"Stop, get away from him?" Hannah pushed passed Diana and ran towards Bill Dexter. "You don't know who he is."
Bill Dexter laughed as two of his men, dumped an unconscious Scott into a heap on the floor, right next to a similarly unconscious man that Hannah had never met before. Bill kicked out at Scott's limp body.
"I know exactly who he is Hannah. He's lucky I haven't blown his head off already."
"No, you don't understand," she said and threw herself in between the Bill and Scott.
"Move, "Bill ordered.
"Hannah," Diana pleaded, her hand pressing against her chest.
"Move her," Bill instructed the two men.
The two men moved towards Hannah.
"Don't you dare touch me," Hannah hissed at them. The men faltered in their stride and looked towards Bill.
Bill laughed again, this time though it sounded unhinged, reckless.
Still unable to give her eye contact he replied, "tell me, Hannah, have you any idea who you're protecting right there? Have you any idea of the pain and torment he has inflicted on the likes of ...?" His voice died out.
Us. Hannah knew exactly the word he couldn't bring himself to utter.
"But he isn't what you think he is."
"Oh, I see what this is." He lowered his eyes to hers. "My Shane's body is barely cold and you've taken up with Briggs's bloody henchman."
She shook her head. "You've no idea what you're talking about. If it wasn't for him, I'd be dead right now at the hands of your men."
"That can still be arranged." Bill glared back at her.
"Enough of this!" Amelia walked over and stood between Hannah and her husband.
"Amelia, I've told you not to inter...," he began to warn.
"Shut up, Bill," she interrupted. Her husband's posture dropped, giving him the look of a scolded puppy. "As I was saying, I have no idea what your relationship with this man is and frankly I don't care, but you must understand that he is Briggs's right-hand man and therefore our enemy. I promise, that for now, we'll not harm him, but he is going in a cell until we know more about him and why he is here; if only for his own protection." She gave her husband a warning stare.
"Thank you," Hannah said to Amelia. "Do what you have to do, but I am staying with him."
"But, Hannah..." her birth mother called out.
"Diana. Hannah is a big girl and she can make her own decisions," interrupted Dan.
"Thank you," Hannah mouthed to her adoptive father. Sticking close to Scott, she followed three of Bill Dexter's men as they carried Scott up to the room that she'd shared with Tucker earlier. They left the other man that Scott had arrived with, still unconscious on the floor, guarded by Melody and Bill.
As Scott was placed on the bed in the room, Hannah heard a male voice shouting from further down the corridor.
"Let me out, let me out, now! You are going to pay for this, do you hear me!"
Hannah recognised the voice of Clairbourne. Amelia nodded to one of the men who walked off towards the room the Professor was being held in
"Nothing for you to worry about," Amelia replied, seeing Hannah looking uncomfortable in the door way. "Now, I'll get you some water and a dressing for his head, seeing as you're so concerned about this friend of yours."
Hannah took a last look down the now silent corridor and entered the room. Amelia and the two men left and the door was closed and bolted behind them.
The tense, silent room made Hannah wish Tucker was with her and that he hadn't volunteered to go out on a recce with some of Bill's men. Why did he always have to be so restless and eager for adventure? Amelia returned almost immediately carrying a tray with a jug, a bowl, a clean cloth and some dressings. "Shout out when he's woken up."
Hannah smiled weakly, grateful that it was Amelia who was in the room and not Bill. The once measured, calm and generous man had swapped these traits for violent mood swings and a detached recklessness that quite simply terrified her.
Once again, Hannah was left alone with Scott, who lay on his side facing her on the rickety bed. She approached him slowly, feeling strangely nervous. Hannah picked up the jug and poured some lukewarm water into the bowl and wet the cloth. Squeezing out the excess, she carefully dabbed at the cut on the back of his head. It was only a surface wound, but it had bled a lot, matting his hair. Hannah hoped it didn't need any stitches. She rinsed the cloth in the bowl, the water turning a swirling red. Slowly she wiped away the crusted blood and dried the area before fixing the dressing.
