Maureen made a point to not comment to Sarah about Captain Haddock, and Sarah respected that decision. She wasn’t sure what had just happened, but she needed time to digest it before anyone tried to talk to her about it.

A wave of fatigue suddenly hit Sarah as they entered the medical bay. She was tired. So tired.

“Maureen, can I go to bed?” She had made it to the edge of the bed, propped herself up as her crutches fell to the floor with a wincing clatter, and was now in the process of leaning against the wall.

“Uh, no, Sarah, you can’t. Did Seb not tell you?” Maureen looked at Seb, who shook his head and was about to speak up when Sarah jumped to his defence.

“He was interrupted…” she trailed off.

“Ah, yes. Of course. Well, the river sample has shown there are extremely high levels of radiation, which means you’re likely suffering from the effects of radiation poisoning on top of your other injuries. And that explains why our usual treatments aren’t working.”

“Am I?” Sarah didn’t think she was. “I’m fine, really…”

Go away. Anger. Dismissal. The message in her LENS retreated.

The others in the room noticed the demeanour change and exchanged more looks of concern.

“Any discomfort, bleeding gums, diarrhoea, confusion, fatigue?”

Sarah shrugged, not really wanting to admit that maybe there were a few things there that matched. Confusion, hallucination probably, certainly fatigue.

“Sarah,” Maureen took a step closer to the young woman, demanding eye contact, invoking eye contact. “This is serious. We are going to take your blood now,” she looked at Seb, who nodded and stepped forward, using the PhlebAuto to draw Sarah’s blood simply and pain free from the vein in her hand, “but if you’re already showing symptoms…”

“I don’t think I am.”

While the conversation continued, Seb took the blood sample to the blood analyzer, entered a collection of information, and then looked back to the room.

“She is.” AJ said quietly. “She’s made comments about her LENS being weird, which… I mean… my diagnostics couldn’t work great on it anyway, but it’s fine. Mostly.”

Sarah narrowed her eyes at AJ the betrayer.

“How is she acting differently?” Maureen asked.

“Talking about weird LENS prompts, like talking about enhancements and stuff.”

“Hey - I - “ Sarah started.

“And you seem really tired.” Seb interjected.

“Yeah okay,” Sarah admitted, “Weird LENS. Really tired. That’s it. And I did vomit a little, but that’s really just because of how foul the river water was.”

“Any bleeding? Rashes?”

Sarah started to shake her head, then paused and shrugged. She hadn’t really looked over her body recently if she was honest.

“Right.” Maureen said, “Get out, both of you.” She ushered both of the men out of the room, and after a quick check over Sarah’s entire body for rashes, burns or bleeding that shouldn’t be there, let them back in on Sarah’s sayso.

The analyzer, finishing its task, beeped and Maureen abruptly cut her conversation with Sarah short so she could check it. Seb went over, and from the way their faces fell Sarah knew the news wasn’t as innocuous as she was hoping it would be.

“Fuck.” Maureen said.

She very rarely swore, which imposed upon Sarah how serious this really was.

AJ took a step closer to Sarah walking to the head of the bed, went to put his hand on her, stuttered, then landed on burying his awkwardness and rested his hand on her shoulder in comfort.

Sarah swallowed. She wasn’t sure she could speak now, to begin to ask what was wrong or comprehend what this meant.

Seb had his elbow bent over his head, rubbing the left side of his face with his right hand, an anxious twitch of his. His eyes failed to meet Sarah’s.

Finally Sarah cleared her throat, and managed to ask what was wrong.

“Am I gonna die, doc?” She tried to emulate Jackson’s cocky joke from a couple of days ago, but from the way Maureen’s eyes darkened even further, she knew it didn’t land.

She ignored her LENS as the message intruded her vision. But the severity of the situation started to hit home.

AJ tightened his hand on Sarah’s shoulder, as she began to shake.

“Sarah,” Maureen took a step towards the bed, and took Sarah’s hand in her own.

“It’s bad. Uh, you’ve got pretty severe radiation from the river, and your blood test shows your levels of white blood cells… your bone marrow… we need to start treatment right away, and hopefully it will be okay.”

“Okay - but I haven’t got any other symptoms?”

“Which is normally a good sign,” Maureen said, trying to be encouraging but lacking the energy to do so, “the vomiting isn’t great, but you haven’t done any for a while… I’m not sure what’s happening, why you’re not in a worse shape than your bloods indicate you should be - but… given the resources we have at hand - we need to have you lying down and start treatment right now.”

