Hannah sat on the barely-there mattress upon the rusting wire-framed bed. Her knees were tucked up under her chin as she hugged herself tight. An itchy, grey blanket lay draped over her shoulders doing little to keep out the cold. The windowless room was a small cell of bare concrete walls and flooring. Her bed was positioned directly in front of the door; a thick metal one, with hidden hinges and no visible way of opening from the inside. The air smelt heavy with oil and metal, leading her to believe they were being kept in a disused factory. She had no idea where she actually was owing to the blindfolds they'd made her and Tucker wear, when they were dragged to a van and subjected to a short but uncomfortable journey.

Tucker now lay asleep on the other bed, the only other piece of furniture in the room, well except for a small pot in the corner. Tucker had made use of that within the first few minutes of their imprisonment and his words, "when you've gotta go, you've gotta go", seemed to taunt her and her full bladder. She looked over the pot again, for what felt like the hundredth time and couldn't deny the burning urge any longer. Gingerly, she crept off the bed and tiptoed over to it. With one last check that Tucker was still asleep and with her face burning with shame, she relieved herself.

Deed over and clothing quickly replaced, she returned to the bed, picking up the blanket and sat back down.

"Thank goodness for that!" Tucker said, rather too enthusiastically.

"What?" Hannah jumped up and looked over to see Tucker turning over and smirking at her.

"Have you any idea how long I've laid here waiting for you to do that. Bloody ages! "

Hannah launched herself at Tucker, giving him a big shove and shouting, "You pig!"

"Shh, Hannah, they said not to make a sound." Hannah clasped her hand to her mouth. "And stop being all angry pants with me; I didn't lock you away in this room. I just knew you wouldn't be able to go if you thought I was awake, so I pretended. How the hell did you hang on so long? Tucker asked, trying not to laugh.

A small smile cracked on her face, the first one that day.

"I'm due a number two anytime soon, so if you could just return the courtesy and pretend to be asleep, that would be just lovely."

"Don't even think about it!" She warned.

Tucker grinned and shrugged his shoulders, tipping his head to one side.

"Doesn't anything ever bother you?" She asked, as she sat back down, drawing the blanket up around her legs.

"Of course it does, but what good does it do either of us if we just sit here and moan. It sure as hell not gonna ..."

Tucker fell quiet. The moment of levity has passed and as they sat in a tense silence, Hannah shivered and rubbed her hands together to warm them up.

"Come here," Tucker instructed, patting at the mattress.

Hannah sighed heavily and got up and joined him on the bed. Now under two blankets, they cuddled up together. Grateful for the warmth and companionship, Hannah rested her head on Tucker's shoulder and thought about the events of the past day. The memory of seeing Shane's father for the first time and the hatred he had in his eyes for her, shocked her to the core. She wished he'd spoken to her, shouted at her even, but he just stared and said nothing. He continued to say nothing as they dragged her and Tucker through the row of houses and shoved them into the van. Not even as he dragged her kicking and screaming up two flights of steps into this room, did he actually say anything. Melody however was vocal enough for the both of them. Amelia didn't come with them in the van, but apparently followed behind in another vehicle. Hannah rubbed at her wrists, where she had been bound; the skin was chafed quite badly on her left wrist. She was grateful the bindings had been removed when they were brought to the room.

"How long has we been here now?" Tucker asked.

"About an hour longer than the last time you asked." In truth, Hannah had lost track of time.

"He wants me dead, Tucker. The look in his eyes..."

"As terrified as I am, I don't think he does. I think we'd be goners by now if he did. I'm more worried about what they really have planned for us."

"I'm so sorry you're involved in all of this. I tried to get him to let you go, honestly I tried."

"I know, I heard you scream it once or twice. But he's on some kind of mission and nothing you say or do is gonna change that. All we can hope is that someone will notice we're missing come looking for us. Hopefully, Diana notices soon, because if we're waiting for my parents, we'll be here for a while. Hell, as soon as Briggs finds out, he'll turn the bloody world upside down looking for you."

