I don't even know how long I've been here at this point. At first, I attempted to count the days passing, but without windows, it turned to be rather impossible. It didn't take long for me to give up and just subject myself to everything going on. I almost don't even feel real anymore. My skin is bruised, broken, beaten. Wounds have been made, healed, and made again. I'm past the point of even feeling disgusting — the grime, grease, blood, dirt, and whatever else on my skin feels like it's second nature at this point. I stopped begging for a shower when they would feed me stale bread and give me water. I stopped asking to be cleaned up, stopped asking for everything. This is going to be my life from now on. No one is coming to get me. Everyone believes I'm dead.

I'm truly alone now.

Even so, I've not let anything slip past my lips. The guys might think I'm dead (and at this point, I might as well be) but I can't give up. My loyalty remains with them. I can't let Dad down at all. If he knew I was alive, he'd be proud of me for holding out this long. I know he would. And that's what I hold onto. It's not like I have much else.

There's hardly a moment I don't think about Dad. Echoes of his cries ring in my ears still. His crying, his pleading, him saying he loves me. It was a weird thing to hear, as I never thought I'd actually hear him say those words. I didn't even know he actually felt that way, let alone could say them. It made me feel a lot better, though. It gives me the strength I have to keep enduring the pain.

After that fight, Red brought me to a private jet that Dr. Harris either owned or rented, I'm not sure which one. At this point, it didn't matter. He flew us all to Denmark. He said it had to be Denmark — it was the only place they'd truly be safe. I don't know what that means, and I'm certainly not about to ask any more questions.

Even after all this time, I've never actually seen Denmark. I wonder if it's pretty out there. I wonder if it's anything like pictures I vaguely remember seeing for a school project I once did. I wonder if I'll actually be able to see it one day.

I wonder if I'll be able to see anything outside of this room again.

Once again, my only entertainment is a clock on the wall hanging directly in front of me. It ticks by each second, the only sound I've been listening to besides their questions and my own screams. Every day, four times a day, they come in. Every day at five, twelve, three, and seven. Whether it's in the middle of the night or during the day, I'm not entirely sure. I can't imagine they would torture me throughout the night considering I never know what time of the day it truly is, and my internal clock is all wonky, so there would be no benefit. With this bunch, though, I have absolutely no idea.

My eyes slowly open, coming back to reality from my light sleep. Glancing up at the clock, I see that it's 5:15. Why haven't they come in yet? They've never been late before, not even by a second. As soon as the second-hand hits five, someone is coming in to rough me up more. An unsettling feeling rolls in the pit of my stomach and part of me wonders if they've somehow forgotten. Maybe they've given up and finally just left me here to starve. Like Dr. Harris said though — I'm too vital to let go.

I wonder if that means they're preparing something big today.

It doesn't take long though, and the sound of the door cracking open behind me makes me close my eyes. I pretend to be asleep — I've gotten good at that. The sound of their footsteps hurrying up beside me isn't someone I recognise, but I keep my eyes closed. I wait for the pain to "wake" me up.

Pain is not what I got.

The cuffs around my ankles and wrists release, causing me to fall forward. My eyes fly open and my arms stick out in front of me in an attempt to keep me from hitting the ground, but the mystery man catches me by the hips and pulls me against him. His arm wraps around the small of my back to keep me in place as my legs wobble with trying to stand. They haven't been used in a good while. He slowly lowers me onto the ground, and it feels good to be in a different position. I look up to see who it is, and…

Wait, don't I know him?

There's something about him. His dark ginger hair, smaller build, his amber eyes…

The dolphin is swimming the ocean.

"You!" I whisper-yell, not wanting to attract any unwanted attention. "Why the hell are you here?"

"Saving your butt," he says, German accent filling my ears. He grabs a flask from his back pocket and hands it to me. "I'm busting you out of here. Do you think you can walk?"

I want to sniff the flask before drinking, but now that I'm holding something to drink, my mouth suddenly feels all too dry. I chug the liquid before, halfway through, determining that it's water. I pull away before I drink the entire thing, but I don't leave much left. Whoops. "Thank you. I… might need some help at first, but I think I can get it after a while. Muscles just aren't used to it."

He nods and helps me stand a bit too quickly. All at once, I feel how much this place has taken a toll on me. My head is light from the hunger, the lack of energy, the lack of muscle movement. It all hurts. It takes a minute before the edges of my vision go back to normal, and he's holding me against him once more. I nod a bit and then stand officially on my own for the first time in however long it's been since I was brought here, and it feels… good.

Amber-Eyes places his leather jacket around my shoulders, and I slip my arms into the sleeves happily. I didn't notice how cold I was until just now.

Slowly, I leave the room following his lead, crouched and ready to hide at any moment. Red is off to the left, behind a box and knocked out. I can't help the smirk that comes across my face. Serves you right, asshole.

