Huck reached around and felt for his gun. He had been following Rowan all day, and was finally getting his chance to confront him. Rowan was a few paces in front of Huck, but Huck was catching up to him. They were in front of an old warehouse that had been abandoned for years now and it was just the two of them. Suddenly Rowan stopped. As did Huck. His hand wrapped around the grip of his gun as Rowan slowly turned around.

"You're getting sloppy, soldier. " Rowan said slyly. "I saw you this morning."

The two were now facing each other now, Huck had his gun pointed at Rowan's head. "Shut up." Huck said shakily.

"I've left you a present inside." He pointed behind him to the warehouse. "All wrapped up and ready to go." Rowan walked toward Huck and grabbed the gun. Within 5 seconds, the gun was taken completely apart and was laying on the ground. "Try not to screw this one up, boy."

And with that, Rowan walked away cooly, got in his car and left. Huck walked towards the empty building.

Huck's mouth was watering. His hands were shaking. His expression was eerily stoic. His eyes darted from the man laying at his feet covered in duct tape, to the drill he held in his hand, and back to the man again. The man tried to scream, but it was muffled by the duct tape around his mouth. Huck crouched down, leaning in close.

"I don't believe we've met. What was your name again? Dylan? Nice to meet you Dylan, I'm Huck. I'm gonna ask you some questions, and you're gonna tell me what I want to know. Okay?" Huck revved the drill and licked his lips. He was going to enjoy this. It had been awhile since he went out, drank the whiskey. But tonight his thirst would be quenched. He had been squirming and vibrating and it wouldn't stop. But tonight it would stop, and he wouldn't be thirsty anymore. Dylan kicked and screamed, breathing heavily, doing anything in his power to prevent Huck from hurting him. But Huck had a look in his eyes. Nothing and no one was going to stop him from this. He wanted... he needed to do this. Torture, killing, this was his heroine, his cocaine. This was his whiskey. And like any junkie, he was going to enjoy the high for as long as he could and then something was going to fall away, something was going to give and he was going to start having fun. This was all he could think about, the high, the rush after the horrible and sickening, because he was rusty, sober.

"I'm sorry Dylan, I really am. But I have to do this." Huck got on his knees and pointed his drill at the man's bicep. He dove in, tearing through skin and muscle. Dylan was hysterical, screaming and crying out in agony. Blood spattered onto Huck's face and chest, enough to make him flinch but not enough to make him stop. Huck's eyes widened, and he licked his lips once again. Sweat beaded his forehead and dripped down his face but Huck just wiped his eyes and kept drilling. Finally, Huck's drill stopped spinning and he pulled it out of the man's arm. There were six small holes where Huck had gone in. The man was bleeding profusely, and Huck watched the blood flow out of the wounds he had left. The man looked pale, his fingers and toes numb and cold.

Dylan was dead. Huck was all alone now. He looked down at his hands, the hands that were covered in blood. Blood from a man he didn't even know.

But something was different. This one felt... different, weird, like it wasn't Huck who had just tortured this man, it was- it was someone else, someone he didn't recognize. He couldn't believe how easily Command did that to him. It was like he flipped a switch and Huck was working for him again, doing whatever Command ordered him to do. It was insane how much control he still had on Huck. Maybe this is why it felt so different, Huck was beginning to realize that there is no escape from B-613, from Command. There's nothing he can do about it. He belongs to them.

Huck looked down at this man he had just killed. His bottom lip began to quiver and a lump formed in his throat.

"I'm sorry." He said as he grabbed a corner of the bloodied plastic tarp. He folded it over the man's head and chest. "I'm sorry." he said as he folded the remaining three corners over the body. "I'm sorry." he said as he removed Dylan's watch from his left wrist.

Huck pulled out his cell phone and dialed the number he had dialed so many times before. It rang twice.

"Huck?" the voice on the other line answered. "Huck where are you, is everything okay?"

