Getting into the train and occupying the last coach was the easier part, the pathways clear thanks to Carson and his group. The compartments were divided in two seats facing each other with a foldable table between, just like the last time we were here.

I stood immobile in closer to the closed gate, the subtle vibration of the engine under my feet was soothing in a strange way. And as the silence settled our compartment nightmarish thoughts raised their ugly heads. My clothes felt itchy, nauseating and suffocating. I wanted to shed them off and stand under cold water, anything to get the dirt off me. Or maybe I just wanted to shed my skin and don something that is not tainted. I clenched my fists tightly, stamping crescent cuts in my palm as the memories tried to choke me again.

I am not in this train to stand in a corner and wallow in my own injuries, I am here to guide them, take them to their enemy so that they can tear him apart. I am on a mission.

I took a deep breath and turned around, everyone was scattered around in different seats, Either fiddling with their uniforms or just taking a moment to think about what had happened. Carson was taking off his shirt to shrug the uniform on.

"Put the uniform over your clothes," I said, my voice drew everyone's attention and I continued, "just in case we need to discard them."

"They both nodded with a grimace, putting on pants over your jeans is not necessarily comfortable.

"Oh thank god, I was already gonna do that," Yasmin muttered from her seat beside where I was standing. I turned to her as she stood up and unfolded her jacket. My eyes snapped to the tear on her blue shirt and the dark area around it, I grabbed her hand to stop her, "we need to cover that first, your cut can get infected," I said and she nodded in reply. I let go of her hand and started walking. As far as I know, they keep a first aid somewhere in the counter placed at the end of the coach near the sliding door. I moved towards it while glancing at everyone, even though Oreana had sent some new people but at least five of us were still injured from the fight earlier. I passed the seat Zane was sitting in, at the very last with a large glass window that gave the morning view. He was looking out, his hands lying on the table and eyes soaking the outside view.

I grabbed the first- aid from behind the counter and made my way back to Yasmin. I took the seat in front of her and removed the table from between us. I did her dressing, a cut on her shoulder and one on her ribcage. I moved to the next one after Yasmin whispered a shy thankyou.

"May I?" I took the seat in front of Beckett and nodded at him to show me his wounds.

"I have one here and one at the back of my leg," Beckett brought his arm forward and laid it to the table. I assessed the wound and started picking out supplies to clean and cover the three-inch cut.

"How come all the officers just went unconscious?" I asked him curiously, keeping my eyes on bandaging his wound.

"Because of this," he pushed his hand in his pocket and pulled out a small dart with a yellow liquid sloshing in the centre with a red feather at the end. I raised my eyes to him in a question, "tranquillizers?"

I took the dart from his hand when he nodded, studying the metal body with a sharp capped tip.

"Oreana had them made for-, for the grand plan I guess. We stole them from the medical supplies from the hospital." I raised an eyebrow at him, really? From medical supplies?

He studied my look and sighed, "they give us the bare minimum. The medical facilities. We used to steal medicines too, distribute it among the people who need them." he trailed off, breaking his sentence as he looked out of the window, at the trees passing by with the sun climbing up in the sky. Regret pinched at me, I never really knew what it is like to scrounge for the most basic needs.

I clutched the tranquillizers in my hand, the small dart fitting in my hand, "how many more do we have?"

"Five in total," I nodded at him.

"Can I keep this?" I whispered and when I got a yes in reply I stood up, gathering the bandages to move on to the next seat.

Ian was sitting alone, observing a small knife in his hand. I took a seat and placed the kit on the table. But he still didn't look up, watching the knife keenly. I cleared my throat to catch his attention, noticing that he was fully dressed in his uniform. He still didn't reply.

"I need to-" he cut me off even before I started speaking.

"You should have told us before," he placed the knife flat on the table and raised his head to meet my eyes.

