If you're a lover, you should know the lonely moments just get lonelier
The longer you're in love than if you were alone

- Panic! At The Disco - House of Memories -

The next morning, Ines knocked on the door to Moran's cell and then swept in, a small DVD player in her hand. "Good morning, Colonel. I have some entertainment for you today! And news. Care to hear it?"

He looked up from where he was lying on the cot. Whatever drugs they had given him to fake his death had been nasty. His heart had never stopped - that had been fake audio - but it had caused a minor seizure and then unconsciousness, and apparently, an allergic reaction that had almost killed him for real. The after-effects had been flu-like in nature, and he was still weak, recovering.

He gave Ines a withering look. "What could you possibly have to entertain me? But sure. The bloody news."

"Harrison has been named the new head of your department, though by all accounts she won't last long. She's a ruin. My source says she's likely to kill herself within the month," Ines said brightly, walking over to sit on the cot next to him. "So not as exciting as her death, but pretty close. If you want me to try and get you a picture I will. She's a very pretty woman, once you take off all those scars." She opened up the DVD player, turning it to face him. "But this isn't of her. It's of your spawn."

"She was gorgeous with the scars," he said absently, barely above a whisper. He didn't want a picture of Harrison. The ring was hard enough. If she killed herself while he was in here...

She won't. She isn't that stupid. She won't, and then I'll get out.

He was surprised when Ines mentioned Keira. "What about her?"

"She went on a bender," she chimed, grinning, pressing play on the player. "Watch."

He did, and couldn't deny it was his daughter. She looked even more like him with her hair bleached. He watched the security footage from the bar, not bothering to ask how she'd gotten it. It was on fast-forward, but he lost track of how many shots she downed. When she got kicked out, she got on her bike- he bit his tongue angrily at that- and drunkenly wove her way past CCTV cameras to another bar to repeat the process.

Who are these idiot bartenders, not carding? She can't buy hard stuff, you fuckers.

He memorized bar names for revenge.

"It's too bad, she made it home without incident," Ines sighed. "Drunk driving is a serious crime, you know. I'm surprised she was out on her own. What were your lovers too busy doing to ignore your only child in her grief?"

He pushed the DVD player away, deciding to ignore the pluralization of 'lovers'. "Harrison is going off the deep end, you said so yourself, and she and Keira never got along. I'm not surprised."

"Mm, I suppose," she sighed, folding the DVD player up again and tucking it in her lap. "Still, hard to believe she let the kid recklessly endanger herself while she looked so much like you. Maybe she's growing to hate your memory. Unlikely, but possible. Interesting coping mechanism."

"She looks exactly like me. Barely any of her mother in there, except for the hair, which apparently she changed. I could see that being jarring when in mourning. I doubt Harrison knew what she was doing. Keira never would have told her."

"But how well do you really know her, Colonel? It's my understanding that you never really got to know your kid," she shrugged, smirking at him. "How do you know what she will do?"

He shrugged. "Then your understanding was incorrect. It wouldn't be the first time. So, now what happens, I just lay around rotting in a fake barracks for the rest of eternity? Surely you're not that boring."

"Of course not. Now you get to decide how much grief I give your old friends," Ines smiled, giving him a mock sympathetic look. "You can either feed me some information, or I can make their lives even more miserable. I need some kind of your cooperation."

He sighed, closing his eyes. "Wow. How original. Let me know when you have something interesting to say, woman, or leave me alone."

Ines considered him for a moment, then tsked once. "Oh, Colonel. That's a shame. I didn't want to, but... you should get a good night's sleep tonight. Starting tomorrow, we'll begin sleep deprivation." She stood. "If that doesn't work, we'll move to a small, dark space, and continue that as well."

"Well, that was a quick change of tactics. Feeling a bit uncertain of yourself? First it's my friends, then it's me... And still, completely unoriginal." He chuckled, eyes still closed. "You must be new to this game."

She dropped the DVD player on the cot behind her and grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanking his head back, her jaw tense, eyes blazing. "You don't want me getting creative, Colonel, believe me. I have somewhere near the IQ of your beloved Moriarty; below or above remains to be seen. I can come up with things just as bad as he can," she hissed, pulling harder, her free hand on the gun holstered at her side. "I will take your sight, then your hands, then your fucking legs if I don't get any cooperation from you. Give me something, and we won't progress past sleep deprivation. Hold out on me and you'll never shoot a sniper rifle again."

