Chapter 12

TWELVE

T he fact that the gangway didn't extend without Elias triggering it himself told him that he was the first to return to the Chaos. The corridors echoed with emptiness and the ship felt lifeless—not abandoned, like it had when he and Fixer had bought it, but lacking. The atmosphere would change entirely once the crew returned, but until then, it was like the Chaos was sleeping.

Elias made his way to the bridge and checked comms and systems. Everything was as it should be. He contacted Qek and Nessa for an update. They reported nothing unusual or all that helpful. His finger hovered over Fixer's contact, but he didn't press it. Contacting him might put his friend in a bad spot since, of all his crew, Fix was the most likely to find trouble. Particularly with Zander, Zed, Loop, whatever-the-hell his name was at his side.

Leaning back in his chair, Elias called up the files he'd saved on his wallet, all the info he could find on Zander Anatolius. He'd found plenty of tidbits dated from before the war had started, mostly information on the other, more public members of the Anatolius family with some brief mentions of the youngest son serving in the AEF. He'd found a reference to a few commendations in the early years of the war, a couple of promotions, and then nothing. For the past five years, it was like Zander Anatolius had ceased to exist. Until that holo had surfaced a few months back.

With a flick of a button, Elias called up the recording he'd scrounged up from somewhere on the net. The cacophony of a battlefield filled the bridge, the sound of explosions and gunfire interspersed with sobbing and prayers. The person behind the camera swept her device across the interior of the transport, noting in a low, shaky voice that the vehicle had been disabled by enemy fire and at last check, the stin were advancing. It was clear that she expected this to be a recording found after her death as she explained the circumstances behind their late evacuation and gave the names of the people aboard the transport, reporting that three evacuees had already been killed by the same fire that had disabled the vehicle. Ten civilians huddled behind the seats.

Then the camera spun in a vertigo-inducing blur to the front of the transport where a large man dressed in dark combat gear stood. Black streaks of paint broke up the lines of his face and his hair was shorter, but it was unmistakably Zander Anatolius. He barked out questions that the woman with the camera answered, her voice wavering, then he seemed to listen to his earpiece for a moment. He glared out the window, his jaw hard and square, and after a moment tugged the comm off his ear.

"Everyone out!" Anatolius shouted. "Move! To the skipper. Move, move!"

The civilians staggered to their feet and raced across the road to the soldiers' short-range troop transport vehicle. Without the melody of desperate whimpers and gasps for breaths, punctuated by explosions, Elias might have found the footage of people trying to squeeze into the skipper funny. Like clowns in an ancient clown car.

But it wasn't funny. Zander Anatolius had, without a doubt, saved those people, and it seemed as though he'd disobeyed orders to do so. The man was a hero.

So why had he sounded so flat at the news that his brother was racing to Chloris to see him? Not only that, why was his brother compelled to rush? By his own words, it had been a while since Zander had seen his family—which made no sense. Why wouldn't he have sought them out after the war, when his time as a covert operator was done?

It just didn't add up. Everything Elias had found in Zander's past indicated no anger or recrimination from his family for his choice of career; the Anatolius clan seemed like a close, loving entity, despite their riches and power. Which, yeah, was odd in itself, but congrats to them.

Was it the aftereffects of the war keeping Zander from his family, or something else? War fucked people up, so maybe that was all that was in play here. Zander shared the same sort of darkness that dwelled in Fix's gaze—except it wasn't well camouflaged, and that made Elias nervous.

Be honest. It scares you shitless.

Yeah. He wouldn't soon forget the image of Zander Anatolius standing among a pile of bodies, unmoving, or the dead emptiness in his eyes when he'd looked up.

Now Fixer was involved with him. Enough to be torn up about it. Enough to be jealous.

Elias was up and out of his chair, his feet carrying him down the corridor to the guest quarters, before he'd made the conscious decision to move. Justification was easy. As captain, he had the responsibility—the duty—to determine if Zander was a threat to his crew. He had the right to know what the ex-soldier was hiding.

By the time they returned to the ship, light and noise had begun spearing themselves into Zed's brain. His jaw tightened against the discomfort, his teeth grinding together, and he forced himself to relax—a process he'd gone through more than once as they'd trudged back to dock Alpha Two. It'd been damned tempting to contact Hana and make use of the apartment, with its no-doubt soft bed and full shower, but Zed hadn't mentioned the possibility to Flick. They needed to get back to the Chaos and check in, and the importance of any intel the rest of the crew had gathered trumped the potential comfort—and quiet darkness—of the Anatolius accommodations.

