.

(A/N: Implied Law and Order: Special Victims Unit incident.

Also, For anyone reading, feel free to use the first names I give these characters in your own writings if you want. Heck, use the head-canons and backstories too if you like them. Or even any ideas in general. They're pretty open-source.)

Jonathan Keen

Jonathan Keen had always claimed he was an orphan. That, of course, was a bold-faced lie. Emancipated more like it. He preferred to pretend his DNA templates had never existed. Of course young, underaged teenagers on their own out of sight of parents or the government, tended to have a bad habit of disappearing. Desperate young teenagers who could get no proper paying job and had looks to spare tended to disappear even faster. He pointedly avoided that route, but he knew he was running out of options. He could only stay in youth centers and hostels for so long, and every job prospect he'd reached for fell flat. Putting himself through school without any support was difficult enough, a full-time job all its own. He didn't have time to go job hunting, or shop for clothes he couldn't afford, or do interviews that would probably lead nowhere because he wasn't qualified, or sign himself out of school to work a minimum wage position, or any of that! Dropping out wasn't an option, but any job that was quick, profitable, and required no education, narrowed your career path down to the unsavory.

Prostitution would have made him bank he knew, but it was the last thing on this planet he wanted to resort to. Easy as it might be, the trauma and risk that came with it simply wasn't worth it. He couldn't afford to take it completely off the table though. Theft, while unsavory, was something he could get by on, but he preferred not to. On occasion he would resort to it when he was desperate, to his own disgust, but he'd been lucky thus far in that whenever he got caught, he could play up his innocence, muss up his hair, and ride by on good looks and young age. It was only a matter of time, though, before it inevitably transferred into prostitution when he ran across a shopkeeper who was more interested in pleasure than pity and played the blackmail card. Would he resort to that to keep himself out of jail? He wasn't sure yet and wasn't inclined to find out if it could at all be helped.

So where did that leave him now? He looked behind him with a frown when he heard the boy shadowing him cry out. He turned fully around, hands on his hips, and shook his head. It left him with a little tagalong three years his junior by the name of Cameron Berkeley. A tagalong who certainly shouldn't be following him around right now, but was doing so anyway because his usual companion, Saran Yu—one year Berkeley's senior and one year Keen's junior—was at home with a bad flu. It was one less tagalong to deal with though, he supposed. Berkeley looked up at him and grinned sheepishly, little dimples appearing on his cheeks. He would grow up to be ridiculously good-looking, Keen knew, so the last thing he wanted was for the boy to follow him into this particular part of the settlement.

The sector in question was where all the depraved wretches liked to hang around. Keen had learned early on to never enter it without a knife on his person, and to never let himself be spotted alone if he could help it. He sighed in frustration. He had a job interview coming up, a promising one, and if he missed it, he could kiss it goodbye. While initially he'd been willing to risk the boy's mental and emotional wellbeing by letting him follow him into said sector, the closer they got to it the stupider and more selfish he realized it was. Cameron was worth more than a job, and if that child set one foot in the area, Keen wasn't convinced he would be able to protect him. He wasn't convinced he'd be able to protect himself. Whenever he entered this sector, he basically became a steak walking into a kennel filled with ravenous hounds. He wouldn't drag Cameron in with him.

"Go home, Berkeley," Keen said, walking back and offering his hand.

"But why?" the boy whined, taking his hand and accepting the help up.

"Because this isn't a place for you," Keen replied. "Why don't you go to the little store we like and get Saran some soup? I'll give you some money so you can, then meet you two at her place later. Right now I have a job interview, and I can't bring you with me."

"I can wait outside!" Berkeley stubbornly insisted.

"No. You can't," Keen bluntly replied. If he allowed that kind of stupidity, he'd exit the building and find an empty sidewalk. "It's going to take too long. It's better if you go to see Saran instead."

"But…" Berkeley began.

"Go," Keen said, pointing. Cameron pouted at him, and usually that worked in any situation that wasn't a risk—he was more a sucker for this boy than he cared to acknowledge, despite how annoying the child was—but this wasn't one of those situations. Keen held his ground and soon Cameron huffed and stormed off in a little tizzy. Keen waited until he was certain the boy was gone, then drew a breath and turned, looking towards Sector D, as he liked to call it. The 'D' was for depraved. Sighing, he entered…

Subnautica

Keen raced out of the store breathless and terrified. Frustrated, angry, frightened tears burned his eyes. The job interview went worse than he'd anticipated. He probably should have guessed as much. It had sounded too good to be true, and everyone always said that when something sounded too good to be true, it usually was. In retrospect, there had been warning signs. There'd been no job posting for it, to start. Instead, he'd learned of it through word of mouth from a stranger on the street who remarked he looked 'perfect for the position' and promised one-hundred credits an hour for four hours of work on call. He should have walked away right then and there, but he hadn't. It had been too lucrative an opportunity to ignore, so he'd taken a chance and now he was paying for it.

It had been a trap. That was the best way to describe it. An unassuming novelty shop with a shady shopkeeper. A shopkeeper with a dirty little secret the nature of which was best never delved into. A dark back room, cameras… That was all anyone needed to know to put it together, and apparently the eyes of this particular shopkeeper and his associates had been on him longer than he wanted to accept. The lot of them had mentioned Cameron and Saran… Not by name, but by description. That had horrified him more than anything else.

