted around the area. It was larger than he had thought while in the hallway. The kitchen where they all were currently was beside an open living room space. The large glass wall which spanned the entire back of the room would be the easiest to escape from, followed by the front door to the far left. Then possibly the staircase between them…

"As I was about to say," Davenport paused to look at each of the other room occupants in turn. "the cleanup crew informed me-"

Spike scowled. What was the man playing at? "You didn't answer my question."

"-that nothing is missing from the drone's cargo. Which makes me wonder-"

"Answer me!"

"In a minute."

Spike felt his jaw tighten as he clinched both fists. "Now."

To his surprise, Davenport merely stared with direct eye contact, his face stoic. "All considered, I don't think the cargo was the primary target."

Silence followed a moment before Bree spoke, a frown firmly set on her face. "That doesn't make sense, Mr. Davenport. Why crash a drone if you aren't going to take it's cargo?"

Exactly my question." Davenport's eyes never left Spike's. "We'll discuss this more tonight, once you all have cleaned up and gotten some rest. In the meantime, Bree, go on downstairs. Doctor Speight is waiting to look at that hand of yours. Adam, it won't take long, so why don't you head downstairs too and wait there."

No one moved for a moment. Davenport sighed, yet continued to keep eye contact with Spike.

"You heard me," he said. Bree looked a bit unsure yet moved forward first. There was no mistaking the look she gave him as she passed Spike. She didn't like him it seemed. He couldn't say the feeling wasn't mutual, at least based on how she had treated him thus far.

He let her go without a word, although he did glare at her as she did. Just for spite. Adam followed. If he held any animosity his was well hidden, his face revealing nothing. When they both were gone, Davenport finally moved, breaking the eye contact.

"You keep doing that." Spike surprised himself by being the one to speak first, yet at the same time, he couldn't help but make the comment.

"Sorry?"

"Sending them away. So we can talk." Spike crossed his arms. "You did it on the plane, too."

"I did, didn't I."

"Why?"

For a moment there came no answer. Davenport took in a deep breath, as if needing the moment to formulate exactly what he wanted to say. Finally, he spoke. "To be honest, Spike, it's to make things easier for everyone. There's been a few times with the three of you where things have been a bit… testy, to say the least."

"Like Adam's stupid boxing gloves at Christmas and me punching the idiotic grin off his face?"

Davenport's head tilted. "You remember that?"

The scene once again flashed in his mind. Spike found himself smiling, as much from the pride of what he had done as from his mind successfully putting it all together.

"Anything else?"

Spike frowned again, not wanting the conversation to veer any more than it needed from where he had wanted it to go. "You didn't answer my question."

"I called Tasha before coming upstairs," Davenport continued as if he hadn't heard. "Told her and Leo to go ahead and stay at her mother's for a little while longer. It'll cost me," he let out a small chuckle, "But I thought it would be easier for all of us to keep it to just us four, at least for now."

There was a reason for that, Spike's mind told him. He was the reason. Yet he found he didn't care, not about that. Right now his mind was focused on Davenport, and the audacity the man held currently. Why was he not answering the question? What was his game?

"The Commando App," he stated again. "What is it?"

"Care to take a seat?"

Spike shook his head.

To his surprise Davenport actually chuckled. "Suppose it's not the best tactical move, you're right. At any rate…"

"No!" Spike wasn't about to allow Davenport to continue this endless run around. He wanted answers, and was going to get them. "Stop with the small talk and tell me already!"

"How much of our conversation did you hear?"

"Are you even listening to me?"

"I hear you, yes." Davenport shoved his hands into his pocket and again straightened his shoulders. "There's no reason to be defensive here. You're safe."

What did that have to do with anything? Spike gritted his teeth. "Then tell me…"

"Before we discuss anything, I want to-"

"It doesn't matter what you-"

"It does, just as it matters what you want." Davenport stated firmly, moving a step closer. "What we both need now is open communication, and in order to do that, we need to establish what page we're on currently. How much did you hear?"

"Enough."

Davenport waited, yet Spike wasn't about to say more. "Alright then. The Commando App is a program designed to throw off enemies. In the face of an imminent threat, it kicks in and alleviates that danger. Once it's passed, the app shuts down. It's like a fight-or-fight instinct without the flight."

"And it's-" Spike paused, running over again what had been discussed. "-what, broken?"

To his surprise, Davenport hesitated as if looking him over before speaking. "Not broken, no. It seems it was initiated after the chips were disabled somehow, which means you all faced something out there of considerable danger. And with the cargo not being the target, it leaves me wondering if it was all a trap."

Spike frowned again. "For what?"

"I don't know. That's what we have to discuss with the rest of the team."

"Is that app what they had been after?"

"Who?"

Crap; he hadn't meant to ask that out loud. Spike's mind spun, trying to put together something. "The… people who crashed the drone."

"No."

"How do you know?"

"Because…" Davenport sighed. "I just know."

"How do you know," Spike gritted his teeth at the words. As he did, a small, pinpoint shot of pain pierced just beside his left eye. Spike pinched his nose in an effort to make it stop, which worked.

The man became silent again. "Spike, what happened out there?"

"I already told you-"

"You did." Davenport leaned over the counter, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a small device which he then placed onto the counter. With the press of a button a holographic map appeared. It showed a mountainous area full of trees and a river. "But tell me again."

Spike stared at the map a moment before shaking his head. "I already said-"

"- you woke up under a waterfall." Davenport pointed to a spot on the map. "That was here. But this…" He pointed to another spot up the river. "This was where the drone crashed. So how did you get from there to where you woke up?"

