Chapter 20:

I'm sorry that this took a couple of days longer than I thought it would (but compared to my other updates, this is ridiculously fast). I discovered yesterday that I've got a series of interviews at Oxford University next week, so I'll have more free time (hopefully) to do some writing...so other fics WILL be updated!

And the person who gets a oneshot is MyrninsBitch, according to this random name generator, so feel free to request.

Claire's POV:

Hours and hours pass, and nothing happens: Oliver remains standing on the other side of the room, staring at me, and I do everything I can to try and keep my sanity. I don't want to end up babbling when he kills me—he will, I know he will, because Amelie would never give Sam up for Myrnin to be happy—or even crying. If I do, he will have won, and so I don't want that to happen…I want to be strong when he kills me, strong enough to look him in the eyes and make him realise what a stupidly terrible thing he's doing.

I am slightly shocked that there hasn't even been an attempt at a rescue mission, but then I remember that my 'friends' don't even know I'm here, and even if they did, I doubt they would do anything. I'm just the traitor who broke Shane's heart, and chose to help my vampire boss over them. Still, I'd like to hope that if they know, they're doing something, because if not, I would wonder if we were ever friends. Chances are, though, Amelie hasn't told them what's going on, and they'll presume that I'm at the laboratory or something—at least, that's what I'm hoping. This would only result in their death, if they tried to rescue me…and I don't want that to happen. My current mindset may be anti-Shane and the others, but their death due to an ill-advised attempt to rescue me would be the worst thing imaginable.

Finally, Oliver speaks. "Nobody's coming." He sounds almost disappointed, and it's everything I can do not to reply sarcastically; if I do, I basically secure that my death will occur within thirty seconds.

"I did say that Amelie wasn't going to trade me for Sam…" I say slowly, feeling that my tone is calm enough for him not to attack. "Perhaps you're only just seeing now the flaw in your plan: Amelie doesn't care about Myrnin more than Sam."

Oliver snarls and for one horrible, terrifying moment, I fear that he's going to move across the room and do it now, kill me within seconds of my reminding him of the fact that Amelie's love for Sam is greater than her friendship with Myrnin. But it's as though he takes a few seconds to breathe and calm down, for all he does is take a step backwards from where I am tied.

"I am not yet convinced that Amelie has had enough time to make her decision," Oliver says, almost to himself, and it's with a great effort that I resist calling him the biggest idiot that has ever lived; can he not tell that if she has had five hours, her decision has been made? "Midday tomorrow is the deadline—I shall pass this message on. You have until then to be saved by your beau, Claire." he sounds almost—almost—sad, as though part of him regrets what he's going to do to me.

"You don't have to do it." The words slip out of my mouth before I can stop them, and I detect a slight curiosity in Oliver as he looks at me once more. "I mean, it could just be an empty threat, you could let me go and then…then leave. Amelie respects you too much to send anyone after you; it'd be a win-win situation! Don't you see the benefits for both of us?"

For one long moment, it looks like he's considering it. I can see the difference in him, see that he is most certainly considering this course of action…before he smiles. And with the smile, I know that all hope is lost.

"Whilst that would certainly be a situation that benefits yourself, Claire, it would not give me what I want," he tells me, and the slight slither of hope I felt before completely disappears. "Believe me, it does not particularly please me to have to kill you; you would make a great addition to the ranks of my kind…it is just that a message must be sent out, a message that is clear: Amelie gives me what I want, or everything she holds dear to her is destroyed." Oliver's voice is cold, his tone hard, and I feel an involuntary shiver run through me as he speaks.

"Why?" the one word bursts out of my lips, barely louder than a whisper, and I'm ashamed to admit that my voice is broken, betraying my pain.

"You don't understand the rules of warfare, Claire, you are much too young—and naïve—to understand," Oliver says dismissively, but as he takes a step closer to me, I sense a little sympathy in his tone. It's strange, but I know that he doesn't want to do this, that he has left himself no other choice. "In the days of guerrilla warfare, my preferred type unlike Amelie, if we threatened something, we did it. It meant that our enemies knew that we meant business…and if Amelie does not act, then she will indeed be my enemy once again, although it will be with a most heavy heart that I acknowledge this. You are the leverage, dear girl, and whilst I would prefer it to be that awful Collins boy, that would not be enough. Your fate lies in the hands of Amelie, and I hope you are wrong in your conclusion…for your sake, mine and that of Morganville." Oliver's voice is softer than at any other moment since he kidnapped me, and it is a struggle to avoid myself feeling sorry for him. If my death wasn't on the cards, I would do…but it is, so I cannot feel sympathy for the man. I have explained what he can do, yet he has no desire to do it; he is now taking the wrong path.