I leaned forward, placing my hands on the table, "my grandma doesn't know, my closest friends don't and none of my relatives do either," So why do you think I would have told you? I bit my tongue and didn't utter the last sentence. But he did understand where I was going.

"You are right, who are we? And why should you even care about the colourless when you have three colours at your back," he snapped at me, his voice rising with every word.

I narrowed my eyes at him, "if I didn't care then I wouldn't have jeopardized my family to get you justice," I rose up from my seat slowly, leaning forward and pointing a finger at him, " I wouldn't be here, leading you all to Athesy putting everything on the line." I snapped at him, putting pressure on each word and solidifying a glare at his scowl. This is the last thing I expected from Ian, even after all that Skye and I have contributed for their sake?

I stood up from the seat, our conversation was heard by everyone, their curious eyes falling on me when I had stood up. I scanned for an empty seat and took place on the left row, pushing the kit on the table.

I took in a deep breath, letting the silence fall over as everyone went back to minding their own business. A sigh passed my lips, it would have been better if Skye was here.

The trees passing away brought a sense of calm and I felt my irritation decapitate with each passing minute. My eyes flitted over the empty row of seats. I stopped on Zane, my seat was facing his, maybe a few seats after but I could see him with his towering height.

I fiddled with the kit in my hand, he does need to get his wounds tended and I am just wasting time by sitting here. I took shy steps in his direction and took the empty seat. I engaged my eyes and hands with the first- aid. Refusing to meet his eyes that were looking at me.

"I need to dress your wounds," I muttered, pulling out the bottle of antiseptic. He didn't reply and I raised my eyes to look at him. The moment our eyes met he looked away, avoiding my gaze. I ignored the jab and instead focused on the cut that was visible on his arm.

I pulled out a cotton ball and soaked it in the disinfectant, I shifted forward in my seat and looked at him. Zane placed his arm on the table and I started cleaning the dried blood with the cotton. I did it as gently as I could, removing the dirt to reveal a three inch long cut. I applied the ointment and sealed it with a dressing.

He withdrew his hand silently and I pulled out another cotton ball, looking at him expectantly. Reculuntantly Zane lifted his shirt, revealing another wound at his waist, just below his ribcage.

I lifted the tabletop and folded it to the wall, shifting forward to get better access. I flitted my eyes to him but he was looking out. I softly touched the cotton to his wound and rubbed at the semi-dried blood that was smeared around because of his shirt. Each time I touched closer to the wound my eyes would snap to his face, trying to read when it hurts. He didn't wince, not even once and I packed his wound, a four inch slash, but luckily it was not bleeding profusely.

His shirt has a tear around his shoulder blade and I stood up from my seat stepping forward to examine it. He was leaning forward instead of resting back, I gently pulled his shirt away from his wound, exposing another deep cut.

"Can you hold this?" I asked at the piece of his shirt that I was stretching away to make the wound visible. He moved his hand and silently placed it over the folded fabric. I cleaned and applied ointment on the wound before reaching to the kit to pull out the dressing.

I placed the gauze on his wound and shifted to his right side to get a better angle. When I shifted I noticed something, Zane was not just leaning back to get comfortable, he was creating distance between his back and the cushioned seat. I furrowed my eyebrows, placing my hand on his arm and nudged him to lean forward. He remained rigid and my suspicion deepened.

"Let me have a look," I whispered to him soothingly, nudging him again to lean forward. I moved my eyes over his back covered in black shirt until it stopped at the tear on his lower back. My eyes widened as I took in the size of the torn fabric, but this was different, it wasn't cut in a slash but it was rather like a circular hole in the fabric. The little space limited my view and I nudged him again to move forward so that I could lift his shirt, but he didn't move.

"I need to see the wound Zane," I asked him quietly, hoping he would look at me.

"It is not necessary," Zane said in a straight voice. I swallowed the hurt and took a quiet breath.

"It can get infected, let me do the dressing and then I will leave you alone," I spoke quietly, barely above a whisper with a heavy voice.