He could hold it together long enough for the debrief. If the pain worsened, he had his stash tucked away in his quarters; even his worst migraines couldn't last against those pills. They'd put him out of commission for a good few hours, so he'd avoid taking them if he could. Still, it was a comfort knowing they were there. A security blanket.

"You okay?" Flick kept his voice low, but it was still too loud.

Zed unclenched his jaw. "Peachy."

The hand clasping Zed's shoulder said that Flick knew "peachy" meant anything but. He jogged ahead of Zed, up the gangway.

"Honey, I'm home," he called softly.

Despite the way the words bounced around between his temples, Zed couldn't help but smile. It was just such a Flick sort of thing to do that he wanted to pull him into a hug. That thought led to another—holding Flick in the quiet dark, letting the rhythm of his breaths soothe the pounding in his head. He'd never had the chance to indulge in that, but God, the thought of it was so good.

"Fixer to the bridge. Bring Anatolius," Elias ordered over the comm.

Flick cast a glance over his shoulder at Zed. "You good?"

"I'm not going to lose my cookies all over your captain's lap."

"Really? Because you kind of look like you might, and I might pay to see his face if you did."

Zed really didn't need that imagery. "Let's make it quick, all right?"

"Look, why don't you head to your cabin, and I'll?—"

"Felix, I'm okay."

Flick watched him for a long moment. "You're such a bullshitter," he grumbled finally before angling through the ship to the bridge.

The rest of the crew was seated in their usual spots. Zed settled against the wall and focused on ignoring the pain in his head. The path to the Zone glowed with invitation, but he resisted despite knowing that it would push the pain aside completely. Zoning again would make the migraine that much worse when he came out of it.

It took him a minute to note that Elias and Nessa were watching him. The captain's face was carefully blank, his dark eyes intent with something Zed couldn't read. Nessa simply looked concerned. She shifted to the edge of her seat, as if she expected him to keel over. Elias laid a hand on her arm and she moved back, the movement almost imperceptible. A warning bell sounded sluggishly in Zed's mind.

"So," Flick said, leaning back in his chair like he had no worries, "we had some fun with Agrius."

Elias's gaze snapped to his friend. "What? How did you know?—"

"Pretty sure it was just chance. We were looking around and stumbled onto something we shouldn't have."

"Crap. One of my contacts told me they were here, and not just for the bounty. They're setting up in this sector."

"Apparently."

"And they've got a new enforcer."

Zed's spine stiffened. Shit. Emma? He shared a tense glance with Flick as they both processed that possibility. Why would Emma work with Agrius? Hell, why not. If they could provide support and meds, it'd be a coup for her—particularly because they'd view the murder of Chloris Station guards as a mark in the pro column. That would explain their presence this far outside their usual turf.

Elias's gaze swept over his engineer, lingered on the bruise purpling his jaw. "Any survivors?"

"No," Zed grunted.

"Fuck." Elias rubbed a hand against his cheek, glancing from Zed to Flick. "If they put two and two together…"

"No active cameras in that area," Flick said. "It's a surveillance blind spot. But…" His gaze drifted back to Zed.

"Yeah, I know. Multiple casualties in hand-to-hand is not exactly a calling card, but close enough." Zed sighed. There was a chance, a small one, the cartel would connect the deaths on Chloris with those on Dardanos. "It was them or us. We unintentionally trespassed and they weren't inclined to let us go with a warning."

"And you couldn't just knock them out?" Elias demanded.

"Right, because leaving them behind to identify us and look for payback is a better idea." Zed rubbed his temple. "The mission dictated?—"

"The mission dictated recon, not murder."

"At that moment, no, the fucking mission dictated I get Flick out in one piece. Which I did." The hand at his temple stretched to rub his forehead as the pain spiked. He concentrated on his breathing for a minute.

"You okay, Zed?" Nessa asked, her voice soft.

No.

"Fantastic," he ground out.

"Missing these, huh?"