He wiped furiously at his eyes, sniffing. They'd offered to leave his friends alone, but it came at a price. Keen wasn't proud of what he'd done to ensure their safety, but he was starting to realize now that the bargain he'd been offered probably meant nothing and he'd been duped. If those people wanted Yu and Berkeley, they'd get Yu and Berkeley no matter what he did to try and protect them. It was more likely, though, that they didn't even know who the two were let alone where they lived. Their intentions were probably just to keep him on a leash for as long as they pleased, dangling his two younger friends above his head, and Keen knew he'd go right along with it, because if there was any chance at all that the things he did at their behest would spare Cameron and Saran a humiliating fate worse than death, he'd do it. A small chance was better than no chance.

He heard them shouting mockingly after him, calling he'd forgotten his pay and pursuing him, probably to drag him back. He clenched his teeth and sped up as much as he could. He didn't plan on stopping until he collapsed or was caught. They'd tried to convince him to keep his mouth shut. They'd tried to elicit a promise. He'd given them neither. Instead, he'd kneed one of them right where it hurt and fled. Now they feared the worst and were right to, because if he got away from this, they were as good as exposed. If they caught him, though, he knew he'd never escape again. Or be seen again. Or leave that dark room again…

He screamed when suddenly someone put out an arm in front of him and scooped him up in a manner that placed his back against the stranger's torso. He began struggling and kicking, fearing the worst, but whoever had seized him was big and powerful. He kept screaming and crying out for help in the vain hope that someone in this hellhole would choose not to turn a blind eye for once, but of course no one did.

"Boy! Boy! What on earth has happened to you?" he finally registered the man shouting. About the same time, he realized the stranger wasn't trying to drag him away anywhere or harm him.

"He took that road!" he heard one of the men chasing him shout.

Keen gasped in terror, going white as a sheet. "No! No, no, please, I don't want to, I don't want to! Dad, mum!" he pled, thrashing again. He hated himself for calling out to the people who'd never given a damn about him before and probably wouldn't give a damn about him now even if they saw what was happening, but it had just slipped out on instinct. When your ultimate fate was in the hands of a stranger, estranged family started looking really good really fast.

The stranger suddenly set him down on the ground, though kept a firm grasp on his upper arm, and spun him roughly around. Keen looked up and gasped in fear. Above him towered a large, burly man well over six feet looking down on him with blazing, fiery eyes. The youth was stricken silent and still, mouth agape. Then he heard the shouts of those pursuing him and turned quickly to them, catching his breath. His gaze darted back to the man who held his life in his hands, and all he could do was wait and pray he was friend and not foe…

Subnautica

James Hollister was not a fan of putting to port in this particular settlement. He regarded it with blatant disdain. The northern sector wasn't so bad. He might even call it civilized. It was the south that was the problem, and the south was where the docks happened to be. He didn't trust a single deckhand or dock worker present to so much as look at his ship, let alone touch it, and he had narrowly avoided more than a few scraps with men looking to prove something and pick a fight. He'd been forced into others. After about the fifth incident like that, he'd taken to carrying one of those new-fangled Mongolian tech pistols around with him, as well as a good old-fashioned blade just for good measure. Clearly even a man his size and bulk, who could deter most attacks by appearance alone, couldn't escape the roughness of this sector.

He had visited this port many times. Despite his utter disdain for it, the prices were good. You couldn't restock for cheaper anywhere else. Besides that, he'd picked up his fair share of temporary crew here. Helped them get away from it all, promptly deposited them in places that were far safer with better prospects… He'd saved lives that way and intended to save more still if it could be helped. The usual routine was normally straightforward. Stop at the docks, resupply, get a bite to eat, scout any prospects for temporary crew, return. He supposed he was long overdue for something to break routine. He just hadn't expected it to be something like this.

The child was anywhere from thirteen to fifteen years of age. He ran like hell itself was on his heels, tears streaming from his eyes, and tried desperately to wipe them away and hide the terror, but it wouldn't be hidden. He didn't believe the youth even registered he was there, half-wild from fear. It was clear to anyone with eyes to see that he needed help and that he was desperate and scared and in trouble. Not a single person seemed the least bit concerned. Some hid away, others didn't spare a second look or even a first. Like this was an everyday occurrence. Others muttered, but didn't chance stepping in, just looked sympathetic. Their sympathy would mean nothing to this boy who they were about to watch be snatched away and never seen again, though. At least that would be his fate if the shouting of men behind the youth was anything to go by.

The people of this settlement, of this sector, excelled at turning a blind eye. See no evil hear no evil. They would probably step over their fellow man at every given opportunity if given the chance. Especially if there was a monetary incentive. A single credit would probably be more than enough to convince them to do as much. Not to say every luckless fool in this forsaken settlement in this dangerous sector was like that, but the vast majority were. Since no one else would step in, then, he'd do it himself. Damn him to hell if he let anyone snatch this boy away from him.

