~one hundred forty days since praimfaya~
Ethan's little hand squeezed my own slightly as he sat on one of the cots in Medical, getting examined by Jackson. A small smile was on my lips as I watched Ethan open his mouth and say 'ah' upon Jackson's request. He shined a light towards Ethan, inspecting his throat while I stood beside the bed, watching closely what Jackson was doing while he finished Ethan's exam.
After dinner, Ethan told me that his stomach was hurting, and it had my face going pale and rushing the poor boy to Medical. There was no way that I would let anything happen to Ethan — the boy had already been through too much with the loss of his parents and then Jaha, who took on a parental role for a short period of time. The two of us were always together and have become inseparable. I will admit, at first, it wasn't great, with so many changes going on in Ethan's short life, but after a few days, he warmed right up to me. It was my responsibility to take care of Ethan, and I'll be dammed if I fail at this responsibility.
"Okay." Jackson brought the light away from Ethan, turning it off and setting it on a tray full of instruments that probably looked scary to the younger boy on the cart beside him. The doctor glanced back at Ethan, not looking in my direction, and it had my stomach dropping at the notion something was wrong. "You're a tough kid, so I think you'll make it. What do you say?"
Apprehensively, Ethan nodded, receiving a warm smile from the young doctor, who then helped him off the cot before he stood up. When Ethan's feet hit the ground, he nudged himself into my side, his head only reaching my hip, wrapping his arm that wasn't holding my hand around my leg. I stroked his hair once to tell him he was okay and looked back up at Jackson, refusing to let the panic about Ethan's condition show in my voice.
"Is he going to be okay?"
With another small smile, Jackson nodded, understanding the worry going through my body. "He'll be fine. It's just a common cold."
My mind had jumped to all the worst-case scenarios, so hearing it was as simple as a cold sent relief all through my body. I would most likely have to keep even more of an eye on him and ensure he gets enough rest — that was about all anyone could do with our little resources in the bunker.
Jackson's face morphed into this stoney expression, one that was adorning more people's faces as time went on down here. "It doesn't help with the bad air quality either."
There were problems in the Second Dawn Bunker, admittedly, and that was just one of the many, but it seemed not to affect former people of the Ark as much because our bodies were already used to stale air; we were only on the ground for a couple of months so our time with fresh air was limited. But the Grounders, on the other hand, were struggling more so with the air. Even if Callan could try to hide it, I saw how his body slumped, and he was more sluggish, not as aware of his surroundings as he usually would. We had only been down here for less than a year, so I wouldn't expect the Grounders' bodies to have adjusted just yet.
Another issue that I was trying my absolute hardest to stay away from was the fighting pits. From what Niylah had told me, before Jaha opened the doors, Octavia fought an onslaught of Grounders who were ready to punish all of Skaikru in the hydrofarm, claiming that 'you are Wonkru, or you are the enemy of Wonkru. Choose.' But this was only the first of the situations that sprouted from that day. Octavia's way of punishing the guilty — or the enemy, I should say — no matter how small the crime was to put them in the rotunda and make them fight to the death... the last one standing gained their freedom back. Since the first, there have been four fights, and while that may not seem like a lot, the contenders in these fights ranged anywhere from four to ten. And one person always came out victorious.
I was determined to keep Ethan and myself as far away from it as possible.
"I know." I told Jackson solemnly before looking down at Ethan, who hid his face in my pant leg — he was tired. "Come on, Ethan, let's go back to our room." And my next sentence was under my breath. "Maybe Callan finally decided to take a hike."
But obviously, I wasn't quiet enough because Jackson had heard me. "He's just trying to help, you know. We all are."
"I know." I repeated, watching the way Jackson was refraining from asking me the dreaded question of whether I was okay or not. He had good intentions, but he and I knew I didn't want to hear it — I haven't wanted to hear it in ninety-one days.
With sparing Jackson one final look, Ethan and I wandered out of Medical hand in hand, our room the destination in both our minds. As we walked through the hallways, there were bare people, all holding the same gaze when looking in my direction. No one knew about what happened ninety-one days ago except for the people that were there when it happened and Callan, but most everyone in the Second Dawn Bunker knew that something had happened — something terrible. They all saw the change in my demeanor and how I held myself differently after that day. A blind person could even see it. Yet no one asked about it, and no one commented on it. I think it was partly due to fear of the unknown.
