Jonathan's always been rather good at knots, in large part thanks to his years as a Scout, but undoing the knots in the rope that binds his hands behind his back is more of a challenge than he'd anticipated—especially when he's trying to keep the travel mug tucked under one arm.
He'd dropped it in his initial scuffle with 32, trying to keep her from going after Rose, but he hadn't lost as much out of it as he'd feared. By some miracle, after 32 had tied him and she'd noticed him trying to pick it back up, she hadn't tossed it away; she'd laughed as he'd struggled and, when he'd succeeded, made a snide remark about a caffeine addiction. He'd grant her that the liquid looked like black coffee, even if the viscosity wasn't quite the same, but he'd be forever grateful she hadn't wondered about the fact that he hadn't drunk any of it yet if that's what she believed.
Somehow, maybe, if things don't go even more sideways than they already have, he and Rose will have more reason to laugh—with joy, with relief—than 32 will. Not that he doesn't want her to have reason to laugh, as she might be nice enough under other circumstances, but there's too much malice in her laughter for his liking. However many years she's spent with the Huntsclan, it's been long enough to poison her, and he doubts she'll have a chance to be a better person if she stays with them.
By the time 32 is back with Rose, no doubt deliberately pulling Rose along by her bad arm and seemingly taking great pleasure in the Rose's pain, he's done little more than begin to loosen the first of the knots.
Rose's eyes linger on his bindings, understanding rather than surprise gracing her face, and she moves to untie the rope around his ankles without a word. 32 stands over them and watches, and Jonathan isn't surprised when she uses that same rope to tie Rose's hands behind her as well.
He is surprised she didn't notice the little progress he'd made towards freedom, but then again, she is rather preoccupied.
And he will freely admit that, injured or not, Rose is a greater threat to 32 than he is.
"No more tricks," hisses 32 as she shoves Rose forward. Jonathan follows silently, not wanting to rouse 32's ire more, but he stays half a step behind her—close enough for her to know he's there, but hopefully not so close that she realizes he's actively trying to undo the knots in the rope.
"No more tricks," echoes Rose, and then they walk the long tunnel in silence.
Jonathan's not sure how long it is before he hears the distant murmur of voices, but it's time enough for him to loosen the knots enough that he could slip free whenever he wishes, and it's shortly thereafter that 32 ushers them through a door and he sees people. Most of them are children, he'd guess. Some of the taller ones might be adults, but he'd have thought the adults wouldn't be wearing the same uniform as the children.
Then again, he supposes there's no real reason why they shouldn't. He'd been thinking of Maria's assessment that the uniforms worn by 88 and 89 were those of a private academy somewhere and didn't see any reason that the teachers would be beholden to the same uniform, but this isn't simply an academy.
There are so many children, though.
Children who were either stolen from their families or, from what he's gathered, have fled from them, be they blood or foster, for one reason or another. Maybe some were tricked or coerced into joining, recruited one way or another, but even so, the fact that they're presumably still here, that they don't know enough to get out, have no desire to, or see no way of doing it….
His heart hurts at the mere thought of everything that means.
"You know where we're going?" asks 32.
"I've a fair idea," mutters Rose. Louder, she says, "Left?"
There's a hallway on the left, and though he's seen people come from the right, he hasn't seen anyone come from the left. Either way, it'll take them farther away from the others who've gathered in what seems to be a common room of sorts, a large area scattered with comfortable-looking chairs and tables both low and high.
"Left," confirms 32. Rose turns, and Jonathan follows with 32.
The hallway is lined with doors on either side, but Jonathan hasn't any idea what's beyond them. It angles slightly to the right as they continue, but they've only gone half that length again once the common area is completely out of sight before the lights above them abruptly go off.
"What did you do?" shrieks 32, but Rose—for she must be talking to Rose—doesn't answer.
Jonathan ducks away from them, shedding the rope around his hands as he does so. He shoves it into the pocket of his pants as best he can with one hand while getting a better grip on his travel mug with the other. He crouches down by the far wall and hopes he won't have to drink from it before this is over.