After a moment of hesitation he turned, shifting in the seat so that his back was facing me. I grabbed the hem of his shirt between my fingers and Zane straightened up, tensing with each moment as I slowly lifted his shirt.

A surprised gasp left my lips and my eyes widened at my mistake. Zane's back was tanned, stretched into defined muscles but the long white scars stood at attention against the tanned skin. There were numerous lines, some merged with the skin colour with time and others more prominent, all overlapping each other in an agonizing nightmare.

'All those lashings and beatings, they were not even authorized?'

My hands shook the more I waited, eyes focused at his back exposed through his partially lifted shirt. I regained my composure when Zane leaned forward self consciously, I released a deep breath and I sealed the questions in my mouth. I remembered what I was going to do and lifted the shirt through the rest of the way.

A sudden shot up my spine as his wound came into view, blood was matted around it in a thick sheet, clearly originating to the torn skin at his mid-back.

"Zane?" I shuttered, my hands shaking as I recognised the type of wound, it wasn't a slash but rather a hole like-

"Wha- what happened?" I asked again, my hand fisting his shirt tightly as I asked him.

"An officer tried to shoot an arrow at me and it almost got to me but I grabbed it before it could go deeper," he replied quietly, bowing his head down. I nodded gingerly, my voice stuck in my throat. I reached to my kit and grabbed the cotton soaked in the disinfectant, touching it gingerly to his wound. I winced every time the cotton touched the raw skin, drawing my hand back subconsciously.

The more I cleaned the wound the more its size grew visible. I put the soiled cotton bud away and grabbed the ointment, pouring it on a cotton bud before applying. After placing the gauze and taping it to his back I stood up from my bent position, letting the shirt fall back.

I moved to my seat and grabbed the kit, packing it up so that I can get out of his hair faster.

"What about your wound?" Zane's quiet voice made me stop and I furrowed my eyebrows. He motioned his eyes to my arm and I pulled my hand back, he was talking about the cut on my arm that was covered by Skye's thin jacket.

"Ah- I think Yasmin will be able to help," I whispered softly and turned my back to him.

"Let me?" his soft question had me stopping again and I nodded before even thinking a second. He took the kit from my hands and rummaged through it while I pulled the jacket away, wincing as the fabric peeled off my wound where it had been glued. I hissed and pulled one sleeve down, fresh blood gathering around the four inch cut.

Zane worked with precise hands, cleaning the matted blood gently and quickly, eyes thoroughly focused on the task. A silence settled over us again, I opened my mouth to say something to him but closed it again. I don't know if he even wants to talk to me.

"I am sorry," his whisper was so silent I almost missed it. I blinked in confusion, not understanding the train of his thoughts nor what he was apologizing for.

"When they-" he breathed out, further lowering his eyes, "I thought they were going to give you the same treatment like-," he stopped again, clenching his fists tightly and continued in a strained voice, "I forgot that they could still do worse." I tensed, almost pulling my arm back at a reflex, but I held myself steady. Not letting myself scum to the memories that were intent on playing like a broken record.

My throat closed up with too many thoughts, Zane continued to wrap the bandage around my arm while I contemplated my reply.

"I should have never let that happen, I should have never let you take the blame. I- I, maybe I should have tried harder," he whispered out in a thick voice, letting his shoulders fall in a slump. And I still couldn't get the words out.

"I am sorry, it was all my fault" he breathed out, eyes focused at my hand to evade my eyes. Out of all the accusations I expected him to throw at me I never suspected that he would be thinking about something entirely different.

"And I am sorry too, for not telling you about my colours," I said after a while, voice small and eyes barely lifting to meet him.

Zane didn't reply, but this time a comfortable silence settled between us. I am not sure that he forgave me, but his hand encasing my smaller one is assurance enough.

"So what is the plan?" he lifted an eyebrow at me.

"Oh yes about that, I need to call Kayden and make some arrangements."