The sound of pills in a container jerked Zed's attention away from his pounding head. He zeroed in on the tiny unmarked package, without any question of what it was or whose. Pills weren't a popular delivery method for meds—too slow to be absorbed in the bloodstream, and hypo-syringes were pretty easy to use, if you had a good storage system for the serums—but they were reliable, not often affected by changes in temperature, and easy to store. In other words, perfect for an ex-soldier living out of a pack.

"You went through my cabin," he said.

Flick snapped to attention. "What the fuck, Eli?"

"You had a regular pharmacy in there. Ness has been trying to identify all the drugs, but some of them she's never seen," Elias said. "So what's the story, Anatolius? You dealing?"

Unease stirred in Zed's chest, the precursor to panic. He didn't miss the captain's use of the past tense, he had the drugs. The majority of them were now presumably in Nessa's med bay, which meant they weren't his security blanket anymore. Which meant he was at the mercy of both the pain and the captain.

"No," Zed said.

"Bullshit."

"I'm not."

"Eli, if he says?—"

"Shut up, Fixer." Elias's gaze remained on Zed's as he rose from his seat. "I don't condone using on my boat."

"I'm not using," Zed growled.

"This shit?" Elias held up the container of Zed's best pills. "One of these goes for a thousand creds. They're illegal throughout AEF space because they kill people. After they make them so high they think they can spacewalk without a suit."

"That's not how they work for me."

"So you are using."

"No!" Zed squinted as the pain in his head jolted up a notch. The full bloom of panic nudged him toward the Zone. "Just, please. Give them back."

"No. They're getting dumped. I want you off my?—"

Zed welcomed the Zone. It erased the pain and the uncertainty, and the panic that had threatened to steal his breath disappeared completely. He looked at his hand around Idowu's neck dispassionately and employed just enough pressure to make the captain's eyes widen. He noted the movement of the rest of the crew. O'Brien and Qekelough had jerked to their feet, standing beside him and Idowu, their expressions unsure. Ingesson took a step toward him from behind.

Ingesson. Felix. Flick.

What the fuck are you doing, Zed?

He wasn't sure if the question reverberating in his brain was Ingesson's or his own silent one, and he had no time to contemplate it. Ingesson stepped forward, fists cocked. Zed released Idowu and lifted his hands in a fighting stance to match the engineer's.

He's your friend. Your lover.

The quickest way to disable Ingesson flashed through Zed's mind. The engineer wouldn't have a chance—he wasn't extensively combat-trained and he lacked Zed's speed and agility. A side step, a pair of blows, and Ingesson would be down. A different strike would ensure he wouldn't get up. Zed could visualize the actions. He could see the result.

No!

Ingesson attacked. Zed sidestepped to avoid his strike, his hands reaching out to follow through on the actions he'd visualized. Desperate to override his body's instincts, Zed did the only thing he could. He phase-shifted.

His skin crawled as he slipped into another layer of reality, one he hadn't visited for more than six months. He'd always thought of it like j-space, though the analogy was flawed. There was no bubble surrounding him that allowed him to move through space at incredible speeds; he didn't fold the space-time continuum. He just…shifted out of phase with the rest of the galaxy. The only thing he could interact with like this was someone else who'd shifted. One of his team…or one of the stin.

His hands slid harmlessly through Ingesson's neck, his fingers whispering through the other man's flesh like a ghost's. At least, that would be how it appeared to the crew. Right now, they seemed like the ghosts to him. He didn't bother to try to stop his momentum, allowing it to carry him a few steps away from the crew of the Chaos.

He slid back into reality, still in the Zone. Holding up his hands and lacing them behind his head, he knelt. The mission glittered in his mind—reacquire his medication—but he'd ignored mission parameters before. Reacquiring his medication meant harming the crew of the Chaos. Civilians. He should not have acted in the first place. He wouldn't endanger Ingesson. He wouldn't fight him.

"Get some fucking restraints on him," Idowu ordered, his voice rough. "Ness, sedatives."

He met Idowu's hard gaze as the captain rubbed his throat. "Unnecessary. I will be incapacitated in about thirty seconds." He could already feel the Zone wavering. Experience told him he could hold on for a lot longer than thirty seconds, but it wouldn't do any good here. Zed turned to O'Brien. "I'll pass out. Seizures are possible."

"Jesus Christ, Zed…" Surprise and horror etched across O'Brien's features.

"What the fuck did they do to you, man?" whispered Ingesson…Felix… Flick.

