halfcent:Thanks :D Glad I got you scared (in a good way, you understand ;))

I felt a little safer after making that deal with Decker. Not much; just a little. I mean, I didn't trust the guy not to arrest me the instant we got out of here and no longer needed each other, but I didn't think he'd shoot me in the back before that happened. He'd needed me to figure a way out of that water room. He might need me again. He'd also keep me alive; a dead fugitive wasn't worth anything. Alive, I could be locked up or used as bait for Hannibal. Probably it would be the former; we're all too good at rescuing each other for Decker to risk it happening again.

As we walked down a corridor, which was mercifully free of blades (at least, so far) Nadia edged closer to me. "Don't worry about him, Face. You were so brave back in that room; I don't think I could have done what you did."

"Oh. Well, thanks." I racked my brains trying to think of anything I'd done that had been amazingly heroic and drew a blank. "What, uh, what impressed you so much?"

"Well, the fact that there are probably hidden cameras in every room." Nadia shook her head, her expression serious. "I wouldn't have the nerve to go to the bathroom if I knew someone was watching me, let alone recording it."

There was a short pause, during which my insides did their very best to curl up and die, followed by a muffled choking noise from Decker's direction. If I didn't know the guy had absolutely no sense of humor, I would have said he was trying not to laugh.

Nodding toward him, Nadia said, "Why does he call you Peck, anyway?"

I glared at Decker. "Because he's not my friend."

Decker didn't answer. Well, there was absolutely no way he could argue with what I'd said andhe couldn't reveal the ugly truth either. Nadia's only hope of survival was to stick with us and telling her I was a fugitive might frighten her off; too many people equate the word fugitive with the word rapist. Then again, even if it did frighten her off, I wasn't sure it would make much difference. After all, it wasn't like she had anywhere to run.

Then again, she'd probably figured something out already. Neither Decker or I had bothered to keep our voices down when talking about things like arrest and Wanted posters.

We had almost come to the end of the corridor – there was another closed door ahead of us – when Nadia stopped. So did I, mostly to avoid walking into her; we'd stationed her in the middle partly because neither Decker nor I trusted each other and Nadia was a handy barrier, and partly to try and keep her safe from anything that might charge us or sneak up behind us.

"Are you okay?"

She bit her lip. "I guess. I'm kinda tired, though. Can't we rest for a few minutes?"

I glanced at Decker, who shrugged, then back at Nadia. I guess it wasn't surprising she was feeling the strain. I could go on for a long while yet, and I was certain Decker could as well, but Nadia was only a kid, and in the past few hours, or days, or however long she'd been here (I was still a little puzzled on that score) she'd been subjected to more mental and emotional stress and terror than most people experienced in a lifetime. In that condition, tiredness doesn't always build up; sometimes it just hits you like a brick.

"Yeah, okay. Sure. We can rest for five minutes or so." To tell the truth, I was glad of the pause myself; I wasn't too keen to discover what was on the other side of that door.

Nadia slumped down on the floor, her back against the wall and I moved closer to Decker – who simply looked at me without bothering to acknowledge my existence – and lowered my voice.

"Decker?"

"Hm?"

I paused. The idea of asking Decker, of all people, was crazy, but he'd been a soldier for longer than I had.

"Do you get the feeling we're being...well...stalked?"

Decker glanced over to where Nadia was sitting, then lowered his voice.

"Yeah, Peck, I do. In fact, I'd put money on it."

"Ah." That wasn't what I'd wanted to hear. I'd wanted him to comfort me – well, okay, maybe not comfort, but at least reassure me that it was all in my head. "Should we, uh, do something?"

Decker shrugged. "I'm open to suggestions, Lieutenant."

I hesitated before speaking again. But...what the hell. Decker already thought I was a ruthless fugitive. If my next question made him think I was crazy, that could even work in my favor. Maybe I could get a room next to Murdock's.

"Do you believe in...well, ghosts?"

I know, I know, it was nuts. But I couldn't get what I'd seen in that mirror out of my mind, or what had happened after that bladed corridor, when I'd been sure there was someone at the far end...someone who had gradually turned to shadow as I got closer.

He didn't look at either of us. "I'm beginning to."

I had no idea what he meant by that, but it wasn't much comfort.

"So what do we do about whoever's behind this?"

Decker shrugged. "Not much we can do right now, Peck, unless he decides to come out and try and kill us himself."

