Baby blue walls. That seemed to be the primary colour of the entire facility Adam was seated in. He turned his head from side to side, twirling his thumbs and sighing. The same routine day in, day out. Everything was divided by a two hour period. with small breaks in between each session.

To be frank, the only thing that stopped it from boring him was the people in the facility with him. Ol’ Joe, who was old as the name suggested. He lived through a tour of Vietnam, moved to Germany not long after the war and developed PTSD. It got worse as his life went on.

Then there was Andrew, Schizophrenic. Kept to himself, and had a bitter hatred of another member of the community inside the baby blue walls. Typically sees a ball of talking light, and a large white dog that constantly stalked the halls. His rival, on the other hand, was a recovering Meth Addict. Mousey, scarred, looked like a scarecrow.

But there were some vixens in the building to be fair. A long haired brunette for example. With dashing blue eyes. She worked among the rehab centre. Helping patients in their day to day lives inside the facility. And the blonde who helped cook and serve the food. Which definitely went against the stereotype. Mainly because she was actually good looking.

Adam crossed his legs underneath his body, flexing his fingers and sighing. He needed to fiddle with something technological, a gizmo, a gadget or even a damn shoelace. It was driving him up the wall. Speaking of walls, he was starting to hate that baby blue.

“Adam Beckett to visitors room. Adam Beckett to visitors room.” A voice called across the tannoy. Drawing his attention. He raised a brow in surprise, he wasn’t expecting Clara to return anytime soon to be frank. He pulled himself up from the sofa and sorted his beard and hair out into something a little more respectable.

His footsteps went at a steady pace along the corridor, towards the waiting room. His white shirt flapping slightly as he goes. He didn’t like the white shirt, it was too big for his frame. Granted he’d lost the tone he had before, what with the lacking gym here. But he made do. Thank heavens for that.

And with that he pushed the door open, opening with “Hi Clara!”

Instead, he was greeted by a taller figure, but a familiar one, one that could only be defined by his dark hair and strange eyes, let alone the vast amount of memories.

“Close enough, I guess.” Jet smirked, and prayed Clara didn’t somehow hear that.

“Well if you had piercings and red hair. Then sure. I guess.” Adam responded, raising his brow and grinning. “But I suppose liking women counts.”

Jet laughed before embracing his old friend, patting him on the back on that all-too-familiar white fabric. He released him and stepped back, looking over him. He certainly didn’t remember Adam having a beard, or a lack of the muscle he once had. Biting memories of Jet taunting Adam about his weight made him almost flinch. He wished he hadn’t been such an ass to him, especially since he was so helpful to him after Emily...

“How is everything?” He decided to ask simply.

“Well, I certainly don’t trust myself not to go off to the bar the moment I get out. But maybe in time it’ll be fine. It’s an easy habit to break. And I’m getting help for all the god awful shit in my life. Played down of course.” Adam told him, nodding and dropping down on a seat in the room. He pursed his lips, thinking for a bit longer on the matter. “But I’m good, man. How about you?”

Jet took a seat next to him. “Nothing much, really. Things are quiet in America. Training mostly... Mason’s off with Kilana somewhere. Uhh... Yeah, I dunno, Clara’s been good with keeping shit together.” He said, keeping the topic on business.

“Good to hear. I do my best to keep up. With whatever method I can. But it’s not easy to do so…” He says, growing silent for a while, he wants to ask something. But god knows it’s not a good idea. “But how are you personally?”

Jet knew that was coming. “Fine, I guess. It gets... slowly easier. Slowly. Medication is working, but sometimes I can still hear her. It’s fading though.” He said, focusing on his hands in front of him as internally he tried to keep his voice level. “Thanks for helping me all that time ago. I needed that.”

“We all need help sometimes, Jet. Hell knows I rejected help until now. Look how well that worked for me. But no problem, man. I’m just glad you’re doing well.” He smiled, nodding at him. He brought one leg up over the other, running a hand through his beard for a spell. “Any new recruits?”

“A few. They’re luckily good at keeping in line, but of course, I’m now finding it rather fun when a slight asshat comes along. First day and boom, I got them in line. It’s like breaking in a bunch of horses.” He laughed lightly.

