Rinse [manxman]

Chapter Twelve

The first few days weren't easy. Grim more or less bled into the background, far more obsessed with a little black dog running around the house than with me. Wyatt, on the other hand, was constantly on top of me. He kept my bandages changed out, ensured I ate properly, and stayed hydrated. Wyatt worried himself with my wellbeing more than I ever had, but on some level, I was thankful for it.

Even when he insisted that he help me into the shower, as I was still too weak to do it myself, I found myself having a little more gratitude than embarrassment. All my scars were on display for Wyatt to see, but he never said a word about them. In fact, he didn't say anything about what happened to me. He'd been honest when he'd said that it was all up to me. He never pressed for information, and he danced around anything that could make it seem as if he wanted to know more.

Two weeks passed and I felt nothing when I stripped in front of him. He was used to the scars, and he didn't care. Wyatt had his own scars, which he'd shown me during a fit I had over mine. An unspoken experience was the only thing we had in common aside from Miles Lebeaux. Despite our lack of similarities, though, we fit together well. Wyatt had quickly ascended the friendship ladder and earned himself a place directly below Elizabeth, whom of which was only surpassed by Dakota.

Dakota.

Each day away from him hurt more and more. Each day away from the kids began to feel like a new form of torture.

It was the end of my second week with Wyatt and Grim when an idea came to me. We were all at breakfast—Grim had brought the dog along with him—eating in near silence. The only sound was Grim muttering to the dog as he fed it scraps from his plate.

I ate slowly, exhaustion still weighing heavily on my eyes. As I chewed, my gaze wandered around the simple kitchen. No pictures or knickknacks took up any space. In fact, the only items around were for practical use, such as plates and bananas.

Grim wore an oversized black sweatshirt with matching sweatpants. His hair was a mess, and dark circles wound around his blue eyes. Wyatt, on the other hand, had already dressed for the day and looked ready to visit one of his patients. A yellow button-up contrasted with the metallic black watch on his wrist. The face of it was translucent glass. By the lack of buttons on the sides to reset it, I assumed the watch had some sort of computer in it.

Another sign that it was far more than a watch was the small engraving of two letters: ML. Only one person had the skills to craft a computerized watch with the initials ML and knew Wyatt well enough to give him a present such as that: Miles Lebeaux.

If Lebeaux had made the watch and given it to Wyatt, there must've been more to it than telling time. After all, Wyatt had helped Lebeaux create Varik. He'd had a hand in several of Lebeaux's experiments, and Lebeaux liked him; therefore, he would want to protect him. Getting my hands on the watch was vital to me making contact with Lebeaux.

And if I was wrong, then I would have to start looking at other ways to contact someone from Unit 03. Asking Wyatt wasn't out of the question, but from what I could tell, he wasn't overly fond of the idea of contacting Lebeaux again. I wasn't about to ask for details on that either, especially with how considerate he was of my secrets.

Grim didn't know any specifics on my connection to Unit 03. In fact, he hardly seemed to know anything about the Xeniden military. He wouldn't be able to help me anymore than his dog would.

While I had seen a few pieces of technology around the house, I had no way of contacting any of the Unit 03 members. The only way I knew to contact them was through Xeniden's military server, and I wasn't about to attempt that. Unit 03 had gone into hiding. They were running from Xeniden and regrouping elsewhere to strategize in safety. Contacting them where Goss could see would expose them, along with myself, and make our job more difficult.