I shook my head. "No. That's not the idea. He doesn't want to kill us; he wants to watch us kill ourselves." When Decker didn't react, I pushed a little harder. "Don't you get it? This...this game, if that's what you wanna call it, isn't supposed to be winnable! We've only gotten this far because we're soldiers, not to mention unorthodox as hell!"

"And because the games are winnable, Peck. You got through that gas chamber somehow."

"Only because I had a giant rutabaga costume!"

There was a long silence, broken only by Nadia's giggle. Then Decker's expression unfroze a little and he said, "Peck, I know I'm going to regret asking you this for the rest of my life, but why?"

"Hannibal. Well, Hannibal and BA. Well, Hannibal, BA and the daycare center. BA and Hannibal decided to do the whole trick-or-treat thing this year, and so Hannibal sent me out to buy Halloween costumes and I got him a giant rutabaga. I was on my way home when I got attacked. Next thing I know, I'm here, and I lost the costume, which means Hannibal's going to kill me when I get back."

"He may not need to, Peck. Not if the guy behind this gets what he wants."

Nadia stirred a little. "You never told me, who is this guy? Do you know him?"

Decker snorted. "Not personally. He's known to the press as the Voyeur. He brings people to these little deathtraps to watch them die and records it, then sends the videos to the families."

Nadia shivered. "You mean he's really got cameras in every room, just watching us?"

"Not a nice thought, is it?"

I was silent, trying to puzzle something out. I could feel my mind quivering under the stress of this situation, but I persevered. Finally, it hit me and I stared at Nadia.

"How did you know about the bathroom?"

Was it my imagination (or the bad lighting), or did she look slightly edgy. "What? Know what about the bathroom?"

"You just asked Decker if there were cameras in every room, and not five minutes ago you told me you'd never have the nerve to go to the bathroom if you knew someone was watching, let alone recording, and that there are probably hidden cameras in every room. I seem to remember those were your exact words."

"Oh, that. I was only kidding. Well, not really. I mean, I saw the one in the bathroom, but I didn't think there were really others."

Decker glanced at her and I could tell he was now giving her his full attention.

"You saw the camera that was in the bathroom?"

Nadia nodded. "Yes. Of course."

"See, that's what I don't get." I moved up next to Decker, although I was careful to stay out of arm's reach. "I'm a lieutenant in the US Army, and Decker here's a colonel. Both of us were trained to be observational, especially in the Vietnam war – I can't speak for the Korean one, since it ended before I was born. I've been scanning every room for cameras—" which I had, although as unobtrusively as possible— "and I didn't see one in the bathroom. So how did you see it when you didn't even know to look for it?"

Even I could see that Nadia was now looking jittery, although I guess that could have been due to Decker's proximity. He has that effect on people. He's the only guy I've ever met who can make Hi, nice to meet you sound like a declaration of war.

Instead of crumbling, however, Nadia scrambled to her feet and glared at Decker. "Is that why you dropped me in that gas room? Because you think I've got something to do with this?"

"What?" I stared at Decker. "You dropped her?"

"Oh yeah." Nadia's voice was vicious now. "He picked me up and started carrying me toward the door, then he saw you and just dropped me to grab you instead."

"You were gonna leave her there?"

Decker's head snapped round and he glared at me. "No, I wasn't going to leave her, Peck! I just had one hell of a shock!"

"You had one hell of a shock! What the hell do you think I got when I woke up and saw you there? And now you're accusing this poor girl of being responsible! I suppose she was too good for you to know she was there until she hit you on the head and dragged you here! You know, Decker, you might wanna think about what you're saying. I mean, you're an Army colonel. Being knocked out and taken prisoner by a fifteen year old girl isn't the kind of story you want to spread around, know what I mean?" I glanced at the fifteen year old girl in question, only to discover she was now at the other end of the corridor and halfway through the door.

Giving Decker a we'll-continue-this-later look, I went after her. She'd stopped just on the other side, not because she wanted to wait for us but because it was raining in the room beyond. At least, that's what my tired mind thought at first. I even looked up for the clouds before realizing how dumb that was and seeing what was really there.

Three rows of fire sprinklers, mounted in pairs side by side on the ceiling, showering the entire room. There was a door at the other end, with a blinking light above some kind of panel next to it. I moved up past her, suspicious but not sure why yet. A few drops of the liquid spattered on my arm and I jerked back instinctively, but it was fine.

At least, that's what I thought until I felt the itching, burning sensation.

"Ow!"