Fear of the unknown had become common around here because there was so much that we didn't know. We didn't know whether we were going to make it out of this bunker alive; we didn't even know if there was a way out. The rest of our lives could be spent down here no matter how long it was, and that was a frightening revelation for most.
Around halfway through our walk back, Ethan asked me to hold him, which I did, placing the boy on my hip with my arms wrapped securely around him. Just when I thought I'd have to put him down because of his weight, we made it to our door — the third one on the right. Releasing one of his arms, Ethan opened the door, and we walked right through, staring straight ahead, not granting one person a look. Ethan and I have mostly kept to ourselves these past few months, so most people wouldn't want to talk to us anyway.
Except for one person.
"Is Ethan going to be alright?"
Just after I had set the boy down in the bed we shared, Callan's voice rang quietly from above. He was one of the people I was adamant about not glancing towards. Ever since that day when he stopped my attempted suicide, he hasn't left my side. I don't know if he thinks I'm going to do it again or what, but he just would not leave me alone. He even made the change, so now his bed was directly above mine and Ethan's, even after I begged the person whose bed that was previously was not to swap with Callan. No one other than us knew about what I tried to do, and I think it brought us closer and formed a bond in a way, even if I didn't want to admit it.
I stood to my full height, turning towards Callan, who lay on his side on the bed, propping his head with his arm. My height put me so my head just overlooked the bed's metal frame. Surprisingly, I saw concern on Callan's face; even if it was a small amount, it was that, along with wondering how he found out, that had me furrowing my eyebrows. "And you know something is wrong; how?"
"I saw you and Ethan leave the cafeteria, and Ethan was holding his stomach." He stated simply as if it didn't sound stalker-ish.
Giving Callan a deadpan look, I said, "And why were you watching us?"
Instead of answering my question, Callan ignored it entirely. "You didn't answer my question. Is he okay?"
He nodded down towards the bed where Ethan was lying; the little boy had already fallen into a deep sleep, his tiny chest moving up and down. I peered down at him momentarily, admiring his peacefulness before looking back at Callan. "Why do you care so much?"
He shrugged. "Ethan's a cute kid."
"That's not a reason." I told him.
"Sure it is." Callan argued. "So, how is he?"
Deciding that there was enough of our back-and-forth banter, I answered. "Jackson said it's just a common cold. He'll be fine with some rest." There was a moment of awkwardness before I spoke up again. "Now, are you going to answer my question?"
"And what question would that be?"
"Why do you care so much." I elaborated, taking a step to the side so that I leaned up against the ladder that led to Callan's bed, one arm wrapping around a handle.
"I already answered that." He claimed.
"Uh, no, you didn't. What you said wasn't an answer. While true, it's not an answer to my question. Why are you being so reluctant on this?"
"Fine." He muttered grudgingly. "Since you want my answer so badly, I care because I have a soft spot for kids."
There was obviously more to it than Callan was letting on, but I decided not to press further on the matter because deep down inside, it did mean something that Callan cared — not that I would ever admit it out loud. The way Callan cared was an almost familiar feeling to me, and maybe that's why I admired it so much. Not like anyone could replace my brother, but the way Callan acted was very similar, almost identical to the way I felt with Finn even.
Accepting his answer and deciding to move to a new topic, I glanced wearily around the room to see who was awake — not many, maybe one or two people. Nonetheless, with caution, I glimpsed back to Callan. "Anything brana going ona kom Wormanas?" (Anything new going on with the Delegates?)
While I did admit Callan's presence could be slightly annoying, the man did have information about what was happening politically with the Second Dawn Bunker since he was supposed to be Azgeda's delegate even if the clan was presumed to die with the city of Polis. However, since Kara Cooper took the farm and we had a gladiator pit in the rotunda, the Delegates have not assembled too many times — it was more so Octavia making the decisions with maybe a suggestion or two, and that was on a good day. I wasn't fully aware of what was happening, though, because I refused to speak to Octavia ever since I essentially killed her nephew. There was no way I could muster up the courage to do so.
I haven't been a part of any decision-making since that day — my place with the Delegates was virtually nonexistent at this point. As I said, Ethan and I have just been keeping to ourselves, and I would like to keep it that way for as long as possible. I was perfectly content with Callan being my source of information given that Kane wouldn't share a thing with me because he 'couldn't' though a part of me thought he just didn't want to face the repercussions, and I couldn't blame him.
