"Captain?"

Flynn looked up as the door opened. Mark's face appeared around the corner, his mousey brown hair flopping over one eye and a strained, worried expression on his face. He was young, not that much older than Dylan and Danny. Flynn smiled at him.

"Everything okay?" he asked, gesturing to the chair on the opposite side of his desk. Mark hesitated, dithering in the doorway. "Shut the door," Flynn advised, "and come grab a seat."

Mark rubbed his hands together. They started to shake as he pulled them apart again. Flynn had to fight the urge to cross the room and set a hand on his shoulder. "Whatever it is," he tried instead, "you can trust me. If I can help you, I will. Come on." He gestured at the chair again.

Mark hesitated a final time, and then turned and pushed the door closed with a decisive click.

Flynn hopped up onto the edge of his desk, letting his feet hang above the floor. His heels bumped against wood as Mark settled himself in the chair. He looked on the brink of tears. His lower lip trembled. Flynn waited. When the boy finally glanced up at him, Flynn smiled.

Mark took a deep steadying breath.

"Captain Connor wants me to do something," he stammered, staring down at his knees, "and I...I don't want to, I don't think it's right."

Flynn's mouth formed a tight line.

"What has he asked you to do?" he asked, keeping his voice level, free of the lead weight forming in the pit of his stomach.

"He wants me to say I saw something I never did," Mark admittedly, his eyes growing wide, searching for understanding, for help. "He...he implied if I didn't...he'd get the king..." Mark shook his head. "I can't lose this job, Sir, I can't. My mother and my sister..."

"You're not going to lose your job, Mark," Flynn promised quietly. "You did right coming to me. I'll handle it. But you need to tell me what he asked you to say."

"It was..." Mark sighed again, his eyes flickering closed, then open again. "It was about Caldera, Sir."

---

He didn't bother to knock.

Flynn pushed open the door with the flat of his hand, barely noticing Denahi wrapping himself around his legs.

What's going on? Den asked him, what's wrong? Flynn? Flynn? Is everything okay?

He couldn't find an answer.

Captain glanced up from his paperwork with a condescending expression pinned firmly in place.

"Flynn," he said, in a dull drawl "to what do I owe the pleasure?"

Flynn stopped just short of the desk, leaned forwards and rested his hands on the flat wooden surface.

"I suspect you could take a pretty good guess," he said, lip curling.

Connor sighed and set down his pen.

"Look," he replied, folding his arms across his chest, "it's nothing personal, Flynn. We've all got a job to do, I've just got a bigger stomach than you."

"That is definitely true," Denahi put in brightly.

"Metaphorically," Connor growled.

Den's tail stopped mid-wag, then drooped. He glanced down sheepishly at his paws.

"Oh, yes, of course," he conceded, abashed, "carry on."

Connor sniffed, and looked back at Flynn.

"I get the jobs good old Captain Flynn is too squeamish to do. So, I suggest you head back to your apartments, and leave me to get on with it. That way, you can keep yourself snowy white, as always, and we can both get paid."

Flynn smiled.

"I'm not sure you know me as well as you think you do," he said slowly. "I'm not going to let you do this."

"Do what exactly?" Connor demanded.

"Frame an innocent woman, a good woman," Flynn shot back. "It's not happening. I'm ending it, right here, right now."

"Is that so?" Connor pushed back his chair. The feet scraped unpleasantly across the wooden floor. He rounded the desk and stood opposite Flynn, staring up into his face. "Look, Flynn," he began, smirking, "I get that you're personally invested here. It must be difficult for someone like you to think dispassionately about a girl you've rolled around in bed with, but, this is the real world. And sometimes, one nosey foreign bitch is a price worth paying."

Flynn punched Connor in the centre of his face. The sound echoed around the room, audible above the blood pounding in his ears. As the bastard staggered backwards, Flynn drew the dagger from his belt and advanced, pushing Connor back into the wall behind him. He pressed the point of his blade against Connor's Adam's apple.

"You really, really have the wrong idea about me, Connor," he smiled, applying a little pressure and giving the blade a twist. "So here's how this is going to go. You're going to tell me what the fuck's been going on around here, and then you're going to make yourself useful and make it go away. No one loses their job, no one gets demoted, we all just go back to our lives like nothing happened."

A trickle of blood dripped down Connor's neck, staining his shirt. His breathing was ragged, his eyes wide.

"I've been around this castle much longer than you have, you piece of shit," Flynn reminded him, "I know where your rooms are, I know your routes. Don't push me. You won't like the result."

He took a step back, far enough to let Connor relax, and then punched him again. Blood poured from his nose in a satisfying gush.

"You'll regret this," Connor swore.

Flynn shrugged. "Probably," he conceded, "but not as much as you will."

---

He stormed along the corridor, back towards his office, Denahi on his heels.

"Should I have bitten him?" Den asked, "did you want me to growl? I think I did this all wrong, Flynn. Are you cross with me?"

Flynn shook his head, rolling his shoulders to try and rid them of some of the tension he'd been carrying since he left his office.

"No Den," he managed, attempting a smile, "I'm not cross with you. But we need to find Cal. Do you think you could track her and Buddy?"

Flynn grabbed his bag, and paused, trying to think what else he'd need.

Bang

He froze and looked up.

"Now what?"

Bang! Bang! Bang! a corridor of doors crashed open.

With no further thought, Flynn strode across the room and pulled open his own door. He found himself face-to-face with Buddy. Following the horse's nose, his eyes settled on Cal's communicator. With a sinking feeling he looked back at Buddy, frowned and then picked up the com. Attaching it to his ear, he threw himself onto Buddy's back and patted his neck.

"Let's go," he said.