Throughout the place, we bob and weave, going entirely unnoticed. We make it to the door, only to find it jammed. Amber-Eyes tries to open it once more before the clapping starts and stops him dead in his tracks.

"Ah, Hans," Dr. Harris borderline snarls out, but his face has a sickly grin. "Long time no see."

Amber-Eyes whips around, greeting the evil doctor with a crooked grin on his face that I can't tell is real or not. There's history between these two, but I don't care to find out at the moment.

"Ah, Dr. Mammal Fish," Hans replies loudly, which in one second makes me entirely reconsider the sanity of the man attempting to save me. "It has been a while!" He does a dumb bow, sticking one arm in front of him and one arm behind him. His arm behind him points off to the side, which with a glace, I see there's a door. An escape route. I touch his hand lightly to let him know I (semi) understand.

Whether he got the message or not, I don't know. But the next thing I'm aware, he's throwing a circular object from his pocket at Dr. Harris. All three of us yell out before it explodes in gas, and Hans grabs my hand and yanks me toward the door.

My body screams at me to stop. My legs burn from the energy, my stomach curls and threatens to empty from the pain, the pain, the pain. The wounds, the burns, the scars, everything hurts. But I can't stop — not this close to freedom. I'm so close, I would never forgive myself if I dropped now so close to being away from this wretched place. We run through the door, and as we close the door behind us, we see Dr. Harris passed out from whatever Hans had thrown at him.

We run through one more door on the right, and then we're free. We are outside. I want to stop and breathe, but I know we can't. We don't know where Savio or Clemson are, and the last thing we need is for us to be captured just as we got free. We bolt down the long driveway and continue running until the building is no longer in sight. We dive into the trees next to us, and immediately adrenaline hits me hard. I curl forward, and the contents of my stomach empty onto the ground. Hans is behind me, rubbing my back and keeping my hair out of the way. Once I'm finished, I sit down near a tree and place my back against it.

"Where the hell are we?"

"Denmark." He doesn't delve any deeper than that before moving on. "There's a gas station up the hill. We can grab what we need and head out. We'll get you home, just…" He sighs. "You know Skipper. He's not going to take well to this at first."

Despite everything about the situation, I can't help but laugh lightly. I rub my face in an attempt to wipe away any tiredness and grime off my face, but I know it'll be a long while before I'm able to do that. "Let's get going before it gets dark."

Hans looks at me funny but doesn't comment. It makes me wonder what time it is.

We head up the road to the aforementioned gas station. The sign is in a language I don't understand, and I stick close to Hans. I don't know anything about him except that he knows my dad, and he's broken me free. He saved me, so he must be trustworthy.

An older man is sitting in a chair behind the counter, chin on his chest, fast asleep. His cap is on over his eyes, his feet up on the counter. With each breath, he snores loudly enough to rock the place. The little dinging bell at the top of the door doesn't phase him at all. I'm almost jealous of the sleep he's getting.

Hans puts a finger to his lips, a mock shh motion and the guilt automatically consumes me. I know we are going to do what we have to in order to survive and get out of here, but I still can't help but feel the guilt of stealing. The fact we are, though, makes me suspicious that Hans isn't very welcomed here.

My first instinct is food. I can't fit as much as I want to into the pockets of the jacket, but at least it's a start. I grab every muffin I can possibly take, hide the biggest bottle of water that will fit in the inside pocket, and then look up at Hans. He has a First-Aid kit, and the cash register is open. He's shoving his wallet full of Danish cash and his pockets full of coins. He's so close to the sleeping gas station clerk that it's driving my anxiety up the roof, but he most definitely looks like he's done this before. Finally, he meets my eyes and nods toward the door. Time to leave.

We sneak out the door once again. We walk around the back side where we can't be seen, and I immediately start digging into the snacks. Hans has to slow me down so I don't overdo myself. The water I drink much slower while Hans prepares the First-Aid kit to tend to my wounds.

My sense of time is distorted. Between staring off into space, painkillers, and several emotions I can't put the name to, I have no idea how long it is before Hans finally speaks up. "There's a payphone over there. Do you wanna give your dad a call?"

I don't move for a moment. I want answers first. "Can… I ask how you knew to come after me? And how you know I'm Skipper's kid?"

The warm smile that comes over his face isn't what I was expecting. "I went to see your mother many, many years ago," he began, shoving his hands into the pockets of his worn-out jeans before leaning a shoulder against the gas station wall. "Skipper and I had been fighting. I… did something I shouldn't have. It's a whole story, but ever since then Skipper and I haven't been on talking terms. But either way, I went to visit Kitka many years ago. Roughly… fourteen? You were only two or three years old, and you were running around the house with a stuffed animal screeching out of happiness. I asked where the father was, and she just… told me you were Skipper's. Made me promise not to tell him, which wasn't hard as he wouldn't talk to me again after that fight. When I heard about Kitka's death and found out you were in New York, and then you suddenly weren't… Something was fishy. After some research, I knew exactly how to find out." He looks at the ground with a laugh. "Blowhole isn't as smart as he thinks he is sometimes. Skipper would have seen through everything if he wasn't so grief-stricken."