Callan sighed. "Eintheing brana. Ai laik lottau gon still yu don a place raun Champion. Mostly enes has abandoned their hodgeda." (Nothing new. I am lucky to still have a place next to the Champion. Mostly everyone else has abandoned their position.)
"Really?" I looked across at Callan with befuddlement, having heard things were changing, but I didn't know Delegates were quitting.
"Yup." Nodded Callan. "Ai stand beside Octeivia, watching as kru gon daun below." (I stand beside Octavia, watching as people fight below.)
"Ha foto laik gon dauns?" (How bad are the fights?) I asked tentatively.
Callan blew out a breath as if retelling what he saw would cause nightmares — the look on his face wasn't one of comfort, to put it lightly. "Kru na dula op whatever em takes kik thru." (People will do whatever it takes to survive.)
A silence filled the room once more with the scattered chatters of people around us, nonetheless wiser as to what we were saying. Callan and I would always talk about things like this in Trigedaslang since the people in the room didn't understand it. We both agreed that they didn't need to know about the hardships inside our political system when things were already hard enough.
"I think you should talk to her." Callan spoke up.
My voice was even quieter now that I heard Ethan shuffling on the bed. "Talk to who?"
"Octavia."
From where my head had been craning down to check on Ethan, it shot back to Callan when he suggested such a thing. Not in a million years would I take Callan's advice, let alone about something as severe as that. He knew that I was not keen on speaking to the Blake girl, so the fact that he would suggest such a thing had a scowl like no other take on my features when looking at him.
"I don't think so." I grumbled bitterly, bending down to tuck myself into the bed beside Ethan.
"Jo, I think that you need to." He jumped to speak, leaning forward in his bed and grasping the bed rail on the side.
Popping back up, my voice was accusatory and soft all the same. "And what makes you think I should?"
Callan almost rolled his eyes at my stubbornness and inability to understand why I needed to talk to Octavia, but the truth was, I knew why I needed to take to Octavia, but did I want to? No. How was I supposed to have a conversation with her when we both knew that I killed her only blood relative left?
"Just talk to her, please." He pleaded. "It'll do you some good to talk about it."
"I don't think—"
"Miss Jo?" A small voice broke through the increasingly tense air.
Callan and I met eyes for a moment, his blue ones telling me that this conversation was not over while mine were telling him it was over. I crouched down to be at eye level with Ethan to see the boy who had been asleep try to regain full consciousness by rubbing his eyes.
"Hey, little man." I said serenely, a complete contrast to how my voice sounded a few seconds ago, reaching forward to push some of Ethan's blond hair out of his face. "I told you, you don't have to call me miss; it just makes me feel old." He laughed shortly, and along with hearing the bits of chuckles, I heard Callan shift above us, so I knew he was watching the encounter. Resisting the urge to look up and tell him to piss off, I kept my delicate eyes on Ethan's dark ones. "What's up?"
"Can you read me a story?" He asked innocently. "Uncle Theo liked to read stories."
A sad smile found its way onto my face. "Of course." I moved to sift through the stories I kept in the nightstand drawer beside our bed. "Which one do you want to read—?"
"Can you read me a new story, please?" He requested, extending the word 'please' exceptionally long.
How could I say no to that? I couldn't, was the answer. "Yeah, of course."
I stood up, only to be met with the face of Callan and him mouthing, "Go talk to her."
Pessimistically, I nodded at Callan, knowing that I had to leave anyway to find a book for Ethan, but truthfully I had no idea what I was going to say to Octavia or where to find another book for Ethan. Squatting down to talk to Ethan once more, I spoke to him delicately, knowing that the boy was having attachment troubles — no one his age should have issues like that for the reasons he did.
"Ethan, I'm going to find another book for you, okay? But that means I gotta leave." The boy before me already looked like he was about to break into a million pieces, so I took a breath, determined to stay strong for him. "You know the man in the bed above us?" He nodded slowly. "You go to him if you have a problem, okay? And you can hit him once or twice if he gets annoying."
"I heard that."
Ethan giggled at that, the smile on his face bringing one to my own — he would be okay here with Callan. I was sure of this, and it seemed that Ethan would be fine staying behind so long as Callan was above him. So giving one last smiling look to Ethan, who still held his own grin, I stood up, glimpsing at Callan, who gave me a reassuring nod, and once again, I found myself trusting the former Azgeda warrior.
