Cath snorted at that. <"I was apparently the only one who didn't try to strong arm the last security lad left one way or another,"> he pointed out wryly. <"He asked for my help. And handed over the passkey and the codes. And a bloody gun. If I'd turned him down, who knows who he'd have turned to."> He was not happy about this turn of events, but he had no choice either. Better him than someone who'd be foolish with them. But it only made him more deeply involved.
<"I haven't told anyone anything,"> he admitted. <"I came close with the FBI agent, but he never questioned anything. I don't think they want to know why I know what I know, just bloody grateful for the help."> Which wouldn't last, but fuck, what was the alternative? There wasn't one.
They couldn't strike out on their own, and he'd be fucked if he'd let other people be in charge of his and Mae's survival. No one had taken care of him since he walked away from his family all those years ago.
Which meant he was in the thick of things, with all of his knowledge and skills focused on survival. <"I need to contact the FBI agent and the nurse who's keeping all of us in one piece. Flynn asked me to have a look at the deck plans and find the most defensible area to hole up. That one isn't as odd, as he knows I'm a historian who specializes in battle tactics.">
He leaned his head back against the railing, that familiar weight settling over his heart and mind. He'd had a brief respite from being responsibility. It'd been a lovely fantasy, but his luck never ran that way.