Zed didn't answer. He let the Zone slide away, taking the hurt look in Flick's eyes with it.

The med bay wasn't designed to hold more than two or three people. As he watched Elias and Nessa circle each other like angry cats, Felix wondered what in all hells they'd do if more than one of them ever got seriously injured at the same time. He glanced over at Qek, who had squashed herself into a corner, and then at Zed, who lay stretched across the bed, again, happily oblivious to the tension thickening the air.

Tugging at his collar, Felix pushed out of his corner and prepared to insert himself between the captain and the doctor before someone else got hurt.

"I want him off the ship. Now!"

"I'm not sure moving him wouldn't kill him."

"Ask me if I care, Ness!"

Felix entered the fray. "Mom, Dad, you're scaring the kids." He jerked his chin toward Qek, who actually made a good impression of calm, squashed into her corner and all.

Elias jabbed a finger toward Felix. "This is your fault."

"I'm not the one whose pockets were bigger than his conscience."

"Ouch," Nessa murmured.

Elias rocked back on his heels. "You vouched for him, Fix."

Felix tugged at his hair, nails and wire scraping across his scalp and catching at curls. A cusp had arrived, one of those cliffs that separated past from future, an epiphany of the sort a man recognized before it happened. Those were the worst fucking kind. He had a choice to make: Elias or Zed.

One of these men had made him promises he couldn't keep—but not because he hadn't tried. The other had picked him up off the floor, dusted him off and stood him upright twice. He loved them both in his own half-assed and useless way.

Felix pulled his hands from his hair and let his arms dangle at his sides. He adopted a posture of appeal, or tried to, and spoke directly to Elias. "Remember the state I was in when you found me?"

"Which time?"

"That's kind of my point. Twice you picked me up. Twice you gave me a chance."

Elias's shoulders dipped. "God, the first time…" His gaze flicked between Nessa and Qek, both of whom stood absolutely still, aware they might be about to hear something about his past. "You might as well have been dead." Elias's tone hardened. "This is different."

"You and your father were under no obligation to save me. None. You could have shoved me out of an airlock instead of listening to my story and…" A lump rose in Felix's throat. "We both know I'm only here because you and Angus are good men."

"Don't do this, Felix."

"I have to, don't you understand? You're my brother, man." Felix gestured at the man on the bunk behind them. "He is too. Since I was eight years old. I stole his wallet. He chased me and got stuck in an air duct. I could have left him. There were enough unhooked credits in that wallet to…" Buy something he'd really, really needed. Pushing those thoughts aside, Felix continued. "You'd expect a pampered rich kid like that to squirm and cry or something, right? Maybe threaten me? He didn't. He just watched me leave with this expression that said, ‘You've won.' So I went back and got him out."

"You got a point?" Elias's tone didn't hold the ire he probably wanted it to.

"He let me keep the wallet, Eli. He's a good man, just like you. Hell, he's a hero. You've seen the holo."

"What kind of good man avoids his family and tries to kill his crew?"

"He stopped. He didn't really hurt any of us."

"Tell that to my neck."

"He's in trouble. I don't know exactly what it is, but I know there's only one reason why he wouldn't be in contact with his family. It's because there's something he can't tell them. Something big. It has to do with his discharge, with the seizure he just had. He's sick! That's why he needs those meds." Felix pulled himself up tall, despite the pain slicing through his chest. He had to make his choice. "We're crew." Silently, he added, All of us.

Elias held his gaze for uncounted breaths, his brown eyes dark and fierce. Felix couldn't remember him ever looking so hard, so close to breaking. His heart ached for Elias. Hell, his chest felt like a stin had stomped him.

Finally, Elias dipped his chin. The movement could have been a twitch or a jerk, but Felix knew better. "I want answers. When Zander Anatolius wakes up, I want to know why he's on my ship. If I don't hear something satisfactory, we're done. You got that?"

Felix tendered the only sensible reply. "Cap'n."

Elias's expression darkened further at that. He stalked out of the med bay.

Feeling cast adrift, Felix stood where he'd been left. A hand slipped into his and he flinched. He looked down to find Qek standing near him, blue hand extended. Catching his gaze and holding it, she reached for his hand again and pressed her palm to his. A quiet and sober nod, and she disengaged and quietly followed Elias out the door. The hatch slid closed behind her.