Once I exited the room, I decided that I would first try to find a book for Ethan on account of it would give me an explanation as to what I was doing roaming around at this hour and more time to think of what I was going to say to Octavia. It wasn't that I was scared to talk to her; I didn't think I was prepared for the hazardous conversation to occur.
After a while of searching and asking Miller where I could find more books only to receive the sarcastic answer, 'where the rest of the books are', I decided to shift objectives to the one I was less keen about. I was only using the excuse to find a book for Ethan first to stall the inevitable conversation I was bound to have. It would be a lie if I said I thought about returning to my room and claimed I had talked to Octavia, but deep down, I knew I had to speak to her sometime, and the present was as good a time as any. So with the promise to myself that I would find a book for Ethan after my exchange with the Blake, I headed toward the direction of the rotunda.
My heart was thumping against my rib cage the entirety of my walk there, and my palms were becoming more clammy as I inched closer to the office where Octavia surely was. When I entered the empty rotunda, my nerves almost had me turning on my heel and retreating. But I didn't. I pushed past all the nerves in my body and reached the door, taking one deep breath before I knocked three times.
A moment or two passed before the metal door was opened, and I was met with Indra, the same stoic look on her face. My eyes couldn't help but deviate behind the Grounder woman noticing how Octavia was standing behind the desk in the room, a few other guards stationed around her.
"I'd like to speak to Octavia." I said to Indra once my eyes met hers again. "Alone."
The older woman seemed skeptical to leave me in the presence of her Champion — it made sense in a way. I had barely looked at Octavia these past few months, so when I showed up out of the blue asking to speak with her, it was bound to raise some suspicion. For all Indra knew, I could have been plotting my attack against Octavia.
"Let her in." It was only when Octavia spoke that Indra stepped to the side after we held eye contact for a few moments longer. I took one step inside the room, leaving the metal door open for everyone to leave, but I should've known they would only depart after Octavia gave the word. "Leave us."
Indra was the last person to exit, shutting the door behind her, and once it closed, the room felt suffocating immediately. I didn't know how to start the conversation, so I stood there in awkward silence. Even through the time I spent wandering the halls of the Second Dawn Bunker, I never found the right thing to say to Octavia — I had no idea where to begin. There were a million things on the tip of my tongue, wanting to fly out of my mouth, but for some reason, it stayed shut, like it was impossible for me to open my mouth and form words.
From where Octavia stood, still stood up behind the desk; she watched me, waiting for me to say something, yet it wasn't the scrutinizing stare that I was expecting. She looked at me patiently, deferring from saying anything until I did, and it took a long time for me to do so. We stood there in the office for what felt like forever until I took two steps forwards, my hands clasped together anxiously.
"I'm sorry," was the first thing I murmured. There was so much shame, so much embarrassment in the words that they didn't sound natural, not to my ears at least, but now that I've started, it seemed as though my mouth wasn't going to stop. "I'm sorry for not talking to you, for abandoning my place with the Delegates. I have just been so nervous and weary of everything around me that I haven't really been thinking about what I was doing. And I've just been spending so much time with Ethan trying to make sure that he's okay because he's such a sweet kid and deserves the world. And... I'm... I — I'm sorry for what happened with Alex."
After everything I had just let out, I took deep breaths trying to regain my composure and oxygen supply because I was pretty sure that I had said all of that in one breath. When I first pictured myself saying all those things, I expected the weight that's been lying on my chest for so long to be lifted, I expected not to feel the pressure, but I still did. I was naive enough to think talking would take everything away when I knew that, in reality, it would take a lot more than rambling to get rid of what I was still feeling after these long months — if getting rid of this terrible, nauseous feeling was even possible.
My eyes had deviated from Octavia during my babbling, and now that they were off her, I didn't want to look up at her. I didn't want to see her face when it held shock or resentment, knowing that I caused it. The only thing I focused on was the floor below my feet, which became so interesting because I was too scared to look the former soon-to-be aunt in the eyes. And the silence. The silence was terrible because it allowed my mind to veer to the worst thoughts on how Octavia would react. Would she punch me in the face? Yell at me? Throw me in the fighting pits?