"In that case, we wait until my execution." I am thankful that my voice is stronger at this point, strong enough for me to look Oliver in the eye and not tremble. For this moment at least, I am not afraid of what the next few hours will bring.

I can only hope that Myrnin will have a plan.

Myrnin's POV:

It takes a long time for me to recover from the knowledge Amelie has burdened me with, knowledge that I knew the moment she told me that Oliver has Claire, yet that I refused to admit. It takes too long for me to recover; by the time that I am in a state which leaves me able to talk comprehensively, many hours have passed, and I know that Amelie grows more and more unsure about what to do.

"We must do something!" I growl for what seems like the hundredth time, and for the hundredth time, Amelie shakes her head.

"What do you propose we do, Myrnin?" she sighs, sinking into the reading chair situated next to my bookcase. "Do you propose I agree to leave Sam to bind myself to Oliver forever, just so that you can have a girl who most likely does not reciprocate your feelings? Do you propose we attempt to lead an army into a battle against the one of the greatest warlords the world has ever seen, in order to rescue a girl he will kill before we even reach him? What do you suggest, because I have exhausted every potential solution to no avail, and I am yet to think of anything?" her voice is weary, and for the briefest moment, I feel sorrow for her.

And then it fades, as I recall Claire's fate if we do not do something.

Amelie can ban me from acting against Oliver to save Claire…but perhaps…perhaps if she does not specify calling in the Glass House children—if they'll speak to me without throwing a stake through my heart, that is—I can utilise them.

"I am afraid that I have no solution other than to attempt to talk to Oliver…or to use the portals," I murmur slowly, having not considered the malleable wormholes that are at my disposal. It is slightly surprising that it has taken so long, given that they are our usual choice of transportation in a crisis…but I have considered it—why is Amelie shaking her head?

"Myrnin, I have told you: I will not act," she says slowly but firmly. "And neither shall you; you shall not act in order to bring Claire back from Oliver's grasps. I cannot risk you." Her stress on the word 'you' suggests to me that she knows what my plan is, has most likely known it for double the length of time I have, and that she is giving me her permission to use the children in this rescue mission.

It will be my downfall to include Shane Collins, I know this; if he rescues Claire, he will forgive her the sins she has committed, and she will see him as her saving grace. She will not choose me over him. But if it means that she lives, that she has the chance to come to me…I cannot pass up this opportunity.

"I have…experiments to be running." Words come out of my mouth but I do not focus on them; instead, I am considering the ways through which I can firstly determine Claire's location, and then complete the rescue mission. "Perhaps it would be best if you returned to Samuel—with this for him—and leave me in peace. You have never been good in laboratories with fire rife."

Amelie's eyes narrow at me, but she does not speak as she rises from the chair, moving towards the portal slowly. "Good luck in your endeavours, Myrnin. I give you my blessing, if not my assistance." Before I can consider saying a word, she has gone, moved from the room faster than the wind, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

Claire is dying; she is on her death bed as she waits to be saved from Oliver's grasp, and I am very much reliant on those insolent children who reside in the Glass House. Without them, all chance of relieving Claire from this early death is gone, for I cannot act alone, Amelie has forbidden it.

Then again, if it comes to it…rules are made to be broken, Amelie's especially.

~x~

Having completed a rough plan of what we will do whenever we find Claire—adaptable to various scenarios, including the potential one of gunpowder being rigged to set alight if anyone attempts to rescue Claire—and armed with weapons of choice, I take a deep breath before approaching the wooden door on my far wall. It's time to visit the Glass House.

Visiting this location never fills me with joy, and it is even less joyous today, given that the three of them will most likely have stakes aimed at the wall on the chance that I, or another, pass through the portal into their home.

Taking a step through the portal, I hesitate as I step into the living room…for good reason: the three of them are sat on their sofa, deep in a discussion which breaks off as soon as they spy me.

"Hello," I find myself saying, extremely cheerily. "I am here to—" I begin, but the Collins boy cuts me off.

"If you're here for Claire, you're on the wrong floor, bloodsucker," the boy snarls, and is about to continue the insults, when I speak.

"I am here to speak to the three of you, not the girl who has been missing for the past five or so hours," I say sharply, noting the surprised look on all three of the children's faces. "Oh, for heaven's sake, Michael, did you not listen to the fact that a heartbeat just miraculously disappeared from your home?" I continue, sounding far too much like Amelie for my own good…but that's by-the-by.