“I need to find Jax.” Sarah tried to stand up, she needed to leave, get away from this. There were too many concerned, caring faces looking at her now, and she didn’t want their sympathy. She didn’t want their help. She could do this, she just needed to find her little brother. They would be fine.

But, AJ’s hand tightened on her shoulder, and he whispered to her, an upset twinge in his voice that tugged at her, telling her to stay. Seb stepped up alongside Maureen, his brown eyes more soulful than they had looked in a long time, especially now he was meeting her eyes again.

“We’re here for you Sarah,” Maureen said. “I know you’re not used to it, and I’m sorry that escaping has been your coping mechanism for so long. But right now, I need you to trust me. I need you to listen to me, and you need to lie down.”

Sarah let Maureen move her onto the bed, so her head was on the pillow, and feet on the end of the bed. The sterile material beneath Sarah was the only thing in the room that made any noise.

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“Sarah,” Maureen said, drawing Sarah’s eyes from the ceiling where they had been staring without blinking. “I’m going to do everything I can to help you. Hopefully in a couple of hours we will have a better idea of all of this, and I’m sorry to sedate you, but I think it’s the best.”

“Seda-” Sarah started, but was asleep before she could finish, as Maureen withdrew the pinprick needle she had pushed into Sarah’s hand.

“AJ,” Maureen said, “You need to find Jackson. And AJ, you need to get Captain Haddock.”

As Sarah was being sedated and falling into what could have been a restful slumber (it wasn’t), Jackson was waking up from his concussion-induced one.

“Wake the fuck up boyo,” Tyke said, perching on his haunches and staring down at Jackson.

Jax blinked, trying to clear the sparkles that clouded his vision.

“We gots company.”

Jax clamped his eyes shut now, ignoring the throbbing in his head and trying to focus his hearing on the surroundings, seeing if he could discern how many people made up the “company” Tyke had mentioned.

“Sit him up.” A deep voice growled.

Jax was pulled from the floor, as Tyke and Jet grabbed him from each side and heaved his deadweight body and chair upright once again.

“Wow. You sure did a number on him. I wouldn’t even recognise Jax.” The voice knew him, but he didn’t know the voice.

Jax grunted, his eyes still closed.

A click-click-click sounded and suddenly a warm rush of stale breath hit his face, while the scent of lily and maple perfume enveloped him. He opened his left eye, his right one refusing to open through the swelling, and almost knocked himself backwards as a pair of maroon red lenses stared back at him. The eye colour was strange, but something about the eyes triggered a sense of familiarity within him. He didn’t know what it was, but it made him want to trust her. The woman in front of him was maybe 5’5”, and that was with the clicky heels on. Her deep voice had thrown Jax, he was expecting a man in front of him. Her sharp angled suit was black with lines of jagged maroon through it. The effect made the design look like it was dancing on her clothes, but it just added to Jax’s headache.

“Jax, hello.” She cooed. She was trying to come across as caring, as someone he could trust, but he wasn’t quite follow-her-flute-to-the-edge-of-town trusting of her yet.

He tried to raise an eyebrow, the Jax look of a cocky bastard, but the swelling in his face prohibited such movement and instead he let out a cry of pain as the muscles in his forehead started spasming.

“Oh dear, are you a bit sore? Tyke darling, can you please get a little booster shot for our friend, a nice strong painkiller would be good. Maybe make it a double. He could use it.”

Jackson started to argue, but she held up a finger and placed it gently on his lips, quietening him before he could even begin.

“You’ll feel better, I’ll feel better, then we can talk.”

Jax had nothing left in him to fight, so he waited, not even flinching as Tyke purposefully gave him the injection in the chest wound, instead maintaining eye contact with the woman before him. A wave of relief overcame him as the painkillers worked wonders on his body, reducing the swelling and tricking it into thinking he was fighting fit. His wounded right eye started to feel better, and he felt the swelling reduce enough that he could open it.

Noticing the change in Jax’s demeanour, the woman smiled and sat on the rickety seat a new, burly colleague had brought her. Given her attire, Jax was surprised she hadn’t summoned a sanitising wash of the seat, or at least a towel, before she sat on it.

“Now, Jax.” She smiled, comforting, a feeling of genuine care and remorse coming from her, “Let’s talk about the goods, shall we?”

Jax eyed Tyke and Jet.

“They have been spoken to and will not touch you anymore.”

Jax looked back at her and nodded.

“Where did you get them from?”

He cleared his throat, hoping he could still speak.

“I found them.”

“Good,” she said in a voice that was oozing encouragement, “where?”

Jax paused. There was no way he would give up his source.

He shrugged.

“Oh, that’s a shame.”

