Two months ago he was desperate to leave, but everything had changed. The thought of going had nausea swirling in his stomach. “Yeah, I can stay in longer.”

Hamish smiled. “Good.” he turned to Morris. “Isn’t he doing good?”

“Yeah…” Morris whispered.

She was leaning against the wall and hadn’t looked towards the table once.

“Did that hurt to say?” Rory asked.

Morris pushed off from the wall, then left the room.

“Don’t worry about her.”

“I’m not worrying,” Rory said.

Hamish laughed, then offered his hand over the table for Rory to shake.

“You’ll be out of here really soon,” Hamish said.

Rory had never felt so many opposing emotions at once. His dad would’ve been proud he’d stopped a future catastrophe, but he was also betraying someone he liked, and when he left the prison, he left behind Ollie who’d come to rely on him.

The two-minute walk back to the wing didn’t help him sort through his mind. It was a mess, and for the first time in months, Rory sought out Captain. He knocked tentatively on the cell door, and Captain’s gruff voice asked him to come in.

“It’s me…”

Captain groaned and heaved himself up. Sweat dripped down his face, and he slumped forward, clutching his stomach.

“You look awful.”

“Thanks.”

“What’s wrong?”

Captain huffed. “Sickness, sweating, a headache so bad I’m tempted to knock my head into the wall…”

“Why?”

“The whiskey tap couldn’t keep up with demand.”

“Oh.”

Rory stepped inside and sat down next to Captain. “Don’t you dare tell me, I told you so.”

“I’m not gonna. Withdrawal looks like hell.”

“It is. I’ve seen many hells, but this one I keep going back to. I’m weak to this hell. Where’s Ollie?”

“Art class.”

“I’m awful at drawing, I can just about manage stick men. That’s the limit of my artistic talent.”

Rory’s lips twitched into a smile. “Same, but Ollie, he’s something else. Gifted.”

“Yeah?”

“He drew this butterfly for Teddy, and it looks amazing.”

Captain grinned. “I’ll have to ask if I can see it.”

Rory nodded. “Yeah, he’ll really like that.”

“How you coping?”

“As well as can be expected…”

Rory picked a boot off the floor, and Captain passed him a brush. “I may have been sick on that one.”

“Nice.” Rory snorted, then he started brushing the boot. “Can I ask you something?”

“You can ask, but I can’t promise I’ll answer.”

“When you were in the army, did you ever go into enemy lines, you know like … undercover?”

Captain frowned. “Where’s this come from?”

“I wondered that’s all. I’ve not had the chance to ask you what you did.”