I didn't muster the courage to look up. I stood there shamefully, listening intently now that I heard movement where Octavia was when I last saw her. Squeezing my eyes shut and feeling my body tense, I prepared myself to feel some infliction of pain rattle across my body, but what I felt was something I didn't expect entirely.
Octavia's arms wrapped around my shoulders, tightening in a comforting manner, inducing my body to relax. Slowly, I opened my eyes as my head instinctively went to her shoulder. While she hugged me, I stood there shocked at the reaction I was receiving from the usually imprecise girl. It took a few moments, but eventually, I encased my arms around the younger girl, grasping my arms around her torso like she was the only one I could do this with.
Truthfully, since Praimfaya occurred, I haven't had this type of exchange with anyone besides Ethan, and although his hugs were great, they didn't hold the meaning this one did. Every other time someone tried to show this kind of affection towards me, I pushed them away out of fear of getting too close to someone and then leaving me. It's happened before, so why would I not expect it to happen again? People leave all the time.
"You don't have to be sorry." Octavia said woefully, her chin resting on my shoulder. "Someone who has been through what you have doesn't need to be sorry. If anything, I should be the one to apologize."
I sighed tiredly. "You don't have to. And you shouldn't have to. You've been through just as much as I have."
The two of us pulled away from each other, with Octavia keeping her hands on my shoulders, giving me a look that told me she didn't believe my statement. "Nothing can compare to what's happened to you." She shook her head. "Do you think you'll be okay?"
If I was being frank with myself, no, I don't think I'll ever be okay, but I wasn't going to tell Octavia that. The girl needed hope more than anyone in this bunker. Because if Octavia lost hope, we all lost hope, and then where would we be?
"I think so." I whispered. "But I needed to come and talk to you."
She grinned lightly, resting her arms by her side. "We relate a lot more to each other than anyone else. If we aren't here for each other, then who will be?"
Maybe my mind was still darkened, taking Octavia's words the wrong way, but the way she said it seemed like it was a cynical way of thinking. It could be because of her now leading a little less than twelve hundred people in an underground bunker with no way out, but I felt it could have been more than that. A thought occurred to me that this also could've been due to the fighting pits, which brought a lot more iniquity into the bunker. The fighting pits brought a war led by our leader, putting us, Wonkru, against each other, and that was why I was determined to keep Ethan and me as far away from possible from it. I held no resistance or grudge against Octavia for doing what was considered needed at the time of the birth of the fighting pits — I understood why she did what she did — but making them a continuous thing didn't seem healthy, especially since we were going to be stuck down here for at least five years.
No matter how much I wanted to converse about the fighting pits with Octavia, maybe make her see reason to stop the ongoing fights, my brain just wouldn't work with my mouth. I didn't want to pick a fight with Octavia right now, and as long as anyone I cared about wasn't involved in the fighting, I wouldn't disagree with her decision to keep this so-called peace. So I just gave her a grateful nod and left without uttering another word.
❣︎
It was a little over halfway through my walk back to my room that I saw Niylah wheeling around her cart full of items, and it reminded me that I had still not gotten a book for Ethan. After my encounter with Octavia, I completely forgot what I initially came out here to do. When passing her, instead of gracing each other with a nod like we normally do, I pulled the Grounder woman to the side, thinking that if anyone were bound to have a children's book, it'd be her. Over the time we had been down here, Niylah had always been scavenging and picking up loose items that went unused or without owners — most of the stuff came from those who died in the fighting pits. It was the perfect job for her, given its similarity to what she did on the ground with her trading post.
"Jo, what's wrong?" She asked worriedly.
I shook my head. "Nothing, nothing. I just — I've been walking around trying to find a new book for me to read with Ethan. You wouldn't happen to have anything, would you?"
The woman went back to her cart and began rummaging through the belongings. A few moments later, she sighed, turning back to me. "I'm sorry, it doesn't seem like I have anything here." She apologized.
"It's alright." I told her, trying to hide my disappointment that I would be coming back empty-handed to Ethan.
Just as I turned to head to the room, Niylah spoke up with her kind voice. "I may not have anything in my cart, but I think I know where you can find a book for the boy."
No later was Niylah leading me down the corridors of the Second Dawn Bunker until, eventually, we were walking down an unfamiliar hallway. I looked around the walls, trying to find something familiar — I had thought I had been to every inch of this place, but I guess I was wrong.
