I'm just young enough to still believe, still believe
But young enough not to know what to believe in
Young enough not to know what to believe in, yeah

If I can live through this, if I can live through this
If I can live through this, I can do anything

- Fall Out Boy - Champion -

Two and a half months ago:

Keira knew that something big had happened, because for the first time since Ines had taken over the network, she went two days without seeing anybody. If it hadn't been for the extremely rudimentary sink in her room, she would have been close to death. On the third day, they seemed to remember that she was there, because the guards started bringing food again (along with decent water). Did they answer her irate questions about what the fuck had been happening? No, but she hadn't really expected them to. Patience just wasn't really her style.

Ines tuned out what the doctor was saying about her hand as he carefully changed the bandage and replaced the immobilizing cast. It was nothing she didn't know. The surgery to repair her tendon had gone well, but it was still going to be six weeks before she could begin the painful therapy process to regain her right hand's function. She had developed an unwelcome sympathy for Mycroft Holmes in the past few days.

Still, her mind was far from her injury. Instead, it was focused on the cause. Moran. Fucking Moran, playing me for an idiot this whole time, and I bought every goddamned line.

The three were in the wind. But she wasn't without assets. The network was still hers. And cozy in a holding cell in her basement was the answer to her fury.

I know your weak points, Moran. You're going to regret crossing me.

Ines left the infirmary on a mission. She didn't bother taking the painkillers the doctor had recommended, tucking them in a pocket for later. Instead she headed for the elevator and the basement.

It took her all of three minutes to reach the cell, but it was another ten before she actually approached it and had the door opened. She needed to plan.

Keira spent her time in the cell occupied with only a few trains of thought. The first was her father. It was an extremely conflicted line of thinking. On the one hand, the man was alive and well, which was about all she'd found out before Ines had had her stuffed into this holding cell. On the other hand, every thought that she'd ever vainly entertained of him caring at all for her was dashed to pieces. Why would he have her locked up like this? Was she on the chopping block? A waiting list for people who he needed to destroy to shore up the weak spots in his life? Either way, she was beginning to grow to hate him.

Another train of thought had to do with her own particular situation, and whether or not she could do anything about it. Jim Moriarty's cells weren't built with exploitable weak spots or advantages. Everything was bolted or welded down, and the walls and doors were practically seamless. Not to mention they didn't risk giving her anything as basic as a plastic fork that she could fashion into a tool or weapon. Really, she wasn't very optimistic about her chances of self-rescue. So brute force, unfortunately, would probably not be an option. She had to find some other way to keep herself alive.

When Ines finally did go in, she was much calmer, but there was danger in her eyes. It jolted her, just a little, when she saw the girl. She really was the spitting image of her father, even with the blond in her hair starting to grow out. It was the eyes that did it the most. Those shockingly blue eyes that seemed too quiet to be trustworthy.

"So. Tell me, Keira. What were your father's instructions to you?"

Her head snapped up as the door opened, her body tensing from where she sat on the shoddy cot, preparing to fight. "Wow, the woman herself," she said sarcastically, ignoring the question as her eyes slowly scanned Ines. She took particular notice of the injury on her wrist. What had happened there? Her father? She couldn't guess why else Ines would come in here herself, ask this line of questioning. "You're not going to properly introduce yourself or anything?"

She ignored the bait, considering the girl for a moment. "You have one more chance to answer," she said calmly. "What were your father's instructions to you?"

She leveled a dead stare at her, blue eyes cold. "My father hasn't spoken to me since before he 'died,' and even that was... fuck, I don't even know how long before. I don't have instructions. Why? I thought he was your toady, or whatever."

Ines sighed, considering the girl. She knew, almost for a fact, that Moran had not spoken to her. Still, that wasn't the point. "You really are so much like him, aren't you? But he broke, too. Tell me why he left you here, Keira darling? What sort of mischief does he have you up to?"

"Yeah, because I'm capable of causing so much mischief in here," she sneered, rolling her eyes. "Christ, like he would ever trust me enough to leave me with a plan. Also - he left? That son of a bitch. I bet he didn't even think to bring me," she muttered, sullenly. She didn't know if she completely believed what she was saying, but she needed Ines to believe it. She really didn't know anything - torture would just end badly for her.

She shook her head. "You expect me to believe that he left his only daughter here for me to toy with on a whim? Disappointing, Keira. I really expected you to lie better." She headed for the door. "I'll give you the night to consider the consequences of lying to me."

"Yeah, like Moran has ever cared about his child," she scoffed, shifting back to lie down on her cot, hands behind her head.