He put out an arm as the youth was fleeing. Caught him about the waist, lifted him right off the ground, and swung him around so he was trapped against him and couldn't run himself into a worse situation or into his death. The cries for help and screams started immediately. He didn't fault the child for it. Gods only knew the fear he felt right now. "Boy! Boy! What on earth has happened to you?" he demanded loud enough to pierce through the screams. The boy seemed to register his voice and calm down a little, if only from the surprise of it all.

"He took that road!" Hollister heard a man shout. His eyes darkened, his blood starting to boil a bit.

The boy gasped in terror, going pale as a ghost. "No! No, no, please, I don't want to, I don't want to! Dad, mum!" the child screamed, thrashing in his arms. Hollister's heart plummeted. Did the child have parents waiting at home for him? Gods, he couldn't even imagine the hell they would go through if anything happened to their child. He set the boy down on the ground in the hopes it would make him feel safer, but he kept a firm grasp on the upper arm so he wouldn't run away. He spun the youth around. The boy looked up at him and gasped in fear, clearly stricken by the intimidating figure holding him. Hollister was vastly amused by how comically wide the youth's eyes opened. The shouts drew nearer, and the boy turned quickly, catching his breath. Then his gaze returned to Hollister, and the man saw that the boy knew he was backed into a corner. Trapped between two unknowns, wondering if he'd exchanged one evil for a worse one. Hollister intended to set his mind at ease as quickly as possible.

He saw the men racing around the corner. Three of them. He frowned and knelt in front of the youth, taking his shoulders firmly. "Son, I told you not to wander off!" he said loudly enough for the men to hear. If they desperately wanted the child, the presence of his 'father' wasn't going to deter them. The presence of a tech pistol, though, might.

"Wh-what?" the youth asked, eyes still comically wide.

"Your mother and I told you to be home in time for dinner, and what do you do instead? Go missing and force papa to search for you," the man said as the men closed in. They paused some distance back, his appearance and words temporarily freezing them and causing the trio to re-evaluate their strategy. "Now come on. We're going home." He draped his arm over the boy's shoulders, took firm hold of his upper arm again, and started guiding him quickly away from the pursuing men.

The boy glanced nervously back as they walked. "Sir, they're following," he warned, looking warily up at him and tentatively deciding he was the more trustworthy one.

"I know," Hollister replied. He kept stealing glances in windows and the trio was quickly closing the distance. He expected a good old-fashioned mugging anytime now, so it was best if he faced them on his terms instead of theirs. He stopped suddenly and turned sharply around, eyes narrowed as he moved the boy behind him and let him go. If the youth ran, he would do all he could to keep these three off his back until he got safely away. If the boy stayed, he'd do the same about a thousand times more determinedly. The startled men stopped. "Run home," Hollister murmured quietly to the boy. It would be one less thing to worry about. Then the young one said the last thing he'd expected.

"I have no home sir," he whispered.

Hollister started a little, but tried not to let his surprise show. He could question the child later once they were out of this. Assuming, of course, he survived. "Gentlemen, may I help you?" Hollister demanded of the trio firmly.

"How much for the boy?" one of the men finally said, taking the plunge.

Hollister's eyes blew open wide, and it took him a second to process that. For all these people knew he really was the boy's father, yet here they were trying to buy him off him? "Excuse me?" he asked in disbelief.

"How much for your son?" the man answered.

"Are you really asking if I'll sell you my boy?" Hollister asked.

"Not your boy. Just his labour. A business contract. One-hundred credits," the man said.

"Has anyone ever actually sold their child to you for that?" Hollister incredulously asked, hardly able to process this. The 'corporate jargon' didn't shake him. Not for one second.

"I've paid less. Come now, it's only for one night's work," the man said, smirking darkly.

"Are you insane?!" Hollister demanded.

"Too low, hmm? Two-hundred," the man said.

"No!" Hollister said in outrage.

"Three-hundred. Come on. I'm putting food on your table. Goodness knows your family must need it if you're sending the kid out to get a job. I'm offering him a job," the man said.

"I'm not renting you my boy! Not for all the credits in Alterra," Hollister snapped, reminded once more of how much he despised this place. His heart twisted inside him as he realized just how desperate some families out here must be if they'd handed this man their children for less than one-hundred credits, but it didn't excuse them. Not by any stretch of the imagination. After all, who knew how many of those desperate parents had offered up their children simply because they weren't willing to offer up themselves?

He turned around and started leading the boy away once more. It was high time someone reported this place to the Alterra higher-ups he decided. No, Alterra wasn't the most savoury or empathetic bunch, but they weren't without standards or morals either. Though at times it might seem like they were only getting worse with each passing year, for now they still held to the charter all Trans-Govs held to; but damned if they didn't dance the fine line at times. Of course, it seemed a common corporate trait. Every Trans-Gov was guilty of it in some way or another. The Mongolians and Savannah's were about the most honourable in that regard, but even they didn't always stick to it as closely as they were meant to. Alterra for her part had all but abandoned more than one settlement that had run dry, leaving the people destitute. They still did enough to keep up appearances and maintain their rights to the territory though, which meant they weren't obligated to put out the credits it would take to return those people home. Which meant it was basically a slow death for the ones who resided there. Doubtless Alterra had conveniently 'forgotten' other settlements or 'accidentally' lost their records. Who knew if anyone still survived on those? Corporate corner-cutting was cutthroat at the best of times. It was particularly easy to cut corners when you had stakes clear across galaxies.