"That's just great isn't it, Briggs to the rescue. Off all the people I want to save us, he is the last on my list."

Tucker gave Hannah a reassuring squeeze. "Now's not the time to be picky, Hannah."

Hannah yawned. "Guess not."

"Look, I've already slept, you haven't. Why don't you try to get your head down for a bit? I'll stay awake and keep watch."

"Well okay, just for a few minutes." With every muscle in her body weary and aching, Hannah moved so that her head was on Tucker's lap, her face turned towards the door and slowly, whilst Tucker stroked her hair, she drifted into the dreamless black.

"Hannah, wake up!" Tucker shook Hannah and she sat up with a start as the door opened inwards.

Melody stood in the doorway, the revolver in her right hand. At her feet was a metal tray which she slid across the floor using her foot. Without a word, she smirked at them, stood back and closed the door. A scraping noise could be heard and then the sound of footsteps slowly disappeared into the distance.

Hannah and Tucker looked down at the tray. On it, sat two bottles of water and two sandwiches wrapped up in film.

"I don't think I can eat that." Hannah said, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

"I've eaten worse." Tucker replied, getting down off the bed and collecting the tray. "Here." He held out the food and water and she took it, but left it unopened on her lap.

Peeling back the film, Tucker opened up the sandwich and inspected it.

"Damn it, the crusts are still on. Do you think I can send it back," he said lightly and took a large bite.

Hannah raised her eyes as Tucker devoured it in three mouthfuls.

"You can have mine if you're still hungry. I really can't eat anything."

Hannah opened the bottle of water and took a long drink, whilst Tucker gratefully opened the other sandwich and guzzled that down too.

"Ah! I can't sit here anymore like this." Hannah stood up and began to pace around the room. "How can we get out of here?"

"We can't," Tucker mumbled his mouth full.

"There must be a way." Hannah walked around in a small circle inspecting every surface for means to escape, or anything that could be used as a weapon. It wasn't the first time she'd done this; she kicked out at the tray in frustration. It clattered across the floor and hit the door with a metallic bang.

"Well, if we can't get out, they're going to have to let us out."

"And why, pray tell, are they going to do that?" Tucker asked, taking a swig of water.

"Because, we have something they want."

Tucker swallowed and looked up at her, puzzled.

"We have information don't we? We know that Briggs is about to make a big announcement about something important and we also now know that because I have an SPR of one hundred, by law, it kind of puts me in charge of everything. And we also know that Clairbourne is a traitor not just to Eastman and Cecily, but he is also a traitor to Briggs. This is big stuff here, Tucker, stuff that could get us out!"

"And what do you think they'll do once you tell them all this valuable information, huh? Say, thanks very much, sorry for any inconvenience and have a nice life. Of course they won't."

"I know that, I'm not stupid!"

Tucker snickered.

"But it could buy us some time, provide a distraction and get us out of this damn room!"

Tucker replaced the lid on the bottle and looked at it for a short while. He then hurled it as hard and as fast as he could. The bottle collided with the metal door, resulting in a thud that echoed loudly. The plastic split and water sprayed out.

"No time, like the present, I guess." Tucker got up and picked up the tray. He briefly examined it and then began hitting it against the door. Hannah took a deep breath and joined him. Together they started kicking at the door, and calling for help.

"I hope this idea of yours works," Tucker shouted above the noise.

"Move away from the door," Shane's father bellowed to them from the other side.

"Well at least they heard," whispered Tucker and both he and Hannah backed away from the door. "Be brave, Hannah. Don't let him intimidate you."

"Yeah, sure."

The door flung open and Bill Dexter stormed into the room. His face was purple, his eyes wildly searching the room, before fixating on Hannah. His right hand was shaking and in it was the revolver. His left hand was clenched, the tendons in his exposed lower arm taught.

