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Zach tried tuning out the conversation as it moved farther away from things he knew about. Gaius had this verbal abuse coming. Anyone who tried to argue with Sabin did. His mind didn't have very far to wander, however. His parched throat and mouth weren't letting him concentrate far from reality. He didn't really hope he could get water, not right now. His stomach growled audibly, and he winced.

Zach's frills dropped a little hearing the statement, knowing already that it was very true in relation to himself. He'd already been told by Sabin several times. So Gaius was just as unskilled? It must have been a wonder that ladder they'd built didn't break apart. His mouth hung open slightly, as though he were about to pant, but couldn't seem to figure out how to start.

Sabin was on pins and needles with elation as he ripped the shreds of hope away from Gaius. He could virtually feel that stone that dropped into Gaius's stomach. If Gaius wanted to argue with him, then he was asking for it.

If he harbored any hope of turning Gaius around, then first he had to wrest that hope of redemption, of rescue, and of something better out there away from him.

Besides, shattering those illusions was such a delcious process. Particularly right there.. in person. Sabin gave a shudder of delight as Gaius was not-so-successfully restraining a sob.

He savored it, let Gaius struggle with the feelings of incompetency and failure for a good few moments before continuing. "Now... many of those islanders have learned to move on. They have realized that the island is their home now. There are others living here. Others who have found their niche." His tone was even and very intentional.

"Zachary... up until your little.... tantrum.... you were one of those who had found a way to adjust. Can you remember.... how confused you were? When you were like Gaius here?" Sabin rested his hand on Gaius's head for a moment - though in the dark the gesture was lost.

"Why throw away this way to live your life? This method of sanity. THAT, my dear friend Gaius... is the way to remain sane. Projects, certainly, they help. But if you view it as a temporary "departure" from your real life, then you will never be living, only waiting to do so."

Sabin’s words fell dully on Gaius’ pointed ears. The man was buried too deeply in his thoughts, trying to cover the still-bleeding, freshly raw wound in his pride. A niche. The idea seemed empty to Gaius, as many things did now. What was the point? There was no point. He’d amount to nothing, except converting oxygen to carbon dioxide and processing foodstuffs through his system.

Oh God it hurt.

More words. They buzzed in his ears, meaningless. The hand placed atop his head was hardly felt, bringing distant confusion with it. His body shuddered again, emotion threatening to breach the dam. His breath came in sharp gasps. Living, what was the point?

He’d failed them all. Nita, Marshall, Liamh. His father.

It hurt.

Zach wasn't as distant in mind as Gaius, still quite aware of the room and the noises, however much he didn't want to be. Gaius's gasping sounds were not helping Zach to find anything remotely like a happy place to retreat to and wait out the confines in the room.

In the relatively quiet silence, the sound of Sabin's shoes were very distinct, moving closer to where Zach was with each resounding step. He tried ignoring it and focusing on something more useful, such as when he'd be out of the room, when his thoughts were interrupted very suddenly by the placement of a hand on his exposed head. All the light amount of breath he'd taken in was let out in a sudden, shaky exhaling. Without thinking he dropped his head downward a little, though the hand didn't seem to go anywhere in spite of that. The fingernail tip's lazy circles around the scales of his head were making him cringe inward, fearful to move.

The barely disguised threat was clear in its intention. Tread carefully. Zach had no interest in his life becoming more complicated than it already was, and figured that Gaius probably understood well enough not to say anything jeapordizing. He continued to stress over the hand on his head, but was too scared still to confront Sabin on anything at this point. All he could do was wait and pull his neck in closer to his shoulders and breathe somewhat shakily himself in his discomfort.

Sabin kept his hand gently on Zachary's head for a few more moments, listening to the music of their shuddering breaths. He savored this victory. It may not last long past their release, but Sabin knew that they would remember this moment. This defeat, and this cold water in the face as to just what their predicament was here and how little power they had.

Finally, he spoke, his voice now a sadistic purr, his French accent barely seeping into his words. "Good. And trust me... the both of you would much rather have me as an ally..... than an enemy."

His hand was removed from Zachary's dome and he strode back towards the door. Just before opening it and killing the illusion of the darkened room, Sabin spoke up again. "Now... I think it would be best if everyone would just sleep."

There was the same tingling in the back of both of their necks... and then the blackness of the room overcame their consciousnesses.



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*

Who knows how many hours later, both awoke in their respective duplexes. A bandage was wrapped carefully around Gaius's neck. The lights and any electronics save for the refridgerators were switched off, but otherwise, the rooms were just as they had left them, the doors unlocked.

A stroll to quell the nerves

Sharp, short clicks echoed in the hall as Ginerva walked down, a jittery jump in her step. She had been quite busy since Halloween, with her usual work, and some planning and plotting of her own. She had hardly seen Sabin at all, which made her usual work that much more dreary. It also troubled her, for she still had it firm in her mind that she had completely failed him in her endeavors on Halloween. The girl really had lost control in the graveyard, and though she did make a good impression on one subject, the others were now as venemous toward her as they were to the rest of the staff. Not that she needed their approval. No, but it would make things a little more difficult for those times when she had to interact with them.

Being not terribly busy at the moment, her team toiling over the tasks she'd set upon them, Ginerva was looking to see what kind of mischief she might cause. That is, without upsetting the balance of this wonderful place's workings.
It was in the hospital wing that Ginerva found her amusement. There was a subject being kept there, after having received a blow from the cobra, Thomas. His name was Miller Milano, turning into a Budgerigar Bird. A very young thing he was - naive, tender.
Ginerva grinned widely as she stepped through the curtain. She clutched a clipboard, under the facade of checking up on him.

"Good day, young Master Milano. And how are we feeling today?"

Ginerva made a comical pouting face.
"Well now, that's no attitude to have, is it?"
She made a few fake marks on her board.
"As for your little music box - that can be taken care of..." She walked around the bed, to Miller's other side.
Then, she leaned over Miller, placing a cold hand on his forehead. "mmhmm..."
"Now, I want you to tell me when you feel any pain..."
And she proceeded to apply pressure on each of Miller's ribs, pressing harder as she went, so that it would indeed cause pain, regardless of whether or not the rib was broken. Bearing the knowledge that the subjects did indeed need to stay intact physically, and she wanted to keep him conscious, she was reasonably more careful around the cracked area.

If she was going to do something, she was going to do it right.

Ginerva smiled in a way that was a little less than subtle as she finished.
"Well, then..." she began to mumble incoherantly as she made more false notes on her pad. Words like "blood," "amputate" and "cut" could be made out.

"Now, as for this bite of yours." She came now to his arm, which had been bandaged.