"You get money for him, or you get an early grave," another of the men darkly said. Hollister paused, looking quickly back. They had pistols he saw, and he wasn't the least bit surprised by it. The youth let out a fearful breath and Hollister practically felt his muscles coil, prepping to flee at a moment's notice.

"Run to the docks. Find the Borealis. They'll protect you," he murmured quietly to the boy. The youth looked quickly at him, eyes wide in disbelief like the concept of anyone looking out for him was beyond his comprehension. Hollister focused on the men again. "You're not getting my child," he said evenly, hand hovering over the tech pistol. "Not now, not ever. Don't make this worse for yourselves than it's already going to be. Let us go and no harm no foul."

"But sir, the footage and cameras. What if others…" the boy began. Hollister looked quickly down at him in disbelief. The boy winced and hung his head. He saw the way the youth's eyes glanced passed the men though, in the direction he'd come from. Hollister realized in that moment that the teenager wouldn't run to the Borealis as he'd been told, once the men were engaged. He'd leap on the distraction, race back to wherever he'd come from, and he'd try to be a hero because he was young and inexperienced and naïve, and still clung to the sort of hope, empathy, and faith that Hollister only wished he still had. His respect for this young one grew, but his hope he'd be able to save him plummeted significantly. Fools walked in where angels feared to tread and all that. Clearly this one was a braver young fool than he'd initially realized.

"We will deal with that soon enough, I promise you, but not now. It would be the pinnacle of stupidity," Hollister said. "Do as I say, and all will go well for us both. Don't and we'll run into more trouble than necessary, understood?" The boy hesitated, looking back at the men, then sighed and turned to Hollister, defeatedly nodding and hanging his head.

The Captain's eyes went back to the men, who were discussing amongst themselves whether it was worth it to start opening fire in the middle of a street and risk everything. They seemed to come to an accord, nodding to one another, and Hollister feared the decision wasn't going to be in his favour. Or the boy's. "Fine," the man said, much to the Captain's relief. "We have what we want from him anyway." Hollister's heart plummeted again, his lips parting ever so slightly as it dawned on him what that probably meant. The way the youth shrank behind him looking wounded only emphasized as much. "You know where to find us when you get desperate boy. It wasn't as bad as all that. Here. Take your pay." He threw some credits on the ground. The boy tried to run for them, but Hollister put out his arm, stopping him. The youth looked up at him in confusion. Hollister held his ground. So did the men. The wind began blowing the credits away and the youth gasped in dismay. The men smirked coldly and turned, walking away.

As soon as they were gone. Hollister watched solemnly as the teenager raced towards the floating credits and tried to snatch them all, frustrated tears shining in boy's eyes. He was able to collect only about a quarter of what was his due. Hollister sighed heavily and approached the teen, who watched forlornly as the rest of the credits were blown away in the wind.

"They'll help other desperate families now," Hollister murmured. The boy looked quickly at him, expression pained, but he soon bowed his head, nodding in understanding. He looked at the money he held, grimaced, then threw it up to the wind as well. There was no point in him keeping them anyway anymore… "I'll pay you whatever they promised you," Hollister promised.

"I just want to forget this day ever happened," the boy answered, wrapping his arms tightly around himself.

Hollister sighed and placed a hand on the child's shoulder. The boy looked warily up at him. "What happened?" Hollister murmured gently. "What did they do to you?" Frustrated tears burned the youth's eyes, and he sniffed, furiously wiping them away. Hollister didn't press. "What's your name?" he asked.

The boy hesitated to answer. "Jonathan sir," he said at last. "Jonathan Keen."

Hollister was quiet, summing young Keen up. "You're not going to leave well enough alone, are you?" he soon said.

The boy, Jonathan's, jaw tightened ever so slightly. "I… It was a little novelty shop no one would look twice at. They took me behind the counter to-to a back room. It was supposed to be an interview for a job, I…!" He slammed his mouth shut quickly and it quivered a bit. "He can't… It isn't right! He had so many data disks… He kept them in a shoebox! There were-were cameras… I need to destroy it. I need to destroy it all!" The youth began to pace. "I need a lighter or matches or-or something! He can't get away with this! He can't keep…"

"You want to burn it all down," Hollister said. Keen stopped, looking quickly at him. For a moment there was silence. "Burning down another's property…" Hollister began.

"I'll take the jail time!" Keen said.

"And what do you think will happen to you in a place like that?" Hollister asked.

"I don't care! Just as long as none of what he has ever gets a chance to be put on public display!" the boy said.

Hollister shook his head, mystified by this child. He was wise beyond his years it seemed, and not quite so reckless as Hollister had first imagined. This one thought about consequences, he thought about what would happen to him, but he actively chose to take the chance anyway because he perceived it was the right thing to do, and that the right thing was worth giving up your life and dignity for.

