Hidden and Silent (SpyxFamily)

Ch. 23: Part Seven

 "Welcome back, Ostania." Sally greeted with a muted smile, hair perfectly resettled, clothes immaculate, and her disposition perfectly composed as if she hadn't just hidden under a desk while Demetrius had been breaking bones and people were screaming bloody murder just moments before. "We apologize for the disruption, there were some technical difficulties, but we're nothing if not persistent." The small barb at Donovan didn't go unnoticed by the room's occupants as she turned to Demetrius. "We're here again with Demetrius, and we were talking about your father, I believe." She spoke easily with practiced grace, but Demetrius was sure he wasn't imagining the spiteful persistence behind her words. Her tone was more subdued than earlier as well. Less cheery and more determined in a quiet, calculating sort of way.

He was glad she was letting him decide how this conversation went, instead of diving right into the deep end and divulging to everyone what had just occurred.

He nodded.

"We hear a lot about politics and world-views from Mr. Desmond, but really, there's so much we don't know about him." Oh, Sally was definitely picking a fight with Donovan while simultaneously—and seemingly innocently—asking Demetrius to spill everything. Resting her elbows on her desk and lacing her fingers into a bridge, she rested her chin on them. "So, Demetrius, are there any skeletons hidden in your father's closet?"

"No. Most of them are in the ground." Demetrius answered evenly.

Sally's chin jerked up from sitting on her fingers, to hovering just over them, and continued to stare at him. "I'm sorry. . .what?"

"Hm?"

"They're in the ground?"

"Yes?"

"You mean. . .family members that have passed?" Her tone conveyed she warily hoped it to be true.

"Oh. Them too, I guess."

"Uhh. . ." Sally adopted a strange face, something between confusion, skepticism, curiosity, and mildly disturbed that Demetrius wouldn't have been able to decipher if he couldn't read her mind. "What do you mean by that?"

"You asked about my father's skeletons."

"Yes, but—" Sally sent a quick glance to someone. "I meant figuratively."

"Right." Demetrius decided to keep his answer vague.

"So. . .you were speaking figuratively as well?"

"No."

". . .I see. . ." Sally said, though she very much did not see and she didn't like the bad feeling she was getting. "Is that what you came to speak about?"

Demetrius shook his head, swallowing down the nausea and the waver that would try to bleed into his voice. "No. . .um . . ." Now that he was here, he had no idea how to start! How did he do this?! He wove his fingers tightly together, one elbow set on the arm of the chair. He refused to show he was nervous on camera. "Or. . . well, sort of, I guess. My father has a lot of secrets and that's one of em', but I probably don't know the half of it. The ones I do know, he doesn't like me sharing." He gave a meaningful glance somewhere off-set where he last saw the agents being dragged off to.

Sally paused, noticing his line of sight. "Oh. . ." She breathed, eyebrows raising and keeping most of the disturbance off her face. She seemed conflicted on how to continue, internally debating if she should ask about the "skeletons" again. "And. . .what doesn't he want you to share?"

"Um. . ." Demetrius willed his tongue to work his lungs to breathe, and willed the tremble to stay out of his tone. He shouldn't be saying this. This was a stupid idea! Don't say it, don't say it, don't say it— "He's involved with illegal institutions that conduct. . .um. . .human experimentation. . ." His voice went softer than he'd like, but at least it didn't waver.

Her jaw went slack and Demetrius was suddenly flooded with disbelief and bewildered horror from most, if not all, in the room. It smothered him in it's disturbed skepticism.

He tried not shift nervously in his seat.

Sally's wide eyes slid to the side again, towards the agents, and back to Demetrius. A healthy cynicism still lingered, the part of her that wanted to believe that it was too outrageous to be true, but a bigger part of her guessed that it really wasn't. "And what makes you say that?" Sally's voice had gone quieter, though it remained strong. "Do you have proof of this? Have you. . .seen this?" She asked, waiting and hoping with little belief that the accusation would be disproved.

That question was the very reason that Demetrius was here, but he found himself pausing. Stalling. An innate part of him demanded he keep his mouth shut before he could speak and ruin everything. Fear and anxiety reminded him of the rules that kept him safe. This was the worst time to doubt himself, but there was a reason for all those rules, he should listen to them. There was a reason for all the lies and secrets and unending lectures that taught him to keep those rules. They protected him. They kept him safe. He shouldn't break them.

Donovan had given him a shield to hide behind. He had seamlessly woven Demetrius into society with threads of lies and bolts upon bolts of fabrics so he would blend in. So Anya would blend in. As long as they remained hidden and silent, as long as no one knew anything, they would be safe.

But they weren't and he had to remind himself it was why he was here. That might've been the case if they didn't have his father to contend with. If everyone who already knew of them, who wanted to harm them, who could exploit them, were dead. For as much as Donovan ingrained in him the importance of anonymity and the disaster that would follow if Demetrius was found out, the greatest risk came from the very people who created him.

Staying hidden and silent was a double-edged blade, it seemed.

And, really, what could anyone actually do—the police, the SSS, the public—that could possibly be worse than anything he's already experienced? He wouldn't give away his deepest of secrets, not directly. The SSS would be suspicious and W.I.S.E. would dig their claws into this as far as they could. After this, one misstep could have massive consequences, but—

With a breath that did nothing to steady him, he held Sally's gaze in his own, afraid he'd lose his nerve if he didn't stare his fears in the face.

"Yeah. . ."

'Safety is overrated'. He tried to calm himself, though by his still shaking hands and his queasy stomach, it didn't work.

"I saw it."