Both of us are silent for a while, while my thoughts are racing. Why did Hans and Dad have a fight? Why is he here, saving the daughter of someone he hadn't spoken to in over fourteen years? Why did he go to my mom that day? So many questions, and not enough time for answers.

"Can I call my dad now?"

"Of course."

Hans walks me over to the payphone, shoving what felt like a lot of coins into the machine before pressing a few buttons. "Punch in his number. He's changed it since I last spoke to him."

I silently thank Dad as I punch his number in by heart. I push the phone to my ear and relax as it starts to ring.

"Skipper speaking."

His voice brings a weird wave of relief over me. I want to tell him everything, I want to spill everything to him, but I can't. I have to wait to get his trust first. "Hi."

"Who is this?"

I bit my lip. "... Liberty."

Dial tone. I sigh and give the phone to Hans. "Yeah, I should have guessed that one."

"Well, he's not exactly the most open guy. He has paranoia issues, he might think someone's messing with him." He plugs more coins in, punches more numbers, and I repeat his number.

It rings exactly once before he answers. "Who is this?" His voice is low and threatening, clearly getting pissed off. I don't know how to convince him it's me.

"I told you already. It's Liberty. I —"

"This isn't funny. Call again, and I'll kill you." Dial tone.

Before I can even say anything, Hans is already punching in the coins and numbers before I can call Dad once again.

"I warned you —"

"Skipper, just listen to me!" I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose, thinking of a way to explain myself to him.

I can hear him huff on the other side of the phone, and I can practically see the annoyance on his face. It's the same look whenever he sees Julien, the most annoying resident in Central Park Apartments. "Well, I'm listening."

My eyes roll. "Please get that annoyed look off of your face." I don't give him any time to respond. "My name is Liberty Peregrine. My mother is Kitka Peregrine, and you are my father. You and her had a thing back in high school but you wanted to work for the army, and you guys broke up. She had me in secret, and you didn't know about me until after she passed away in a car accident. You told me you didn't know about me when we got into that big fight and I thought you were lying about it and I'm so sorry, I didn't know, and I'm sorry." I took a deep breath before continuing. "Dr. Harris — Blowhole. He's an ass, but a genius ass. He made a clone of me to die so that way you wouldn't come looking for me anymore. But I'm still alive. I'm here, I'm battered to hell, I'm in a lot of pain and I don't know how long it's even been since we last talked, but I'm fine. I'm alive."

The other line is silent. Did I get disconnected? Did I spew my entire life story at a dead payphone? But a small voice comes over the line, one I hardly recognise as my father. "Liberty?"

Relief washes over me once again, and the day seems to be looking up. "Yeah, it's me. I'm here. I'm alive."

"Where are you?"

I look up at the Danish sign. "Denmark. Dr. Harris brought me to Denmark after…" I don't continue that sentence. I don't want to think about that day, and I doubt he does either. "I'm outside of a gas station —" I look to Hans as I'm about to mention him, but stop abruptly when I see his cut-throat movement to not mention him. "Yeah. Outside a gas station."

I can hear the deep sigh that comes from the other end, and I know it's his stressed-out sigh. I don't like the sound of it, because it usually means very bad news. "Shit. Okay, listen carefully. Do not say my name. Don't say anything about me. If asked, claim you don't know me. Go under a different name if you want to, but get out of that country as soon as possible."

"Why?"

"I'm Denmark's public enemy number one."

"That… makes sense as to why they would bring me here then." I normally wouldn't go against someone's wishes so boldly, but this time, I make an exception. Sorry, Hans. "Well, if it makes you feel better, I'm not doing this alone. I'm with Hans if you remember who he is. He broke me out and saved me."

"... Hans? As in, Hans Madsen?"

I shrug, forgetting he can't see me before I turn to Hans. "Is your last name Madsen?"

Hans has his head buried in his hands but slowly nods his head. "Yeah, Hans Madsen." I relay the same answer to Dad.

"… He's next to you? He saved you?"

"Yeah. He's been a good help throughout all this." I glance over at the man, seeing his head still in his hands, but I can tell by his ears that his face is red. This makes me really wonder what happened between the two of them, especially to make them both act strange. "Listen, I'll try to keep you updated through this, but this call isn't gonna last forever. Plus, I'm… not sure what your international calling is," I laugh nervously. I don't even wanna think about his next phone bill. Knowing him, it's not gonna be pretty, but maybe he'll just be happy that I'm back and alive?

"Don't worry about that. Just get home safe and sound. I'll take care of the rest." I'm about to open my mouth to respond when Dad continues. "Oh, and… tell Hans I owe him." After that, the line went dead.