"You're brave. A fool, but brave," Hollister said. Jonathan was silent, frustratedly glaring at the ground. "Go to the docks. Find the Borealis. Leave this matter to me. Not a trace of anything hidden there will be found ever again." Except perhaps the data disks. Those should be turned over to the authorities, but then again, the authorities were probably as corrupt as it could get in this sector. Keen looked quickly up at him in shock. "Just let the crew know we may be here for some time," Hollister continued. At least they would be if he was caught burning the shop in question and everything in it to the ground. At that point he would be looking at arrest, a trial date months down the line, and certainly no less than five years jail time, and in fact likely more. His intention, though, was to hand command over to someone else if it came down to that. No one on board was qualified, and for the first time in as long as he could remember he regretted never investing in training up or hiring a second officer, but he had friends on the outside who would be willing to step in and take on the oversight of his ship until he was released from prison. Probably years down the line… No, no second guesses! Dammit, if the boy could find the courage to sacrifice years of his young life for the greater good, sacrifice maybe even the entire prime of it if they punished particularly hard, then he could find the strength to spare the child that fate and give up his own.

"Sir…" the boy began.

"Just go. Maybe you're willing to sacrifice yourself for this, but I'm not about to sacrifice you," Hollister said. The boy's eyes widened, vulnerability filling them. The words had stunned him it seemed.

"Wh-what?" Keen asked, voice tight and disbelieving. Hollister's heart twisted inside him. You would almost think this youth had never heard anything like those words before in his life… He'd called out to his parents though, hadn't he? Hollister knew he'd heard it! Then again, that didn't necessarily imply his parents cared… It was just natural for a young person to cry out for their caregivers when terrified or in trouble. "You don't even know me," the boy said.

"I don't have to, to want to see you safe," Hollister replied. "Go."

"I'm not going to leave you!" the boy insisted. "You shouldn't have to get in trouble for me!"

Hollister smirked wryly. "If things go well, I won't," he replied. The boy was quiet, trying to process this. "Walk away. Be safe. If I go to jail for this, I go to jail for it. I'm well-respected and well-known in Alterra, so have a far better chance of being let off light than you would. I'm willing to take this risk. You, I think, have been through quite enough. Too much in fact." Keen shuddered a little. "It's alright. You're safe now. You won't be hurt again, I promise," Hollister gently said, tilting the boy's chin so he'd look at him, then withdrawing his hand because goodness knew the young one was probably sick of touch at this point.

"They-they threatened my friends. I wouldn't have done it if they hadn't!" Keen began.

"You don't need to make excuses. Not to me, not to anyone," Hollister said. "The blame is solely on them. They're getting what they deserve." Keen, head bowed, looked determinedly back up at him and nodded. Hollister nodded back and set off in the direction the boy had come from. He would find this shop soon enough, he felt. A novelty shop wasn't exactly a common sight, after all.

"Sir, please, let me come with you! I can show you where it is," Keen called out. Hollister turned, spotting the boy scrambling after him.

"Keen, I've told you…" Hollister began.

"It's harder to spot than you think," Keen cut off. "Follow me!" Without waiting for an answer, the boy raced away. Hollister stared after him in disbelief, grimaced in concern, then ran after him. The boy was quick on his feet the Captain noted. While his longer stride kept him close enough to keep the youth in sight for now, when the boy grew up and his own gait lengthened, Hollister would be easily outpaced. Jonathan had the type of build ideal for swimming and running.

The boy ran straight to an unassuming novelty shop hidden down a side road, and Hollister had to admit the boy was right. It would have been harder to find than he had expected it would be. They stood across the street from it. He kept the youth out of sight. He got out of sight himself when he saw the men leaving, laughing and talking amongst themselves. They were closing up for the evening it seemed. They waited until the group had long gone out of sight. Suddenly the boy darted towards the door and set to work on the lock. Hollister pursed his lips. Breaking in, it seemed, wasn't a foreign concept to the youth. That concerned him. He wasn't surprised the boy hadn't just stayed out of the way. He wished he had, but one's teenaged years were a reckless time filled with bad decisions.

The boy shoved open the door in only moments. Hollister trailed after him, keeping an eye out for anyone unsavoury who might be nearby. His grip on his tech pistol was firm, and he was ready to point and shoot at a moment's notice. The boy ran for a door behind the counter and pulled it open. Hollister followed. The moment he entered the room, though, his lips parted in horror, eyes widening and a knot growing in the pit of his stomach. "By the gods…" he said in a breath when he witnessed the setup.

The boy went straight to a shoebox set in a corner and looked it over before turning to Hollister. "Give me a lighter or something!" the youth insisted.

Hollister frowned and approached calmly, picking up the box and tucking it under an arm. "We'll destroy it, but not here," he said.

"No! We destroy it here with everything else!" Keen vehemently insisted, gesturing around the room.

Hollister looked around it tiredly and tried not to think about what went on in this place. He felt a lump in his throat and swallowed over it. He looked at the boy again. "Go," he ordered. "This cannot happen with you in this room. I promised you nothing would be left. Nothing will be. You, though, will not be associated with it. Cross the street if you absolutely refuse to leave me, or go to the Borealis, but do not let yourself be implicated in this matter, Keen. For your own sake."