Hannah moved to the bottom of the bed and perched on the edge, looking down at Scott. It wasn't the first time she'd seen him out cold, in fact the poor guy looked as if he'd gone ten rounds with a bulldozer, but this time he seemed more vulnerable, weak even. His face was covered in bruises in varying shades of purple, with deep lacerations streaked across his cheek. She'd also noticed a little dried blood crusted beneath his right ear. With his injured face and old clothing, he looked nothing like the cold, sharply dressed agent who'd removed her from her home, just a couple of months ago. And that's what made her nervous. Was he still the same man and why was she even bothered?
The time passed slowly and Hannah's thoughts drifted to her mother, though she tried to fend them off. Was she still lying on that bed, strapped up to those machines or was she in some cell somewhere, or was she...? Hannah shivered and redirected her thoughts to her father. Watching him being escorted into the factory had been a shock. She'd run so fast and thrown herself into his embrace. Squeezing her eyes tight, she had breathed in his familiar smell, enjoying the roughness of his stubbly chin against her forehead and the deep rumble inside his chest as he laughed in delight at seeing her. "Daddy," she'd whispered.
Dan and Hannah hugged for a long time. When she'd eventually opened her eyes, she was astounded to find herself looking into the face of Diana, standing just behind them. Her birth mother looked on, almost apologetically, tears streaming down her bare, unmade-up cheeks.
"What..., I mean how...?" Hannah struggled to get her words out. Dan released his arms around her and moved to the side. Diana attempted to move fractionally closer to Hannah, but Hannah took a step backwards.
"Why are you here?" She'd asked.
"To... to find you and to make sure that you are okay?"
"But why are you with my father?"
"I didn't know who else to turn to. Dan has been incredible."
"I bet!" Hannah sulked. "First you took me and now you're trying to take him. Are you going to leave anything at all for my poor mother?" Hannah knew she sounded like a petulant child, but she couldn't help herself.
"Hannah!" Dan admonished. "You're being very unkind. Diana was genuinely worried for you. She cares for you greatly whether you like it or not."
Hannah shrugged her shoulders and turned her back on Diana. "Dad, how did you find us, did you know about Bill and Amelia?"
Hannah's father looked down to the floor and nodded his head. "Yes, your mum and I have always known. It was never the right time to tell you."
"Did Shane know?"
"No, Hannah, Shane didn't know. We decided to keep it from him until we thought he was old enough to make up his own mind."
Amelia had come over to join their odd little reunion. She walked up to Dan and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "Hello, old friend." Dan kissed her back on the cheek.
Sudden movement brought Hannah back to the present. Scott rolled off the bed and landed on all fours and he stared up at Hannah from his now crouched position.
"Scott, it's me, you're safe," she said quickly. The agent in front of her tried to stand straight but woozily swayed from side to side and then began to sink. Hannah leapt up and wrapped her arms around his torso, trying to support the weight of his body. He was too heavy and he slid further down until they were almost nose to nose.
"Hannah," he asked, blinking fast, his eyes rolled around in their sockets.
"Yes, it's me."
"Where am I?" he asked, the rush of his warm breath tickling her face.
"Safe, but you must lie back down. You have a concussion and I can't hold you up a second longer.
His eyes seemed to regain their focus and he stared at her a little longer.
"Ow."
"What's wrong?" Hannah asked.
"I have some broken ribs."
"What?" she asked, suddenly aware of how tightly she was holding on to him. Please, Scott, I can't hold you up any longer. Get on the bed."
Hannah was sure she saw a slight smirk on Scott's face at her last request.
"Okay," he replied, regaining his footing and pulling away from her. He carefully took a couple of steps towards the bed and gingerly sat down on the sagging mattress.
Hannah's body felt weak with relief at not having to support his weight anymore. She took her seat on the edge of the bed,
"I take it we're locked in here. Don't worry, I'll get us out of here somehow, Hannah, trust me." Scott looked around the room, appraising their location, clearly taking in mental snapshots of the walls, the floor...
"Yeah, about that... I'm not actually a prisoner, Scott. You are."
Scott's head snapped around to face Hannah. "What?"
"Kind of long story. I was being held, but now I'm not, in fact, I am here of my own free will."
