Snitch Gravel's voice felt like a drill through the brain, sending a shiver down Tom's spine that paralyzed everything. Bile rose to his mouth and he swallowed down the vomit crawling up his throat.

Kyle and Kay had stopped moving as well, just like everyone else in that godforsaken place. Even Cannon with all his swagger seemed to shrink before his boss.

The sound of footsteps filled the stifling air as Snitch Gravel made his way towards them. Tom glanced at him, trying to fight the sudden need to cower, but there was something about Snitch Gravel's posture and tone that reminded him of the small room filled with reddish light where he'd been tortured.

"This is quite enough," he said. Even if his voice was low, barely louder than a whisper, the muted anger in it felt like fire. "I want them back in their cage." He nodded at Kyle and Kay who were still interlocked in a sort of half embrace.

There was a split second pause. "You mean their cages, right?" Cannon asked.

Snitch Gravel's eyes flashed. "Did I stutter? Or is simple English too difficult for you?"

Cannon swallowed all additional forms of protest and gave the other goons the appropriate order. He, however, stayed where he was, next to Tom, unwilling to abandon his prey.

One of the men released Kyle from his shackles and he stood, his back still bleeding from the lashes. He didn't sway on his feet or show any signs of pain. Instead, he wrapped an arm around Kay, pulling her against him and as far away from Snitch Gravel as possible, staring him down.

Snitch Gravel threw Kyle one cold look before he nodded and the men led them away together. Then, his calculated dark-blue gaze flitted towards Tom for a moment before focusing on Cannon.

"Had your fun?"

The sarcasm in his voice was obvious, so Cannon didn't answer. He shuffled his feet, his hands balled in frustration.

"Why?" was all Snitch Gravel asked.

Cannon mumbled something out if which Tom could only pick up the words "Von Crooken" and "his girlfriend". Snitch Gravel narrowed his eyes.

"Typical." Then he came closer to Tom and leaned over, his hands behind his back, as if analyzing a carpet. "So you know where your girlfriend is but are refusing to share?"

For a second, Tom was convinced he had to tell the truth. The alternative was too gruesome to even imagine. But then he realized he was already getting tortured over it, so it wasn't like it could get worse for him. For Angie on the other hand... Who cared that he was a moment away from throwing up because of fear?

So he put on the most defiant expression he was capable of; he even managed a small smirk. "Yep. And by the way, she's not my girlfriend anymore. With all your stalking, I thought you'd know that."

Snitch Gravel narrowed his eyes. "With all my stalking, I also know you're still in love with her. Which you've also made painfully obvious for some reason. Why?"

Tom closed his eyes, fighting to keep the smirk on his face. He wouldn't say anything, wouldn't even look at Snitch Gravel to make sure he wouldn't guess what Tom was really trying to do. A nudge against his back had him blurting out, "Just like messing with your goons."

"Very well," Snitch Gravel said, his voice smooth. "Take him back to his cell."

Without further ado, Cannon grabbed his ankles and dragged him down the corridor. He would take the time to gather his strength and calm his twisting stomach because he would have to climb stairs. His thigh still felt as if it were on fire and his legs hadn't been able to hold him up properly in days.

Cannon was silent as he and another goon dragged Tom up the stairs. For the first time, Tom resented the silence since he'd rather think of witty comebacks than panic over what the arrival of Snitch Gravel meant. It could get so much worse. Why had he decided that Kyle and Kay should be locked up together? This particular change in strategy made Tom nervous beyond anything else.

Before he could come up with a suitable theory, Cannon tossed him inside his cage, leaving him alone with his thoughts. Head still pounding and stomach heaving, he drew in slow, rattling breaths. The moment the sound of their footsteps and disgruntled mumbling faded as they headed down the stairs, he could hear shuffling from the cell next door.

"Tom," Sam whispered. His voice was slightly panicky, as it always was when Tom returned from his little sessions.

On one hand, Sam was worried about him. On the other, he knew he could be next. Tom dragged himself towards the tiny hole in the wall which allowed them to speak to each other. He winced at every movement. It hurt worse than ever and he fleetingly wondered if he could still stand on his own after this.

"Yeah," he groaned, the moment he reached the wall.

"What happened? How was it?"

Tom bit his lip and drew deep breaths to get his heartbeat back to normal and combat the continuous need to barf. He didn't even know where to start and if he should tell Sam about Kyle, so he decided to go with the big news.