"You know what that means, don't you?" Nessa stood close by, her expression shifting between wonder and fatigue. "Ashushk are very particular about who and what they touch."

"Qek seems to have no trouble wrapping her hand around a beer bottle."

"Sarcasm just isn't your thing."

"I don't know what my thing is anymore." And his head hurt, maybe more than his heart. "Tell me what it means, Qek touching my hand like that."

"You're her friend."

"She already told me that."

"Now she means it."

Felix recalled the conversation of a few days before—had it really only been a few?—when Qek had defined an ashushk friendship. We value our friendships and would place ourselves in the way of harm to keep them. "Shit."

He squeezed his eyes shut and turned a slow circle. The walls were closing in and he was helpless to stop them. He couldn't "meditate" in the med bay, and with an ache spreading across his jaw to grip the back of his neck, with the pain in his chest, he'd probably land one kick before falling on his ass.

Nessa tugged at his shoulder. Opening his eyes, Felix shrugged her hand off. "Don't." Don't hug me. Please don't trap me in your arms, because I will snap.

She stepped back, expression briefly betraying her hurt, and nodded at the man on the bunk. "We need to talk about your friend."

After offering his surrender, Zed had slumped to the floor of the bridge and begun seizing. Felix didn't think he'd witnessed anything so scary in all his life, and he'd seen some fucked-up shit. None of the quagmire that formed his nightmares included Zed bucking across the floor with his face pulled into a mask of death, however.

Nessa had directed them quickly and efficiently. They had rolled Zed onto his side and made sure he didn't smack into anything too solid. Then they'd dragged a hundred kilos of slack soldier to the med bay and somehow got him up onto the bunk. Zed had been out for about thirty minutes.

Nessa took up an official stance by the bed. "Sleeping is a common reaction. The seizure actually wasn't bad, as far as seizures go. Brain pattern looks…well, not normal, but not the sort of abnormal that would hint the problems I'd expect to see in a patient who seizes often. Are you following me?"

"You're asking me, ever so obliquely, what happened on the bridge."

"I want to know why he has stin claw marks on the back of his neck."

"He…what?"

The scars, Zed's off switch.

"Help me roll him over a bit."

Felix hesitated. Looking at the scars felt like an invasion of Zed's privacy and…he didn't really want to look at the scars. But Nessa stood by, all expectant, and he'd just refused a hug and, damn it, he felt too heartsore to hurt another member of his crew.

Together, they rolled Zed onto his side. Nessa pulled down the collar of the gray shirt to reveal two shockingly familiar rows of scars. Felix stepped back and scrubbed his hands on his pants, as if wiping his palms would rid him of some awful taint. The metal of his glove caught a thread and teased it free. He didn't even hear the soft rip, but he felt the material gape open and the breeze that tickled his leg.

"So you recognize the marks?"

"You don't?"

Nessa would have seen the marks the stin left on their dead. The ritual claw hold to the back of the neck and the messier versions, like the scars on his right side from the mechanical claws they used to tear open body armor. She had seen the long grooves crisscrossing his back. Anger stirred, spluttered and died. Felix had too much else to worry about to rail at the stin. At his own misfortune.

"He should be dead," he said.

"Several times over, by the depth of those scars."

"What do you think it means?"

"Your guess is probably better than mine."

Felix glanced at the doctor, saw the questions in her eyes. She had the vague outline of his story, but not the details. Now wasn't the time to share them. He angled his shoulders into Qek's hiding place, the gap between bed and monitoring machines. The wall felt solid at his back.

"That wall's not going to hold you up for long," Nessa said.

"I know."

"You should go eat something. I'll watch him until you get back."

"You don't think we should roll him down the ramp?"

"My head and my gut are at odds on this one. He's a danger to us, to our crew, but he's a man who so obviously needs help. I can't ignore that, not even as a glorified pirate."

"We're not pirates."

Nessa silenced him with a glare. "Elias needs to do what's best for all of us. He's worried for the entire crew, for you in particular."

"You two been talking 'bout me behind my back?"

"When have we not?"

Felix snorted.

Nessa looked over at Zed, who despite the trouble he'd caused, seemed to be sleeping peacefully. Lucky bastard. "I can see the man you love in there."

"I don't?—"

"Oh, hush. The pair of you are like a goddamned romance novel. Star-crossed lovers. I look at you together and I get the feeling the galaxy is going to tip on its edge."

