"Blair. Talk to me."

Connor's voice, normally cool and detached, was a tone he reserved for very few in his life.

One had been Jack.

The other was laying in the bed having just managed to finish half the meal that he'd ensured stayed warm despite dinner hours having been many hours ago.

The rain pattered against the glass beyond the window, the darkness in the sky a strange contrast to the lights of the city that showed the city never truly sleeps.

He had waited. He'd been patient. Two days of her slipping in and out of sleep, muttering things that made his blood boil when she didn't know he was listening. He sat beside her when Jackson wasn't there, and he couldn't understand how the Mr. King that everyone feared could speak so softly to her as she spiraled in and out of a darkness that clearly lived deep in her bones.

Dr. Shire had given what was medically necessary, but she admitted she didn't know everything.

What she knew was enough.

The medical records were... disturbing. He knew Blair well. He had seen her pampered, loved, and spoiled rotten. He was there when she decided to go on her own, and he'd been one of the ones to help Jack keep an eye on her.

She had been healthy. She had toughened in the real world, but she'd been well protected.

She had been loved.

So this? The record he held in his hand that he had read so many times he could recite it... he couldn't process it.

Chronic bilateral hand dysfunction.

She used to paint... only a few people knew exactly how well. Connor was one of three who knew the truth, and even Blair didn't know he knew. Jack had sworn him to secrecy when he'd stumbled on her paintings in the attic.

Could she still paint? If she did it must be excruciating now...

Chronic spine and knee pain.

Suspected repeated blunt force trauma, it said. Ligament injury. Altered gait.

But it was the 'forced positioning' that had made him throw the paperweight on his desk across the room.

He'd had to take a break after that, and when he read the rest later he'd been glad for it.

Status post emergency hysterectomy.

Blair had always wanted children. She'd admitted it to them when they'd gotten drunk one night after kicking everyone's ass at chess until no one would play with her any more.

'They'll have a mother that stays,' she had said, 'You'll help me spoil them beyond rotten! No one will be able to stand them they'll be so pampered!'

They'd laughed until they couldn't breathe that night, hanging out by the pool at her father's house like the world couldn't touch them.

Someone had taken that away from her.

Complex trauma response.

She had cPTSD and Dr. Shire was her emergency intervention when things spiraled out of control and she wanted to...

Connor's fists were so tight that the nails he kept short still dug into his palms.

'She helps others paint to find a reason to stay,' Dr. Shire had said quietly in the office he'd taken from the primary surgeon without shame, 'and them finding a reason... gives her a reason. It gives her hope to see others find theirs.'

Because of course she did, he thought. She'd always been like that, but ever since Megan she'd made it her life's mission to help other people.

She always blamed herself for Megan's suicide. It had nearly destroyed her, and that guilt would have swallowed her whole if Jack hadn't been there. Connor had watched her fall apart after that, and Jack had helped her pick up the pieces so she could move forward.

It was why they had let her go. They knew she needed something different than the life she'd been raised in after Megan. They'd all hoped, Connor included, that it would help her heal so, someday, she'd come back.

If things had gone differently, Connor thought, it probably would have worked.

Then Jack and her father died, and her world shattered around her.

Then she just... disappeared.

"Please Blair," Connor said softly, studying her closely as her eyes darkened, "I... I need to understand."

"I didn't want to leave," Blair sighed, clearly trying to compose herself, "I... I didn't have a choice."

She raised her head and found his eyes on her, that crease in between his brows that he always got when he was focused on a problem he hadn't solved yet. It made her face soften slightly at the familiarity.

Taking a deep breath, she decided it was time to tell him the truth.

She always planned to, when she could come out of hiding. With Ezra and Jackson behind her, she believed she could finally do that.

If anyone deserved to know, it's Connor, she thought.

"Jack and Dad," Blair began, closing her eyes, "I... I don't think it was an accident, Connor."

Connor froze, but he didn't pull his hand away from hers. He stayed perfectly still, as if to move would shatter the moment and make her stop.

"After the accident, Mom was in a hurry to declare Jack and Dad dead. She brought back a man and his daughter and said they were family. Emergency protocols put everything in my name, and she wanted me to transfer it to him - she called him her fiance at the time. I said no. I didn't even entertain it. Instead I put all of my attention and resources into investigating the accident for months... then..."

Blair choked, and when Connor's hand tightened around hers she opened her eyes.

"A few months after the accident, I was driving home... there was someone in the backseat. I didn't even realize he'd been there until it was too late."

