A/N: Thank you so much for your lovely and awesome reviews and support! I hope my story continues to please you! I just finished my finals and am now on winter break! So expect to see some more updates soon!

I welcome all readers, new and old!

Please enjoy!

(Waylon)

The rain continued to pound against the window, like it was trying to break through the glass and drags us back out into Hell once more.

Even though I had dried off a while back, I still felt cold and tugged the blanket closer. The small linen closet was completely dark, save for the dim lightbulb twirling above our heads. So, even in the poor lighting, the closet was small enough that I could still see the couple sitting across from me clearly.

Both of them were fast asleep. Young-ja was settled on Miles' lap and Miles was holding onto her tightly even in slumber, a huge linen blanket wrapped around them. If they weren't covered in dirt and blood, it would've been a heartwarming picture. As I observed their sleeping faces, devoid of fear and anger, it really hit me how young they were. The oldest they had to be was at most thirty, and I was quickly reminded that I was the eldest of our odd trio.

The guilt consuming my heart grew substantially at that realization, and I drew my knees to my chest and buried my face against them.

'Oh, Lisa. What am I going to do?'

"Undressing me with your eyes, Park?" Miles' deep voice rang out. "Sorry but I'm happily married."

I immediately looked up, only to find him still with his eyes closed.

"Are...you…talking in your sleep?" I asked, hesitantly, not wanting to wake him up if he was.

"What made you think I was asleep?" This time Miles opened his eyes, his dark green eyes leering at me from five feet away. "It is pretty hard to sleep when there is someone glaring holes into my face."

"Sorry." I muttered, pulling my knees closer to my chest, wishing Miles would at least cross his legs so I could have some more room in the cramped sanctuary. "I was just…noticing how young you guys are. It is kinda surreal to be the eldest, I guess."

"You're talking like your ancient, Park." Miles snorted, resting his head against the wall. "You look pretty young yourself actually, must be your Korean half that preserves your youthfulness and boyish beauty."

I cracked a tiny smile at that.

"Maybe so, but 'No pictorial or sculptural combinations of points of human loveliness, do more than approach the living and breathing human beauty as it gladdens our daily path'."

"…Come again?"

"Oh, sorry." I chuckled to myself, partially for my ramblings and partially for Miles' confused expression. "It is from "The Landscape Garden" by Edgar Allan Poe. It was one of his more unknown stories about a man who dies young, but emphasizes on the pursuit of happiness under certain immaterial conditions."

"You seem to be quite a fan of his. Read lots of his stories in high school?"

"Yeah, I liked his work to an extent, but I didn't really get into Poe's work until I met my wife. We used to read all his stories and poems during our dating years at her grandfather's bookstore." I smiled softly, reminiscing about the hours we spent nestled in the store's reading nook, swapping books and discussing our thoughts on them. And I'll never forget how tongue tied I always got peeking at Lisa's beautiful face from behind my book. The way the sun made her caramel brown hair seem auburn, how her eyes sparkled when she reached an interesting part of the story, and her radiant smile when she'd catch me admiring her and we'd both laugh and cover our blushing faces with our books.

God, I miss you so much, Lisa…

"Hmm. How nice." Miles muttered under his breath, and for some reason, I felt the room turn 20 degrees cooler.

We were silent after that, the elephant in the room lurking about despite our small talk just moments prior.

"So," Miles spoke up again, making me jump slightly in surprise. "Young-ja told me you have a family waiting for you too."

"Yeah, my wife, Lisa, and our two sons, Owen and Nick."

"How old are they?"

"Owen is eight and Nick just turned six." A warm feeling blossomed in my chest and I wanted nothing more than to have them in my arms once more. "Nick is like any first grader, curious about the world, believes in following the rules, and still has that adorable, childish innocence. Sometimes he comes up with nicknames for people based off fairy tales and such. If he knew about Chris Walker, he'd probably call him the "Big Bad Wolf" or something close to that. And he follows his big brother around like a little duckling. It is adorable really. As for my eldest son, Owen, he is getting to that age where kids develop a rebellious streak, but he is respectful too and knows when to listen to his parents. He is really smart too. For his last science fair project, he built a functioning prosthetic arm all by himself. It is sitting on the shelf in his room, blue ribbon still attached. Owen tells me he is waiting for the right person to give it to. He may be only eight, but that boy has a heart as big as space itself. And he takes his role as a 'big brother' very seriously. I'm happy that Owen is a good role model for Nick and takes care of him, but sometimes, I feel like he is trying to grow up too fast. I have to remind him sometimes to enjoy being a kid, and don't sweat the adult stuff for a while. Besides, it would be strange if my son started filing taxes or something."