Then, from deep within, Jax felt a sting of fire, an all encompassing agony that emanated from his blood, his organs, every part of him. He vomited what was left inside as the pain drove his body into severe protection mode.

Once the spasming stopped, he looked back at the woman, whose maroon eyes were aflame with glee at his reaction.

“Oh, sorry,” she said without a lick of remorse in her voice, “a little bit of rudimentary development we’ve been working on. We call it the Firestarter - they’re little nanites mixed in with some strong painkillers that work to block out pain, except for when we want to bring the pain,” she winked. “And the agony comes back with a vengeance. What do you think?”

This woman was certainly not from the Greenfield Gang, so whatever Tyke and Jet had got themselves mixed into seemed like bad fucking news, and Jax was along for the ride as the unwilling front-seat passenger.

“So, where did you get them from?” her kindness was back, and Jax felt like maybe he would be ready to appease her, to avoid another treatment. A twinge hit him as he realised that he was beginning to want to work with her. The pain was fleeting, but the inner desire to please her was deep set.

Thanks for the trauma, mum.

“I know a guy.”

“A guy?”

“An old friend.”

“Where from?”

Jax paused. Would it matter if she knew? Surely not. If he didn’t answer she would hurt him again. It wasn’t that bad though. He could take it again, surely.

“Where from Jax?” she was asking softly, hoping to convince him to talk. “I would hate for you to go through all that again.” She waved her hands at Jax, and the pile of vomit on the floor.

Jax went to answer, but hesitated. The hesitation cost him another round of torture, as he convulsed, his tongue barely missing being bitten off by his teeth as he clamped down, willing himself not to vomit again, hoping to maintain any control over his body and the pain. But nothing he could do worked, and instead he screamed out, the veins on his neck rising to prominence as he battled the war within.

Out of breath from the torture, Jax was panting, short, sharp inhales and exhales. Tyke was looking between the woman and Jax, apparently unsure of what was happening, while Jet was already trying to leave but was being stopped by one, or more, Jax couldn’t see to be sure, of the woman's entourage.

“Stop.” Jax said. “Please.” He panted, desperate. The pain. The need to please. His mother, using her words, physical abuse, then rewarding him with love. He couldn’t disassociate it.

“All we need is for you to talk to us,” she said, “then we’ll stop.”

“Ryan.” Jax said.

“Ryan who?”

“Ryan…” Jax tried to think of his surname. Fuck it had been so long ago that they had met, he’d clearly dumped the information as unimportant.

“Jax?” the woman urged.

“Um, Ryan…” he was scared now. His heart rate was increasing as he was trying to think of Ryan’s last name. Fuck. What was it? Ryan Grouse? No, that's the disgusting junkie park. Ryan Greaves? Maybe? Ryan Gray? No.

“Ryan Gripe!” he shouted. “From reform. I met him at reform.”

“Thank you,” she said, and Jax was relieved that she smiled at him, a lovely, warm smile. She was pleased with him, that was good. There wouldn’t be any more pain if she was pleased with him.

“Take care of all three of them,” she said and stood up to leave.

All three of them? Jax, Tyke and Jet. Fuck.

Jax groaned, while Tyke threw his arms up and Jet, already caught at the door, was being manhandled back into the middle of the room.

Five minutes passed since the woman had left, and Jet was already face down, his breathing ragged as his broken nose was obstructing airflow. Tyke was well on his way to being the second out for the count, while Jax still tied to the chair, waiting his turn.

Before Tyke received his knockout blow, a blinding flash of light lit up the room. Jax yelled and tried to cover his eyes, but his hands were still tied behind his back. He launched himself backwards, glad the painkillers were still working, even if it meant he could be victim to torture, as the chair shattered under him, and he felt shards of broken wood pierce his back. His hands now free from the chair, he rolled and struggled for twenty seconds to get his hands under his legs and in front of him.

Meanwhile, the flashbang had been followed up with heavy footsteps, loud gunfire and a cacophony of yelling as the Maroon’s ten men left in the room to take care of the trio were quickly overpowered. Jax recognised the uniforms of the assailants, and determined not to be caught by the army, he grabbed his bag between his two hands and crawled along the floor to the air vent he had noticed earlier. After a few seconds, the hatch was easily jimmied open and he was thankful that the building and its different areas were just as unkempt as Jet and Tyke. He slipped in the hole, hoping he hadn’t left a slug-like trail of blood behind him, and began to quickly continue the crawl through the dark, ignoring any fat spiders that hit him in the face as he swallowed his arachnophobia in favour of surviving the night (or day, whatever it was).