He shrugs slightly, but I notice the way that his head lifts; he is scanning the upstairs for the heartbeat that is not there. Only then does he stand up, only then does he believe me that Claire is not here. "Where is she?" he demands of me, and I realise that he has instantly jumped to the conclusion that I have a great part in her disappearance. I don't…not technically.

"I haven't the faintest clue, it will be wherever Oliver considers to be the greatest hiding place," I respond, gripping my handmade crossbolt tighter in my hand. "But I have been forbidden to retrieve Claire alone—by Amelie herself, most unfortunately; her word alone binds me—and therefore I must come to the three of you to rescue your friend."

Half expecting the three of them to jump up instantly—even the Rosser girl, though she has been awfully quiet in my time in here; normally, she would have complimented my clothing at least twice in this space of time—I stand, watching their faces…and nobody moves. There's not even the slightest impression in their faces that they want to save the girl that they are supposed to be friends with, nothing whatsoever.

"Did you not understand me?" I question, once three minutes of silence pass. "The girl is in the utmost danger; she is going to die if she is not rescued!"

"Good." The word pops out of Shane's mouth so fast that I cannot believe that he has said it; I don't believe that he can comprehend what he said, either. "I mean…she's a fangbanger now. She isn't my Claire any longer."

A half-snarl escapes my lips, and the three of them recoil backwards involuntarily. "She is nothing of the sort!" I defend Claire's honour, enraged that such a thing could be suggested. "And have you forgotten the meaning of the word friendship? Throughout the years, this word has brought me a great many accounts of extra trouble, because I have done something for a friend. I have put myself in grievous peril to save someone I would like to be in my life for a little longer than they otherwise would have been. Either you modern children do not understand the meaning of the word, or you are choosing to send your friend to an early grave because you are trying to send a message.

"It does not work. Who will learn from the message? Claire will be dead; nobody will know of your intense anger or feelings of betrayal. Only you three will suffer, suffer for the knowledge that you could have prevented her death, yet due to these feelings, you chose not to. What happens when the anger abates, and you realise that Claire's death was futile? You may, indeed, never come to this conclusion, and be lifelong enemies from this day forth…yet you will not know whether or not this is the case if she dies, will you?" Taking an unnecessary breath, I pause, waiting for any flicker of recognition in their faces from my words.

The first one to is Michael. "Give me the crossbow; if we're against Oliver, I want that," he says slowly, standing up and taking a step closer to me. "But this doesn't mean that I agree with what you and she did, or that I want to forgive her. I just…don't want her to die."

Nodding in agreement with this, Eve—I think her name is, at least—stands up. "I have the same viewpoint. But if this is against Oliver, I want a silver coated stake, and as much ammo as I can carry." Her tone is business-like, brisker than normal…and almost scary. It would be scary if I happened to be younger, and more susceptible to her attack.

Silence reigns for a few minutes, before the Collins boy stands up. He doesn't approach me, doesn't even look at me, but says quietly, "I'll do this so that we're even. Then we're done."

Nobody says anything with regards to his words, so I decide to fill the silence by discussing the plan, indicating to the scribbles on the piece of paper in my hand. Eve and Michael seem to follow what I am saying, with only a few requests for clarification—apparently the usual abbreviation of hospital isn't hpl—so within five minutes, we are on the same page.

"Now," I say slowly, "the hard part: we need to find Oliver's secret lair."

With as much sarcasm as I would expect from the girl, she says, "oh, well that should be a bed of roses!"

"That isn't a bad idea," is my response, taking her completely seriously; it is a valid idea, and I know that the man used secret passageways before. "But the only issue is…would the flowerbed be a secret doorway down to the underground, or would it be a lever to reveal a secret room on the back of his home?" I muse this point for a minute, missing the looks passed between Eve and Michael. Perhaps they're curious about this, too.

There are few sensible suggestions from the two of them, for Shane refuses to speak in my presence, so I suggest an alternative. "If the two—or three—of you find a map and consider locations which belong to Oliver, I will see if I can use science to bring us an answer," I say, already moving towards the portal. "Feel free to take some weapons!"

"I'll use them to kill you, so no thanks," Shane mutters, but I pretend not to hear him.

"Squad meeting in half an hour!" I yell at the top of my lungs, already in my laboratory on the other side of town, before closing the portal door.

I have only one possible idea that could find Claire. I just hope that it's crazy enough to work.

Ten reviews and I'll update asap (honestly) and write a random person a oneshot.