"Snitch Gravel showed up."

Sam let out a tiny yelp and Tom really wished he could see his face. He was silent for a few moments in which Tom tried to gather his scrambled thoughts and stop the tremor in his muscles.

"What did he say?" Sam finally asked.

"Not much. He didn't seem to be in the mood for conversation. He just ordered Kyle and I back to our cages. And that Kay should go with Kyle."

"Why was Kay there? And how was Kyle? Wait, and he said they should be locked up together?"

Tom took in another deep breath. "Kay was there so they could ask her where Angie was and Kyle... Well, you know Kyle. He handles this stuff way better than us." He paused, wondering if he should let Sam know that as far as he'd made out, the torture might stop for everyone except for him.

"What about you?" Sam asked after a few moments.

"Eh, I've been better. I've also been worse."

"You're lying to me."

Tom groaned. "I'll be fine, Sam. I'm no worse off than the rest of you. Now I just need to rest for a bit."

Sam said nothing and Tom was grateful. He lay his face down on the cold stone floor and closed his eyes. This was it. With Snitch Gravel here, the wait was finally over.

So they'd either be let out for some insane reason, or killed. There was no other possible outcome.

🏯

Sam could tell Tom was lying, that his twin was not okay, that he was terrified, but he didn't press the issue. There was no use lingering in terror, so both of them pretended nothing was as bad as it was. He also believed Tom when he claimed he'd been worse.

And now, he needed to think. So he stood and started pacing the length of his cage.

His guess had been right and Snitch Gravel had been away until now. Where and why? And most importantly, why were they there, still alive? Was Snitch Gravel's presence a sign that they would get answers or get killed?

He needed a reason. And for that, he needed Snitch Gravel. Sam was sure he'd come if he asked. So the next time the goons would come to take him to the torture rooms, he'd request an audience.

The sound of distant footsteps had Sam freezing on the spot. His heart rate jumped through the roof as his mind calculated the implication of the sound. Tom had just returned. They were coming for him. He was getting his wish. And yet, it terrified him. He'd come to dread the sound.

This time, it sounded odd, as if there were more than two people heading towards him, the potential third one refusing to fall into step with the others. Against his better judgment, he pressed himself against the bars to have a look.

He heard Tom swear from the cage next door before the men came into view. Christine walked between them, a frown on her face, her lips twisted into a snarl. Sam's heart skipped a beat as his eyes took her in. She was dirty and disheveled, but she didn't appear to be hurt. There was no limp, her posture was straight and proud, and her face, though grimy, exhibited a defiance which made her shine more than usual.

"Get out of the way," one of the men said, pulling out a gun and pointing it at Sam.

He obeyed, raising his hands, taking a moment to register the relief he felt at not being dragged out for more torture. But the feeling disappeared once he realized this change in behavior was slightly problematic.

"What are you doing?" he asked as the other goon unlocked the gate and shoved Christine inside. She didn't even stumble.

"Boss said to lock your girlfriend in here with you," the man with the gun said, gesturing towards her with the pistol.

Sam's brain went into hyper-drive. This was not unexpected, but if he could somehow get Christine out of this, he would. And what better way to protect her than to make them think they couldn't use her against him?

Sam lowered his hands and rolled his eyes. "Please. Your boss should know better. She's not my girlfriend."

The two men faltered, looking from him to each other, then back, as if wondering if they'd dragged in the wrong girl.

"I mean," Sam pressed on, "she cheated on me with my best friend. Do you really think I'd want her here after that?" His hands became clammy and he did his best to keep an exasperated expression on his face and not look at Christine.

Even if what he was saying was true, it made him realize that he no longer needed or wanted to throw that in her face. Instead, he didn't want to hurt her. Which, he had to remind himself, was exactly why he was doing this.

"He has a point," the man with the keys said, looking from Sam to Christine.

"Better ask the boss," the other mumbled.

"That's right," Sam said, his voice filled with disdain. "Ask him. And then tell him I want to see him so that we can sort out this... Unpleasant business."

"We're not your messengers, brat." The goon with the gun spat on the floor.

"He'll want you to tell him this," Sam said with a shrug, still doing his best to look annoyed. "And I really want her out of here and as far away from me as possible."

"Maybe it's part of the torture," Gun Goon muttered to his companion.

"He didn't sound like it."

