Everybody's got a secret

- P!nk - Secrets -

The next few days passed in a blur of relatively menial tasks. Keira had locked herself in her old apartment, and Moran left her there for now. They had too much to do to reassert control in the network to deal with her at the moment. They had left Ines alone for the time being, much to his dismay. But Jim had ordered a full medical evaluation before anything else was done to her, so that they didn't risk her dying of some complication they weren't aware of. He woke that morning expecting the evaluation in his email. However, in its stead, he found an email marked 'urgent' requesting that he come down to the med bay as soon as possible. He swore quietly and rolled out bed.

Jim was sitting in the waiting room, hands folded together, his body frozen. He was waiting for Sebastian, but while he did so was consumed with thought, his mind racing. This was not what he had expected. How was this a possibility?

He made it down to the med bay inside of five minutes, still buttoning his shirt. He saw Jim in the waiting room and walked over quickly. "What's happened? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. It's our illustrious captive, Ines," he said, rising out of his chair, sliding his hands into his pockets. "I had X-rays taken to check for any nasty little defects, to see if we could head them off at the pass. You wouldn't believe what they're showing. I know I didn't."

He raised an eyebrow, but nodded a little, motioning for Jim to continue. "Well, don't hold me in suspense..."

Jim snapped his fingers at the orderly waiting tensely in the corner, and she stepped forward, handing him the x-rays. "Come with me," he said, and turned to lead him down the hall and into a dark room, where he quickly put up the offending sheets and flicked on the lights.

"Jesus Christ..." Sebastian whispered, eyes on the x-rays. They showed ribs- Ines's, he assumed, but what was startling was what else it showed. There, carved into the bones, was a message.

"'Did you miss me? -E'... What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"I really didn't think this would come back to haunt me, Moran, I really didn't," he sighed, shaking his head slowly. "I've got a long story to tell you. We might want to sit."

He looked at his employer in the dark room, and then sighed. "Is this the sort of long story I'm going to want a bourbon for?"

"If it will make you feel better," he sighed, waving a hand. "Let's go to my office."

He nodded, taking a picture of the x-rays on his phone, before following Jim out of the med bay and toward the lift.

He led the way to the lift, where they rode in silence, and then into his office, where he went to sit at his desk. "Alright. To start; the Holmes brothers have a sister. Her name is Euros. More than a decade ago, for a present, she requested my presence at her private prison. There, she unveiled a plan to muddle the mind of her youngest brother."

"Christ, Jim," he muttered, sitting down at the desk. "Bourbon..." he said in a pained voice. He could already tell he was going to hate this.

He nodded, shifting back in his chair to grab the bourbon from his desk drawers, and two glasses, setting them down on the desk to let him pour as much as he liked. "I was bored. Young, and bored. And finally, I had a real peer. I guess I was susceptible to peer pressure, now that it was finally something that could happen. I agreed to her plan. I helped her flesh it out, came up with half of it myself." He paused. "I was supposed to die on the top of St. Barts. It was a decision I made myself, or, I hope so. When I didn't I felt different. I regretted shooting myself. I didn't need this imprisoned girl to rule my life, to give me purpose. I never contacted her again. But I guess that was foolishly optimistic. 'Did you miss me' was supposed to be a film run of me, pretending to be back from the dead."

He had poured himself about two fingers, but halfway through Jim's explanation he set the glass down and poured two more. "Jesus, Jim," he muttered, taking a long sip of bourbon and closing his eyes. "What... the actual fuck were you..." He opened his eyes, looked across the desk at his employer, and then just shook his head. "Jesus fuck." He drained the bourbon and set his glass down.

Jim, for once in his life, had the good graces to look embarrassed. "I know, Moran, I know. I've said it all to myself. I never imagined it would come back to haunt me. I was her agency outside the walls, I was her eyes and ears. I suppose that was naïve of me... if she could get me, couldn't she get anyone else? I imagine she knew almost immediately I survived. That must have been when she put this plan in motion."

"So Ines... Jesus," he said again. That was all he really could think to say. "Ines was hers, then. Eres or whatever her name is? Her... what... her revenge on you?"