I laughed and peeked up at Miles, the smile slowly creeping off my face at the unknown emotion swirling in his eyes. Sorrow? Anger? Or this that….empathy?

"Does your family know what happened to you?" He gestured towards my patient jumpsuit and I felt my chest grow warm for another reason.

"After sending you that e-mail, I was caught by Jeremy Blaire, my former boss and head of the asylum, and he subjected me to the Morphogenic Dream Therapy. It is hazy, but I recall a breakout happening and I was able to escape. While I was wandering around the asylum, I found an e-mail from Blaire saying that he visited my family and said I had succumbed to a mental illness and was receiving treatment. Of course, Lisa didn't buy any of his bullshit and is trying to help me through power of attorney. I would've loved to see the look on Blaire's fucking face when she told him off. Then, the e-mail said he would…take care of her personally if she tried to get around him." My fingers curled into fists at the thought of Blair laying his hands on Lisa and our children. "Over my dead body."

"Well, Park." Miles kicked my foot roughly. "Considering how a majority of the staff is literally scattered around the asylum, I don't think you have to worry about Blaire going after your family. Which is a shame because I would've loved to beat the shit out of him."

When he said 'family', Miles glanced down at Young-ja and I felt my heart constrict painfully.

"You…you guys have a daughter, right? What is she like?"

"Her name is Ae-cha. She is two year old who looks so much like her mother, yet she has my eyes. She loves to pick flowers and play hide-and-go-seek every single waking moment. Every time I try to work, the little Cheerio comes knocking on my office door and burrows herself onto my lap, begging me to play with her." Though he was 'complaining', there was nothing but pure adoration in his tone. "She also loves to copy us and pretend she is a 'big girl' by helping us with laundry and dishes, although she does nothing but sit in the laundry basket or bang pans together. And Young-ja would never get angry. No, she loves our baby more than air and would simply pick her up and twirl around. And I would watch the two of them laughing and smiling, and would feel so fucking happy at the sight and I promised myself to always keep them safe from harm…" His voice trailed off at the end, and he held Young-ja close, kissing her forehead with nothing but pain in his eyes. "No harm was supposed to come to you…"

And the guilt consumed by body and soul as the elephant began stampeding throughout the room, demanding recognition.

So, I finally said it.

"Miles, you blame me for what's happened to you and Young-ja, don't you?"

Miles made no indication that he heard me, and I wasn't sure if he did, then he slowly turned towards me and his glare could kill.

"Why didn't you do anything about this earlier?"

"W-What? I di-."

"Why didn't you report this to the fucking police the moment you starting working here?"

"Miles, I-."

"What the fucking hell possessed you to work for Murkoff anyways?!" His voice grew louder with every syllable. "You told me you were a big fan in the e-mail, so you should've known about the research I did about Murkoff! You should've known about the corrupt dealings! So why?! WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU WORKING FOR MURKOFF?! AND WHY THE FUCK DID YOU LET THIS GO ON FOR SO LONG?!"

With Young-ja still in his lap, he had leaned over and bunched the front of my jumpsuit in his hands, yanking me up to his face and shaking me back and forth. I had long expected his wrath, so I let him scream in my face and rattle me around.

But…I had to explain myself. I owned him and Young-ja that at least.

"I…I had..my reasons-." I started, but I was sent back against the wall as Miles' fist connected with my cheek. Miles panted furiously, his eyes livid, but…I didn't say anything. I just lifted my hand and gingerly touched the laceration on my cheek from where the jagged bone jutting from Miles' knuckle tore across my cheek.

"Fuck your reasons. Because of you…my wife lost her arm. SHE LOST HER FUCKING ARM, WAYLON! I HAVE KNOWN HER SINCE COLLEGE AND BEING A MUSICIAN HAS ALWAYS BEEN HER DREAM! HOW THE FUCK IS SHE GOING TO PLAY THE VIOLIN AND PIANO NOW?! SHE HAS SPENT YEARS WORKING TOWARDS HER DREAM, AND NOW SHE CAN BARELY TALK OR FUCKING WALK BECAUSE YOU DIDN'T PROTECT HER!" He lashed out once more, this time punching the wall next to my head. "THE TWO OF YOU RAN INTO EACH OTHER RIGHT?! YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO PROTECT HER, BUT YOU GOT YOUR FUCKING ASS CAUGHT AND YOU LEFT HER IN THE HANDS OF THAT MUTILATING BASTARD! WHEN I FOUND HER, SHE COULDN'T EVEN SPEAK! HER THROAT WAS TORN UP AND HER BODY WAS BEATEN INTO A BODY PULP! YOUNG-JA HAD BEEN ATTACKED SEVERAL TIMES, BUT YOU KNOW WHAT?! SHE STILL ASKED ME TO COME GET YOU! THE MAN WHO GOT US INTO THIS FUCKING MESS IN THE FIRST PLACE!"

