Relentless

Hope's words linger with Scott, long after she's disappeared from the doorway. He stands alone, his mind brimming with a mess of thoughts and emotions. He was confused about what had just happened... because something certainly had happened. And yet... he didn't feel a strong need to try and figure it out. He wasn't sure what kind of feelings were stirred when he thought about Hope, and the turn their relationship had just taken... but for some reason, it just didn't seem to matter. It was simply... simple.

Taking a deep breath, Scott heads for the door. Terror still swam in his veins. But he knew this was something he had to do. He had to do it for Katie... and he had to do it for himself too. He had come a long ways since coming back from the Agency... it was time he took another step.

The basement was quiet. Scott keeps on arm wrapped around his ribs, the pain still enough to make him cringe. He licks his lower lip, feeling that it had stopped bleeding again.

Flipping on the light, he looks at the cases, trunks and row of lockers. He runs his hand along the locker doors until he comes to one with his name on it. A lump rises in his throat. He hadn't used this since the day...

He shakes his head and unlocks it. Inside were a couple sets of clothes. It was interesting... apparently no one had ever had the heart to clean this stuff out, even when they'd thought he was dead.

Rummaging a little bit, he finds the book he wants and tosses it on a bench. Reaching back farther, he pulls out a kit that resembled a toolbox. He'd never used this outside of training scenarios. It hadn't been long after he'd come to TJY that one of their own had come to train him. The man was on the bomb squad, but secretly involved with TJY as well, a prime asset to the team. And now... it was in Scott's hands.

He eases down on the bench and starts looking through the tools he had, familiarizing himself with them all over again. Taking the book, he thumbs through the pages, finding paragraphs he had highlighted and notes he had written. Some of it seemed foreign, which was a scary thought. While other parts he remembered quite clearly. If he was going to be able to do any good, he needed to remember the general theories at least.

A few new images flash in his mind. It was very strange... Thinking for a moment, he closes his eyes to concentrate. Why had this subject matter triggered anything that he'd learned at the Agency?

Suddenly a diagram enters his mind and his eyes fly open. What... He looks down at his book. He knew. He wouldn't find Katie's bomb in this book. It was a special type created by the Agency... and he had the blueprints.

"Scott?"

He jumps, the book falling to the floor with a thud. His heart races as he turns around, but there is relief. It was just Rick. "Yeah?"

Rick approaches quietly. "Carson said you had a bit of a rough time. You okay?"

Scott swallows hard, his eyes falling. "Um... I... I think so."

"How are you feeling?" Rick comes closer, to take a better look at Scott's face, then feel his ribs.

Scott winces a little. "I hurt."

Rick looks down to see what Scott had been doing. "Carson told you."

"Yeah."

"And?"

"I... I'm going." Scott leans down to pick up the fallen book. "I don't have much of a choice... as long as someone keeps an eye on me so... so I don't do the wrong thing."

"You won't," Rick assures. "You won't. Where, um... where's Hope?"

"She went home... I think. If... or... whatever happens, would you call her?"

Rick purses his lips, then nods. "I won't leave her in the dark."

"Okay." Scott picks up his kit and shuts his locker before aiming for the door to go back upstairs.

Once in the hallway again, he sees Phinox and approaches, stopping a few feet away. He was thin, bruised and half blind. But it was all he had to offer. "I can disarm the bomb," he informs bravely. "...if you need me to."


Left alone, Gage howls in complaint, but he's only shouting to a closed door. He fights with all his might against the ropes, throwing his weight forward, only to bang into the table.

Crying out again, he pushes with his feet in an attempt to gain more leverage against the restraints. Unfortunately, he tries too hard. Before he knows it, he's toppled over onto the floor with a crash. A sickening snap comes from his wrist and he cries out again, but this time in pain.

Writhing on the floor, he's a mangled mess with the chair, twisting and turning until somehow he winds up behind the chair, his wrists tangled in the ropes.

Once he's sitting up, Gage breathes heavily, trying to catch his breath. His wrist was screaming in pain and he glances down at it, noting that it's already starting to swell. Great. Just great.

Sweat runs down the sides of his face more persistently now. His eyes find the spot across the floor where Nate had crushed the one thing he needed. Wincing, he pulls at the ropes again. With all the twisting and turning, one of the ropes starts to slide. His eyes widen and he keeps working at it, despite the pain.

Within five minutes, Gage's hands are free. Not that it does a lot of good. Scooting back against the wall, a shooting pain courses through his gut. All he wanted was one more fix! That's it! Just one more!

Doubling over, he shakes with a cold chill, trying to cradle his sprained wrist. Rocking a little, he looks up to find the camera in the corner of the room. Never had he been more scared. He'd always been in control... he'd always been protected by the Agency. But now... he was at the mercy of people who hated him.


Kyle tries to force a smile to the surface in an effort to ignore any hurt feelings that were trying to creep up on him. He didn't like feeling that way about Alice... they'd always been best buds... to have any tension felt wrong and awkward. But... it was still there anyway.

He lets a slight laugh surface. "Well as long as it's just dark circles, we're okay. Tea sounds good if I can keep it down. As far as sleep goes, my head hurts too much for that I think."

He tries to sit up a little more, but doesn't put too much effort into it. "We'll be heading out again soon anyway, so I'll have to do without a nurse. Speaking of which, if you're tired of driving, I know Hunter would be glad to drive for you."

Kyle didn't mean to have a dismissing tone in his voice, but after the words came out, he was afraid that there had been just a small tinge of "go away" in there. He really didn't mean to... he was just.... grouchy. He hated being grouchy. When he was on his medicine, he didn't get grouchy like this. He closes his eyes again, fighting once more against the relentless urges.