Oliver felt a blush ascend his body, slightly uncomfortable at where the conversation was going. He had not know. "I'm sorry." He said, clearing his throat nervously. Jac just looked at him blankly, a small, not a happy, smile playing on her lips. He's lying. Nobody ever cares.

"I'm not…" She replied, looking down at the floor. For certain. Oliver furrowed his brow, who wouldn't be sorry of their dads death? Well, it was Jac Naylor. She had her arms arched around her knees in a protective semi-circle once again, as if it was a barrier from unwelcome thoughts and feelings. Smoothing his trouser leg, Oliver felt the bulge of his mobile phone resting in the pocket - its sole intention was to provide some kind of get out clause for today. Slowly, he flipped it open and punched in a number; he didn't stop to look at whom, he just located a name and rang, needing some comforting tones rather than the frosty silence issuing from Ms Naylor. Two words flashed on the screen: No Signal. Brilliant, just brilliant. So, instead, in an act of defiance, he switched to photos. There she was. His sister, bright, happy and alive. It was a considerable change from Jac's unwelcoming aurora. She had been beautiful. He laughed at his drunken sister's expression, switching from photo to photo. "What, does your phone tell jokes?" Jac smirked. Abruptly, something shuddered above them, creaking in the darkness, making Jac jerk. A long, large metallic cylinder teetered high over them. The sound it made sliced the atmosphere into complete silence. Suddenly, a large bang reverberated around the room; loud, piercing. It was only when she felt the searing pain in her leg, did Jac see the huge object in front of her, trapping her and Ollie in a confined space. Her lungs felt tight. Gasping for breath, Jac felt her chest tighten and ache, the air gone from her body. She was hyperventilating. No! Not again! She was six once more, the feeling taking her back to hell. It was dark. So dark. She pounded on the door, hoping to escape. Where was he? She cried. Slowly, she drifted away…

"Ms Naylor? Are you hurt?" Oliver asked, slightly dazed, but not at all perturbed by the small space they were now enclosed in.

"What do you think Valentine? I'm stuck in a lift with you of all people, I've missed some very important surgery and my legs now trapped under this thing!" Jac replied frantically, her Ice-Queen exterior faltering under the weight of a thousand colliding thoughts contently sitting on her shoulders. "It's not my idea of a good day!" Struggling under the weight of the massive cylinder, Oliver heaved; it moved only a couple of inches but that was enough to slide it over Jac's foot. She inhaled, however the relief vanished as panic flooded her veins. It's going to be ok… It's going to be ok… But it's never ok! Jac stared, unable to quite comprehend her surroundings, unaware of a confused, concerned Oliver looking on. Her heart beat in her chest. She turned to Ollie. In the split second that their eyes met, they seemed to dissipate. Jac breathed in slowly, Dr Valentine in a state of utter perplexity. "Why?" He finally said.
"Why what?" Jac snapped back at him, resuming the protective arc around her legs.

"Why are you so scared?" Oliver stood his ground, fixing Jac with a determined stare.

"If I throw a ball with you leave?" Jac mocked, sarcasm entering her blood stream now.

"Look, Ms Naylor, we both know that something isn't right and if you're going to stay in this state for the next hour I will have to kill myself."

"How I will cherish that moment." Oliver cocked his head in an exasperated tilt. Jac sighed. Her life was a catalogue of mistakes; ranging from the small and petty, to the ones void of sanity, and what happened when she was only six years old nearly topped them all. She had trust someone.


Hello! :) Hope you all enjoyed this part! Please R&R. Plus please check out my other fanfics! Thank you for reading! Ideas are welcome on what can happen next. x