After pushing with all her might to get the guards all locked in the supply closet, Ramona was now a bit rattled. Her head felt a bit lumpy, and her ribs felt cracked. Still, they were gone, and she finally had an opening.

Shuffling towards the door, she leaned against the wall beside it to catch her breath. Her head was throbbing, but there wasn't much time.

The door was heavy, and cold. In fact, the freeze seemed to ooze from the door, radiating frigid. There was no noise coming from inside. In fact, now that the guards were gone, the hallway had a swallowing silence. Everything was soundproofed. Finally, something to her advantage.

With her hand on the cold metal, she pushed down and heard a grinding noise.

Flinching, she pushed against and kept to the back, so that in a pinch she could fling it back closed and run.

It was easier than she thought to slide inside. Ramona backed the door shut, pressing herself against it. There was a small little entry where she could only see a bit of the room. Across the way, a man in plain clothes and a stethoscope was arguing with a well-dressed woman holding a letter.

There was a lot of whirring, clicking machinery, the noises so disorganized and constant that the room never seemed to find its lull. It rang in her ears. Besides the heavy door, all this noise made it impossible to hear anything outside. Finally something she could use to her advantage.

Looking around at what she could see, she saw an odd assortment of bedroom and hospital equipment. Syringes were on a table, and on the vanity close to her there was a variety of medications, as well as where they appeared to make food.

Ramona's heart rate picked up, becoming the only consistent pattern she could hear in her ears. There was something... wrong with this room. Filthy in its immaculate cleanliness. She didn't have a way to explain it. The feeling settled into her stomach, put her on edge in a way telling her not to point her gun, but to run.

Placing herself just behind the end of the entryway, she was half-blocked. She faced the bed, large, and predominantly unoccupied. Only in the center, where Prince Gresham lay. 

Then, Prince Gresham caught her eye. Ramona held her breath, pressing her back harder into the wall.

Looking at the prince made her shiver. Deathly gaunt, she swore he was see-through. Swallowed cheeks that had no warmth to them, skin not pale like his people but pale like a ghost. Mouse hair so thin and dull that she could see his eyes behind it. Underneath his ill-fitting shirt, jutting collarbones and chest bones she'd never seen on a live person.

And damn it all, she knew him. Way back when, where he was knobby-kneed and wavering; she gangly and larger than him, always big for her age. In the back of her mind, she always knew that the royal boy she met as a child was him, but ignored it. She believed it didn't matter - didn't want it to.

Now it was impossible to ignore. All she could wish for was that he didn't remember, too.

There was a wheelchair beside him. His bloodied sleeves were tugged up, exposing blackened, wrecked arms which had a variety of injections. Ramona's eyes trailed the tubes to a centrifuge where his blood went and never returned. Being injected in him was something blue, orange, clear.

This was not good medicine. That was what was wrong in here. It smelled like death, but he still breathed. They were poisoning him, keeping him alive, but not really. 

This monstrous manufactured sick made her mind sway, tangled up in confusion and rage. Ramona ground her teeth and clenched her fists. This wasn't just some kidnapping, this was torture. Whoever thought of this was someone cleverer than the typical thief, kidnappers too. Thinking this up requires a life that allowed for dreaming, someone wealthier than any of her fellow street-criminals could ever conceive.

She felt foolish in a feverish, angry sort of way. Hands blushed, face burned so harsh it stung. Her mouth felt like it was filled with cotton, her head swarming like a beehive. Finally she dared to look at him again.

He gave a sort of pitiful smile with blue lips, but his eyes were ever wary.

She wanted to say something, but it felt like a trap. Though she'd had the practice, Ramona never figured out what to say to someone on a hospital bed. Never learned how to play at some sort of normalcy; normalcy didn't feel as though it should exist like this.

Prince Gresham's smile dropped, and he glanced away from her. Ramona's attention was drawn back to the other two people in the room.

Admittedly, she'd forgotten about them, and she had no real ideas on getting rid of them. Micah was certainly on his way soon, Rory not far behind. She never had a plan before, and tragically one was not making itself apparent. At least not in any rush.

It was time to be done with plans. They never fucking worked anyway.

She untucked the gun in the back of her shirt and clicked off the safety, the noise blending into all the other clicks and whirs around them. Ramona then stomped forward, making herself known.