Ines didn't respond, just shut the door and headed for the elevator. That was enough for today. Pushing too quickly would gain her nothing. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the bottle of painkillers, and started reading the label as she got into the elevator. Her hand was throbbing.

Keira sighed, and eventually shifted to become more comfortable, intending on sleeping. Why had he left her? Did he really care so little?

Keira's dreams that night were stressful, and involved a lot of her father, laughing while standing over her, a gun in hand. It was almost haunting, seeing her own eyes staring back at her.

Ines spent much of that night creating a proper plan. She found writing things down to be tedious, and had long ago learned that drawing was, for her, a better method. She lay on the couch as the moon rose and fell, drinking water and sketching, and blamed the half a dozen sets of blue eyes staring at her from the paper on the painkillers.

That morning, she forced herself to have breakfast before she did anything else. Then she called down to security, and had them move the woman to a new holding cell. One with a table, with straps. A little fear never hurt anyone.

She didn't bother fighting them on the way out of her room - she was too busy trying to take in her surroundings, get a glimpse through the doors which had portholes to see through. She didn't learn much. It all looked pretty much the same since she'd gone in.

The table was not a pleasant surprise for her. Then she put up a fight. The guard elbowed her in the face before she could grab his gun, and they slammed her on the table just the same, and strapped her down tight. Fuck. Fuck.

Ines walked in about twenty minutes later, a small, unpleasant-looking woman at her elbow. The woman was wearing latex gloves. Ines walked over so that Keira could see her face. "Have you thought about what I asked?"

"You betcha," Keira replied cheerlessly, glaring at the two of them, kind of upside down. "Look, if Moran cared enough about me to use me in a plan to cause, and I quote, 'mischief,' he would have bothered to bring me with him. I didn't even know he left. I have nothing to fucking tell you."

Ines shook her head. "Moran is fiercely loyal. He doesn't leave anyone behind, not unless he plans it. So what are you doing here, Keira? Are you loyal to your father? Or to the network?"

"He doesn't care enough about me to be loyal to me, don't you get it?" she snorted, rolling her eyes at Ines, though she was still keeping track of the woman with the latex gloves. "It doesn't matter who I'm loyal to because honestly, I'm not loyal. People have to earn my loyalty, and nobody here has put enough effort into me for me to give any back. The network pays me, but that's as far as it goes. I'll further it's ends because it saves my own skin."

Ines raised a hand as the torturer stepped forward, eyes on the blue-eyed woman on the table. She had been intending to torture her today. To leave her a scarred, rumpled mess of a human being, just to spite Moran. But a new plan was occurring to her now, one she much preferred, and she smiled internally. She lowered her hand slowly, waving her lackey away. Then she walked forward and- a bit awkwardly with her left hand, undid the straps. "I don't make a habit of punishing my employees for the actions of their parents. You've done nothing to suggest disloyalty... Go back to work. But remember that I will be keeping a careful eye in you and your communications. Your father is a traitor. Finding him is a priority."

"Uh... yeah, sure," she said uncertainly, sitting up, very taken aback. That was it? Not even a real slap on the wrist? Just a warning that her communications would be monitored? She slid to her feet, rubbing her wrists a little. "Um... is my room still, like, mine?"

She shook her head slightly. "No. It was given to a new recruit, and your belongings were put in storage. For the time being, your father's suite has been cleaned out. Why don't you stay there until we find something more suitable?"

That was even more disconcerting. "Uhhhh... sure? Where do I go to get my thumbprint scanned in, or whatever needs to be done?"

"I'll bring you to security. They'll also provide you with an anklet that will monitor your whereabouts, at least until I'm certain of my decision." She nodded for the door. "Come with me. Margaret, we won't be needing you after all. Go back to whoever else you were working on."

Margaret made a noise of affirmation (apparently she was a very chatty woman) and turned to walk down the hall, not moving to take off her latex gloves. Keira followed Ines, cautiously. This felt something like a trap. Though she doubted that there was any way this could go without her feeling vaguely uneasy. "An escort from the head honcho herself? Yeah, that's going to make me real popular with the guys..."

Ines laughed at that. "Perhaps not. I apologize for that, but you're a person of interest to me, whether you're associated with your father or not. I intend to keep tabs."

"Yeah, I figured," she sighed, looking irritated, but she knew that there was no point arguing. "Doesn't mean I gotta love it, does it?"

"No, I suppose not," she agreed, calling the lift. "But if you prove to be telling the truth, it will have certain perks."

"Yeah? What kind of perks? Not being required to wear some oh-so-fashionable ankle jewelry?" She quipped, glancing Ines' way sardonically.