"Liv I- Can we- Is it okay if I-" Huck stammered, his voice sounded unsteady even to himself.

"Huck it's okay. You can come over." Olivia finished for him.

"Ok." His voice broke. He took a deep breath.

"Ok." She repeated back to him before hanging up.

Huck knocked three times on Olivia's wooden door. She swung it open and gasped when she saw his blood-stained shirt. She beckoned for him to come in, and Huck obeyed, keeping his hands shoved in his jacket pockets.

"Let me see them." She said softly but firmly, holding out her hands, wanting to inspect his. Huck slowly pulled one hand out, then the other and placed them palms-up in hers. She only looked at his blood covered palms for a few seconds before turning on her heel and strutted to her bedroom.

"Come with me." she called to him. Huck followed her into her bedroom, where she was furiously digging in the back of her closet. When she reappeared, she was holding an old Ramones t-shirt, some underwear, and a pair of flannel pants. He tossed the clothes at him.

"Take a shower." She began, pointing at the bathroom. "And when you're done you can tell me what happened."

Huck nodded and walked sheepishly into the bathroom and shutting the door.

Huck walked into Olivia's living room just as she walked out of her kitchen. She was holding two glasses of water. They both sat on the sofa and she handed one of the glasses to him.

"Huck?" Olivia prompted him.

"...so uh, I fell off the wagon. I let my guard down and I, drank whiskey. I thought I could handle it, stay in control, stay strong. But, this time was different. This time I didn't take the whiskey, it was put in my hand. The decision was taken away from me. And I drank, and drank, and drank. I wish I could say that I hated it, but I didn't. I liked it. Because whiskey is good, whiskey feels, like home. And I just... I couldn't stop. I thought I would be able to but I couldn't."

Olivia put her hand on the side of his face and stroked it with the pads of her thumb. Huck rested his head on her hand. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on steadying his breath. It had become uneven and labored, at some points he was almost gasping for air.

"I'm sorry Liv. I'm so sorry." Huck, the protector, the guard dog, the fighter, the warrior, the soldier, the killer spy, her friend Huck was genuinely sorry. It took a second for her to realize how deep his words ran, how deep his apology dug into their past. She tried to keep the tears that brimmed her eyes at bay, but failed.

"It's okay, it's okay, it's okay. Huck, hey." She lifted his chin to meet her gaze, her eyes full of understanding and concern. "Look at me."

Huck lifted his Basset-Hound eyes to meet Olivia's.

"We're going to get through this. You and me. You can rise above this. You are not a monster, Huck. You are a person. A good person, who made mistakes. We all make mistakes, it's the only way we can grow. I will do anything and everything in my ability to help you fight this. I'm right here, Huck. You are not alone in this. You have me. You have Quinn. You have Harrison. You have Abby. We are your family, and we will take care of you. I will take care of you. Okay?"

Huck took Liv's fragile hand in his strong one and gripped it tight. His face was fixed in the pinched expression he got when he was scared or overwhelmed.

Olivia scooted closer to him. "Come here." she whispered as she pulled him in. She pulled her knees up and sat Indian-style on the sofa. She put one arm around Huck's shoulder and kept his fingers intertwined in hers with her free hand. Her cheek rested on the top of his head. She slowly turned her head and placed the softest of kisses on his temple.

"Will you tell me about him?" Olivia asked quietly.

"Who?"

"Your son… Javier right?"

"We called him Javi. He was 7, maybe 8 the last time I saw hi … I think he had her eyes. Dark blue with green in some spots." Huck yawned and allowed his eyes to fall shut. "He looked so much like her."

His breathing became steadier, less labored. Olivia could feel him relax in her arms, she could feel him letting go of the day. He needed this, Huck needed to step back, take a breather. For once, just sit and take it all in. And he could do that with Olivia because she made him feel safe, she made him believe that he really was a gladiator in a suit, that he was worth of a second chance. And he was, he truly was.