Somehow, Rose is fighting in the dark with her hands tied—assuming she hasn't slipped out of her ropes as well. If she hasn't, she's certainly making a valiant effort at fighting despite that handicap. That, or 32 is swinging at shadows. He wouldn't be terribly surprised either way.
Distantly, yet all the clearer for the lack of the pervasive background hum he hadn't noticed till its absence, there's confused shouting that's only growing louder as the darkness continues.
Five feet from him, there's a grunt and a curse as flesh connects with flesh, and the stifling stillness is broken by a rush of air and accompanying thud as one or both of the girls falls to the floor.
It's a far better sound than the crack and the scream that comes shortly thereafter.
Jonathan doesn't hear the click of the flashlight, but he sees it light up behind the partial shelter of Rose's fingers what is surely only seconds later but feels like an eternity.
He can't see 32, but he can still hear her whimpering.
"Follow me," Rose murmurs, and Jonathan does so. Even in the poor light, he knows he's not imagining that her limp is back.
He's not imagining the occasional hiss of pain he hears out of her, either.
She might have freed her hands, she might have won her fight, but she's paying for that now.
Rose leads him through a veritable maze of what he can only assume are lesser-used corridors until they reach what seems to be a supply room. Rose plays the flashlight across neat racks of hanging uniforms and various articles on shelving labelled by size, quickly finding herself a new jacket. She deftly transfers the scant contents of the pockets before shucking off his coat and starting to roll it up, but he stops her. "I'll wear it."
She shakes her head. "I'll find you a uniform. You'll stick out like a sore thumb otherwise."
He knows it's true, and he knows drawing attention to himself will only make everything more difficult. That's why he doesn't protest when she turns to hide the coat out of sight. It's one Susan gave him, and he'd like to get it back, but—
But if it's what he has to sacrifice to see his family through this, it's a small sacrifice indeed.
"Here," adds Rose, handing him a flashlight she's pulled out of a drawer that looks to be full of them. "Don't use it unless you have to."
Now that he's looking for it, he can see a number of drawers labelled with similar supplies. No weapons aside from pocketknives, unfortunately, but those can be dreadfully useful in and of themselves. Besides, the other supplies look just as useful, and they're supplies not entirely unlike those he would have used as a Scout, along with more than a few things that might help even if he's not sure how best to use them.
He sets his travel mug down and has filled his own pockets by the time Rose returns with a full uniform, mask included, and shoos him toward some shelving. He doesn't really need the privacy when he intends to pull these clothes on top of what he's wearing, but he goes anyway.
He doesn't believe she'd betray him now, so he'd be a fool not to trust her judgement when she's the one who's familiar with the territory.
As he slips on the jacket, part of him wonders what his father-in-law would think of this. Would Lao Shi agree that this is the best option they have? Would he think Jonathan a traitor for wearing the uniform of their enemies, despite knowing the reason? He can almost hear Susan's voice assuring him that her father would understand, that Jonathan wouldn't be faulted for trying to stay off of the Huntsclan's radar in this way, but he can also clearly imagine Lao Shi's voice loudly grumbling that Jonathan got himself into this position in the first place.
Yes, that would be the real issue.
Lao Shi would understand about the uniform. He might even make the same choice himself, were he in Jonathan's position.
However, Jonathan is all too aware that it is unlikely Lao Shi would be so understanding about the fact that Jonathan has gone and gotten himself captured and still hasn't made the decision to drink—
Rose appears at the end of the aisle, a finger on her lips as she beckons with her other hand for him to crouch down. She's already changed, though she hasn't pulled her mask over her face yet. Instead, she clicks the flashlight off as she kneels down to join him and leans forward to breathe into his ear, "We're getting company."
He wants to question her.
He doesn't.
That might be why he hears the nearly silent footsteps as they slip into the room. Two sets, if he hasn't missed his guess, and one sounding more than a bit like—
No, he's imagining things.
He must be.
He's not imagining the lack of light, though. The newcomers must be guarding their light well; he can't see it at all. This is a darkness he hasn't experienced since that one time on a cave tour when the guide switched off their lights.
