AN: And so we reach chapter three! I wanted to start by sending a quick thank you out to everyone that has reviews, favorite, followed, and/or recommended this story. Words cannot express how much it means to me. As always this chapter is dedicated to Tienka, who is, to clarify, allowed to read the dedications without her hats being confiscated, just not the fic itself until she has read Lies. It was causing some confusion earlier.

Disclaimer: I, Mistystarshine, do not own Gone or any of the characters.

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Pain. That was all he had felt for a horribly long amount of time, or at least what felt like a long amount of time. How long it actually was he didn't know. After all, it wasn't easy keeping track of time when you would periodically drift in and out of consciousness. And even when he had come close to coming to several times earlier he hadn't, not really. Not enough to move, open his eyes, or try to speak, just enough to feel pain and make out the muffled sound of voices. It was only later that he would come to realize that there were too many voices for the people on the island, but by that time it would be obvious why.

When Caine finally started to drift back into the waking world, for real this time, he had no idea what time it was. Only that despite having been unconscious for who knew how long he felt far from rested. No, far from rested was too kind of a term. He felt. Like. Shit. As feeling began to return to him he found himself in that age-old struggle of whether to wake up or go back to sleep. Only what he had been in wasn't sleep, even in his state some far-off part of his brain knew it. Sleep didn't hurt like that, it was much too close to how he had felt during those horrible months that the darkness had had control over him.

It was when that thought sluggishly passed through his mind that the memories began to return to him. Penny's attack, the visions she set upon him, how she tried to cut him. Normally he would have gotten up, stormed out of the house, and gone tracking the witch down in order to destroy her. As it was he felt an incredible amount of anger flash through him despite his current state. How dare she hurt him!? No, not just hurt, she had tried to kill him. But everything felt slow at the moment, sluggish, like he had just run five marathons. All he managed to do was let out a groan, which, if he had listened closely, he would realize didn't sound quite right.

At this he felt a vibration move through the thing he was on, the oddly soft thing that did not belong outside, where he last remembered being, as if someone that had been slumped over was sitting up. Sitting up and then standing, and soon enough he felt a hand shake him on the shoulder. Not a rough shake, but not exactly a gentle caress either. It was followed by a familiar voice calling, "Caine? You done imitating one of the dead yet?" Diana, it had to be Diana. Of course he recognized her voice but it was also evident in the way she spoke. Mockery and sarcasm with, if he was detecting it right, possibly the faintest hint of worry. Of course this was probably hidden on purpose. Normally he would have smirked and shot back some sort of scathing remark, but all he could manage was another odd groan. This annoyed him, it made him sound weak. Caine Soren was not weak, no matter how many psychopathic monster bringers attack him.

In an attempt to prove this he attempted to force his eyes open, which turned out to be a much harder task than it had any right to be. As he did this he heard another voice, this one also familiar but not exactly in a good way, say, "you two, out." This was followed by a pause, the voice hesitating as it made up its mind, before adding, "you too, Lana. But stay close in case we need you." Lana? What in god's name was the healer doing here? That was when he noticed the lack of a bleeding, cut open throat. Oh. Well, it still didn't explain how or why she was there, or why Sam was as well, for that matter.

If Caine had needed any more motivation that was more than enough. His eyes flashed open, for he refused to believe they had fluttered open, no matter how exhausted he was or how big of an ordeal he had gone through, to see Diana looking down at him with a worried expression. Well, he had seen that once his eyes adjusted to the light and even then it was only for a moment, for she quickly replaced it with one that was calm, cool, and collected. And completely false, or so he liked to think. He had just been attacked after all, it would be nice if she could show some sort of emotion toward the fact. But no, there were no sweet words to leave her mouth or exclamations of how happy she was that he was alive. Instead he got a snort and a dry comment of, "nice to see you're awake, sleeping beauty."

Caine bit back the urge to retort, probably something about how he couldn't be sleeping beauty because there was certainly no price charming anywhere in this room, not wanting to get into a fight right away. It's like the cliff fiasco never happened, he thought bitterly. What happened to her saying she loved him? But then again, he hadn't exactly said it back or done anything about it. No, he pushed the thought threatening to enter his head away, this is not my fault.

With that he sat up, although it was more like a lurch into an upright position that he needed to grab onto the back of the soft thing, which he now saw was a couch, to maintain. It would have been easier to just wait for Diana to offer help, or maybe even ask for it. But there was absolutely no way his pride would let him do something like that. He was fine and perfectly capable of taking care of himself. He tried to make it appear so with the arrogant smirk that crossed his face, something that made Diana let out a small, probably annoyed, sigh. As soon as she made the sound he glanced back in her direction, the smirk faltering for only a moment before he forced it back into place. She looked exhausted, although he had missed it at the first glance. Beneath that calm, collected exterior he could still see the bags forming under her eyes, how bloodshot they were, and a look of overall tiredness in her posture. Not to mention the bits of dried blood, for he was sure in an instant that it was blood, on her arms and hands.