The Grounder woman led me all the way down the hallway until we came upon a door on the right, and when Niylah took hold of the doorknob, I reached out my hand to stop her. Peering back up at her, half joking, half serious, I remarked, "You're not taking me here to kill me, are you?"
In return, I got a suggestive smile before she opened the door and extended her arm to the right, assumably flicking a light switch because the room was illuminated with fluorescent lights. I followed Niylah inside the room and up the few stairs, and once I got to the top, my mouth hung open, surely catching flies if there even were any down here.
This was the most domestic I have ever seen anything since the Ark, and that was a stretch — it didn't even match the bunker Finn had found. Above, the ceilings were all angled, so once they met in the middle, it made a pyramid-like shape. Right in front of me was a pristine white couch with a matching chair, its back facing where I was standing, a coffee table in the middle of the furniture, and a side table next to the chair. The next most noticeable thing was the piano — I've never actually seen a piano before in person, but I'm almost certain that's what it was. The instrument was black with a matching cushioned bench to go with it, and atop the piano sat little nicknacks and various candles. And there was a mixture of other things across the room to make this place look as homey as it could be — things like a small stand filled with cups, another white chair to match the other furniture, a rug, a lamp, and a bookshelf which was where I found Niylah.
I would've just been amazed at all the books alone, but all of this... it was cool, and it made the bunker a little more humane than it was out to be. In sheer awe, I spun around the room slowly, soaking it all in as I asked, "How did you even find this place?"
"There are so many rules here. I had to find a place to escape." Niylah explained simply as she was scanning all the books on the shelf. "It's a safe space."
Stopping my spinning, I glanced over at her. "So you haven't told anyone else about this."
She nodded her head. "You're the first one. I'm calling it Niylah's Rec Room."
I didn't know if I was supposed to feel honored or frightened — keeping something like this from everyone was sure to have unforgivable consequences, but right now, I didn't care about the consequences.
"Yeah." I grinned. "I think you should keep this place a secret."
"You and me both." Niylah humored. "Ah ha!" She then exclaimed, pulling a book from the shelf and walking over to me with a triumphant smile decorating her features.
When she handed me the book, I read the title out loud. "The Cat and the Hat? By Dr. Seuss."
"The boy will love this book. Trust me." Niylah patted the book with excitement. "And you can even keep it."
I looked back up at Niylah, the smile still embellishing my face as I said with genuity, "Thank you."
"You're welcome." She responded. "If you ever want to come back, get a new story for you or Ethan, you're more than welcome."
Taking it with great appreciation, Niylah's offer would stay in the back of my mind — I was already planning on when I would take her up on it, and little did I know that this place would become like a second room to me.
After staying in the room for the next couple of minutes, still trying to take it all in, I decided that even if I didn't want to leave, I had to go check up on Ethan and make sure neither he nor Callan got in any trouble. I uttered many thanks to Niylah, showing my gratitude before I left her in her rec room, ensuring no one saw me leave the vacant hallway, and made my way back towards my room with the new book in hand. As I walked, I wiped the dust off the book, admiring it, having recognized the author but not this particular book — all I knew was that I was ecstatic to show it to Ethan.
When I got to the room, however, it was evident that I would not be reading the book to him tonight, but not even that could sadden me because of the sight I found when entering the room. Everyone was asleep, and all the lights were off, leaving the emergency lights to brighten the room, so it wasn't until I reached mine and Ethan's bed I saw the adorable view.
Callan and Ethan were lying on the bed with the latter curled up against the former, his head resting on the warrior's shoulder while Callan's arm was wrapped around the small boy, his head lulling to the side and a blanket pulled up on top of them. The two were sound asleep; the only sound being heard were Callan's short snores slipping through his lips. They looked so peaceful, as if what had happened to the two of them respectfully wasn't lying on top of them like a ton of bricks — no worries or concerns showed on their face. It was a refreshing sight, honestly.
A part of me wished Niylah had a camera or something in that room because I'd sure love to take a picture of this to use it as blackmail against Callan — that would surely get me a hell of a lot of information about what was going on around here.
As I smiled at them, I determined that I'd have to sleep in Callan's bed for the night, and I couldn't help but giggle to myself while climbing the ladder. I guess Callan was right when he said he had a soft spot for kids. Maybe being stuck down here wouldn't be so bad after all.