The two threw Sam a contemptuous glance then finally decided to move away perhaps to actually ask. He followed their progress until the sound of their footsteps faded, then, swallowing heavily, turned to face a furious Christine.

Her eyebrows were drawn together and her arms crossed over her chest as her narrowed eyes took him in. They looked like molten gold, shinning in the dim light. He suddenly felt tiny under her gaze.

"Christine..." His voice came out rougher than usual.

She lowered her arms and marched to him. Before he could compute anything, she put her hands on his face, pulled him towards her and kissed him on the mouth. His mind spun at the contact, at the familiar feel of her lips against his, the warmth of her touch. Then it was over and she was pulling back, leaving him stunned.

"I'm sorry," she said, her gaze wary. "But thank you."

"You're welcomed?"

The corners of her lips quirked up in a tiny smile. "I know you're trying to keep me safe, but..."

"That hurt," he finished for her.

She still smiled, but he could see the pain behind her eyes. "I can pretend to hate you too if you think it will help."

That was thoughtful of her. And it wasn't until that moment that he truly appreciated how much she had changed. The old Christine, the one he knew and broke up with, would've raged at him, demanded to know how he really felt in an attempt to cover the insecurity brought on by his words.

This woman in front of him just understood and took it in stride. Believed him and trusted it was an act. And that kiss... Half of him wanted to ask her what that had been all about, but he decided that he didn't want to know.

So, instead, he started pacing again, wondering if Snitch Gravel would show up. Christine retreated into his safe corner, the only place she would be out of sight, and leaned against the wall, her arms once again crossed over her chest. As much as he tried to think about Snitch Gravel's impending visit, every time he caught glimpse of her, Sam's mind jumped to other things.

What was he doing? Why was Christine back in his life, in this position where she could be used against him? Why did his mind decide to replay other feelings he'd shared with Christine?

He stopped and leaned his arms against the wall, shutting his eyes tightly. This was useless. It was just his stupid need to shower people with affection coming out again. And yet, he was perfectly aware he didn't love Christine. He belonged to Skye, heart and soul, forever.

Don't be silly, Snowflake. You can love two people at the same time. Especially if one of them is gone. You're not replacing me.

Her voice filled him and for the first time in months, he felt like crying again. He didn't want this. He wanted to be back with her. With his family. A shudder swept his body at the thought of Sammy. He tried to convince himself that if something were to happen to his daughter, he'd know. But it didn't stop the terror slowly building up inside him.

"Sam?" Christine's voice was soft and hesitant.

He didn't answer. His arms were shaking. Christine came closer, her footsteps almost completely silent. Then, her hand was on his shoulder and she turned him around.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I shouldn't have kissed you. It's just that, at the moment, it felt... Right."

"Why did you even do it?" he mumbled, looking away from her. "Why would you even want to?"

She stayed silent for what felt like a minute. He glanced at her and noticed the war going on behind her eyes. He was a little shocked that he was looking for something else there. Maybe a bit of longing, a pinch of fondness. A little love.

"It felt right," she said again. "But I've never thought beyond it. I'm not looking for this. I wasn't looking for anything. I just... Sammy." Her voice cracked and the pain inside Sam's chest exploded again.

"She's safe. She has to be," he said.

"And I should be the one telling you that, not the other way around. She's your daughter, not mine." The words seemed to bring her pain and she turned around and hugged herself.

"You love her," he said.

Christine nodded and sniffed. When she turned back around, her eyes were misty, but there were no tears on her face. "Just so we're clear, I don't want to replace Skye."

"Just so we're clear, no one will ever replace her."

Christine winced, but it was subtle. "I thought you'd say that. Because she was right, you know. You do love with this burning passion. I don't think you'll ever let her go."

Sam kept a straight face, though her words reminded him of a part of Skye's letter he didn't enjoy too much. The one in which she claimed he'd never let Christine go. But as he looked at her, he was forced to concede that there was maybe some truth to her words. Not like he was in love with her or anything, but she was a comforting presence. This Christine, not the old one.

"I don't think I will either," he finally said.

"You don't have to replace her," Christine whispered. "Just like Sammy doesn't have to either. She can have two mothers and you--"

She didn't finish, but Sam understood. He could have two wives, love them both in different ways. He grit his teeth together and turned away from Christine. He didn't want to think about this, not when Skye just died and when he was faced with joining her as well. The thought brought a strange amount of comfort to him and he instantly hated himself for it. He wouldn't take the easy road and leave Sammy orphaned. Except he could be left without a choice.

