Everything was wrong! What was the code of The Watchtower doing on this door? Were the people I worked for behind the attempts on Mick's life? Nothing made sense. "Let's leave." I grabbed his hand and pulled him away from the door. 

"Leave and go where, Rob? Do you see any other doors here?"

We were fucked. Why had I trusted Jora to keep his word? He owed me nothing. I shouldn't have expected him to let me know that the Watchtower was going to make their move now. Fuck! It was also possible that The Watchtower had already realized that I had switched sides. Before I could figure out what was happening, the door slid open, blinding us with harsh white lights. 

"Welcome, boys." A familiar voice reverberated around us, just as someone shoved us forward. 

"Dad?" I heard Mick next to me whisper.

Yes, that was definitely Mr. Carlton's voice; deep and mellow all at once, it was intimidating yet gentle.

Mick unshielded his eyes, and I followed suit. "Dad, it is you!" He rushed over to his father and bear-hugged the older man.

Mr. Carlton reciprocated and smiled; his eyes, much like his son's, caught mine. "Robert, I am glad to see you here."

"Dad"—Mick let go of his father; his frantic eyes shuttled between us—"Rob had nothing to do with this."

Mr. Carlton placed a finger on his son's lips. "I am sure you have a few questions for me, Rob."

Yes, I did, but there was something I needed to get off my chest first. "Mr. Carlton, there are things I have hidden from you." I gulped thickly and waited for permission to speak. 

When the senior man gestured to me to go on, I said, "I am a spy. I was sent here to keep tabs on the Carlton family. There is a group, an organization, that suspects that you and your family were behind the Crimson Bay slaughter." I waited for a reaction of some sort, but it didn't come. "I know it is difficult to believe, but I am not Rob; I am—"

"Reagan." Mr. Carlton finished for me. "Yes, I know... I know who you are."

"Dad?" Mick approached his dad, but Mr. Carlton signaled him to stop. "Let me deal with Reagan first, son. This is important."

"How do you know who I am?" I was careful never to draw attention when I stepped out of the mansion to contact Jora. The old lady who owned the booth from where I made the calls was hardly sane, often mistaking me for her son.

"Let's talk about the Crimson Bay slaughter first. It was unfortunate that the Carlton name was dragged into it. Innocent lives were lost; it was heartbreaking, but what truly upset me was that everyone, including the Miltons, Andersons, and Covers, thought I was behind it." Mr. Carlton took a step towards me. "There is no smoke without fire, so I decided to investigate it. I trusted Rob and tasked him to do it on my behalf."

The graying man was not making any sense, but I decided against interrupting him, noticing the fire behind his cool blues. 

"The day Maria and Rob got into the accident, he was bringing me evidence that could throw light on the culprit. He asked that we meet in person, and I agreed. No one knew about our rendezvous, and he was supposed to come alone, but I guess Maria must have tagged along. Anyway,"—the man of the hour paused and closed his eyes—"Maria died on impact, and Rob not much better. When I rushed him to the hospital, I was told that he had gone comatose with next to zero chance of waking up." He turned to his son. "I decided to lie. I told you that he had gone missing. That way, you could hold on to some semblance of hope for Rob's return."

"Dad, are you saying Rob's alive?"

"Yes." The old man smiled and fixed me with a warm gaze. "I owe you an apology, Rob."

I felt a headache come on. What the hell was he going on about!? 

"There never was a Reagan, just like there isn't any company called The Watchtower. You are a spy, that is true, but I am the master you serve. You always have."

"Wait a minute, Dad." Mick blocked my view of Mr. Carlton. "Are you telling me that you let Rob think that he was Reagan, his twin, who worked for a dangerous organization wanting to frame you for the Crimson Bay slaughter?"

The pieces of the puzzle fell into place one by one. I was Rob all along. Freya's father. Maria's husband. Maurice Carlton had set up a stage, manipulating me for the past five years, making me feel guilty...making me hate myself, stopping me from confessing my love to Mick. "Why?" 

Mr. Carlton pursed his lips. "Initially I thought you were faking your memory loss." 

"And at what point did you realize that I wasn't?"

"When I brought you home, you met Mick and Freya." The old man hung his head.

"Then why didn't you stop playing this game?" I demanded, moving Mick out of the way and taking a step closer to Mick's dad. 

Maurice Carlton sighed. "Because whoever had tried to kill you was probably still out there. After what your body had been through, I thought if you didn't know the truth of your identity, you wouldn't hurt as much, and I feared that with Maria dead, you would want to leave us. You are Freya's dad; it would be natural for you to take her. We had already lost Maria." He glanced at Mick. "It would have broken your mother if Freya was taken from her as well." Maurice pinched the bridge of his nose. "But I would be lying if that was the only reason."

"There's more!?" Mick voiced my question. 

Maurice nodded. "Rob was the only one who could help me weed out the traitor who had dared to taint the Carlton name. I was hoping he would regain his memory and finish the assignment I had given to him. I know how that makes me sound, son, but I regret nothing."

The info dump was a lot to take in. I was done...with everything. I wanted out. Sure, I loved Mick, but would I ever be able to forget that his father had played me? 

"Rob. ROB!" A hand landed on my shoulder.

"Mick?"

"Freya has gone missing!" my charge yelled. "Did you hear me?"

My Freya? My daughter's name cleared the fog engulfing my mind. "Since when?" 

I glanced at Maurice; he was busy yelling instructions on the phone. Was he concerned about my daughter too? Disconnecting the call, he fixed me with a worried gaze. "I was Miles. The camera caught him leaving with her." His eyes glistened. "He approached her when Amanda was not around. She is very fond of him. He had no trouble leaving with her. Lucky for us, we noticed it early. They couldn't have gone far. Miles was unarmed. At least that's how it looks. Rob, take the first door to the right." He turned to Mick. "You take the left one." Darting his eyes between us, he said, "I know how this looks, and I understand if you choose to ignore me, but Freya is not just your daughter; she is my granddaughter as well. I have loved her since the first time I held her in my arms. She is Amanda's lifeline. We can't lose her. Just this once, let's put our differences aside." His eyes lowered to the floor. "I have stationed our men at other exits just in case. Whatever you do, just bring her back."

I hated the man at the moment, but he loved Freya like his own. "This isn't over," I said. "But Freya needs all of us now." Glancing at Mick, I added, "Let's do this!"

With that, we were off. I clutched the pendant around my neck and left the circular room. The path ahead was shaped like a tunnel with wall lights placed strategically on either side of the walls. Two minutes in, I finally heard something more than the sound of my feet hitting the ground and my heartbeat echoing in my ear. Hoping that I had not alerted whoever was speaking, I slowed down.

"Twinkle, twinkle, little star. How I wonder what you are. Up above there are no stars. Uncle Miles, I wonder where you are."

Freya!? It sounded like my daughter was alone. Had Miles left her, or was he using her as bait? Regardless, I had to get to her; dropping to the floor, I began crawling towards her voice. 

"Twinkle, twinkle, little star, how I wonder what you are." 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, all good people go to heaven."

Freya had a habit of modifying nursery rhymes to express her feelings. It was clear from her tone and the words she had substituted that she was relaxed, albeit a little bored.

"Uncle Mick missed my playdate... Mommy is watching me from heaven's gate. Twinkle, twinkle, little star..".

The next sixty seconds it took to reach her felt like a lifetime. Then I saw her. Safe and sound, she sat with her back to the wall, my pendant's twin dangling from her neck. 

*****

[Chapter word count: 1575]