Spike stared again, his frown deepening. He thought again of waking up, of being cold and wet and hurting all over. The voices he heard, and laying still. His mind played it all back, showing him again the gun and the man and the wreckage…

Smoke rising just ahead, in a clearing… The hallway which flashed in and out, as if his vison wasn't clear, as his head pounded from a piercing ring…. The laughter… People on a field, lined up, wearing gear and ready to run at him for some reason… The man with spiked hair, staring at him… Bree, her face fallen as she called something he couldn't hear… Crying…

Another throb of pain near his eye caused Spike to lose his concentration. Again Spike pinched his nose, this time closing his eyes. It wasn't right, none of it. It all was coming too hard, too fast, too much for him to really gain a grip. What was going on?

"Spike?"

"I…" Spike shook his head again. Mercifully the thoughts, and the pain, ceased. "I don't know."

Davenport sighed. "Alright," he breathed quietly. "We'll try again later."

Another moment of silence followed. He was becoming accustomed to them, yet it still made him feel… something. There was no real word for the emotion he felt. It wasn't necessarily bad, nor did he feel an urge to fill the void with words. He felt instead that strange sort of familiarity, as if this was what he always experienced when around others. It was almost as if this was what he knew, the silence.

Even then, another feeling began to form within him. Disappointment, not in the silence, but rather in himself. He got the sense he wasn't doing what he was supposed to, was failing at something.

Maybe switching tactics would work. He decided to start with a question he'd been wrestling with since he had first awakened. "What is all the techno crap?"

"Pardon?"

"The man talked about 'techno crap', and you keep talking about chips and apps and…"

"What man?"

Crap; he'd done it again. Spike bristled. Answering would mean giving up information and with it control. But then again, answering would also mean gaining something as well.

"Trust, remember? You want answers, and so do I. It's the only way I can really help you."

"I don't need your-"

"I think you do."

Spike's fists began to clinch around the edge of the counter. Studying the man's face he could see Davenport's eyes widen slightly before his face hardened.

"Spike, no." Davenport suddenly leaned forward so they were eye level with one another. "No."

Was he actually telling him no? Berating him, like an animal? The man may as well have slapped him right across the face. Spike's eyes narrowed.

"Spike, what man said that?"

"What are the chips for?"

"What man were you talking about?"

"Tell me about the chips and maybe I'll tell you about him." Davenport raised an eyebrow at this. Spike felt his lip curl upward. He had some leverage. It was small, sure, but it was still there.

"Bionic chips, inserted within the neck of the specimen – person," Davenport corrected himself. "It allows the person a variety of special abilities, based on what has been programed."

"So like, super soldiers?"

"Exactly."

"And that's us." He thought over it a moment. "Why us?"

"That's a long story, for another time."

"Why… us…" he repeated, lower than before, keeping the inflection steady and forceful. It wasn't a question, more a demand. For a moment the two stared at each other, neither moving. Spike squared his shoulders. He could wait. His desire for answers gave him nothing but time.

It looked like perhaps the conversation was over, that Davenport too wouldn't relent. Yet suddenly the older man sighed, resigned. "That was a decision beyond my control. Had I known…" his voice trailed, a sadness creeping within it.

Spike waited. His question still stood no matter how reluctant the man was to answer it. A sob story wasn't going to change that, either.

"The technology works better in subjects that are younger," Davenport continued. "I don't really know why but it was something discovered a long time ago." More silence. That was it then. "Now what man were you talking about?"

"I said maybe I'd tell you."

"Trust, Spike. Earn it."

"What is it with you and trust?" He dripped every word of the question in as much disgust as was possible. As always, he didn't exactly know why he was being so difficult, he just was. It was in him, an instinct.

"It's an important part of a good team."

Spike raised an eyebrow. "Should tell that to the others. They don't seem too big on trusting me, only fair I do the same."

"Have I not shown you trust?" Davenport let out another sigh. "Have I not answered every question you've asked?"

The jury was still out on that one.

"I'm not asking you to tell them, and I won't either. I'm asking you to tell me. What man said that?"

Davenport had a point. Again. Crap. Spike hesitated, letting out a sigh himself. Finally, he said, "Two men, on the cliff. They were talking about 'techno-crap' as they put it, and about how I didn't have it anymore."

"Two men, at the waterfall?"

Spike nodded.

"Did they attack you?"

"They went away. I stayed still, and they couldn't make it down the cliff."

"Did you see their faces?"

Spike shook his head.

"Before that? Where they the ones to attack you at the drone site?"

He didn't want the barrage of images to flood back into his head. The throbbing was still there, coming like a laser, shooting a steady pain across his head. Yet, it seemed, this was important. Ignoring it, Spike focused, back to the waterfall and the voices above him.

A gun pointed at his face… A voice, mocking in tone…. The man talking about shooting a kid… Him, they'd shot him… Spike closed his eyes, this time rubbing both his eyes.

Davenport continued to stare at him, saying nothing for a moment. "Are you-"

"I'm fine." He emphasized the second word, willing himself to keep a straight face. The effort seemed to work as the pain subsided again. "And I- I don't know."

"Thank you, Spike, for telling me. It will help." With another press of a button, the map before them disappeared. Davenport placed the device back into his pocket. Spike felt himself stiffen again. Sure, many of his questions had been answered, yet for every one which had, more were taking their place. Based on Davenport's demeanor, the man very well could have been feeling the same."We'll talk more once you have had a chance to get cleaned up and fed."

"I'm not hungry."

"Really?" Davenport questioned.

"I'm fine," he insisted again. He was telling the truth; he wasn't hungry.

Davenport looked at his watch, then back at Spike. A flash of something came over the man's face, too quick for Spike to read. He wondered why it seemed to perplex the man so much. "Alright then. We have a little time it seems till the others are done. How about a tour?"