"But sir…!" Keen began.

"Enough! Off with you," Hollister sternly said. Keen shifted a little but then bowed his head and obeyed, turning and walking out of the room. Hollister sighed, looked back around the room, set the shoebox down, then opened the cameras to take out any footage that might still be inside. He paused when he saw the newest disk. Jonathan's, no doubt. The label written on it was something he wished he could bleach out of his brain forever. In disgust, he tossed the footage with all the rest, struck a match, and set the place alight without a second's hesitation. The mattress, the recordings, the drapes… Then he left the room, grabbed up anything that looked worth sparing on the shop floor, set them aside for others to snatch away or the authorities to collect, then crossed the street to find the youth.

Subnautica

He spotted Keen peeking his head out of a nearby alley and went to him, not once looking back at the fire. "Do you have a family?" he asked the boy.

Keen's eyes hardened and he bowed his head. "As far as you or anyone is concerned, I'm an orphan," he said.

"So not one worth mentioning," Hollister replied. Silence. "Why did you call out for your parents?" he asked.

"Instinct," Keen bitterly replied.

Hollister nodded. Just as he'd deduced. "Where are the friends you were trying to protect?" he asked.

"I… The northern district," he answered in a murmur. A beat. "The men lied to me. They saw them and could describe them but didn't know their names. Probably not where they live or go to school either, so I was just scammed."

Hollister sighed through the nose, closing his eyes and massaging the bridge of said nose. Looking at the boy again, he asked, "Did they wound you in any way that would require a hospital?" he asked. In his opinion, the boy should go to one anyway, but he seriously doubted the youth would comply. Keen shook his head negatively. Hollister nodded, observing him with a critical eye. "It's getting dark. Do you have any place to go?" Keen shook his head more vigorously. "Then come with me to my ship," Hollister said. "You can get a good meal, sleep in a decent bed… Or I can bring you to the northern sector and leave you with people you know." Silence. "Do you want to see your friends? Just to be sure?" Hollister asked. Keen was quiet. "Walk with me and tell me what you want to do as we go. We can't stay here any longer." Keen nodded in agreement, and the two set off…

Subnautica

Keen watched the stranger curiously, staring up at him as he trailed behind. He realized, then, that he had yet to learn the name of this man who had rescued him. "Sir, I never learned your name," he said. "What was it?"

The man glanced down at him. He was so large, Keen marvelled. The biggest man he'd ever seen! "My apologies, young Keen. I'm afraid I've been quite distracted, as you can well imagine. My name is James Hollister. I'm captain of the Borealis, my personal ship.

"A captain?" Keen said, audibly intrigued. "Then you've been to the stars!"

Hollister smirked ever so slightly. "In a manner of speaking," he said. "To space, more accurately."

"I've heard all sorts of things about space," Keen said. "Is it as exciting as they say?"

"It can be," Hollister replied, smiling a little.

"I would like to go one day," Keen sadly said, bowing his head. "I don't think I'll ever be able to though. I can barely put myself through basic education, let alone college. Not because I'm incapable. I simply can't afford it."

"I never went to college you know," Hollister said. "I learned things on my own and from mentors. I apprenticed men greater than I and learned from them. Book smarts and theory are all well and good, but they can never compare to the wisdom of experience."

Keen considered these words, taking them to heart. It gave him some hope for a better future than what he could earn for himself, but he would believe it when he saw it. "I…" he began before trailing off. Hollister gave him a curious look. "I want to see my friends," Keen forced himself to say. He didn't know why he was always so reluctant to call them such, or inform others about them, but he was. He wanted to be sure they were safe though. They had to be safe… Hollister nodded and allowed him to take the lead.

Subnautica

Keen peered into Saran's home from across the street, just out of sight. Cameron was there. The two were playing a game. Saran looked worried though, eyes constantly straying to the window. Cameron must have told her he had intended to meet up with them. That he hadn't would be worrying the slightly older Saran. Cameron too, probably, though the boy likely wouldn't think much about it.

"It seems she's expecting someone," Hollister said, causing Keen to jump a bit. He looked curiously back at the Captain. "You should go to them. Let them know you're alright. Stay a little while." Keen looked away woefully. "It won't hurt you know. I'll wait right here for you." It was a cold night, Hollister knew, but he had a thick coat and gloves. He could get himself a cup of coffee from a nearby café. This sector wasn't so bad. In fact, it was beautiful. How there'd come to be such a divide between north and south he didn't know.

"I don't…" Keen began before trailing off. "I don't think that's such a good idea." He felt too ashamed at the moment. Too… tainted. Tainted… He hated that word, he decided.

"And if they get it into their heads to try and find you?" Hollister asked.

"I'm not…! I can't… I don't deserve to be with them right now," Keen quietly said.

"No. None of that," Hollister sternly said, turning the child to face him. "I won't hear it. You are not unworthy of being with them. What happened was the fault of those men, not you. Never you. You deserve to be happy and loved. You deserve to feel safe and secure. You deserve every friend you have, and every opportunity given you. Don't run from them. Go to your friends. You don't have to stay long, just long enough for them to see you're alright. I promise I'll be right here, and if I'm not, I'll be in the little café just down the street."