She grinned a little. "You really are just like your father. It's a wonder he didn't take a liking to you. Yes. Less ankle jewelry. But I've also done some research on you, Keira. Your culling report is impressive. You have the makings to be an even better hitter than your father. Something bigger, if you chose. I like to see women growing in this industry. You interest me."

Keira glanced at Ines out of the corner of her eye, unsure where this conversation was going. It sounded awfully... Flirtatious. She decided to ignore that, for now. She could deal with it when she was sure what to do with it. "Yeah, well, opposites attract and all that, I guess. And I should be so lucky to be a bigger hitter than him. That's a hell of a name, he's got. Christ, the money he must make..."

She nodded a little, stepping into the lift as it arrived and pressing the button for the next floor up. "Trust me, his rates were obscene. Worth every penny, however. Or it would have been. As it is I'm feeling a bit cheated. Desertion of contract, all that. Still. That isn't the point." She glanced at Keira. "I know potential when I see it."

"A contract. Pfft. Now there's the dream," she snorted, leaning against the wall, arms crossed across her chest. She still didn't want to touch whatever Ines was getting at. Nobody gave out compliments for free.

"Not a dream. Not with you." The lift opened and she stepped out into security, motioning for Keira to follow as she wove her way through to the current chief of security's office.

She didn't know how to respond to that, but was saved by the chief of security, who was a rather dour-looking woman Keira had never seen before, as they entered her office. "What?" she asked, impatiently, looking up from her computer. She didn't flinch when she saw Ines.

Ines didn't seem ruffled by the lack of formality. "Sorry to bother you, Mag. This is Keira Moran. I need her authorized to have access to Sebastian Moran's old flat, to be outfitted with a tracker anklet, and to be set up for the full system of communication monitoring. Get someone on it who won't make any mistakes."

Mag swore, picking up a lit cigarette from an ashtray on her desk and taking a puff on it as she turned to her computer, ignoring them for a moment as she hammered away at her keyboard. "Right," she said after a minute and another couple of puffs. "See Andrew for the anklet and Fallow for the scan. Anythin' else?"

"No, that will do nicely. Thank you, Mag," she said pleasantly, heading out the door and flicking her wrist to summon Keira along. She headed for a cubicle, knocking on the fabric wall slightly. "Good morning, Andrew. I need to get Ms. Moran here situated with a tracking anklet. The best model you have, as far as comfort and security are concerned. I have a few other things to attend to, but once she's done, bring her to Fallow for access to Sebastian Moran's old suite and communications monitoring. The works. Call me with any questions." She glanced at Keira and gave her a grin. "Have fun."

"Yeah, thanks, I guess," she snorted, giving her a sarcastic wave. The sooner she was free of this crazy woman, the better.

Ines left, then, heading for the lift and her office, a small smile on her face. This was working out well.

Keira suffered through the process of getting an anklet fitted and locked and tested, and then getting her thumbprint scanned and waiting for the new authorization to be patched in, and finally she was allowed to leave the security office, and take the lift up the officer's apartments floor. She'd never been up here before, except that time with Lorna, and she had to press the button several times before she realized there was a thumbprint scanner that she needed to use before it would even let her get to the floor. Now she understood the story about the old chauffeur Harrison had offed in the elevator - she'd always wondered why people referred to it as he tried one too many times to access the floor she was on.

The elevator had never opened onto such a still hallway for her before. There was always something happening on the other floors: people walking past, talking to each other or on the phone; the sounds of an argument coming from down the hall; the distant bass of music being played in someone's quarters. But this was silent.

She wasn't really entirely sure why Ines had given her her father's flat as opposed to the other unoccupied apartments on this floor, and wondered about it as she keyed in. It was cleaned out, but not completely. Sebastian Moran hadn't done much to personalize the place, but even with most of his things removed, it still seemed like a part of his personality remained. Maybe just because it was so austere. The one other time she'd been here, it had been an absolute mess, but she had been able to see the decor beneath the empty bottles. The couch was the same one she had seen before, and none of the furniture seemed to have been replaced - she could see scratches and scuffs and tears in some places, which had a personality of its own. No, even by removing the odds and ends from this flat, they hadn't really cleaned out Moran. He was still here, lingering in the simple layout and efficient use of space.

She walked over to sit on the sofa, unsure of what to do with herself. Her phone had been confiscated when she'd been locked up, and no one had bothered to give her a new one in security - judging by the intercom/phone on the side table, they hadn't thought it was necessary. She wondered what her girlfriends thought of her disappearance. Would they understand, once she could reach them? God, she hoped so. There was only so much she could bear to change.