"If I die..."

"You won't," Christine said instantly. "If Snitch Gravel wanted you dead, you'd be dead."

He chose to ignore that bit of logic and took in a deep breath. "If I die, and you don't, I want you to help my mother look after Sammy. I want you to be a reminder of her dad as well as her mom."

"Sam..." Her eyes filled with tears. "I can't believe you'd trust me with something like this."

She had a point. He couldn't believe he was trusting her with something like this either. But it felt right. Plus, they were empty words. Fat chance one of them would live if the other didn't. A sudden thought of Herrison had Sam's entire body shivering. He didn't want to think about that.

His thoughts were blissfully interrupted by the sound of stomping footsteps. Christine retreated to the corner opposite from him and just glared. The goons had finally returned, both of them looking  bit wary, as if Sam was suddenly dangerous.

"Came to take the insensitive asshole away?" Christine asked.

Youch. But the men just threw her an annoyed look before returning their attention to him.

"Boss will see you know," one of them grumbled, fumbling for the keys.

The other took his gun out, but it wasn't necessary. Sam was not about to try to escape when he knew for a fact they had no trouble hurting them. So he followed obediently, grateful that for once he was leaving his cage without the prospect of immense pain. He threw a fleeting glance into his twin's cage, but he seemed knocked out, or maybe sleeping.

They reached the end of the corridor and for the first time headed up the stairs instead of down. He knew that floor, since his wooden door let to it, but they climbed even higher and went to the right, down a much shorter corridor. There were only a few wooden doors there, no cages, and the men nudged him towards the only one that was open.

Whatever that room had been before, Sam couldn't tell. Snitch Gravel, however, had turned it into a sort of office, much like he'd converted the red room in Chennonceau. It felt like a million years ago, but here he was once again, apparently in the early hours of the morning, standing face to face with a killer.

The window was open, letting in a wave of fresh, crisp air. It was dark, but the sort of darkness that was on the brink of becoming light. Snitch Gravel sat behind an ornate wooden desk built in eastern Asian style, files spread out before him. The walls of the rooms were covered in paintings and tapestries depicting cherry blossoms, streams, ponds and temples as well as Chinese or Japanese letters, some of them half blocked by the massive filing cabinets which seemed to follow him everywhere. There was also a wooden panel and a map of the world filled with pins on it. Sam frowned at it, realizing it looked an awful lot like the map he used to figure out where the jewels were.

"Sit," Snitch Gravel said, indicating the spindly chair in front of his desk. Then, with a wave of his hand, he dismissed his men.

Sam noted how four years ago, Snitch Gravel might have advised him not to try anything because he stood no chance in a fight. That time was long past. Sam knew better now.

"You wanted to see me," Snitch Gravel said, his attention on the papers on his desk.

Sam bit the insides of his cheeks, battling the myriad of thoughts and feelings invading his mind. Relief, fear, anticipation. He had Herrison killed! He's your only chance out of here. He'll kill everyone. Where is Sammy?

"Why are we here?" he finally asked, knowing that there was no use stalling except maybe to enjoy the fact that he was sitting on a chair rather than stone.

"That's a good question," Snitch Gravel said, writing something down. "I have a reason. But since my men monumentally fucked up again, I can't disclose it yet."

That sounded a bit suspicious, but Sam decided not to press on for now. "Why here specifically?" He glanced at the walls. "Where are we? China? Japan?"

"Japan," Snitch Gravel answered, still writing. "In the mountains, to be a little bit more precise."

"Are you here after one of the jewels? Do you want me to help you find it?"

He raised his eyes at Sam's affirmation, his pen frozen in midair. "Help me?"

Sam waved his hand impatiently. "You know. You basically making me do it under threat of--" It suddenly didn't make sense anymore.

"Torture?" Snitch Gravel asked, shrewdness sneaking through his impassive tone. "I don't need your help." He bent to retrieve something from a drawer of his desk. When he straightened, he slammed something on the surface.

Sam stared at the massive indigo jewel. He'd never seen a rock that color, but he suspected by now that they didn't make any sense. The shock of the color didn't even compare to that of realizing Snitch Gravel had a stone. He always claimed he only needed one.

"What are you going to do with it?" Sam whispered.

