Honestly Kendall should have just gone back to his place, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave. He’d practically had been living with Thomas since he moved in his new place. He couldn’t leave with the possibility that Thomas would come back to a empty house, that wasn’t that way when he left. If he abandoned the house, if felt like he would be abandoning his friend.

Except now Rose somehow managed to get back into the country, which he was grateful for, he really was, but it was strange letting her into Thomas’ home without him there to show it off himself. He was so proud of his new house. Would have been happy to have Rose over had she been in the country.

She had been back barely a day before Kendall had snuck out back to go sit on the dock by the lake. He should be helping Thomas build a practice pitch right now, not fighting the urge to snap at Rose for things that weren’t entirely her fault. It was great that she was back, he would be going crazy sitting here alone, but he couldn’t help but wonder if he would be going a little less crazy with her constant questions. Of course she cared now, where was she when Thomas moved, or when Kendall was traded, which he still hadn’t told her about. Clean disappeared for months and now suddenly back, he wasn’t use to her being constantly around anymore.

He looked up hearing footsteps behind him. It didn’t take her very long to track him down. “Hey,” he said quietly turning his gaze back to the water, “Just needed some fresh air.”

Their plan to escape had been in motion since they'd been shoved into the muggle vehicle that drove them away from the scene. A big white van with no windows had stopped them from figuring out their initial surroundings, but that hadn't been a deterrent for two highly on guard, intelligent victims. Thomas had silently counted the stops they'd made, making a map of the turns in his head while Saoirse had determined the length of the car ride. They took every chance to manage a look at their surroundings and had gathered that they were near a church, from the smell of the place there was a bakery near by, and lots of muggle traffic.

These criminals had really decided on the wrong set of people to take hostage.

It had quickly been determined that they were muggles, squibs. They knew about Thomas and Saoirse's fame but they tied their hands up with muggle binds and locked their door with a key that rested on a ring with at least twenty different keys. They were being fed, but the wound from the knife on Thomas' side had been crudely sewn up with, once again, muggle tools. It had quickly become evident that the gash was infected, and on this third full day of capture, Thomas was feeling like death.

But tonight they were going to escape, so he had to deal with the pain for at least another fifteen minutes.

He shut his eyes, taking in deep breaths as the jingle of the keys came closer down the corridor from outside. He needed to look as if he was on the brink of death for this to work fully to their advantage, and it wasn't a hard thing to accomplish. Thomas laid slumped in the far corner of the room, knowing that Saoirse could handle her own while he drew the attention of their captor. They had devised enough of a plot to escape and it was all determined by if this bloke with the keys was stupid enough to turn his back to Saoirse. The door opened and a stream of light draped over his form.

"Oy, what the hell's wrong with him?"