"Her impatience, perhaps, predicted a decade early. I've ruined the game for her." He sighed, raising a hand to rub his eyes. "Who knows what damage Euros has managed to do on her prison with her brief control of my network. I doubt Ines even knows what she was doing."

"Jesus," he said again, reaching out to pour bourbon into both of their glasses now. He stood, taking his glass with him, starting to pace. "So what the hell do we do?"

"Drones. I want drones over the island she's on, just to see if it's still being as heavily guarded, and," he sighed, closing his eyes. "I need to discuss this with the Holmes's. They're the ones containing her there; or Mycroft is, anyway."

He didn't bother to say 'Jesus' again, just looked over at Jim with an expression that suggested he was seriously evaluating his sanity. "James..." he said finally, tone uncertain. "How bad is this?"

"Quite," he said tensely, grabbing the glass in front of him, and immediately shotgunning it. "Most of these contenders have been lesser than me. Large bark, smaller bite. Her?" He shook his head. "She doesn't threaten. She simply does. We're both maniacs, but she's absolutely looney."

He drained his glass again, and leaned against the wall, considering James. "Honestly, Jim- and don't lie to me on this, I need to know what we're dealing with- honestly... Is she smarter than you?"

"It's possible," Jim muttered, bitterly. "It's not like either of us have compared our I.Q. scores."

That was as good as a yes from Jim, and they both knew it. Moran took another sip, only to remember that his glass was empty. He walked back over to the desk. "What does she want?"

He let out a long, irritated breath. Not irritated with Sebastian, but with the situation at hand. "That's the feckin' problem with Euros. Her wants and desires are lost in translation. The only way to operate is to ask 'what will she do?' which is almost as hard to answer."

He sat down, reaching up to rub at his eyes. "Alright... Before we go forward with this- are there any other vengeful massive threats to security that you may have forgotten to mention over the years?"

"None that come to mind, Sebastian," he sighed. He snorted a little. "At least I feel better about someone like Ines ousting me from power. It means that I wasn't bested by a woman so sub-par and with such moral motivations."

"Of course you do," Moran muttered, sitting again and rubbing at his eye. "What the hell is she imprisoned for, anyway?"

"She's imprisoned because she's a menace to society. And because she began killing as a child. Killing other children, not just animals like most psychopaths," he snorted. "Killing other children... why does that sound familiar..."

He ignored Jim's commentary for the moment. "So is there anything we can do besides running with our tail between our legs to the Holmes brothers, of all fucking people?"

"Besides attempting to create a mole in a non-essential part of the prison, or constant surveillance, no. We can wait. That's it."

He was getting over the shock now and moving on to anger, but he did his best to keep that contained. Jim was being surprisingly humble about all of this. "Right."

He took a deep breath, pouring himself another glass of bourbon and taking this one a little more slowly.

"Why the hell didn't you tell me, Jim?" He asked finally. "How many fucking times do we have to revisit that roof?"

"I don't know, Sebastian," he said, defeated. "I don't know. I thought it was an embarrassing secret I could keep to myself. I was young, and stupid, and I didn't care about living. She always said I wasn't very interested in living, and she was right."

He shook his head, reaching out to pour more bourbon, despite the fact that he could feel the heat rolling through him already. "Alright. We'll fix this. Just... don't ever pull something like that again, Jim."

"I haven't, if it makes you feel any better," he shook his head. "Don't say I don't learn from my mistakes."

He sighed, and nodded. "I've made plenty of them. We'll fix this." He sipped his drink quietly. "I'll need to tell Harrison. We're both working on Ines."

"Considering she's your replacement in any event resulting in your unfortunate absence, she's privy to most things we discuss," he agreed. "I know you're almost completely unlikely to betray me, and she only would for you, so," he shrugged, rolling his eyes.

He decided not to respond to that, just sipped his drink quietly.

Jim let the silence stand for a few minutes before he spoke again. "We shouldn't let Euros know we've found her sign. Not yet. It will delay her movement, let us get contingencies in place. For now, we make no move. We'll only be showing our hand."