"Get out," she said. Not loud, but clear, cutting through all the commotion. The woman's expression darkened with furrowed eyebrows and pressed lips. The man followed her attitude in suite.

"Who do you think you are?" The man asked. He backed away from her, looking panicked and breathing rash.

"Get. Out."

The woman was calmer, not so shrill. She asked, "What do you want?"

"Leave, and say nothing."

"Don't shoot them," Prince Gresham muttered. Ramona gave him a side glance.

"Don't-" Ramona caught herself: don't be harsh, idiot. She waved him off instead. "Just, just don't talk right now, 'kay?" She returned her attention to the two in the room.

"Get out, say nothing, and you'll live without ever seeing me again."

The man reached for a scalpel on the table, but Ramona shot behind him. He and the prince let out a cry of surprise, but the woman remained aggravatingly still.

"How do you think I got this far into your little lab, you piece of shit? My threats are not empty, and I don't give two warnings."

Tentatively, he set the scalpel down.

"Leave now."

The woman stiffened up and cleared her throat. "Come on. Let's go. We've got what we need." The man glanced up at her, mouth slack. She raised her arms up in defense.

"C'mon Barti, she means business." The woman slumped her shoulders and sighed. Jutting her chin out, she took her first step, and started toward the door. Ramona backed rightwards toward the prince so she could keep her gun trained on her as she went out. The man glued his eyes to the floor and ran after the woman.

Ramona waited for the door to shut, and so did the prince before saying another word. With a heavy metallic click, he let out a breath. That was when Ramona started moving, getting the wheelchair kicked out and braking it. "They're not going to keep quiet, we better move."

"We? Wait, excuse me?"

She patted her few belongings - she missed her second gun, among other things - and thought about if she needed anything more. Checking the nightstand, Ramona sought for things of obvious value. She didn't see anything.

"You hopin' to stay here?"

"I don't understand."

"We're getting out of here."

Prince Gresham held his breath, waiting, watching Ramona's every move. "Is this actual? Is this real?"

With that Ramona came to a stop and looked at him. The shallow breathing and tubes, with the eyes a scrunched trying not to show the hope. It kind of felt like getting stabbed.

"This is real." Whether that was a good or a bad thing, she wasn't too sure.

He blinked at her, and gave a little gasp. The prince had a whole new life to him. Slumped became stiff as a board, but upright. Cheeks actually got a little pink on his white face. His eyes lit up. "Oh, well, um, where are, um, where are we going?"

Ramona hadn't decided that yet. At least, not what to tell him.

The heir was staring at her. Blinking at him, she realized that he was waiting for an actual answer. She gave a fake smile.

"Where would you like to go?"

He twisted his fingers and looked down. "What is this?" His face grew red and his jaw clenched tight. "This is impossible, if this is some type of cruel trick-"

She dropped the bad smile and pressed her hands against her hips to keep from shaking him. "Do I look like someone mixed up in this shit?"

The heir's mouth gaped and he shook his head again. "No." A shocked puff of air burst out of his lips. "But I don't understand."

With a chopped laugh, Ramona said, "there's nothing to understand. I'm getting you out."

"But, you don't know me. I don't know you. Do I?"

"It really doesn't matter," she wheezed as she said it, the pain in her ribs doing a number on her breathing.

Prince Gresham gave her a once over, and as his gaze seemed to travel a long time, Ramona felt more and more like a giant. She lowered her arms from her hips and crossed them instead. The awkwardness faded to general discomfort and he began twiddling his thumbs. "Am I getting kidnapped?"

"Uh..." Ramona supposed it kind of was, but she didn't know how he'd react to that. "I wouldn't call it that. Do you want out?"

"Can you really get me out?"

"I'm going to die trying if you want to leave." Be loyal, be respectful. There's not a chance in hell he'd want to stay here. Ramona kept her eyes trained on the door. "I mean it when I say it's up to you."

"I'd rather die than stay here," he said. "Why're you helping me?"

Ramona pushed her breath through her teeth, creating a sharp whistle. "There's a bounty on your head, Prince Gresham."

"Oh."