Keen gazed up at the man feeling overwhelmed. He couldn't remember the last time he had heard kindness like this or been shown such dignity or concern. All he could do was numbly nod before he hurried off to meet up with Berkeley and Yu.

Subnautica

Hollister waited patiently for Keen to return, sitting out in the cold on the wooden bench with a cup of coffee steaming between his hands. The boy looked content in that home with his companions, grinning and laughing and playing games. He watched as the youth's face fell when the girl's mother came in and informed them it was time for bed. She took Keen and the other young boy from the room and soon emerged, the younger child ist her side and Keen trailing a bit behind looking upset. "Jonathan, you can stay if you like," the woman said, sounding a little concerned.

"No ma'am. I'll be alright. I always am," Keen said.

"Jonathan…" the woman began.

"I'll be alright," Keen insisted. The woman frowned, looking unconvinced, but soon sighed and nodded defeatedly before packing the younger boy into her vehicle and leaving. Jonathan watched after them solemnly then crossed the street, dragging his feet. The boy looked nervously up like he half-expected Hollister to be gone. Hollister sighed and rose. Keen perked up a bit and hurried towards him.

"Are you hungry?" Hollister asked.

"I'll be alright," Keen said.

Hollister barked a sharp laugh. The boy started, then looked offended. "Come with me," Hollister directed.

"I'm fine!" Keen insisted.

"No. You aren't," Hollister replied. "Come." Keen frowned but followed nonetheless. It wan't as if the man left him much choice.

Subnautica

Ozwald Jones was no stranger to Captain Hollister bringing in strays from the rain. Hell, he'd been one of them. More or less. When he saw some scrappy-looking fourteen-year-old plod onto the ship after the guy like a little lost pup, though, he'd been mildly disturbed. He hadn't been with Hollister long. This marked his second expedition with the guy, and he knew next to nothing about him beyond the fact he liked to take on troubled young men and women and give 'em a shot at a better life. Never before, though, had the man brought someone this young on board.

As established, Ozzy didn't know a lot about James Hollister. He knew a lot about this particular port, though. He'd been here before with his parents on a business trip. The northern half of the settlement? Not so bad. The southern part? Your worst nightmare. The captain bringing aboard some kid from the southern sector, a sector known for its depravity, was cause enough for alarm bells to be raised, and he couldn't help but be worried about the man's intentions.

"Ozwald, Jonathan Keen. Keen, Ozwald Jones," Hollister introduced.

"Charmed," Keen greeted, offering a hand and sounding far too mature for his age.

"How old's this scamp, Cap?" Ozzy incredulously asked. Keen frowned, a little put out by the response.

"Fourteen he says," the Captain replied.

"Seems a little young to be on a ship," Ozzy said.

"If he had anywhere else to go, he wouldn't be," the Captain answered.

"Where're your parents, kid?" Ozzy asked, ignoring the Captain. His attention needed to be on the boy just in case.

"Are you old enough to rightly call me kid?" Keen challenged.

Ozzy smirked a bit. "Yeah. I am. Eighteen."

"Then you're a 'kid' too!" Keen protested, pointing at him.

Now the kid was starting to sound his age, Ozzy figured. "Not one young as you. Hey, scamp, you get into trouble or need help, look me up, okay? I'll help ya out, promise," he said.

"Your concern, while understandable, is unwarranted I assure you, Ozzy," the captain said, getting a sense for why the ship's chef seemed so concerned for the boy's wellbeing. "I have no ill intent toward the boy."

"I'm not a boy!" Keen protested. Both Ozzy and the Captain gave him dubious looks, and he shrank in on himself a bit, eyes widening, then frowned and began to pout, crossing his arms.

"Come along Jonathan. I'll show you to your cabin. Right next to yours, Ozzy, if it will help you feel better. Ozzy nodded. It would. Hollister nodded back and led the boy away. Ozzy hesitated then followed. Just in case. It wasn't that he didn't want to trust the captain, it was just the boy was the more vulnerable one right now. Hollister didn't seem to mind his presence, though the child gave him wary, dirty looks every so often, clearly wondering who he thought he was tagging along. Ozzy chalked it up to general naivety mixed with whatever level of jadedness came with living in the southern sector of this place.

True to form, the captain brought the boy right to a cabin next to Ozzy's and ushered the boy inside. He left the door open though, just to ease Ozzy's fears. Ozzy pulled out a sketch pad from a bag, grabbed a pencil, and began to sketch a little as the captain settled the youth. "What are you drawing?" the boy suddenly asked, snapping him out of his focus.

Ozzy blinked and looked at the kid, who was now staring at him. He searched around. Hollister had walked off. Ozzy grimaced. He must have really been in the zone if he hadn't noticed the man leaving. He looked back at the boy. "Where's the captain?" he asked.

"What are you drawing?" Keen repeated.

"Seniority rules. You answer first," Ozzy replied.

Keen frowned, considering this response, then to Ozzy's surprise, he relented and nodded. "He went to get bed linens," he said matter-of-factly.

"Uh huh. Told ya to pester me, huh?" Ozzy said.