He nodded just a little bit. "I agree," he said quietly. "Right now we have an advantage. Do we tell Ines what we found? See what she knows?"

He nodded. "Might as well. She's not going anywhere, and the scans didn't bring up any electronics or foreign bodies that could be bugs."

He downed his glass. "Then with that in mind, sir, I'm going to go sober up and talk to Harrison... We have work to do."

He nodded again. "Alright. Dismissed."

He stood, and headed for the door without saying anything else, just trying to process.

Lorna was asleep in bed, blissfully unaware of any major developments, which was the way she liked it.

He keyed into the flat and headed over to the bedroom, the bourbon starting to hit him rather strongly. He flopped down onto the bed, bouncing Lorna, and reached out to tap her arm. "Hey. Hey, wake up."

She groaned, eyes cracking open to look at him. "Wha? What is it? Why do you smell like booze this early?"

"Because I just had one of the most alcohol-required conversations of my life," he muttered, rubbing at his eyes.

She frowned, rolling onto her side to face him completely. "What? What's happened?"

"Ready for this?" he asked, though he knew she couldn't be. "There's another Holmes, one who's smarter than Jim. She put him up to the Holmes Games, and is evidently pissed at him for surviving them. And she's carved a greeting saying as much on Ines's ribs." He fumbled with his phone as he spoke, finally bringing up the photo of the x-ray and handing it to her.

"Wow..." she muttered, looking a little mind-blown. "Jeez... What do we do?"

"Yeah, that's what I said. Jim was less than helpful. Wants to reach out to the Holmes brothers. Evidently they're the ones that have her in lockup." He rolled onto his back.

She let out a long breath. "Well... howdy." Was all she could think to say, which was an odd thing to say. "Yeesh. That's a lot to absorb."

"Howdy?" he snorted, looking over at her. "I tell you our... network was taken over by an outside force that makes Jim consi'er the Holmes brothers... An' you say Howdy?"

"I just woke up, leave me alone! I'm not the one who got hammered, so I'm allowed to say whatever comes to my mind first," she retorted defensively. "What do you want me to say?"

"I dunno," he sighed. "I mostly said 'Jesus' an' 'fuck' a lot." He rubbed at his face. "Th' fuck was he thinking..."

"I don't know how you expect me to know," she muttered, yawning. "That's above my pay grade."

He shrugged, yawning in response, though his ended in a wet sounding cough and he made a face, sitting up to go find allergy medication.

She frowned a little at the cough, watching him disappear into the bathroom. She loved the kitten, but if he was really that allergic... She shook off the thought. Allergic people had red eyes and runny noses, they sneezed before they coughed. He was just getting a cold.

He returned a minute later, rubbing at his sternum absently and flopping on his back on the bed again. "I had a lot of bourbon," he said, grinning at her upside down.

She laughed, shaking her head. "I know, I can tell. I don't think you've been this drunk in a couple years."

"It was good bourbon. And a baaaad conversation. So I drank a lot," he said with a grin. He reached out to grab her then, pulling her into an awkward sort of upside down hug.

She squeaked, pulled into an awkward position. "Okay, how about you let me go and we redo this?"

He let out a mildly annoyed huff, but released her, sprawling his arms spread eagle across the bed and stretching.

She moved over and curled up against his side, head pillowed on his massive shoulder. She chuckled a little. "You really smell like bourbon. Did you spill any on your clothes?"

"No," he snorted, insulted. "I'm not that drunk."

"That's what you say," she chuckled, nestling into him. "It's cute."

"I'm not cute," he protested, though he wrapped heavy arms around her.

She smirked, shifting to kiss his cheek. "Sure you aren't."

"You keep being patroni-" he broke off into a fit of coughs, croupy and painful, and made a face. He cleared his throat when it finally eased, and took a breath. "What was I saying? I dunno. Don't be a dick."

"I'm not being a dick, I just very much love you," she shrugged, patting his chest absently. "You're easiest to be affectionate to when you're drunk. Sue me, I'm taking advantage of it."