Ines watched Keira absently on the security monitors as she did other work, letting the system track her progress throughout the building. Moran's flat was, for the most part, a security blackout zone, but she and Mag had access to cameras. Anyone else didn't have the clearance. With Mag overworked, she could be fairly certain that she was the only one watching the woman at the moment, and there was something oddly intimate about it. Seeing the way she relaxed a little when she thought she was alone. Moran had been the same way. He'd known he was being watched, but still, a few sharp edges softened. The machine became human. A human that drank tea sometimes instead of coffee. A human that liked the Addams Family (especially Lurch, judging by the way he smirked.) Now his daughter was the same way, shoulders sloping slightly out of their stiff posture as she sank into the couch.

Keira decided after a short sit that she needed to take stock of the apartment, and got up to do just that. Had anything personal been overlooked? Maybe Moran had left something for her after all. She'd be pissed if that was the case, but some part of her (probably the stupider part) hoped that it was true. Some sign that he had cared, that he hadn't forgotten her, or just ignored her. She went through the kitchen first, just because she didn't expect to find anything there. The only thing that stood out was a half-gone bar of some expensive Swiss chocolate, which she doubted housekeeping had brought her but had probably been too insignificant to take away. The liquor cabinet was unsurprisingly mostly empty, save for a bottle of rich bourbon on the top shelf. She wondered why this one had withstood Harrison's descent into alcoholism. She left it where it was for now, though she was tempted to have some of it. She didn't know if she wanted to disrupt it.

The next few days, their interactions were limited. Ines intentionally kept away. Let Keira get used to the changes she had encountered so far before she introduced any others. She kept the younger woman busy doing paperwork in hits, not letting her into the field, controlling her movements throughout the building with careful assignments and requests from different persons around the building. Getting her used to control, to a rhythm.

It was nice to be active again, even if it was fucking office work, and Keira accepted the duties without complaint. Better to be compliant than be locked up, bored and doing nothing. After a few days, she felt locked into a pattern, and it chafed, but she couldn't bring herself to complain. She had to remember that things could be so much worse.

Ines could see the occasional moments of tension, but eventually, even those lapsed. The routine was simple, and undemanding, and utterly boring. She kept her there long enough to suffer, and then had Mags call her in with the news that she was being transferred from Hits to Security, the better to keep an eye on her.

Keira was irritated with this development. Security? Fucking security? God, it was almost an insult. First Ines came to her, telling her about her vision for Keira becoming a bigger name than Sebastian Moran, and now she was transferred to SECURITY? What the fuck was she supposed to do here?

The answer didn't come until almost a week later, three weeks after Keira had been released. Ines sent word that Keira was to be sent up to her office immediately, and sat back to wait.

Keira didn't waste any time. Normally, she might have, just out of spite. But god damn, security was boring, and the only time it wasn't was when everyone had been doing their job incorrectly. She knocked on the door briskly, impatient to get this over with.

Ines called her in and stood from the couch as she entered, walking over with a smile and a hand outstretched to shake. "Keira. Good to see you."

Keira gave a bit of a forced smile, shaking her hand. She wasn't sure what this was about, so she couldn't be outright sullen. Even though sullen was always just a breath away. "Hi. What's up?"

She stepped back, motioning for Keira to follow her to a couple of comfortable chairs, at ease though she could sense the girl's frustration. "I've gotten a return of the security evaluation I requested. I'm pleased with the results."

"Uh, good," she said, looking down at the seat she was in. It looked enormously expensive. "I try. I assume you didn't call me up here for a pat on the back, though."

"No," she agreed, nodding a little. "I've called you here because, as I've said, Mag finished her security evaluation, and because I've been pleased with your work, I'd like to make you an offer." She leaned forward, elbows on her knees, dark skin shining slightly in the fluorescent light. "I have been looking around for a good candidate for my personal bodyguard. It needs to be someone I trust. Someone with potential. Someone I can spend significant periods of time with. You fit the bill. Now, I'm aware you aren't experienced in this particular area, but you have many of the necessary skills, just not the know-how. Transferring you to security resolved some of that. The rest would be taken care of by on-the-job training with a seasoned bodyguard for the first few months." She leaned back again, smiling softly. "You'd see the world I see. Make personal hits if I need them, rub elbows and make impressions on the right people. It's the right stepping stone to becoming head of a branch someday. Who knows, maybe even my second. What do you think?"

She blinked, overwhelmed, but that was the only indication of it. By now, it was clear her father had abandoned her, and she was well and truly on her own. She needed to take care of herself, and fight her way to the top as soon as possible, to make sure her position in the new regime was solid. There was no choice, really. "When do I start?"