Dempsey looked around the kitchen; he took in the domestic knife set, a clock with a calendar below it, the red checked wallpaper and blue formica. He had an overall sense that this was a museum from 1960 something. It reminded him of Aunt Thelma's kitchen in her original brownstone several doors down from his mom. Don't think about her, or Harry, he told himself, he had to keep focused on Owen and watch all the signs and tells.

He saw Owen reach into a medicine cabinet and watched him pull out a small tub of painkillers; the seal was still intact.

"They're new." He confirmed, handing them over with a glass of water and watched as Dempsey took two and coughed violently.

Dempsey couldn't stop the curse at the pain that shot to his head. He noticed that Owen was instantly concerned and solicitous and he considered the reaction as he leaned against the door frame.

"Why did you do it?" He queried, asking the most critical question that he thought might end his life or provide an answer. He may as well die knowing.

"To protect you." Owen didn't skirt the answer and spoke openly. Dempsey wasn't sure if that unnerved him even more. He was unlike any criminal he'd ever met before. He thought of Harry's fears that he'd get to close and realised that they'd never have found this guy.

"Protect me? Why?"

"Because of who you are." Dempsey frowned at the reply and Owen shook his head before he continued to speak, a smile on his mouth, "It must be very hard to know who you are. A man who doesn't know his reason for being here on this Earth. I prayed for a Guardian Angel, someone to tell me what to do and you appeared. The light of God shines in you and you spoke and gave life to all gods."

Dempsey tried to fathom up what he could remember from Yale.

Owen continued, "You have seen evil and stood against it. Your father like mine, was a drunk. Our mothers are devoted and we were bought up to be good. But there are still devils who use your word against you, I knew I was sent to protect you."

Dempsey opened his mouth trying to find the right words.

"I knew I was in the right place, to see their acts against you and hear their words and take the actions you could not. You can't lower yourselves to their behaviour." Owen looked at him with patient understanding, "You may not see it yet but you will and I shall act, I know my path."

Then he walked past his guest to the bathroom; "You need to clean up, then I can cook some food."

The thought of eating turned Dempsey's stomach and he breathed out, trying to keep as calm as his captor, "Owen, I'm no saint. I'm just a guy, a cop from NYPD who ended up here and got lucky with my placement. None of those guys are friends but haters are gonna hate, y'know?"

Owen simply sighed, "You'll understand. You will."

Dempsey followed him to the bathroom. He gazed at the water. It looked inviting but the thought of getting in and being defenceless in the kid's hands made him nervous. Maybe he'd want to wash him, like an absolution? Just how fixated was this kid? He wouldn't? Would he? Dempsey sighed, he may just about have the strength to handle whatever next, but if he didn't get in soon, Owen would come back and insist. As soon as this thought arrived in his head, Dempsey moved faster than he had anticipated.

The water felt obscenely good, even if the bath was too small. He thought of Harry's ridiculous bath tub that was big enough for two and the crazy vessel he'd almost drowned in with the views over the New York skyline. Dempsey cleaned up fast, avoiding the bruises that were already visible on his shoulders and ribs. The water in his hair both soothed and stung his head.

He tried to remember the layout of the apartment as he listened to the sounds of Owen moving around, the kid was clearly tidying up. He examined his options. There was no sign of his gun, and no obvious weapons. He didn't feel like he could handle a knife with accuracy any how. Could he fight his way out? In any other event, he could easily overpower Owen, but feeling as he did now, it felt risky.

As Dempsey climbed from the bath and dried off, pulling on the too short clothes that Owen had left outside the door, he suddenly felt powerless. He had to use his mouth and brains which only made him think of Harry's amused gaze and how he missed her.

He ached, but the pain killers seemed to be kicking in. His mind told him that he wasn't in any serious danger himself, Owen seemed to want him alive and to protect not kill him but that wasn't true of anyone else. What of Spikings? Dempsey felt a deep rush of guilt as he thought of his superior. He refused to count him in the death toll. Worse, what of Harry. Would she be the next victim if she started to look for him.

He found Owen in the living room. Time to find some answers, he had to know what Owen had in store for his partner.