"You need to stop reading such crap."

"I'm trying to say I understand why you stood up for him, why you keep standing up for him. But you need to do something for Elias. He found out who Zed was and didn't even approach you. He trusts you."

"I know."

"He loves you too."

Felix wondered if the wall might conveniently wrap around him and suck him away from the difficult conversation.

"Get some answers. If they're good ones, we're with you, you know that. If they're not, we'll do the best we can for him." She paused. "You know that as well."

Throat tight, Felix nodded. Nessa extended a hand toward him and paused, uncertainty flickering across her delicate features. Felix finished the move for her, grasping her arm. "You're good people, Ness."

She squeezed his elbow. "You too. Now go get something to eat. I promise I'll ping you if he blinks."

His stomach felt like a twisted plastic bag, but hunger was an old and familiar friend, one Felix found easy to ignore. "I'd rather stay here. Just for a while."

Nessa's eyes glittered with challenge that dulled as she found a compromise. "Sit. I'll bring you something."

"Thanks."

After she left, Felix pulled a chair into the niche between the machine and the high edge of the bed and flopped disconsolately into the hard seat. For a while, he listened to the monitor ping, the soft chime both annoying and soothing. Then he began to fidget.

What was he going to do about Eli? The man had saved his life twice. No question, full stop. All right, Angus Idowu had had a hand in it both times, but it had been Elias who walked him through recovery. The captain was his friend and Ness was right. Elias loved him like a brother. Felix felt the same way. Was he willing to risk the best friendship and partnership he'd formed since the war for Zed, the man with a plan…who looked so far from what he planned, it should be comical.

It wasn't, was just fucking sad.

Felix wrapped his fingers around Zed's limp hand. Instantly, he felt the connection. Just having Zed's skin next to his reminded him of everything. Of their promises, every kiss, every message. The way Zed used to laugh and sing. The holo Felix had secretly recorded the night of their graduation party. Five fresh faces, but only one he wanted to see over and over.

"I think Ness is right about this tipping galaxy thing."

He bent forward to rest his cheek against the back of Zed's hand. He should be frightened, and a thrill of fear did tickle the back of his neck, teasing the fine hair so that he shivered. But the warmth of Zed's hand offered comfort. Turning his head, Felix pressed a kiss to Zed's skin. His throat moved and a shaky hum emerged, unbidden but stupidly appropriate. A few notes from one of the songs they used to sing together, Zed using his wallet's music weaver, Felix trying not to squawk.

If Zed woke up to hear him singing, he'd know for sure he hadn't ascended to the Christian heaven. Angels were supposed to sound pretty sweet. Shrugging off a moment of apprehension, Felix continued to hum softly.

"You sound like a drunken sparrow."

Felix found a wavering smile. "I have no idea what a sparrow is, so I'll just assume that's an insult."

A grunt answered him as Zed tried to lift his head. His face creased with pain and he dropped back to the pillow, eyelids fluttering down. "Should I ask what happened?"

"What, before or after you stuck your hands through my neck?"

Zed's brow furrowed more deeply. "Shit."

Double shit.

"After you convinced yourself not to kill us, you dropped to your knees like a goddamned prisoner and then fell on the floor and started foaming at the mouth. Some super soldier you are. Snap a couple necks and you're out for the count."

Zed made a noise between a moan and a groan.

"'Sokay." Actually, it wasn't. None of this was okay. "Ness told us what to do. Um, she said it wasn't a bad seizure. No lasting effects. You probably won't feel good for a while, though."

"Yep."

"Zed…"

Zed didn't answer and Felix hadn't really expected him to acknowledge a formless question. He started again. "I need to tell Elias something. I…he's…fuck." He'd dangled himself over the edge of this cliff, now he had to crawl back up. "My promise stands. I'm going to help you, because you're my oldest friend and because it's the right thing to do. Emma needs us. My crew will stand with me, but I need to help them understand what we're up against. Who we're fighting for, against and why."

Felix paused, wondering if he'd moved too fast for a man emerging from a seizure-nap. Zed had turned to look at him, though, and his eyes, while more gray than they should be, showed he followed the general gist of it all well enough.

Felix sucked in a shaky breath. "So, I need you to tell me why it looks like a fucking stin had you by the scruff of the neck, more than once, and managed not to kill you."