The air was suddenly filled with a hum that vibrated through them, making Thomas and Bren's teeth feel as if they were rattling loose. It was more feeling than sound, but was enough for them to press their palms against their ears, trying to block the pressured trembling out.

The invasion of sensation ceased abruptly enough to wrench the held breath from them.

Lowering their hands, both noticed the change around them. Something was now absent. Something they hadn't realise existed prior to that moment. Its departure left a chill that drifted across them in slow waves.

"Move it, now!" The voice was insistent and one that felt not to be accustomed to being ignored. It was also directionless, arriving at their ears from an indeterminable origin.

The children stared at each other, the same questioning expression worn on their faces. Though it was slightly distorted, the voice had to be Womack's. Did they heed it or respond with demands of their own?

"Don't!"

The drone, David's eyes, ears and mouthpiece, was back. Any thoughts of questioning what they assumed to be Womack were gone. They ran forward, wincing at the potential for the wall to still be there, but sure the change they sensed meant it no longer blocked their way.

It didn't, though after only a few steps had been taken, the sudden deadening of the air showed it had returned. This time, Thomas and Bren were within its confines. And they felt confined.

"What...?"

It was Bren who had begun the question asking what they should do next. It was Bren who didn't finish her sentence. It was Bren and Thomas who, simultaneously, slipped slowly to the floor, eyes closed...

"Thomas! Thomas, wake up!"

Thomas opened his eyes, blinking at the bright lights glowing from under the surfaces of the walls. Bren was standing over him, looking relieved when she saw he was back with her. He pushed himself up to sitting and realised he was on a low bed in a room reminiscent of the one he'd stayed in before being cast out on The Spot. He stood, shuddering at the memory.

"Where are we?" he asked.

Bren shook her head.

"I don't know. I only woke up a few seconds ago myself. He must have brought us in from outside."

"Where is he? Has he been in? Have you seen him?"

Thomas was looking around. The room was very similar to the previous one, but there was one major thing missing. This room had no door. He asked Bren if she'd noticed it too. She hadn't.

"How did he get us in here, then?" she asked. "Unless he's a Wigwam?"

She paused, her brow furrowing.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. It's fine. We need to get out of here."

"Tell me," Thomas insisted. "And what were you trying to say outside?"

"It doesn't matter. Not now."

We don't have time for this. I should tell him, but I can't. But I should.

"It clearly does, looking at your face. Just tell me. Is it serious?"

"No, of course not."

Yes.

"I don't believe you."

Thomas gripped Bren's hand and leaned forward.

"Just tell me."

"I..." she was torn, but knew she was giving in. She had no choice. "It's... He's..."

"He's here."

The children spun around to stare at the tall man who had suddenly appeared in the corner of the room.

"Hello, Thomas," the man said.

Thomas couldn't speak at first. His mouth was dry and his words didn't want to form. He did, though, manage one.

"Dad?"

Iain nodded and held out his arms to invite his son for a hug. Thomas, instead, stepped back.

"What are you doing here?" the boy asked, suspicion clouding both his face and his voice. He glanced at Bren and her own expression told him this was exactly what she was trying to tell him.

She knew!

"Let's get into my office and I'll tell you," Iain said, lowering his arms, but offering a hand out for Thomas to take.

Still, Thomas refused, not even showing he'd seen the gesture. He wanted to know what was going on right then, not when his father, or his friend, had figured out what they wanted to tell him. He shook his head.

"Now."

"The Spotters will be here soon," Bren said, moving towards him and holding his hand. He pulled away.

"Let them. I'm not going on until you two tell me what the fuck is happening."

"Don't you use that sort of language in front of your..."

"Father? Is that what you're going to say? What sort of father would give his son up to die?"

"I..."

"I don't care. We're not here to see you. We don't want you. I don't want you. We're here to see Womack, the guy who caused all this. He's the one who made me so... so worthless. And made her," he indicated Bren, "so special."

Bren's eyes widened at both comments and she opened her mouth to speak, but Thomas' stare silenced her. She shrugged an apology, not knowing what else to do. He shot her a blazing look, but it was more for effect and bravado than for actual anger at her. He wasn't happy she'd kept this information from him, however she'd come across it, but Bren was still his friend, and she had rescued him. She'd also brought them both here, so, though she'd not said anything given ample opportunity, she hadn't exactly hidden it entirely.

But his father was another story.

"You need to follow me," Iain said sternly. "I'm still your dad."

"Why?"

"Why what? Why should you follow me, or why am I your dad?"

"BOTH!"

"Well... 'cos you're damned lucky!"

Thomas sputtered and moved forwards, his fists clenched. Bren held him back, but he shook her loose. He stood in front of his father, chest heaving and face red with rage.

"LUCKY?"

"Yes." Iain said calmly, ignoring his son's agitation. "If it wasn't for me, you'd have been Spotted two years ago. If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't be inside here."

"If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't be running for my life! If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't even need to be in here!"

Iain didn't have an answer for that. His son was right, and he knew, no matter what he said, Thomas wouldn't see his father's point of view.

"Please, just follow me. Those Spotters will be up here soon. We need to move."

"Fine," Thomas spat. "We'll go, but not to follow you. I'm not following you anywhere ever again."

"Whatever works," Iain said, shrugging. "Just as long as I get you to safety."

"Then you can take us to Womack, and I never have to see you again."

"I don't know if I can do that," Iain said hesitantly.

"Why not?" Bren asked, stepping in to prevent any more outbursts from Thomas. She understood his anger, and wasn't a fan of his father herself, but it wouldn't solve anything. They didn't have time to fight. Just because they couldn't get inside the Blocker's confines didn't mean David would have the same level of success. He was resourceful and had support. They were children and they had themselves.

"Because..." Iain faltered, looking at his hands as if they would give him guidance.

"Because what?" Thomas asked. Venom still tipped each word and he felt a small thrill of personal victory when he saw his father wince slightly.

Iain looked up and pointed to the door, which led onto a brightly lit corridor.

"Come with me, please, then I'll tell you everything."

"No," said Thomas. "Now."

Resigned, Iain gave in. It didn't really matter where they were, not for this.

"Because I'm Womack."