He muttered something unintelligible. He was rather unpleasantly drunk now, his head spinning when his eyes closed. "Love you too..."

She fell silent for a few minutes, just enjoying his presence, and a little too sleepy for anything else. "Do you think maybe you should get your cough checked out at the infirmary? I'm not convinced it's the kitten. What if you're getting the flu?"

"It's the fucking cat, Har'son," he muttered. "Shinyfuck's all up in my airways."

"If you insist. But when you get the flu I'm reserving the right to say I told you so," she shrugged, kissing his cheek again. "I ordered my wedding dress."

He smirked. "If I get the flu, you're getting it with me," he pointed out. He shifted to look at her with bleary eyes. "Oh? Whatssit look like?"

"That'd be spoiling it, wouldn't it?" She smirked. "You'll just have to wait. I promise you'll like it."

"How'm I s'posed t'match, then?" he asked grumpily.

"I'll send you a close-up so you can see the color. Style-wise, Kelly helped order it, so you can talk to him for direction."

"Kelly knows?" he asks blearily. "S'the whole departmen' know? Or jus' Kelly?"

"Just Kelly, although it's not exactly an earthshattering secret," she said. "Everyone saw what happened to me when I lost you, and before that your department saw you emasculate Johnson for suggesting he might make a better partner. I didn't even tell Kelly it was for my wedding, but he ordered it in my size without needing to ask."

He let out a quiet, distressed groan. "They're gonna think we're soft, Lorna..." he muttered.

"I shot a woman in the elevator today because she tried to slutshame me," she deadpanned. "If we need to we'll hold monthly demonstrations of me being socked in the stomach by a sock full of change and watch me be unaffected. And, honestly, there's a good portion of them who are married themselves. It's not about being soft. It's one of the hardest things I've ever done, I don't know about you."

He harrumphed, but didn't have a counter-argument to that, and closed his eyes again.

She let out a long, relaxed breath, eyes slipping shut. She still had some time before she was on duty, and she could use that to drift back off to sleep.

He tried to nap as well, but the cough kept him awake, and he ended up waiting for the alcohol to wear off with Lorna sleeping next to him.

The next few days were slow. He left Ines alone, mulling over the best way to approach the message on her ribs. Mostly he focused on restructuring security and keeping people in order. Today, he'd spent most of his morning in the flat, answering emails. This was partly due to his backlogged inbox, and partly to the fact that his occasional cough had developed into a full-on nuisance, and he was avoiding Lorna's smug glances.

Keira sat on her bed, looking down at her phone, trying to get up the courage to send the text. It shouldn't be so hard. He was her father, after all. Maybe that just made it harder. She sighed, shaking her head for a moment, then taking in a deep breath and hitting send.

Hi. Can we talk? K

His phone buzzed and he was tempted to ignore it, but it wasn't Lorna's pattern so he took it out of his pocket. He raised an eyebrow, then responded. Come to my flat.

She sent an affirmation text, then stood and headed for the door, suppressing her nervousness enough that no one looking at her would be able to tell. Three minutes later she knocked on his door, resisting the urge to jiggle her leg.

He sighed and got up, walking over and glancing through the peephole before opening the door. "Come on," he said, voice hoarse.

"Hey," she said, stepping in with a duck of her head. "Sorry for the abrupt text. Just thought we should... clear the air, or something."

"You mean the air in which you held a shotgun on me?" He asked sarcastically, raising an eyebrow as he closed the door behind her. He cleared his throat, trying to stifle a cough, but it followed anyway.

"Yeah, I guess," she sighed, rubbing the back of her neck and up into her short hair. "I know I was stupid. I just wanted to... apologize?"

He sighed. "Sit. I need a drink." He walked over to the liquor cabinet and grabbed a bottle of whiskey, and after a glance at Keira, one glass. "I think maybe you can stay sober for a bit after that drunk driving stunt you pulled a few months ago," he muttered, pouring a double and returning the bottle to the cabinet.

