"You work here as a helping hand, Rory?"

"Yes sir."

"Just call me Zane. Or Doc. I saw you watching Looney Tunes on break."

"Sure thing, Doc." Rory smiled faintly but kept his gaze anywhere but at the doc who watched him carefully, tapping his pen thoughtfully on his thighs. The young man was sheltered in here most of his life, nervous, fidgety, a dead-give away for someone who might know something or not.

But could be a case of just being nervous in such a place.

How was one not nervous? Hell, even the heavily armed soldiers here were often nervous.

Sam sighed faintly and Rory's gaze landed on him faintly before flickering off to the side quickly.

"I can't imagine it would be easy in here. Even if you're helping both sides. But what is said here, remains in here but..." Sam trailed off, displeased himself at the thought. "Unless you're indicating anything that should be shared for yours and everyone else safety, you obviously know it will be reported." Rory was tense now, staring at the ground, his fingers nervously plucking at the strings on his ripped trousers. "But, I do want you to be completely honest with me. And facing me, kid." Rory met the docs eyes who softened slightly, dropping his pen and leaning forward as if father was talking in depth to his son. "You face both sides, but I need you to tell me straight up, which side of the glass do you fear more?"

"There are no repercussions for honesty, only your safety and well-being right now as the others are important."

Rory's fist grew strained as he clutched a string on his pants that refused to break as he faced the docs gaze head on, his eyes glimmered a strange flicker of gold, his scars littered over his brow and mouth tightened.

"I fear the ones who are meant to protect. And we all feared Johan Greeves." Rory leaned in closer. "He was the monster that should be on the other side."

The clock struck 12PM in the resounding silence, followed by a deafening blaring alarm.