Beside him, Rose is still as stone.
Jonathan takes slow, careful breaths. It's getting uncomfortably warm, almost stuffy, and he's not having much luck ignoring the ache that is somehow already starting in one leg and threatening to spread to the other, even though he knows full well it doesn't work like that.
He'd think he's getting too old to be doing this kind of thing, but Susan's his age, and she's off somewhere with Jake doing something that is no doubt rougher than this. Even if Susan is somehow a good deal more comfortable than he is right now, Lao Shi is no spring chicken. Not that Jonathan would say that to his face, or even behind his back, because it's very much the kind of thought that is much safer staying inside his head, but still.
Lao Shi might not be skulking through dark corridors with Haley, but he very much needs to be keeping up with her right now, and with his back occasionally giving him grief—
Jonathan has no right to complain.
Not outside of his own head, anyway.
He shouldn't even be complaining inside his own head when they're in a situation like this, where they might be discovered at any second and he still needs to come up with some excuse for who he is and what he's doing here.
Rose might be able to come up with something, but she already needs to pretend to be someone else, and she must be well-known after being Huntsgirl. Between that and the likelihood that someone's already found and talked to 32—
"They'll be in one of these," someone says, their voice low but intelligible.
Even as he hears the sound of opening drawers, Rose's fingers find and squeeze his hand.
He feels rather foolish for looking over at her and being reminded that he can't see anything in the darkness, but then there's a click and it's not as dark as it had been. There's no round ring of light from an upturned flashlight visible on the ceiling, so it might be pointed at the floor or partially shielded in some way, but even if it's not light enough to properly see, it's light enough for him to feel painfully exposed.
This isn't a hiding spot that will keep him safe if there's any sort of search, and he can hardly explain why he's here if they're caught.
They've no reason to look, though, if he can simply keep quiet. If his legs don't collapse beneath him. If—
"We're not alone," the same voice says, low and worried but still full of warning. There's no doubt in words, and it's enough to flood his veins with ice even though Jonathan hasn't any idea how the speaker—a boy? The voice sounds young, though not nearly as young as Haley's does—could possibly know that they're here.
It's still too dark for Jonathan to make out Rose's expression—it's still too dark for him to be entirely sure that she hasn't just put on her mask—but he doesn't need to see anything to recognize Susan's quiet voice. "It's cold. It might have been forgotten."
There's no reply, or at least no verbal reply, but Jonathan doesn't see the need to wait for one. He rises slowly, pulling Rose up with him, and the fact that she doesn't resist tells him he's right.
For once, he's right.
"Su?" he calls softly as he digs out his own flashlight before turning it on and pointing it towards the floor. He steps out of the aisle as the other flashlight's beam swings into his eyes. "Whoa, there. Easy."
"It's okay," Rose says, and Jonathan doesn't know if she's talking to him or to the flashlight holder, but he supposes it might be both of them. "It's okay. It's just me. Us."
Jonathan's eyes don't adjust in time to properly see Jake run to Rose, but shortly after he's no longer being blinded, Rose has pulled free in favour of hugging her friend.
His son.
Susan's embrace of Jonathan comes with a kiss, and Jonathan returns both in kind, but the first words out of her mouth as she steps back steal away the comfort of her unexpected presence. "Are you here for Haley, too?"
It takes Jonathan precious milliseconds to appreciate all the implications of Susan's question, and his hand reaches for and squeezes hers. "She's not with her grandfather?"
Susan shakes her head, and Jonathan is dimly aware of Jake and Rose moving to continue their own whispered conversation farther away.
Why isn't Haley with Lao Shi?
Why are Susan and Jake the ones coming to find her when they should be farther away from here than he should be?
"If they captured her," he says carefully, "I'll get her back. You two shouldn't—"
"She's the one who decided to come," cuts in Susan, but while her words have the ring of an explanation to them, Jonathan only has more questions.