Adam chuckled, amused by the idea of Jet riding a horse. Maybe he’ll see if he can convince the nurse to give him a pencil later. Drawing that would be both entertaining and time filling. He sighs, putting a hand behind his head awkwardly. “I’m not really supposed to ask this. Hell I’m not really meant to focus on it. But did Sarah ever resurface?”

“No idea. I really don’t know, man. I guess it happens a lot, too much that even someone like her could slip through my watch.” He sighed, a bit sadly even. “Sometimes I remember everyone that’s gone away and it sucks. But we have to remember the people we have now.” He said, more-so to himself. He opened his lips to talk again, but quickly thought better of it.

“Aye. That I can agree with. God I can’t even remember how many of us are left to be frank. Horrible thought, but then I’ve been out of the game for months now. I did hear that Ashlyn is setting something up in Italy though, might go visit there when I get out.”

“Yeah, some shit going on. I wanted to go, but I have too many recruits right now. I could only visit today because we have off on Sunday.” Jet said quickly, looking around the stagnant room. God, why were these places so boring? “Uh... I hate to ask, and you don’t have to answer, but... what’s going on with Zanza?” He asked in a hushed voice, looking at him cautiously.

He stays silent for a while. Turning his head and sighing, he leans forwards, holding his head in both hands. And then looking up at Jet, blank faced. The next words, would likely set in motions that could never be halted. “She was a Templar.”

Jet exhaled. He had a feeling for awhile. It made the most sense, but of course, Zanza was his friend and he didn’t want to believe it. “She... she was the reason the Compound was destroyed.” He said, piecing this together. “Has Clara or you looked into her next moves?”

“I tried to find her. I had no idea what I would have done. Or what I would say. But I tried. And then I… Just stopped. I gave up on being a Mentor, and tried to just dump it all. Didn’t work for shit. Too many issues. Clara may have attempted to find out, though I’m not even sure if she knows.”

He took in a deep breath, and breathed out slowly, trying to work out how he got into that state in the first place. “I won’t make excuses for her. But I honestly think she spent the rest of her days with us living in constant guilt. And that doesn’t surprise me. I’m amazed I didn’t see it sooner, but I guess love clouds shit far too much.”

“Hm,” Jet grunted, not sure what to say or how he should say it. Jet was uncomfortable with any talk about Emily, so he guessed Adam would be the same way. “I’ve bolstered security within all Northeastern dens at least, so a breach that’s catastrophic is unlikely. Honestly, the Templars will probably see her as a threat with that much time spent on our side.” He said, leaving out the fact that they’d probably kill her. Didn’t want to upset him…

“That doesn’t surprise me. Whatever she’s doing, I hope it’s far away from all this crap.” He chuckles weakly, thinking on the matter for a moment longer. Trying to process it fully himself. He knew what’d happen if anyone found her truth be told, and the consequences would not be easy to deal with. Here’s hoping he’d at least see her one last time. “Do you ever wish you could alter the events of history, Jet?”

“Is that even a question?” Jet forced an airy chuckle at that one. “Every fucking day I wish I could go back. Why do you think I ask all the recruits if this life is really what they want? It’s because this life is a hard one. Picking a side, fighting the war... it changes people. Sometimes, if not all times, in the worst way. The lucky ones die early.” He spoke flatly, but solemnly.

“The good die young.” He nods, agreeing with what Jet is saying. He tilts his head back and looks up the ceiling, thinking on it. “Would you have still joined up? Given a second chance?”

Jet chewed the inside of his lip. “Honestly, probably. I didn’t have anything else. My brother was one of you, and so were my late parents. I thought, ‘if they could do it, I could too’. Here I am, higher rank than they ever made it. Part of me feels guilty for that, but honestly... yeah, I couldn’t imagine anything else. Besides just hanging with my old Harlem gang, but even that was stale to me. This is where I belong, which I’m sure is what a lot of recruits feel too, but sometimes I can still see a flicker of doubt in them, and it’s always the ones with families. Love is dangerous here. I think we both know that more than anyone.” He says in a low tone, one that had years of personal experience written all over it. Jet knew Adam could sense this and felt it himself. “What about you?”