Nadia, who had been about to step under the sprinklers herself, stopped and turned. "What is it? Are you okay?"

"Don't go under those things! Don't even go near them!" I stared at my arm, at the burn there. It wasn't too severe – it would probably heal without much of a trace – but it was bad enough for me not to want any more of my body under there.

"Why not? It's just water."

"It's not water, Nadia; it's acid."

She stared at me like I'd just grown an extra head. "Acid?"

Decker, who had followed us, took half a step forward and sniffed. "Smells like it. Or something very similar."

Nadia frowned and started to hold out her hand, only to have Decker grab her by the back of her t-shirt and yank her away.

"What are you, crazy?"

I glanced up from nursing my poor arm to see Nadia glare at him.

"Oh come on! If that's really acid, then why isn't the floor melting? Why aren't the pipes?"

"Not many acids are that strong. You've been watching too much TV."

She glanced up at the sprinklers, then back at Decker. "I still think it's a trick."

I grabbed her and spun her around a little more roughly than I'd intended, showing her the burn on my arm. "This look like a trick to you, honey?"

"Let me see that." Decker moved toward me and I backed off, matching him step for step.

"Oh no. No way. It's bad enough without you poking at it!"

"I'm not going to hurt you, Lieutenant! Look." Decker raised both his hands, and I stopped. Not because I was convinced, but because I'd just stepped on a baseball and almost lost my footing.

Yes, a baseball. I've no idea what it was doing there or who put it there for a poor unsuspecting lieutenant to tread on, but it was definitely a baseball.

I probably would have fallen (or at least stumbled under the sprinklers) if Decker hadn't caught hold of me and pulled me more or less upright again. Not having much choice about his examining me now – unless I really wanted to fight him, which I preferred to avoid just then – I stood and let him look at my arm.

"It's not too bad. It should heal fine."

"Right, Decker. What are you now, a medic?" I paused, considering this, then added a little more calmly, "Actually, I don't think I ever asked you; what is your medical specialty?"

"Never mind that, Peck." Decker turned away, staring at the door as though willing it to come closer. Maybe he was. I've learned never to put any kind of idea – no matter how nuts – past that guy.

For want of something better to do, I picked up the baseball and turned it over in my hands idly. An idea occurred to me and I glanced at Decker, and took careful aim.

"Hey Decker! Heads up!"

I threw the baseball at him and Decker's hand flashed up and snatched it out the air without him so much as turning his head. Half a second later, the baseball whizzed back at Mach One and nearly knocked me off my feet. I caught it, even though it made my hands sting (I hate baseball; I've always been more of a football kinda guy).

"What do you think that light down there is?" I asked suddenly. I'd been trying to puzzle it out for a while now and I thought I might have it. "Think it could be the control panel for these things?" I jerked a thumb toward the sprinklers and, in doing so, dropped the baseball.

"It's a control panel for something," Decker agreed, "although I don't know what."

Retrieving the baseball before it had time to bounce away from me under the sprinklers, I tossed from hand to hand. "Maybe we're supposed to hit it with this."

"At this distance?"

I shrugged. "Well, I don't know about you, Decker, but I left my bow and arrow at home. I can't think of anything else here except this baseball that would do the trick." I threw the baseball up one-handed, fumbled it, caught it again halfway down, then straightened up and did my very best to look like I'd meant to do that.

Decker, on the other hand, looked like he was waging some kind of internal battle with himself. Rather than interrupt him, I kept quiet and played with my baseball, trying to get up the nerve to throw it at that panel. It wasn't just fear of what the button might do that held me back, but fear of screwing it up. If I missed, we'd lose our only potential means of escape.

"Give me the baseball, Peck." Decker sounded like he was forcing the words out.

"Why? So you can try and brain me with it again? Uh uh. Forget it, Decker."

"I said give it to me!" Decker lunged and grabbed the baseball and, hardly pausing to aim, hurled it overarm at the control panel. It was so fast I barely saw it leave his hand before it hit the button squarely. There was a grinding sound, and the sprinklers juddered to a halt.

I stared at him, jaw dangling. Since when was Decker such a hotshot pitcher?

I didn't get a chance to ask him. With a tight-jawed, stiff-limbed demeanor that said quite clearly one word and you're a dead man, Decker strode past us down the hallway, under the lifeless sprinklers and through the door at the far end.

AN: Okay, I know it's a day early, but I'm out tomorrow night and not likely to be back until late, so I figured I'd post it today instead. Hope you enjoyed it and if you read, please review!