"I'm not pestering! I simply asked a question," the boy indignantly replied. It was adorable how grown up he tried to sound, Ozzy decided.

"Sure thing Scamp," Ozzy replied, smirking. Keen started and looked offended. Ozzy chuckled and showed him the pad.

Keen examined it curiously. "It's the docks," he said, sounding mildly surprised.

"Yep. Creative bug bit," Ozzy said, smirking and tucking the pad away again. "Was gonna draw you and the captain then figured neither of you would appreciate that much."

"Why?" Keen asked.

"'Cause if I'd drawn you and the captain, first question out of your mouth after seeing my drawing woulda been 'why are you drawing me', and that woulda been real awkward to explain," Ozzy answered.

Keen looked ready to argue, then seemed to hesitate and second-guess himself before nodding in understanding. "The captain said you cook," the boy said.

"Yep. Ship chef and part-time mechanic," Ozzy replied. "Why? Hungry Scamp?" He figured the captain would have fed the kid already, but maybe not. Besides, Keen was clearly headed towards a growth spurt, if not there already, so for the next few years he was gonna be packing away the food with no hints of stopping.

"No," Keen said. His stomach grumbled a bit. There was a beat. Ozzy's lips quirked up in an amused smirk. He didn't even bother saying anything. Keen shifted uncomfortably. "Only a little," he mumbled.

"Bedtime snack comin' up," Ozzy said.

"It's not a…!" Keen began.

"Kid, even adults still have bedtime snacks sometimes. Least I do," Ozzy said.

"You're not an adult," Keen replied.

Ozzy grinned. He liked this kid, he decided. He was a clever little parasite. "Touché," he said. "Come on. I'll bring ya to the kitchen. Whip ya up somethin' nice. Want somethin' cold or hot?"

"Warm," Keen answered in a measure of defiance that wasn't actually defiance.

"Sticky toffee pudding sound good?" Ozzy asked. Keen faltered and Ozzy grinned. He'd found the kid's weakness right off the bat it seemed.

"Yes," Keen quietly said, sounding a little sheepish.

"Hey, no shame in that. One of the most delicious things in the galaxy," Ozzy said with a laugh. "Might have some myself before I head to bed." Keen just nodded. "You're gonna love it scamp. Not just the puddin' either. Everything about this adventure."

"I'm not a…!" Keen began before sighing in frustration. "Fine! Fine. Call me whatever you will," he said, giving up on arguing the nickname. Ozzy smiled at him. He was gonna get to like this kid he knew. Kinda hoped Hollister kept him around if he really had nowhere else to go. Better he be with them up in space than in the settlement he'd been picked up in, after all.

Subnautica

The moment Keen set foot in the café, he was assailed from all sides by the delightful aromas. Immediately his stomach began to growl even louder. "Anythin' you want besides the pudding, just ask for it, alright?" Ozzy said, going behind the counter. "Can hear your stomach grumbling from here. You're a scrawny little scamp. Too scrawny for someone your age."

Keen frowned at him, looked towards the menu, then asked for something small. Ozzy, not to be deterred, whipped him up a seven-course meal. Justified it by claiming he or Hollister would probably just finish whatever Keen couldn't. Keen, staring at the spread, just felt overwhelmed. In a good way though.

It wasn't long before Hollister returned to the café to join them and check on Keen. The Captain paused, mildly amused to see the boy scarfing down an entire seven-courser. Ozzy was in the back doing dishes, so Hollister approached the youth and sat next to him. Keen looked up at him wide-eyed, a fork in his mouth, looking like he'd just been caught red-handed. "Eat up boy. Goodness knows you need the meat on your bones," Hollister said. Keen frowned a bit, tilting his head, but then huffed and went back to eating. Hollister waited until the boy had finished the last of his dessert before breaching the next sensitive topic. "Where do your parents live?" he asked, picking at whatever had been left over.

Keen looked quickly at him. Hollister waited patiently. The boy turned away from him. "They're dead," he bluntly replied.

"Where are these dead parents of yours?" Hollister pressed.

Keen was quiet. "Does it matter?" he finally asked.

"I won't bring you with me when I go to confront them," Hollister said.

"Then they'll only lie until you decide I'm the one who was in the wrong," Keen bitterly said.

"That, I assure you, won't happen," Hollister replied.

"You're not the first who's assured me of that," Keen said with a bitter laugh, arms wrapping tightly around himself.

"But I'll be the last," Hollister said. Keen just looked frustrated. Hollister considered the young man's predicament. "Very well," he said. "I won't go to them." Keen looked up at him in mild surprise. Hollister rose. "Come along Jonathan."

"Where are we going?" Keen questioned warily.

"Bedtime for you I'm afraid. You've had a trying day, to say the least, and have nowhere else to stay, so you'll stay here in a cabin all your own in a proper, warm bed. Did you really think we were setting up a room for you for no reason?" Hollister asked. Keen shifted, considering this, then nodded in agreement, rising to follow the Captain. "You'll be alright now, my boy. You'll be alright," the man promised in a murmur. Those words made Keen feel safer than he'd ever felt in his life, and the Captain proved true to them more so than Keen could have ever fathomed…