“I didn’t have a choice. Mum got shot, and dad died. I was the last Assassin in my family. I was born into it. Had I hung up the hood there and then… Well everything would have gone to shit regardless. Leona died not long after, hunted by James. Typical. That was an event set in motion already. I had no control. But maybe I would have lived a typical life in my house, the tech shop might not have been an Assassin base, and I might not have become an alcoholic. I think really though, I would have been lonely.”

“Well, it is a Brotherhood after all. I used to think that was just a name or whatever, but now I know how truthful it is. Everyone becomes your brother. I think that’s why it sucks so much, because nobody wants to lose family.” Jet spoke, looking off at a distant wall with a glazed expression. “But we all move on. You will too, I know it.”

“Oh I am, it just took me far longer. I think the hot nurse helped. But regardless, I needed to come here. I just wished I had listened to you all far earlier. It might have done me some good. But even then, there are things no family can fix.” Adam said somberly, looking back down at Jet and drumming the side of the chair. “Anyway, Doc Holiday says I could be out end of this month if all goes well. I’ll need help from you guys to ensure I am nowhere near alcohol. I’ll tell you beforehand when I arrive, so you can ensure I don’t end up drinking mouthwash all day.”

“You can come to Manhattan, I have a very strict policy there. Mainly for myself, since I discovered a month back that vodka definitely does not help with making her voice go away.” Jet laughed it off slightly, but it pained him. “But yeah, you’re welcome there. The recruits would enjoy meeting you, too.”

“Just be aware, I am not ready to go back to being a mentor. Hell, not sure if I ever will. Plus Clara does an amazing job. No need to claim the title back. But I will certainly meet the new recruits. I hope my old room is still there, I left a lot of shit in it.”

“I know, if you said you were gonna start up again, I’d have slapped you right now,” Jet smirked. “And it is, I didn’t touch anything. God forbid I leave a single fingermark on a monitor.” He grinned, knowing all-too-well how obsessive Adam was about his tech.

“I’m watching you, Wazowski… Always watching.” Adam told him, imitating Roz from Monsters Inc. The same voice, laugh and stare. He brought up two fingers to his eyes and points to Jet. “Besides, I can likely fix most of the shit if any of it’s broken. I’ve always been good like that.”

Jet laughed at him, before nodding. “Of course, of course. What are your plans for today?”

“After this, I get an hour to stare at the nurses, watch the local Schizophrenic scream at the meth addict, and then I got into rehab. And then finally, FINALLY, I get dinner.” Adam tells him casually, chuckling at his misfortune. “God I can’t wait to get out of this shithole.”

“Hey man, us schizophrenics aren’t that bad,” Jet chuckled. “It’ll be okay. Are you allowed to email or call? It might pass time to chat with someone. I’m usually around.” He offered. Adam was there for Jet to talk to when he was in a similar situation, so now Jet had a chance to return the favor. He liked settling scores, no matter how small.

“Ha no. They’re not allowing me internet. I can call people though. But they charge me. So It’s not often I do call. But it’s just over two weeks left, really. So it’s not all bad.”

“Well, I’ll be waiting for you, definitely.” Jet said, getting up. “I’m glad I came.” He said, holding out a scarred hand to shake.

Adam flashed the Assassin a grin, and put his arms out. “What, no hug?”

Jet grinned widely and embraced him again. “Sorry for being a fuck up when I was younger. You really are a brother to me.” He said quietly, breaking apart from him after a few seconds.

“Don’t get mopey on me man. I’ll start to wonder if you’re touched in the head.” Adam laughs, shaking his head in amusement. “Shit happens, and you were a shitty teenager. It’s normal.”

“Pfff, what, you want me to call you an asshole and leave?” Jet raised an eyebrow. “Hah, well, I gotta go. I’ll hopefully see you in two weeks?”

“Hopefully.” He says, nodding his head in confirmation. “Can’t make any damn promises though. Just keep an ear out for my voice.”

“I will. Goodbye, and get better. We’re all counting on you.”

And with that, Jet departed as swiftly as he arrived.

And Adam made his way back to the main hall, already hearing Andrew shouting.