She thought about protesting, but that seemed like maybe it was counterproductive, so she bit the inside of her lip and nodded a little, sitting down at the end of the couch. Then she frowned a little. "How did you hear about that?"

"Ines," he said, sitting at the far end of the couch and downing the whiskey in one go. It burned his throat, and he had to concentrate for a moment on not breaking out into a coughing fit. "She thought it was amusing to tell me about all the ways you were almost getting yourself killed."

She swallowed hard, nodding a little, her elbows on her legs, hands held together in front of her. "...Great."

He looked over at her, and sighed. "Don't let it eat you, alright?"

"Kinda hard not to let it," she laughed, mostly so she didn't cry. This was the biggest betrayal she'd ever been through. Sure, her previous network had tried to get her killed by her own father, but that had been largely impersonal. This had been as personal as it could get. "Wouldn't it eat at you?"

He muttered something and stood up. "I need food," he said as he headed for the kitchen. "Come eat."

She nodded, standing and following him to the kitchen, remaining silent.

He pulled out some leftover drunken noodles from the fridge, dividing them between two bowls and sticking one in the microwave. "You're going to get betrayed in this game. By people who you trusted. Look at you, you almost shot me. That stung my pride a bit, not going to lie."

"I didn't think you cared that much, honestly," she said, shrugging a little and leaning against the counter. "Even before I thought you just abandoned me... I don't know."

"I wouldn't abandon you, alright? Let's just set that as the bottom line." He pulled the noodles out of the microwave and handed it to her, covering another round of coughing before putting his own in. "You're my kid. That means something."

"You didn't exactly make that clear," she pointed out, snorting and taking the bowl, moving to sit down at the table.

"Do I look like the sort of person who makes that clear?" He asked dryly, his voice like gravel. He leaned against the counter. "You don't make these things clear in this industry. That's not how surviving works."

"So how am I supposed to know, then?" She protested, sitting there without silverware.

He eyed her, and sighed, pulling a fork out of a drawer and tossing it at her. "I don't know, fucking figure it out!" he growled. He looked at her for a moment, and shook his head. "I can't be your father here. That doesn't work. If I had stayed with your mother... Sometimes I wonder."

"Well that's a hell of a thing to walk into," Lorna said from the doorway, eyes sharp on Sebastian. Keira froze.

He looked up, and lines tensed all over his body, expression locking down. "Keira, I think we're done clearing the air," he said, glancing over at her. "Take the food with you."

Keira made a sort of "Yup" sound, grabbed the bowl, and slipped around Lorna like she was made of a liquid, and was gone a moment later. Lorna put down her bag of takeout on the counter. "I got sushi. Thought I'd surprise you." Her voice was flinty.

"I appreciate that," he said, externally calm, waiting to see what she would do.

She stared at him for moment, trying to figure out what she wanted to say. She wanted it to be hurtful, but she resisted that urge. Spiteful, she didn't quite escape. "So, uh, how often exactly do you wish you were with Keira's mother instead?" She challenged, raising her eyebrows.

"I never said that," he responded, standing up fully. "I never said I would be happier with her than with you."

"No, but have you thought it?" She shot back, crossing her arms over her chest, leaning back on one leg. It was a posture she developed when she was hurt and needed to hide it.

"Why are you even asking me that?" he asked, clearing his throat and wincing slightly. "Of course not. Why are we even having this conversation?"

"Because I walked in to you telling your daughter something about staying with her mother, a woman who you have admitted to me before you saw a future with. Did she also fight for your affection, or did you just go ahead and give it to her?"

"I wasn't even out of high school," he snorted. "And you took that whole conversation entirely out of context. Stop being paranoid, it doesn't suit you. You should have more confidence than this by now," he snapped. He headed for the living room. He didn't want to talk about this.

"Oh, should I?" She snarled, turning to track him. "Moran, it's only been in the last few months that I've even considered being openly affectionate. I O. a few months ago because you called us off, again. I think being paranoid is called for, thanks."

"Jesus, Lorna, this has nothing to do with us!" he growled, which just set off another round of coughing. He held up a finger until he got his breath back. "Just leave it. I'm happy with you."