Connor's eyes went wide but Blair pushed forward, knowing that if she stopped she might not be able to keep going.

"I don't know where they kept me," she whispered, "I think it was a basement, or something... because there were no windows. The walls were cement and... they kept me there for months. I didn't really have any way to keep track of time, but when I got to the hospital the dates on the paperwork... 6 months. They had me there for 6 months."

"Jesus fuck," Connor choked, the tears finally escaped as he realized that she hadn't willingly 'disappeared' when he had already started looking for her.

Her mother had said she needed time to grieve. He had stopped believing that after the second month, though, and had started looking for her discretely. When he couldn't find her, he was sure it was because she didn't want to be found. Instead, he sent her a text - the same one he sent every month for a year before he finally gave up.

He had no idea...

"When I escaped," she rasped, the tremors more noticeable now, "I made it to the hospital... and they called Mom right after they called the police. She was my next of kin, so of course they did. When she'd walked in, I'd been so relieved... even though we'd never been close, I had needed... something. Anything."

A sob escaped, and Connor leaned forward to take her hand in both of his - pulling it to his lips in a desperate attempt to comfort her despite not being able to do much more than that with so much of her body still recovering.

"She hugged me too tight," Blair forced out, "like she wanted it to hurt to make the point. Then she whispered that if I didn't want to go back, I needed to sign everything over."

Connor's vision flashed white and an anger he wasn't familiar with shot through his body as the pieces fell into place.

"The police... I don't know, they came and took my statement then they just never came back. I was trapped in the hospital, and I knew I couldn't just walk out without... Ryan's mom helped me escape," she breathed, bowing her head, "but I couldn't let them find me. I couldn't... I had... I had to disappear. I had to leave without leaving anything for them to follow. I'm so sorry, Connor."

"Don't you fucking dare," Connor choked, glaring at Blair even as the tears continued to stream down his face, "I swear to God... don't you dare apologize to me."

The sobs came faster then, even as Blair tried to chuckle. When she lifted her head, though, any attempt to smile melted into a look of pain that nearly swallowed Connor whole.

He held her hand until she cried herself to sleep, draining herself of the little energy her dinner had managed to give her.

He knew her lung was in bad shape, and this was going to make it worse. He made a mental note to discuss a checkup with the pulmonologist after he stopped shaking.

"You're here late."

Connor's head spun so fast he nearly cracked it.

Standing in the doorway was a dark-faced Ezra, and it was clear he'd been listening.

"How much did you hear?" Connor rasped, still trying to collect himself.

"All of it."

"Visitor hours... were over a long time ago," Connor tried, his voice sounding weak to even himself.

"I own the hospital, Connor."

"I know," he whispered, turning back to Blair and bending his head - pulling her hand to his forehead as if it could help ground him.

"Did you know?" Connor whispered, his eyes still closed, "Did... did she tell you?"

"Not the details. I knew she'd been taken, and escaped overseas. That's how she met grandpa," Ezra admitted, walking in quietly and sitting in the chair behind Connor, "She checked herself in to a mental health facility overseas. Partially to hide, and partially to heal. She met him when he was planning to end his life. They help each other recover."

"His trip a couple years ago?" Connor asked quietly, understanding quickly.

"Yeah."

"Ezra, the abduction investigation-"

"Will be reopened immediately," Ezra growled, a sharp look flashing in his eyes that Connor didn't see - but felt in his soul.

Even before he knew how long they'd had her, he'd known enough. Now... now he wouldn't settle for less than every single person involved experiencing 10x the pain she had while they held her hostage.

"She said... Jack's accident wasn't an accident," Connor finally turned slightly to look at Ezra, the darkness in his own gaze matching the one radiating from Ezra.

"I've sworn to find the answers for her," Ezra said firmly, holding Connor's gaze knowingly, "I won't let it rest until we know the truth."

"And end the sonsofbitches," Connor spit, a choked sob threatening to escape, "Whoever... if someone touched Jack..."

Ezra studied Connor for a long moment before he nodded slowly, an understanding sinking in then.

"How long had you been together?"

Connor's eyes closed and his lip trembled when he realized he'd let the truth he'd tried to hide for so many years slip.

"2 years," he whispered, turning back toward Blair, "It... it wasn't the right time to... we didn't..."

"I understand," Ezra said quietly, "We'll find the truth Connor. Then I'll help both you and Blair find justice."

Ezra sat quietly as Connor sat at Blair's side, his shaking shoulders the only sign of how he had lost that iron composure everyone associated with the young prodigy.

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