May she wasn't so uncaring after all.

He was drawn out of his thoughts and surprised staring by the sound of someone calling in a weary voice, "Caine." Immediately he turned around and saw, who else, Sam Temple, standing a fair distance away from the couch, looking far from at home in the actor's house. While he wasn't as bad off as Diana the signs of tiredness shone on him as well. That was no surprise of course, it must have taken him quite a while to get to the island. But that just brought up the question, why was he there in the first place?

He opened his mouth to say as much, most likely in some rude and snarky fashion.

That was when it first became apparent that something was wrong. Instead of words when he tried to speak all he felt was a dull, aching pain, as if from a not-quite-healed wound, followed by a round of uncontrollable coughing. He leaned forward and almost lost his hold on the couch and probably would have stumbled if not for Diana quickly moving over to sit down beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder to steady him. "Jeeze," she said in an attempt at a careless teasing voice, "try not to cough up a lung." Yet she couldn't completely hide the tremor in her voice from him. What he did miss was the quick, nervous glance exchanged between her and Sam.

Thankfully it didn't last too long. However, he wasn't able to try to speak right away, for as slumped forward, catching his breath, Sam started up. The first things that left his mouth weren't so much words as noises that he tried to form into words, something he would probably have mocked him about at any other time. What in god's name could possibly so hard for him to spit out? Finally he managed, although it sounded like it was hard for him to say the words, "Lana, she healed you but… she said she felt something. Like you had some sort of damage that she couldn't heal." He fell silent then, just watching the other boy. His twin, his enemy. The one that he couldn't help but fear for at the moment and feel some sort of pity for. No, Caine was not a mind reader, but he was able to see it on his face clearly enough.

His first reaction was to roll his eyes, ignoring the faint trickle of fear that began to enter him. He had tried to speak a moment ago a failed, yes, but that had to be for a completely common reason. He had just needed to cough, his throat was sore, he was thirsty. Something. Either way, he was fine. The healer had done her thing and now Sam and his posse, for he had no doubt that he had brought one, could run back to the other townies, where they belonged. He opened his mouth to say as much, his lips moving to form the words.

And no sound came out. There was just that dull, aching pain that he had felt before, no coughing this time.

A look that was a mixture of alarm and pity flashed across Sam's face. Diana he thought was impossible to read at the moment, but he wasn't exactly focusing on trying to figure out her expressions at the moment. Instead he was just dealing with the denial that flashed through him. No. This couldn't be happening, he could speak, he could speak just fine. Honestly, what were the chances of someone getting their throat cut and surviving but losing their ability to speak? Some part of him asked what the chances were of someone getting healed by a girl with mutant powers, a part that he quickly demanded shut up.

No.

It had to be something else. Maybe he was too nervous to speak for whatever reason, maybe he was just dreaming. Yes, that must be it, this was just a dream. He would wake up at any moment and everything would be fine. He barely noticed how Diana's grip on his shoulder tightened slightly, a sign that this was not just a dream. But if this was a dream he could control it, right? As long as he was aware that it was a dream, which he was. That meant that when he tried again he would be able to speak perfectly fine, like this whole fiasco had never happened, and he would wake up in bed, Penny still crippled in the bathroom, everything completely fine.

Again he tied to speak, to yell that this was all some crazy dream that he needed to wake up from, to yell at everything and anything. And again he was silent but for a faint strangling sound at the back of his that that managed to create with an incredible amount of effort, which died before it could even leave his lips. Not to mention that it was incredibly painful to make, not worth the effort. Panic flashed across his face, sheer, unchecked panic that he would normally have scolded himself for letting show. Why wasn't he waking up!? He had to wake up, right fucking now! Because there was no way in hell this could be happening. There was no way he couldn't speak, no way he was mute. He wasn't weak, there was no way Penny could do this to him, not after what he had done to her.

Sam took a step forward but Caine paid him no attention. Instead he pinched himself on the arm as hard as he could in an attempt to wake up, which he was still desperately telling himself he would. All that happened was a sharp burst of pain, no waking up, no miraculous reappearance of his voice. By now he was shaking in a mixture of denial and, although he would deny it if asked and he managed to form a response, fear. It was then that Diana found it within herself to act, having been stuck in her own shock for a moment.

"Caine," she hissed, "calm down." She tried to make it sound like a command, like she was all confident and he would do what she said. But he could still hear the undercurrent of fear in there, although whether it was fear for him or fear for himself he did not know. He did not pay her any attention, for the denial was starting to be joined by anger. Oh, it was still there, the hope, although it had indeed gone from a steadfast belief to a hope, that it was all a dream. But if it wasn't, if by some anti-miracle this nightmare had become his life, he had no idea what to do. He would be at a disadvantage, have a weakness, a rather large one at that. It made him scared, and the fact that he was scared made him angry.