"Make a ring and a nice pair of earrings. Maybe a pendant as well if I feel like splurging." Snitch Gravel's tone was filled with sarcasm, but for some crazy reason, Sam could detect his heart wasn't in it.

Something had come undone the moment Freider had died, and he didn't appear to have recovered. Sam pursed his lips, unsure what to do or say. He'd been convinced Snitch Gravel would guide him through this conversation. Instead, it was him leading the interrogation.

"How did you find it?" he asked. Snitch Gravel just quirked a brow, so Sam elaborated. "Did you figure out the pattern?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You know what I'm talking about. You were in Egypt and you know there's seven of them. You also know they all originated in Egypt. Why are they were they are?"

"Isn't that the million dollar question?" Snitch Gravel stood and walked to his map, his hands clasped behind his back.

He was unarmed, his back turned. Sam made a quick calculation regarding the chances he had to grab a gun and threaten Snitch Gravel until he released everyone. In a second, any such thought was gone. Even after everything that had happened, he knew he wouldn't be able to pull the trigger, not when his life wasn't directly threatened. Maybe not even then.

So, instead, he stood and walked over to Snitch Gravel, joining him in analyzing the map. He was about the same height as Sam and just standing next to him felt odd. He chose to focus on the pins.

"Have you considered the umbrella theory?" he asked.

Snitch Gravel turned to him, the corners of his lips twitching with barely concealed amusement. "The what now?"

Sam put his finger on Egypt and traced the route to Mexico. "That there might be a symmetry to their position, or that they spell out something."

"Spell out?"

"Or, I don't know. Form a crude sun or something."

"Huh, that's not so stupid." Snitch Gravel tapped his fingers on his chin. "But that would require northern and southern rays. As you've probably noticed, we're getting east and west."

That was true, and Sam was tempted to discuss his wild theories with Snitch Gravel. A part of him was convinced they'd figure it out together. But it wasn't worth it. Not when he's entire body ached and the man next to him was the enemy who made it happen.

"Are you going to keep torturing us?" he asked.

"I don't know. I haven't analyzed the pros and cons yet." Snitch Gravel walked back to the desk and slumped in his chair.

"But you didn't order us tortured in the first place." Sam was sure it was Von Crooken's idea, but the confirmation would lessen his fears.

Snitch Gravel didn't answer right away, just glanced at the ceiling. "You know, leading people is not easy. Most of the times, you can't even begin to anticipate the dumb shit they can come up with. And even when they're not stupid... Well, that's when they start believing they can do better." His gaze focused on Sam who suddenly realized Snitch Gravel looked exhausted.

It wouldn't last much longer before he got sent back in his cage, so he pressed his advantage while he still could.

"So what now?"

"Now we wait."

The answer was beyond disturbing. He didn't have time to wait. "Wait for what?"

"For Jimmy and Jessie. And Angie."

Sam shuddered. He really did want them all, and for once it made no sense. "What do you want Angie for? Or Christine for that matter?"

"Your twin has done his best to prove he's still in love with her. And Christine... That's a good question. What was she doing with you in the first place?"

That really was a good question Sam had no answer for.

"Why did you move her to my cage?"

Snitch Gravel raised his eyebrows. "Is that complaining I hear?"

"No. It's just odd that you're doing this for our comfort."

"Or maybe my amusement. Take it as a test." His eyes drifted towards the papers on his desk and then out the window. "I'm not sure why you're here."

Sam did a doubletake. "You're joking! You brought us here. You kidnapped us for some mysterious reason."

"No, I mean you, in my office." He drummed his fingers on his chin again. "I guess I just needed to confirm it."

Sam stared, his heart pounding. "Confirm what?"

"That maybe, just maybe, you're worth all this hassle." And just like that, Snitch Gravel waved  him away.

Sam couldn't move, still trying to make sense of the words. It only lasted a few seconds before the goons reappeared and led him back towards his cage. As they walked, his mind churned, turning Snitch Gravel's parting words over. Did this mean that maybe, just maybe, he would let them live?

🏯🏯🏯

I so enjoy writing Snitch Gravel chapter, but I think you know that already. And now that there are some changes in his character, it's even more fun.

What do you think will happen now? What's Snitch planning? And will it be an escape, a break in or a let go? And just what the heck is Angie doing? Yes, she's a thing, remember? Which is why I will forcibly remind you next chapter.

Vote and comment for support! And here's to me actually getting some writing done this weekend!