He'd finally gotten to her, and he made no attempt to keep the victory out of his gaze as he met hers. "There's the problem, though," he said, voice soft despite the pain of her ripping at his hair. "You're used to people being afraid of you, but I lost my fear of Moriarty a long time ago, and you're not the special snowflake you think you are. Do what you want to me. It won't change that I'm not afraid of you."

"You don't need to be afraid of me," she spat, pushing him away as she let go. "You just need a sense of self preservation and a modicum of selfishness. I'll get your cooperation, Colonel. You'll see."

He gave her a smile that was all teeth and mockery. "Poor little girl, snarls and snarls but no one cares when she bites. It must be so very frustrating when your best keeps falling flat. Well, I look forward to this, honey. It'll be like watching a fledgling falling out of a nest while it tries to learn to fly."

She whipped around and was gone in nearly an instant, leaving behind a practically tangible scent of anger. She had to get control over him. Had to. But how?

He watched her go, and for the first time in all of this, he felt good. He had broken past the outer layer of calm, flawless human. He had found her weak point. Now it was simply a matter of exploiting it, worming forward... He would play her like he had played Jim, and somewhere she would make a mistake. It was only a matter of time.

His mind turned briefly to Lorna, and he wondered suddenly how much time he had.

Ines didn't visit him over the next two days, and without her, the food stopped too. When she came in again on the second night, she gave him a sickeningly sweet smile as she put the tray down next to him. "I should warn you about the hallucinogen I put in this. You don't have to eat it, of course, that's up to you. But why not, right?"

"Because I'm allergic to most hallucinogens," he lied easily, not even bothering to look at her from where he lay. "Which most competent captors would know. And even if I wasn't, the fact that you think two days of no food is long enough to make me ignore being drugged, you are once again very mistaken."

"Funny that you say most competent captors, assuming I haven't checked," she snorted, picking up a piece of bread from his tray and taking a bite out of it, swallowing before dropping the piece of bread on his chest. "Mmm, garlic. Flush it down the toilet, I don't care. If I really want to drug you I'll put it in the water."

He shrugged, picking up the bread and tossing it over back onto the tray without looking. "Fine. Drug the water, then. I won't drink. Gets a bit problematic when I start dying, though. Then you just have to inject it, along with saline solution, nutritional supplements... Or you could just inject me in a straightforward manner. I'll even lie still for you. Your call."

Ines sat down on the cot, pulling her rifle into her lap and leaning on it, resting her chin on her hands and looking at him for a minute. "You're really very used to this, aren't you? I suppose it's to be expected. How long have you been working with Moriarty? A decade? Now, what I just can't see is how you grew such a gaping weak spot. Her, sure," she shrugged, eyes looking up at the ceiling briefly. "I mean, she's a glorified whore, it's in her nature to be more emotional. But you? I don't get it."

He stretched out slowly, grunting as his back cracked in a few places. He sighed, and then sat up and turned to sit across from her, meeting her gaze, elbows on knees, mirroring her pose. "I have been with him for over a decade, that is correct. And, unavoidably, I have been the captive of various enterprising individuals, all of whom were certain they would be the last of me." He smirked a little. "Yet here I am. Weaknesses or not."

"I don't intend to be the last of you, unlike the majority of your captors. I intend to be the last of our good friend James, however. As the saying goes, this town isn't big enough for the two of us. But you? You interest me. You'd fit, if you decided to," she said, expressionless. "I don't bring up your weakest spot to threaten you. If I wanted to exploit a weak spot, I would have you shot up with heroin. But if you won't speak to me about any useful information, tell me about her. I can't grasp it. I'm not made to. I suspect no one of my caliber is."

He was silent for a moment, evaluating her. He would never work for her, not even if Jim was dead. He'd kill her and take the network for himself the first chance he got. But the only way that happened was if she trusted him enough to turn her back.

He took a breath, and shrugged. "It's not logical. I told myself a hundred times to walk away. I threw her under the bus and destroyed her, but in the end I couldn't resist piecing her back together. I tried to kill her, left her bleeding out on the floor, but I didn't finish the job. She... understands me. Never tried to change me. She was just... a part of me. Hurting her hurts me, and I'm not much of a masochist."