With a snarl he got to his feet, although the effect was lessened slightly by how he swayed on his feet for a moment. Sam began to reach out but Caine moved out of the way as quickly as he could at the moment, crossing a few steps into the room, where he cast a quick glance around before setting his sights on a vase, probably a rather expensive one at that. Without any hesitation he flicked his hand, sending it flying off of the display it had sat on and into a wall, where it shattered into a million pieces. Behind him he heard someone mutter, "shit," but he didn't care to identify who. It didn't matter. That vase, it wasn't good enough. He was still angry, infuriated, and something was going to suffer for it.

The television across the room, huge and probably worth a small fortune, was lifted up by an invisible force and slammed into the ceiling, little fragments dropping to the ground. Fragments that, as Caine lost control of his anger and felt the need to seek more destruction, began to rise from the ground and spin like some sort of horrible shrapnel tornado. He heard someone behind him, saying something, or maybe yelling. He didn't know. He didn't care. Let Sam fire his laser hands at him and burn him to a crisp, he didn't care. Either he would wake up or wouldn't have to deal with this anymore. Each option sounded good at the moment.

He didn't notice that he was probably in a similar mindset to the one Diana was in when she had nearly fallen off the cliff.

What he did notice was a sharp sting suddenly flashing across his cheek along with the sound of a slap. The fragments of television, vase, and probably plenty of other ruined items that he hadn't cared to take inventory of dropped to the floor. In front of him stood Diana, her face rife with anger. Surprise was clearly written across his face. She had actually hit him. None of his followers had ever done such a thing, not unless they turned traitor. But then again, Diana wasn't exactly a follower, was she? He didn't think to feel angry at her or insulted, he was in far too deep with plenty of other emotions to deal with that. Anger at the world, fear, sadness, denial, and probably plenty of other things that were soon to come.

As for Diana? When he looked at her he saw the anger, yes, but he could swear she saw something else under there. He didn't know what it was at the moment, it was hidden far too deep for him to, but it was there. She did not hesitate to speak, instead jumping right to it when he still seemed to be in shock. "Enough," she growled. "You want to tear Penny into a million little bits? Fine. I'd be more than happy to help with that, as a matter of fact. You know what you aren't going to do? Have a complete and total breakdown. Yes, you are well within your rights to, or you would be if that didn't involve flinging all sorts of sharp crap around. Because I don't know about you, but I don't want to die because I was cut into tiny slices because you lost control for a moment. And, while we're on that topic, don't go and do anything stupid." She didn't clarify what she meant by stupid, leaving it to cover an incredibly large amount of things. However, somewhere in the back of his mind he realized that she probably meant getting himself killed, whether it be on accident or on purpose.

There was a pause, her waiting to see if he was going to do anything. She met his gaze head on, probably fully prepared to meet a glare. But he didn't glare at her, he wasn't sure he would be able to at the moment. The slap, while he didn't completely appreciated, had helped to pull him out of his blind rage. And, while he was still in shock, it was falling down to a different kind. Pain, sadness, loss, a feeling of being broken. He was Caine Soren, 'fearless leader', one of the only two four bars, one of the most powerful people in the FAYZ. How could this happen to him? How could he be weak enough for someone like Penny to be able to cause such damage? He didn't do anything, just met Diana's gaze with one that looked, for lack of a better word, lost.

She herself didn't look confident or well put together either. She looked tired, afraid, and worried. For a moment he felt guilty. He could have hurt her in his fury, just one wrong move was all it would have taken. It was this realization that made him look away and slowly scan the room. It looked like a disaster zone. However, it looked like only the area that had been in front of him was hit, which happened to be most of the room. A quick glance behind him revealed a stoic Sam, Lana looking down at the floor as if attempting to avoid looking at him at all costs, Dekka looking like she was ready for a fight, and Quinn looking absolutely terrified. Almost as soon as he looked at them he looked away, pride taking over. He wasn't weak he couldn't look weak in front of them, in front of his enemies.

Yet he didn't exactly feel like the strongest person alive right now.

He met Diana's gaze again. When she spoke this time it was quieter, meant for only him to hear, and had an undertone of what he assumed was that same feeling he couldn't quite figure out moments ago. "If I can't leave this hellhole neither can you."

What had he been thinking a moment ago, about not looking weak in front of Sam's crew? Whatever it was it was far from his mind at the moment. Despite not being able to say anything he knew that if he could he wouldn't have as he took a few steps to the nearest wall and slumped down against it, his head in his hands. Diana was equally silent as she sat down beside him. She didn't wrap her arms around him, didn't whisper reassurances, but she was there.

Caine Soren didn't cry, he not in private, not in public, and certainly not in front of a group of his enemies. Yet, as the thought crossed his mind, he felt tears beginning to leak down his cheeks.