"Then what the fuck does it have to do with, Sebastian?" She asked helplessly, finding herself quickly changing from anger to defensive tears, and she blinked hard to keep them at bay.

"Jesus fuck..." he muttered, walking over to the liquor cabinet and opening it, before slamming it shut again. "The fact that I want kids, Lorna!" he yelled a moment later, rounding on her. "Alright? I fucking want kids. And I can't ever have that with you, and with this job, and so yeah, sometimes I think about how much less I would have been tortured and lied to if I had just stayed in fucking Ireland!"

She fell entirely silent, shocked. She didn't know how long the silence lasted before she broke it, a couple of tears spilling from her eyes. "God, Sebastian... I'm sorry. I didn't know," she said quietly, and after a second looked away, rubbing her eyes. She'd never liked kids, and she'd always known that she'd make a terrible mother. But if she was going to have kids with anyone, she would have wanted to have kids with him. It broke her heart that he couldn't have that.

"Jesus," he said again, looking at her for a moment before shaking his head. "Nope," he muttered, heading into their room and then the bathroom, closing the door. He was breathing hard, gripping the sink with white knuckles, heart pounding. The fucking pity in her eyes... He swore under his breath, eyes shutting. She thinks you're soft. She felt sorry for you, looked at you like you were weak... Jim is going to find out, and then what? All because you couldn't keep your fucking mouth shut...

His fingers were cold on the marble, trigger finger aching, and he let go suddenly, grabbing a soap dish and hurling it with a yell of rage. It shattered in the tub, and he took a breath that hitched hard, and wheezed. He swore as coughs overtook him, but his anger was put on hold as they became stronger than usual. He put a hand on the sink again, the other covering his mouth as his lungs spasmed. He tried to get a breath, but it wasn't coming, and he tasted metal. He got a half breath in before it started again, almost to the point of gagging now. He glanced in the mirror, confused, and saw a purpling face with bloody teeth staring back between jolts.

She was at the door as soon as there was a shattering of glass, and she opened it to his coughing fit, finding him purple and struggling to breathe. Her eyes grew wide. "Fuck, fuck, are you okay? Do you need to go to the infirmary?" She asked anxiously, then decided, yes, he did, when she saw blood, and whipped around, running for her phone in the other room, and calling for a team to come retrieve him.

He tried to tell her that no, he absolutely did not need to go to the infirmary, but the difficulty of getting enough oxygen to do that made him reconsider. The world started swimming, and he sat hard, managing a wheezing breath as he did so before his lungs gave up again.

She came back into the bathroom, kneeling down in front of him, looking very worried. "They're on their way, okay? Just hold on until then, Seb; try to breathe slowly."

He flipped her off half-heartedly, closing his eyes and focusing on trying to get air into his lungs. There was more blood in his mouth now, and he kept choking on it, the metal tang filling his sinuses and windpipe.

She sat with him until she heard the knock on the door, and stood to jog over and throw it open, letting the medical team inside. "He's in the bathroom."

He lasted about long enough to see the team come in, before his vision blacked out entirely and he dropped unconscious.

The medics dropped a stretcher beside him, one reaching out to get a pulse. "Pulse is rapid, breathing very irregular..." they rolled him onto the stretcher and lifted on a three-count, moving to the gurney just outside the bathroom door and then heading for the lift, the woman still checking vitals.

Lorna hovered just behind them, anxious. "He's had this cough for a few days. It's been getting worse and worse."

The man pushing the gurney looked at her as they moved into the lift and he hit the emergency override for the med bay. "Has he had any other symptoms?"

She shook her head. "No. Just really bad coughing."

He nodded, and didn't ask any more questions as the lift opened and they jogged out into the med bay, already calling for assistance. A few doctors were waiting, and started moving with them, getting sensors in place. A moment later they disappeared into one of the triage rooms and the curtain was pulled shut.

She stopped in the middle of the waiting room, staring after them, eyes wide, biting the inside of her cheek. God, what was wrong with him? Don't let this be what takes you out, Sebastian, I swear to god...