"What is the meaning of this?" Shane's father took three paces forward until he was directly in front of Hannah. His large form towered over her and yet she maintained eye contact, forcing herself to stand up straight and not bow to the pressure of his presence.

"I told you not to make any noise. Now sit down and shut up." Spittle flew from his mouth and landed on Hannah's cheek, yet she didn't flinch, didn't move an inch.

"I said sit down."

"No!"

"What?" Bill Dexter roared and shoved the revolver into Hannah's stomach. It winded her and she bent a little, gasping for air. Tucker jumped forward, but Hannah held her arm out and stopped him.

"I won't sit down, Mr. Dexter," she gasped.

"Don't think I won't kill you. I've done far worse in my time. Now sit!"

"No, Sir. I know you don't want to hear this, but I loved Shane too."

Bill Dexter slapped Hannah across the face. Her head fell backwards and she only just managed to remain standing. She cradled her stinging cheek with her hand. Tucker launched himself at Bill, but he was shoved back against the bed.

"Don't you dare mention his name." Bill Dexter now stared at the hand with which he'd struck Hannah.

Hannah braced herself, but continued anyway. "I would give anything to go back and change what happened, but I can't." Bill Dexter's face tensed he looked ready to swipe at her again. A small, dark part of her almost wanted him to hit her again. The pain in her face felt real and nothing since the night Shane had died had felt real. "Please let me help you. I didn't start this, Briggs and others did a long time ago and I know stuff, stuff that might just help you."

"She does. Honestly, she does. Please listen to her," Tucker implored, now back on his feet. Hannah reached for Tucker's hand and squeezed it, but never once took her eyes off Shane's father.

"Find out what she knows, Bill. We might as well put her to good use whilst she's still alive."

Hannah broke contact with his eyes and saw Amelia standing behind him.

Bill Dexter still stared at his hand. Other than quick rise and fall of his chest and the rapidly breathing through his nose, he was motionless. A muscle the twitched in his cheek and he jumped backwards. Amelia had to side step out of the way. The man who was once so kind and so gentle towards her, lurched towards the metal door which had almost closed and punched it hard with his left hand, the same hand he had hit Hannah with. The handgun fell from his other hand on to the floor and was knocked over to the corner of the room. Again and again, over and over, he punched, each time putting more force behind it. Amelia cried out to him, begging him to stop, but it seemed he didn't hear her. Melody then pushed through the door, the force pushing her father backwards onto the floor. Bill Dexter lurched forward and clenched his fist.

"Dad, no!" Melody screamed, "please, Dad, no more."

Bloodied and exhausted, he shouted out Shane's name and slid down to the floor. Cradling his damaged hand, he began to wail.

Amelia rushed by his side, wrapping her arms around him, and whispering into his ear. Melody joined them and they held each other tightly, united in their grief. Slowly, Bill Dexter's crying turned to quiet sobbing. Amelia picked up his injured hand and kissed each knuckle, oblivious to the bloody, torn skin.

Hannah and Tucker clutched as each other. Watching Shane's father in such pain, sent shockwaves through her. Tears silently streaming, she wept for herself, for Shane, but most of all, she wept for his parents. Their life had irrevocably changed; they had lost their son, their first born and they would never heal from that.

"I can't do this anymore." Bill said so quietly, it was barely audible. With Amelia and Melody's help, Bill stood up. Clutching the side of the door, he winced.

"Just go," he said and shook his head.

Hannah and Tucker eyes flitted to the door and then at each other, but neither moved.

"Just go, "he said, louder.

"Hannah, you heard him, let's go," Tucker beseeched.

"No." Hannah said. "I want to help. I can help."

Hannah walked over to the Shane's father, whose head hung low, blood dripping from his knuckles. "Please let me help you bring down Briggs."

Bill Dexter slowly raised his head and until they were face-to-face. The rage that had burned in his eyes had gone, now they just looked sad, heart achingly sad. He studied Hannah for a long time, his expression unreadable.

"Tell me what you know," he asked.