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Fortunately for Peyton, Evan had been too concerned with finding a hot shower to stave off the chill of a late night dip in the ocean to deal with her right when they got back from their disastrous cruise; keeping the potential of illness away had been higher up on his list of priorities. Unfortunately for Peyton, Evan had gotten sick despite his best efforts not to, so now he had a low-grade fever to match his simmering anger.

He had planned to wait until he was feeling better to confront her about her actions during the mission, mostly because he just wasn't up to dealing with her usual sass. His miles-long patience got shorter with every cough, sniffle, and sneeze, and it would do neither of them any good for him to start lashing out at Peyton's inevitable smart-a** remarks. Besides, the anticipation might keep her on her toes a bit, and that made him feel a little bit better.

So he hadn't looked for her. He had gone about his normal daily routine regardless of his running nose and the ache in his bones, because he wasn't going to let something as simple and stupid as a cold knock him off his feet. He had resolved to bide his time and to find Peyton when the time was right.

Fate, however, had conspired to put Peyton directly in his path. Evan had hoped to just walk through the cafeteria and into the kitchen to make some soup, but he spotted the back of her tiny, empty little head at one of the tables, and the opportunity was almost too good to pass up. He changed course, treading softly as he walked up behind her.

Without so much as a "hello," Evan reached down, fisted a hand in the back of Peyton's shirt, lifted her bodily out of her seat, and started walking them out of the cafeteria.

Evan held Peyton suspended in midair as though she was nothing more than a sack of groceries. The questioning glances they received from the Hunters they passed as Evan walked them through the halls were met with deceptively friendly smiles, as if this was completely normal behavior.

He didn't say a word to anyone, though, not even to Peyton as he marched them out of the building and down to the training fields. They were empty, thankfully--probably a result of people still being sick--which was definitely a good thing. It meant that there was no one to question him as he walked them to a dummy at the far side of the fields, held Peyton up a little higher, and turned the hood of Peyton's sweatshirt inside out over the dummy's head. He pulled at it for a moment, making sure the fabric was tight enough over the wood that it wouldn't slip off.

Then he let her go and let gravity work its magic.

Evan didn't consider himself a cruel man by nature. Normally he was affable, easygoing, even-tempered. He was able to deal with high levels of stress and chaos and frustration and anger without letting it get the better of him, but ultimately, he was only human. As much as he might like to consider himself more than just a man, he was as vulnerable to the same moral failings as anybody else. He was just as capable of viciousness and spite and, yes, even the occasional moment of cruelty.

It's why he watched Peyton dangle with a brief, shameful flash of sadistic glee, making no effort to help her even as she started struggling in earnest. If he had thought she was in any kind of real danger, he would have helped her off the training dummy--probably, maybe--but she was okay. A little bit of fear would do her good. It was all a part of the lesson.

"You know why you're here, Peyton?" Evan asked after a long, drawn out moment. Despite the anger bubbling just below the surface, his tone was just as companionable as ever. He could have been asking about the weather, for the lack of emotion in it.

Ah, the sweet sound of silence. While at any other time it might be nice to hear absolutely nothing coming out of Peyton's big mouth, right now, he wanted her to participate. He wanted her to acknowledge her mistake, wanted it out in the open air between them. "Do you? Really?" He tilted his head as though he was genuinely curious. "Tell me, why do you think you're out here, Peyton?"

Evan was actually surprised by the accuracy of Peyton's answer. She hadn't yet proven herself to be anything more than another too-young child caught up in an intricate and deeply ******** up war game, a civilian where she should be a soldier. Her response was somewhat refreshing, but it would by no means get her off the hook.

"That's a pretty good answer," Evan acknowledged, nodding. "But it runs a little deeper than that, sweetheart. You see," he continued, leaning down until he was at eye level with Peyton, "I don't give an ounce of damn who you were before you came to the island. You're here now, and so your priorities are gonna need an upgrade. The number one you're looking out for isn't yourself anymore--it's everyone around you. What you do here on the island, in your free time, whatever--it doesn't mean s**t if you can't be trusted to watch someone's back in the field. We've got enough to worry about without having to wonder whether or not the person at our back isn't just waiting for the right time to stab it."

Evan straightened a little to look very deliberately down at Peyton. "Do you understand what I'm getting at, here?"

"Good to know," Evan said as Peyton nodded, then crouched once more. He took her chin in his hand and, with a gentle touch, tilted her head up until her eyes met his.

"Now I want you to listen closely, because I'm only going to say this once," Evan all but growled, finally allowing his anger to bleed into his voice. His eyes went hard and cold as all pretense of congeniality melted away.

"If I can't trust you at my back, then I'm gonna want you at my front, where I can see you. Now, the people in the front, they're the ones who go into the fire first, and sometimes--not every time, mind you, but sometimes, and maybe sometimes when it really matters--the person at their back might not be there to pull them out. It's a damn shame," Evan said, shaking his head with mock regret, "but accidents happen."

Evan gripped Peyton's chin a little tighter as he leaned in close, his voice dropping into a growl. "Do not go out of your way to make yourself the person I--or anyone--wants at their front. Do I make myself clear?"

At any other time and place, Evan might have felt ashamed at himself for bringing a sick, scared little girl to tears. He knew better than that, he had been raised better than that. Morality was only mostly black and white, and there was no shade of grey that would make what Evan had just done in any way acceptable.

Right here, right now, he didn't really give a s**t. If Evan looked completely unsympathetic to the state he had brought Peyton to with nothing more than a few well-placed words and a very thinly-veiled threat, it was because he absolutely was. It was almost too easy to justify it to himself as stopping a problem in its tracks before it could really get started. He wasn't even really mad for his own sake anymore--he hadn't died, after all--but what if it had been Gnat that Peyton had pulled that little stunt on? What if it had been Stormy or Tuck? What if whoever it had been hadn't made it?

No, better for there never to be a 'what if' or a 'could have been' or a 'next time'. Better that he put the fear of himself in her before it came to that. Better a few tears now than a lot of tears later.

"Good," Evan said before releasing Peyton and straightening once more. He turned and walked away without a backward glance, leaving her to hang just like she had left him.

He supposed he should feel bad about it. He didn't.