Prominently among them, why? What on earth would possess Haley to willingly—voluntarily, without any sort of coercion if he's reading it right—come to the people who are hunting down her brother? Who would happily hunt down her? She would know even better than Jonathan does that there are more people like 32 here than like Rose.
"Jake got me in," continues Susan, "and he hopes we can both hide in plain sight if we're in uniform. I'm guessing that's why you're here with Huntsgirl."
Jonathan moves to run his free hand through his hair before he remembers he's holding a flashlight, but at least the action brings a smile to Susan's face. He loves her smile, and he can't imagine she's had much cause to smile since this mess started. "32 caught us before we could meet Patchouli. Rose—Huntsgirl, I mean, but she's not Huntsgirl anymore— She was looking for Jake, but they're looking for her, too, and if I'm reading between the lines correctly, she's no safer than he is."
Susan doesn't ask him why he'd planned to meet Patchouli with Rose. She doesn't wonder aloud about the redness on his wrists where the rope had worn off his skin before he could work the knot free or ask how he'd earned Rose's trust to find out her name in the first place.
Just like how he doesn't ask her how she knows about Haley, how she convinced Jake to come back here, or what asking that of him cost them both.
They can guess most of it, and the rest isn't important right now. They can find out the rest later, after this is over, once they're safe and there's time to talk.
He doesn't want to think that they might not reach that point, even though not reaching that point seems more likely than it ever did before.
"We all need to get out as quickly as we can," Susan says by way of agreement, "and I hope Haley doesn't argue that."
He blinks. "Why would she argue that?"
"Because she's here looking for some crystal skulls, not just information. If she doesn't have one with her by the time we find her…."
"I can look instead," Jonathan says, even though he hasn't any idea what he'd be looking for beyond a crystal skull. He's never entirely understood what it means to feel magic in an object or a place, so knowing that these skulls are almost certainly magical artefacts doesn't help him at all. "I can stay here till I find one and then nip out, quick as a bunny, to join all of you."
Susan gives a small shake of her head. "If one of us stays behind, it'll be me."
That makes more sense. He knows it makes more sense.
He wishes it didn't.
He'd be able to find the words to protest if it didn't.
"How are you holding up?" Susan asks after they enjoy the peace of being in each other's company for a few glorious seconds. "This isn't easy for any of us."
He gives her a wry smile. "I'm a bit battered and bruised and sore. Workout routine aside, the old Ju-Jazzu skills are a bit rusty."
Her smile is there for a precious second before falling away. "I don't just mean physically."
"It's a little overwhelming," he admits, "but I'd rather know. I can't imagine not knowing. If you and Haley had disappeared on me, if your father was gone, too, I…. I don't know what I'd think. I'd call your family, and they wouldn't answer, because they never answer the phone—"
"They prefer the Pixie Post. If they get a phone call, they know it almost certainly comes from someone who isn't part of the magical world, and they aren't…. They aren't as understanding as they should be."
Some day, he'll understand exactly what she means by the Pixie Post. He still hasn't seen it in action. From what she and Haley have told him, it sounds delightful.
"I'd worry," he continues. "I'd tear apart the house looking for a note you never left, and then I'd start on the shop, and then I wouldn't know what to do except wait. And fret. And then I'd call the police. And I still wouldn't have gotten answers, seeing as none of this is the sort of thing the police would find, so I'd have to listen to them as they try to tell me to consider the possibility that you stole Haley away from me and—" His voice gives out, and he swallows. "I'm glad I know the truth. The idea that I might not have known is even more terrifying than all of this."
"I should have told you earlier. I'm sorry." She's silent for a few quiet breaths before continuing, "I almost told you in high school. I wrote you a letter, but I— I couldn't bring myself to give it to you."
He almost asks her why, but that doesn't matter. "Finding out then might have felt less stressful than finding out now," he says slowly, "but I like to think I'm handling it all a sight better than I would have in high school. I'm not sure if I would have believed you. I wish I could say I would have, but I really don't know. I was more foolish back then than I am now. I might have convinced myself that you were just trying to pull a prank on me, even if I didn't understand it."
"Too grounded in reality thanks to Patti?"