"Explain," he ordered and Hannah did just that, from the moment she arrived at the Dexter's home right up until just ten minutes earlier. Scott didn't interrupt once. His face showed little emotion but the recent, familiar warmth in his eyes had frozen over. The more Hannah explained, the colder he became. Why did she feel like she had let him down?
When she had finished, Scott remained in silent contemplation and Hannah couldn't tolerate the weight of his stare a moment longer. She jumped up and turned to him. "Well say something then, tell my how stupid I've been, lecture me on how good I had it and now it's all gone. Come on, let me have it." She blinked furiously, willing the hot tears welling in her eyes not to fall.
Scott closed his eyes and rubbed at his temples. Hannah held her breath, waiting for his outburst.
"To be honest, I got nothing, Hannah. I'm so far caught up in this mess right now, that I only have two options," he said his voice surprisingly calm. "One, I help you and whoever these people are, or two, I take my chances with Briggs and we both know how that option will go down, don't we."
Hannah was stunned.
"I don't get you, Tom." It was the first time she'd used his first name; strangely, the word rolled easily of her tongue. "Having spent most of your adult life, tearing down the Flawed opposition, you're trying to get me to believe that you'd consider helping us out. Why the sudden change of heart? If you think you can trick us and lead us all into Briggs's trap, you'd better think again."
Tom Scott laughed. "Yeah, Hannah, I'm doing a great job of that, aren't I? In the last few weeks I've been shot, had my ribs broken, my ear drums burst and I have just had someone attempt to crack my head open. Yeah, I am doing a great job."
Hannah watched Tom wince as he tentatively touched at the back of his head. "So why then are you doing all of this? You could have informed Briggs at any time and he'd probably have promoted you. What are you getting out of this?"
"I wish I knew, Hannah. Just because you know what I do for my day job, doesn't mean you really know a thing about me."
His words stung, but she felt his challenge.
"So, tell me then, what is it I don't know about you?"
Tom looked up and held her stare. His right index finger moved from side to side across his bottom lip. Was he trying to stop something coming out of his mouth?
"Sit down," he instructed. Hannah looked at the space on the bed next to him warily. "Please," he asked in the softest voice she'd ever heard him use before.
Hannah took a deep breath and briefly nodded. She sat on the edge of the mattress as far from Scott as she could. Tom shuffled towards her a little.
"As far back as I can remember I've grown up in the belief that I am special. I was the brightest, the fastest, and the most successful of my peers at school. As soon as I went to work, I sailed through basic training and have been promoted every single year. I don't want for anything, I have a bank account already filled with more money than I will earn in my entire career working for Briggs. I have powerful contacts and I have a choice from the most brilliant and beautiful woman, should I wish to marry. Yes, I am considered very special indeed."
Hannah couldn't help but screw up her face in distaste at his boastful admission. She wished the bed was slightly longer so she could move further away from him.
"But," Tom continued, "being told you're special is one thing, but being told your lucky is quite the other. My father once said to me, "Tom, just you remember where you came from and how lucky you are. Never forget that if it wasn't for the elite adoption ruling over twenty years ago, you'd be a Flawed. It's your job to fight against the views that some hold, that once a Flawed, always a Flawed. You have to work harder than everyone else, just to cancel out your birth place. Skills will get you so far, son, but a fervent hatred of your ancestry will take you all the way to the top."
Hannah sat, her mouth open, stunned for the second time by his responses.
"You're real parents are Flawed?" She asked, unsure if she'd heard right.
"My birth parents are, yes," he replied.
"Have you ever tried to trace them?"
"No, I was told that they were irrelevant."
Hannah didn't know how to react to that.
"The thing is, spending time with you, has... has made me wonder about where I come from. You have just been given the world on a platter and yet you don't want it. You would rather go back to your old life, to people you love and who clearly love you. Does that sound irrelevant to you?"
At last, Hannah seemed to realise what Scott as saying.
"So, you want to meet them, to find out where you come from?"
"No, I'm not saying that, well I don't think I am, but ever since I met you, I don't feel that special anymore and I think that is probably a good thing."
The two of them sat in silence. The tension between them still existed, but it seemed to have eased a little.
"So, you'll help us bring down Briggs?"
"I'll try." He smiled shyly.
For Hannah, Tom Scott had never seemed more special than he did right at that moment.