She made a thoughtful sound. "Interesting. If you had done even one of those things to me I'd have killed you. I suppose that's the feelings, isn't it, her putting up with that. What an unsavory lifestyle," she mused, tapping a finger absently on her chin. "By your estimation, how many scars would you say you inflicted on her?"

He smirked a little. "Physical? Two. Emotional? The devil only knows. I would have killed me too, for half of what I did. But she..." He shrugged. "She had other ideas."

She snorted, leaning over a little and picking up the tiny croissant that served as dessert, eating a bite off of it thoughtfully. She had lied to him about the hallucinogen, just to see what his reaction would be. "And how many has she given you?"

"Two," he returned with a smirk, watching her eat the croissant and ignoring the rumbling of his stomach. He reached up to pull up his shirt, baring his chest and revealing the two sets of initials there, Jim's and Lorna's.

"Isn't that adorable. Pity you can't match. Difficult to have possessive markings when you fuck people for a living," she scoffed through a mouthful of crumbs. "How does that one-sided monogamy suit you? I'm assuming it's monogamous. How much time can you have to go screw a random man or woman while you're sitting by Moriarty's side, protecting him from harm? And other activities, if the rumors are to be believed."

He dropped his shirt, smirking back easily, not in the least bit bothered by her smugness. "And if the rumors are true? So what? He's the most powerful man in the world, regardless of what the Americans think." He leaned back on his hands. "But you're different than he is. You take an interest in people. They bore him."

"I'm interested in people, yes. I can't liberate myself without knowing them. Politics are disgusting, but a necessary evil I must face," she shook her head. "If I could be afforded the luxury of boredom, maybe I would take it. But that's not exactly quantifiable. I don't think I would stoop to having sex with my employees out of boredom, though. There is better entertainment."

He laughed. "Perhaps. I never understood his motivations, but I wasn't complaining. So, tell me, how does learning about me help you? What do I help you 'afford'?" His eyes were reserved, but interested.

"You may be a small subset of the population, but the outlook of someone who originally tried to shun human feelings is valuable. It's a stepping stone to the core of what everyone is, I think," she shrugged, hand flexing a little away from her face. "If I'm going to throw the next revolution, I need to have an understanding of people. The lack of such is what's brought down multiple revolutions."

"A revolution, hmm?" he asked, smiling. "Well, that would be an interesting turn of events. Looking to put yourself on top?" He scrambled through the list of things Lorna had taught him about grifting, and gave a more relaxed smile, without his teeth.

"Me, and the rest of the people who have been spat on for generations by the French and upper-class Belgians. I care more about the 'me' part, but I figure everyone has to give charity," Ines rolled her eyes. She made a silent note of his change in posture.

He was quiet for a bit, then sat back a bit on the bed, putting a bit of distance between them. His right hand strayed to the ring on his left finger, and he spun it there absently, watching the light reflect off of it. "A lot of people revolt. Few succeed."

"Why do you think I'm doing a character study of the human race?" She asked, raising an eyebrow at him. "I won't be Napoleon. I won't march into Russia in the winter. I'll learn from history's mistakes."

"Napoleon studied Caesar, Germany studied Napoleon, you study the Germans, but in the end you'll find your own unique way to fail. There are so many paths to failure and so few to victory." He shook his head. "You'll fail."

"Ah, but you're forgetting one thing," she smirked, raising a finger. "I'm not a military commander or a conqueror. I have no interest in taking land that isn't already supposed to be mine. I'll do what the Americans did, or the Indians did, or the Russians did, to their own people no less."

"The Americans are a bad example, until the Native American revolution. Wake me up when that happens." He smiled a little. "As for your revolution... I can't help you. You must know that."

She leaned back a little, sighing. "You're missing the point, Colonel. Every little bit helps. I talk to anyone I can. Build the database, so to speak. It will all come together."

He shook his head a little. "Build all the data you want. I can't help you. I think we're done here, unless you wanted to inject me with hallucinogens?"

"Watch it, Colonel," she warned, standing. "Don't think you can get away with dismissing me more than once. Have a good rest of your day."

"I will, thank you," he said, unruffled. When she left he stood and took the food, bringing it into the bathroom and flushing it down the toilet before setting the tray next to the door. Then he started a light exercise routine. He was trying to get his strength back. And he was thinking. He didn't know that he wouldn't break, but he liked to think he wouldn't. Still, if he could find a way to ensure Lorna and Jim's survival, then they could retake the network if it fell.