Too grounded in reality isn't exactly a phrase he'd use to describe Patchouli, nor the effect she typically has on people, but he has an idea of what Susan means. His sister can at times be incredibly perceptive and incredibly naïve, and with her occasional penchant for harmless jokes at his expense, he's still not always sure which is which unless she's in a particularly serious mood. He's developed a habit of ignoring things he can't immediately explain as a result, really, since it seemed that every time he'd followed up on something like that in his childhood, he'd walked right into one of Patchouli's traps. That feigned ignorance and refusal to engage had been the safest option at the time, and Patti had dialled back the jokes after a while.
That habit of his would have made things easier for Susan and Haley, he supposes, though not nearly as easy as it is now.
"Something like that," murmurs Jonathan, and Susan hums in acknowledgement before glancing at her watch and noting that they'd better get ready sooner rather than later.
They split up, Susan to find something to wear and Jonathan to finish pulling on the uniform Rose had given him, and the kids are waiting for them by the time they're done.
They're masked, so Jonathan can't get as good a look at Jake as he'd like even if the mask doesn't cover his entire face like Jonathan's mask does, but he still remembers how Rose had looked earlier. More importantly, he remembers how she'd moved. He pulls Susan's healing remedy from his pocket. "You should have another dose of this. Even just a capful. It'll help keep you on your feet a little longer."
Despite the mask, he can see Rose's brow furrow in the way the skin between her eyebrows pinches together. "It makes me drowsy. I can't afford that right now. None of us can."
"Take a little less," advises Susan. "It'll help more than it hurts if you're injured. You should have some, too, Jake."
"I'm fine."
It's only the third thing Jonathan's heard his son say, but even he can tell it's a lie. There's a tightness in Jake's voice as if he's speaking through gritted teeth, but even if Jonathan imagined that, he hasn't imagined the look Rose had shot her friend, and she knows Jake far better than he does.
"It'll help," Susan repeats, her voice softer now.
Rose touches Jake's shoulder. "Do you want to try it? After—?"
Jonathan glances at Susan when Rose doesn't continue, since it's clear enough that Jake told Rose more about what had happened to them than Susan has told him.
Susan gives a slight shake of her head; whatever it is, she doesn't want to get into it now.
"Fine." Jake doesn't sound happy about it, but at least he's agreeing. "Half a cap's worth."
Jonathan passes the bottle to Rose, and she and Jake both take some before it's given back. He takes a bit himself before lifting the bottle to Susan.
"I don't need any," she says. "I'm more worried about Haley." Turning slightly more towards Jake and Rose, she asks, "Do either of you know where she might be?"
"If she had an application and passed the tests, she'll be with everyone else," Jake says. "If she didn't pass the tests…."
"If she didn't, it'll depend on how far she got and if they know anything about her," Rose continues. "I don't know how long Spud can keep the power cut, so we'll have to move quickly."
Spud. As in Maria's son? How did he get involved in all of this? Jonathan hadn't thought the two of them had been talking that long.
He can be grateful and still be mildly confused about all of this.
Rose might be willing to explain afterwards, assuming things go well enough for them that there's an afterwards where they're all around and he still wants that explanation.
He doesn't want to think that there might not be an afterwards where that's the case.
"You want to split up again," Susan says, even though Rose hasn't said that and Jonathan was rather hoping it wouldn't come to that.
"I'll be in and out of surveillance and records faster than Jake would be," Rose says, which Jonathan supposes is her way of agreeing with Susan's realization. "If it's clear, I might even be able to risk contacting Spud for an update."
"I can help," Jonathan says, and he flashes them a smile he doesn't quite feel. "I know my way around the ol' keyboard."
In the beat of silence that follows, Jonathan expects one of them to argue. Maybe more than one of them. He doesn't know what he'll say if they try.
"That'll leave you with the main halls," Rose says to Jake, "and Susan can look in the dorms if she's not there. I— I'll make sure I'm back before you need to look elsewhere if you don't find her. We can meet at the maintenance room."
