 "Jonas?" Flynn called as he spotted the young man walking past in his guard uniform. He heard him halt, pause, and then retreat a few paces to peer in through the door.
"Yes Sir?" Jonas said, looking anxious.
"Bring me the prisoner from cell nine, would you?" Flynn asked, throwing the boy the keys. Jonas caught them, raised an eyebrow and then hurried off when he received no explanation. Flynn sighed as he pushed back his chair and wandered around to the front of his desk. He perched on the edge and folded his arms. He then uncrossed them and started to line up his ink pens on the desk. When he'd done that he started to sort through his pile of papers, splitting the one pile into two. He wished Jonas would hurry back. The window was dirty. Flynn stood up and crossed the room again, pulling his handkerchief from his pocket he wiped the dust away. Better. He rocked back on his heels and looked around the room again. Everything looked perfect. Sighing again he crossed back to the desk and sat down in his chair, swinging it idly back and forth as he stared at the door. How long did it take to walk to the dungeons and back?
The knock on the door answered his question. Flynn jumped to his feet again and glanced at the clock at the wall. He took a steadying breath and called "come in!"
Jonas pushed Henry into the room ahead of him, his face serious and closed the door behind them.
"This the one you wanted Cap'n?" Flynn nodded, avoiding his brother's eye. "The cuffs won't be necesarry, Jonas. Thank you."
"Sir?"
"It's okay. Remove them and leave us to it, would you?"
"I can wait outside, Sir?" Flynn smiled and shook his head. He glanced at Henry but couldn't work out his expression. His stomach squirmed.
"We'll be fine." Jonas backed out through the door looking distinctly unhappy. Despite himself Flynn was forced to smother a laugh. The door jerked closed, the latch fell into place and the room lapsed into an uncomfortable silence.
"Well," Henry began tentatively, "you did promise, didn't you?" Flynn looked at him.
"I did," he agreed, "the question is, what on Shaman do I do with you now?" Silence again. Henry looked down at the floor and rubbed at his wrists. Flynn could see the bruises from the handcuffs peeking out beneath the cuffs of Henry's jacket. He looked at his own hands. He could imagine his father's face; that combination of understanding and sadness unique to Castiel. Flynn could hear the gentle coaxing voice, never pushing, always advising; he's your brother, Flynn.
"I need you to write something for me," he said, grabbing a pen and a blank sheet of paper he pushed them along the tabletop, withdrew his hands and waited. The look he got in response was quizzical.
"What do you want me to write?"
"A declaration of identity," Flynn responded, improvising, "for our records."
Flynn watched Henry pick up the pen. He had changed so much. He remembered him before he'd run away, when he'd still been wearing jeans and converse, his cheeks plump with puppy fat. He was a young man now, an inch or so taller than Flynn and slimmer too. His face was long and gaunt, his woollen trousers tucked into two-toned boots and the silver buttons of his coat glistening in the candlelight. He was practically a stranger...but his eyes were Castiel's eyes.
Henry passed the piece of parchment back to him. Flynn scanned the words, written in an elegant script he wouldn't have credited him with - but he recognised it, and he smiled.
"I don't think I'll ever understand you," he sighed, more seriously. "I don't understand why you ran away, why you kept running all this time."
"You wouldn't" Henry replied, "that's sort of what makes you you." Flynn frowned. He wasn't sure what that meant. "You're an easy person to disappoint, Flynn," Henry pressed, his hands dancing around wildly as he spoke. Flynn had forgotten he did that. "And a hard one to get forgiveness from."
"I'm not sure I can ever forgive you, Henry."
"I know." Flynn looked back down at the piece of paper in his hands.
Henry, son of Castiel. First mate of The Warbird.
"It was you," he said, placing the page firmly down on the desk, "you've been our informant, for months." Henry hesitated, some of the colour draining from his cheeks. Flynn watched him. Why though, he wondered? He couldn't work it out...unless...
"Half of the cells below us are full because of you, and yet until we brought you in with your Captain, not one of them claimed any loyalty to your ship."
"I didn't mean for you to get to her," Henry explained, standing a little straighter, "she is the first person who has ever believed in me."
"And Renn?" Henry winced.
"Renn loves me - it's not the same thing." Flynn didn't agree, but he didn't bother to argue, shrugging his shoulders instead.
"And yet it might be enough for me to give you your life back. The question is, what would you do with it?"
---
Flynn held his breath as he watched the king look between the two pieces of paper. Arthur was frowning slightly and when he looked up Flynn flicked his eyes respectfully towards the floor.
"I know you might think I'm making this up for my brother's sake, Your Grace," he ventured, looking up again. The king shook his head, and Flynn found it easier to breathe.
"They're a match. I would have to hear his story for myself, of course, BUT, if it's true, and in light of the service your family has given to Shaman, I would be prepared to consider a conditional pardon."
"Conditional, Your Grace?" Flynn asked. The king nodded.
"He would work for me, in whatever capacity he prefers, but I would require him to sign an indenture to that effect. If he strays outside the law again, Flynn, even if it is just stealing a loaf of bread, I will have him back where he is now faster than he can blink." Flynn nodded. It seemed fair. He should be able to talk Henry into it, for Renn if for nothing else.
"I will bring him to you at the next petition session?" he suggested hopefully. The king nodded. Flynn thanked him, and when he was given leave to go he made his way towards the double doors at the end of the hall.
"Flynn." He turned back around to face the king. "I'm happy for you, and your family. It must be a great relief for your sister." Flynn smiled.
"It is...thank you, Your Grace."
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