The bounty pushed her over the edge. What was the point of Prince Gresham surviving this long for him just to die? The fact that Rory knew what was happening to him, and that he was still willing to give the prince up after all this.

Ramona was a bastard, but she couldn't bring herself to this. She just didn't have it in her.

Might as well shoot myself in the foot, she thought.

"That was why I came here." She started, "but I've yet to like a single part of this job, so I think I'm going to quit."

Rory would have to kill her if he wanted that bounty. She wouldn't do it anymore.

Prince Gresham looked amused. "Is that so?" He shuffled a little bit. "Should I trust you?"

"No."

"Well that seems honest enough." The prince pursed his lips together, crinkling his face. "Okay." His voice was defeated, but he actually had more light in his look than she'd seen yet. "But why?"

Smacking a hand to her face, Ramona groaned. "Why is a question for later, what's your answer right now?"

He looked at her with big eyes, sunken in his gaunt features. "Let's go. Please. Um..."

"I go by Ramona," she said.

"Raymona," he said, then he grimaced.

"Close enough," Ramona snorted. Then she took another step, and saw all the tubes placed in his arms. This kind of medical practice was well beyond her expertise.

Something banged and she looked up at the door, but no one came inside.

"Waiting for someone?"

"Yeah. And I think he'll be less willing to jump off the bounty wagon, so I've got to think about what to do with him." Ramona trailed off while she was talking, getting lost in thought, holding her gun out. She needed him to get the prince out, but what she wanted most was to just kill Rory the moment she saw him.

"Are you going to threaten to kill them, too?"

"Might be more than a threat."

"Don't."

His voice was clipped, regal, though it lacked confidence. She imagined it being accompanied with a man writing a noble decree. But now was not the time for such fancies.

"You don't get a say with this one." Ramona on the other hand was sharp, hoarse and dirty. "And I really don't think you'll mind him dead."

"I have always been what is called a pacifist. Do you know what I mean?" he said.

Ramona rolled her eyes. "Yes, I know what that means, your highness." Prince Gresham scrunched his face up at her and scowled. "And besides, look where that got you."

Her comment seemed to knock him off-kilter: He was stiff and blank-faced, he pressed his hands into fists that went white. Ramona bit her tongue. She was too riled up to deal with sensitivities, but in this room she should figure that he would have plenty.

"Look where that got me," she whispered, trying to take back the blow, but she was unsure if he heard her.

His grip caused a strain in his arms that only accentuated the mess they were. His body trembled, the muscles working to open the wounds his arms. She set her gun down, away from him.

She placed a hand over his. A choking noise came from his throat and he wouldn't look at her. 

"Stop."

He hummed in response, but didn't stop. Ramona squeezed his hands lightly. "Look at me." 

Glancing up quick, he made this fearful guttural noise when their eyes met. The prince looked away, but then looked back, shrinking again at the realization that her eyes never left his. She wanted to yell, but she worked at keeping her breath steady and, more importantly, quiet.

She spoke quietly, tentative like approaching an animal, slowly like he were a child. "Prince Gresham, stop." 

This time his eyes didn't leave hers. With a breath, he relaxed.

She uncovered his hand and wrung out her fingers. More comfortable with just kind of grabbing him now, she gripped his wrist and pulled his arm towards her. "I don't know what to do with these." Her finger hovered over the needles in his arm, and his gaze swept along the trail. "Do you?"

He was still a little shaky, but he managed out, "the centrifuge, if you would, please shut that down." He removed the clear bag drip and put the bandage over his arms.

For someone who had been stuck in a dungeon getting fed poison, Ramona had to notice that he was still awfully polite. She had to wonder if it had to do with all the meds. 

"How many drugs have they pumped into you?"

"Just the three bags that I'm aware of. And whatever they used to put in my food." 

Ramona tapped his arm, scarred to hell like a thousand of these had been placed. 

"What happened here, then?"

"I have tried to leave." He repositioned one of the bandages he placed. "I've taken these out more times than I can remember. Used to just rip them out and run, when I could."

A cold silence fell after that. This was all terrible, but talking about it made her feel shifty and her heart feel heavy. Each new detail another subject that she wished she'd left alone. 