Jonathan assumes there's more than one maintenance room in a place this big, but Jake's nodding, so he at least knows where Rose means.
"Good luck," Susan murmurs, and he leans in to kiss her before the chance is gone.
In case he doesn't get the chance again.
In case he doesn't remember her the next time he sees her.
Jake inclines his head slightly when Jonathan looks his way, trying to find the courage to ask for another hug, but all he can muster is, "Stay safe, Jakers."
Jake doesn't say anything to that, and Jonathan has to wonder if it's because none of them can really stay safe at the moment.
Rose reaches back to grab something behind her, and he realizes it's his travel mug. The flask is still safely in his pocket, but somehow he'd forgotten that he'd put that down. It must have been what had let Jake know they were here.
He tucks his flashlight away so that he can take the travel mug from Rose before letting her grab his free hand to lead him away. She keeps her own flashlight lit and trained on the floor ahead of them as they move swiftly down the corridor, but he knows how quickly she'll have it off if she hears anything.
"If we meet anyone," she says softly, "I'll do the talking."
"Wouldn't have it any other way, Rosebud," he murmurs, and the hand holding his tightens in what he hopes is approval of the nickname. "But in case something happens, there's something you should know."
The words are enough to bring her to a stop. "What?"
He holds up the travel mug. "This was never coffee. I lost some when we got here, and some of the hair you threw at me got into this, but I don't think it affected it at all. It's the same colour, anyway, and it's not bubbling or doing anything it shouldn't." Well, he's assuming no change is a good thing, anyway. Still, he taps his breast pocket with the flask tucked inside and adds, "And if I'm wrong about that, I'll be aware enough to drink some of this. That hair of yours never touched it. Why did you throw it at me, anyway?"
He knows it's not the time to ask, but he might not get another chance, and he's curious. Knowing the answer won't give him any clue about whether or not the contaminated portion might have different properties now, but—
"What kind of potion is that?" Rose asks, taking the travel mug from him and taking off the lid to peer inside. She shines the flashlight on the liquid, and it almost seems to swallow the light.
"It'll take away all my memories of my family," he admits, and her head jerks up to look at him.
"A memory potion?" she hisses. "But this is black! I thought you said it didn't change colour after I threw the sphinx hair at you."
Sphinx hair? Sphinxes are real, too? He's never heard Haley or Susan mention them. Maybe they don't know any sphinxes personally?
Focus.
"It didn't. It's old. Apparently, they darken with age."
"This much?" She still sounds disbelieving, but she puts the lid back on and returns the travel mug to him all the same. "If it's just a memory potion, the sphinx hair shouldn't affect it. As far as magical ingredients go, it's typically inert unless combined with the proper ingredients. Like this, we just use it to—" She breaks off, takes a breath, and finishes, "It's used to weaken dragons. It works on both forms, so I always make sure to have some on me so Jake doesn't have to carry it."
Well, at least that explains why she's always been so confident that he isn't a dragon.
"Are you really planning to drink that?" she adds.
"If I have to."
"Even knowing what it's supposed to do? You'd risk that?"
"If I have to," he repeats. With what she's risking to side with Jake, it shouldn't surprise her that he's willing to make sacrifices, too. "They're my family. If my losing them and their losing me keeps them safe, I'll do it."
She huffs. "You love your family. You can't just give them up like that." She grabs his hand again and pulls him back the way they'd come. "Change of plans. We'll hit surveillance and records after the kitchen."
"The kitchen?"
"Memory potions get stronger with age," she says as if that explains anything, "and that one must be ancient." She glances over at him. "And hopefully, if it's meant to focus on your family, it'll include all of your family."
All of his family.
Even Jake, she means.
He doesn't know if she's right. He'd never thought to ask Lao Shi at the time. It hadn't occurred to him to ask Susan just now, either, though he wasn't entirely sure she'd have let him keep the potion if she'd known about it and what it would do.
"Yes," he says softly as Rose takes him down a corridor they'd walked straight past before. "I hope it does."
A/N: You'll get to see Jake and Rose's conversation, I promise! It didn't fit well in the middle of this.