He lifted his fists into the air once more, and I screwed my eyes shut, bracing myself for another blow.

…..But it never came.

I slowly opened my eyes and found Miles back against the opposite wall, his face buried against Young-ja's neck and his shoulders quivering.

All the fury was gone from his eyes and nothing but pure desolation remained.

"Miles," I reached out towards him, but he spoke up, stopping me in my tracks.

"I become an investigative journalist because of all the evil I saw in the world. I was tired of hearing about big corporations covering their tracks and letting innocent people suffer. And so, I achieved my dream. I uncovered hundreds of corrupt dealings with no regards towards my own safety as long as the truth was out. But…then I got married and a baby was put into my arms. Protecting the innocent was still my dream, but my family became the highest priority. I've made my fair share of enemies due to my line of work, but I made sure to protect my family above all." He leaned back and stared at the wall above me. "I started taking easier jobs after Ae-cha was born, jobs about faulty wiring in hotels instead of under the table drug dealings at Enron Corps. It wasn't the justice I craved for, but it paid the bills and kept my family safe and that was all that matter to me. But, Murkoff….they were another ball game. Murkoff was the only corporation I had been following closely for the past four years. They were the epitome of everything I hated and I became obsessed with taking them down. I promised myself that if I could make a fatal dent in Murkoff, I would stop being an investigative journalist and move onto a different line of work. I could retire, content that I was able to take down one of the most powerful corporations of the 21st century. But then the case in Ghana happened, and I witness the true repercussions of my work. I had never seen Young-ja cry so hard before and my resolve began to waver. But, Young-ja, like she has always done, continued to support me and knew this is what I love to do. So, I renewed my resolve, vowing to take down Murkoff in her and Ae-cha's honor. Then your e-mail came in and I thought I could end this nightmare in one night. But….instead, I walked into another one….and I dragged my wife down with me." His face was blank and lifeless, but as he continued to speak, tears…began to roll down his cheeks. "I can blame you all I want for what has happened here tonight, but….in the end, I can blame no one but myself. I'm the one who drove here in the dead of night, despite Young-ja's pleas for me to stay at home. I'm the one who worried my wife so much that she came after me and almost got herself killed." Then his eyes shifted towards mine and I felt my blood freeze. "When Young-ja told me you were still here, I wanted to leave you to rot because I was so fucking angry at everything that blaming you seemed to make everything better. I blamed you for Young-ja's arm, my fingers, and what happened to the patients. Then, she told me you had a family too, and I felt so disgusted with myself that it made me hate you more. While I may not understand your reasons for choosing Murkoff of all companies to work for, I can understand that you and I are motivated by the same thing: our families. And you said so in your e-mail that you didn't know what was going on exactly, but you knew it wasn't right and e-mailed me so the truth could come out. You did what you had to, Waylon, so…" Miles gently closed his eyes and sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for hating you and treating you like shit. You did nothing to deserve this."

I couldn't even bring myself to smile at his apology, instead I found myself crying alongside him, feeling his pain with mine.

"I'm sorry too, Miles. Truly I am."

Then, slowly, I reached out and took his hand in mine, giving it a small shake.

"Murkoff has done quite the number on us, huh? So, let's give them a taste of their own medicine and give them hell." I gave a shaky smile, wanting to see that powerful gleam in his eyes once more.

Miles cracked a smile at that and squeezed my hand in acknowledgement.

"Sounds like fucking plan."

We laughed and I felt a sense of purity spread throughout the room now that we have gotten rid of our bottled up feelings and could focus on a common goal: bringing Murkoff down and getting the fuck out of here.

I was about to pull my hand away when Miles' grip tighten and I blinked in surprised.

"Wh-?"

"Hey, Park, now that we are on the same page, there is something I need to ask of you."

"…What is it?"

"What I am about to ask you is very important. You have to promise to go through with it no matter what, alright?"

A sense of dread crawled up my spine at his words, and my palms began to sweat.

But, I didn't question it. I just steeled myself and looked him straight in the eye, hoping whatever he was about to ask wasn't something life threating.

"…Alright. I promise."

A/N: An emotional chapter but Waylon and Miles just needed a good heart to heart chat and let out their frustrations, especially Miles because Holy Shit, lots of shit has happened to this man. They can now see that they aren't that different from each other. Both of them love their families and that is their motivating factor. Now they can focus on the real goal: getting out of the asylum and showing their footage to the world! Please look forward to the next chapter! There is more action, less drama! Lol!