Though his attention was devoted to the removal of syringes, he was still slow. It didn't help that his hands were shaking. He unhooked another syringe, but this one was more of a bleeder. He shuddered at his own blood, and his fingers slipped. Quickly, Ramona ripped a strip off the sheet of the bed and tightened it around his arm. The messy medicine - made of tape, shirt-hems and herbs - was the kind she knew.

"Do you know what all these injections do?"

"I believe so. Paralysis, a blood thinner, and something to hydrate me so I don't die. I don't really like thinking about it." After his flustered brushing away of the topic, he added, "they claim they're using the blood for something. I don't know what."

Ramona hummed in response. Fair enough.

"So what's our next step?" he asked.

"Honestly, I've just been kind of playing it by ear since I decided to come through the door."

"Oh. Well you're the only person whose ever come in here to get me out, so that makes you by default the best." He gave an unsure smile, rigid in a non-threatening way. A skeleton's grin.

Ramona pulled over the wheelchair, then turned back to face him. "If I help you, can you stand?"

"I can try," he said. He slowly peeled the cover off of him, then Ramona ripped it from his hand and threw all the bedding aside. His body underneath the blankets did not look any healthier.

Looking at his wheat-thin legs, Ramona doubted he could move at all. His feet looked almost bowed, and they were blue and bony. It'd had to have been months, maybe even years, since he was last allowed to walk.

Prince Gresham was able to slowly spin his body and push himself to the edge of the bed. Upper body strength seemed more promising than the lower. Taking it slow, he scooted till he got on his toes. A promising start showed bright on his face. However, when he flattened his feet to the ground, he winced.

"You-"

"I'll be fine," he said. Then she hoisted him up, but they didn't even get fully upright when his legs gave out. With a cry, he dropped.

She ducked so that he fell on her shoulder, and he gripped her tight, but not with any strength. He shook like a leaf, and his forehead emitted a heat like none other. The prince couldn't carry himself at all.

"I'm sorry, I am so sorry." His voice was trembling, his teeth chattering. "I can't leave." Spoken like he was sentenced to death. The prince tried to move, a limp thrash, but Ramona placed a hand on his back stopping him.

"It's fine." She sounded harsh, but remained steady. It took more than a feather to knock her down.

Ramona pulled him off of her so she could look at his face, and she was met with tears. She blinked at him, restraining from the immediate reaction to look away and drop him. There was a terror on his face, as well as an embarrassed shade of red.

"You can see why I haven't gotten that far," he squeaked out. "Why I can't get out of here."

It was so pitiful, it might've been pathetic if it weren't so damnably tragic. She gave him a begrudging look and shook him a little.

"Don't cry. I've got it." Putting her hands underneath his arms, he grabbed onto her forearms and did nothing as she hoisted him upright. Like picking up a rag-doll.

"There." She clamped a hand on his shoulder. "Breathe, Prince Gresham. I'm not just going to leave you now."

Simple words to Ramona, she thought they were completely logical. She'd gone all this way, does he really think that she hadn't gone through worse troubles than just a bit of a struggle in maneuvering? However, the way Prince Gresham nodded and breathed - and to her dismay cried - she figured it meant a bit more to him.

Ramona grimaced and slid a hand down her face. This was going to be a project like none other.

The prince's breathing became more consistent, the panic appearing to fade.

With the noise in the room much less loud and unstable, she was hoping she could get a gauge on the outside, but no luck. They were going to be leaving the room blind.

"You alright, Prince Gresham?" she asked without looking at him, still mostly paying attention to the outside. 

"Don't use the honorifics," he blurted, catching her attention. He was finally able to speak without the water in his voice. "Just call me Gally."

"Gally?" Ramona noted, moving to help him into the wheelchair. "I can remember that."

He put his hands on his knees and a small smile came to his face. "I haven't moved in some time."

Ramona crouched down in front of him and smirked.

"Yeah? Well Gally, get ready, because you're about to move fast."

With that, she took the handles of his chair and charged him at the door.

A/N

To those of you who are confused, I added what Ramona did with the guards to the last chapter. Sorry for updating it after it was already published, but I preferred that Gally be given his own chapter, which required the reordering of things.

Finally he is introduced. Now, Ramona has a new role, and one of our main characters has finally made his appearance.

Hope you enjoy!

_huckleberry