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Milo is always ready for anything. He has to be, with Murphy's Law. He needs to be on guard, ready for a shark attack (it doesn't matter if he's on dry land, these things happen) or a car crash or a unicycle crash.
But recently he has been more than just on guard. He has been tense. Nervous. Because it isn't just sharks, cars, unicycles and other acts of Murphy's Law he has to watch out for. It’s dangerous, violent, cruel people who have been targeting his friends.
Who still have one of his friends. Cavendish is being conservative with the information he gives, but Milo knows that Sally has Dakota. Has mind controlled him, like she did to Milo. He wants to do something, but he can’t. Cavendish is refusing to let him get involved, and Milo doesn’t know enough to try anything alone. So he just has to wait, stewing in his fear and anger.
He doesn't often get angry. But he is angry at Sally. Sally poisoned his best friend, beat up and tried to kidnap his other best friend, and now she is mind controlling Dakota. It makes him furious, a funny feeling that is foreign to him. It joins the horrible, cold fear that near constantly accompanies him as a new feeling that Sally has given him. He wants to stop Sally, for good. He doesn't want her to hurt his friends ever again.
And yet here he is, standing in the field, trying to avoid any broken noses with the soccer ball. All of them are back at school, and both Zack and Melissa are able to join in with P.E now. That makes him feel a little better.
"Milo!" Lydia kicks the ball towards him. He dashes forward to it, but before his foot can reach it, the ball hits a pebble. It flies up, smacks him in the chest, and then rebounds off the field and away.
"Ball out! Milo, can you get that?" Mr Mitchell calls. Milo nods and hurries off of the field.
The ball really has disappeared. That's not unusual. The last time he was sent to get a ball, he found it on the roof of a moving car at the other side of town. So he starts looking around for it.
When he bends over to check a bush, he feels a tug on his backpack. He looks up, expecting an eagle or crane or something. Instead, he sees Dakota.
Dakota, but definitely not Dakota. Dakota's body, but not Dakota. His eyes are empty and glazed over. His expression is cold, his body language stiff and professional. Milo sees nothing of the warm, friendly man he loves so much. "Dakota?" He says nervously, although he knows the truth. He just can't quite comprehend it.
He tries to run. But not-Dakota's hand holds fast, keeping him in place. He tries to slip out of his backpack instead, which earns him a rough shove to the ground. He winces. Not-Dakota steps closer and reaches down to haul him up.
"Help!" Milo yells. Someone, anyone, someone must be around. "Help!"
A hand clamped over his mouth puts an effective end to that. He squirms and tries to yell, but his voice is muffled by the hand. No matter how fiercely he struggles, Dakota's body holds him tightly. So tightly that it is painful, his fingers digging into Milo’s face.
Giving up on that, he gropes for the back of his neck. He knows how this works, it happened to him! If he could just pull it out, Dakota would go back to normal.
His fingers brush the back of Dakota's neck, which is when he realises that it isn't going to be that easy. There is something smooth and metallic covering a large part of the back of his neck. Covering the device. Milo tries his best to pry it off, but he can't find the edge without seeing.
And after letting him struggle for a while, not-Dakota grabs his wrist and twists it painfully. He winces, but any pained noise is muffled by the hand covering his mouth. He keeps struggling, keeps fighting, but it's no use. He is shoved to the ground, held down by a knee jabbed painfully into his stomach. One hand is kept clamped over his mouth, keeping him silenced, while the other yanks his hands together and binds them tightly.
Those cold, empty eyes look at him, making his stomach churn. Seeing Dakota like this hurts, hurts so much more than being manhandled. Especially since he knows that the real Dakota is in there, conscious but trapped, being forced to just watch.
He tries to signal with his eyes that he is alright. That he understands. He knows that it won't help, because Melissa and Zack understanding didn’t make hurting them feel any less awful.
He is yanked to his feet and dragged down the street, towards a familiar looking car. His stomach twists. He is starting to tremble. He had been unable to stop thinking about Dakota, he is only now registering what is happening.
———
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Cavendish sighs, rubbing his dry eyes as he walks towards the door. He has barely slept in the weeks since his partner was kidnapped, he is not in the mood to deal with the landlord. He opens the door, hoping that he looks like less of a wreck than he feels.
On his doorstep are two slightly smaller wrecks. Melissa and Zack look panicked, they look like they ran the whole way here. He glances at the clock. Two. They should be at school still, Milo isn't with them, and they're panicking.
He doesn't need to be a genius to put that together. "Something happened to Milo." He deducts, his heart sinking. Not again. That poor child. These poor children.
Melissa nods, holding out her phone with a shaky hand. "Got a ransom text." She mutters. "She wants something, but I didn't know where to get it. I think it's a weird future thing."
Cavendish scans the text. "A time grenade?! Oh no. Sally can absolutely, categorically, never get her hands on one of those. She could erase time with that!”
"But she has Milo! And she's gonna kill him if we don't give her it." Zack says, running a sweaty, shaking hand through his hair. "We should've gone with him. I was right there, maybe if we'd been together-"
"Hey." Cavendish interrupts. "It's not your fault. It's not either of your faults. It is no one's fault aside from Sally." He reads the text again. "I know that address, it's an abandoned warehouse in Danville in the future. I’m going.”
“Great!” Melissa nods, pocketing her phone with a grim expression. “Let’s go.”
“What?! No, you two aren’t. You’re children, I’m not taking you on a dangerous rescue mission.” Cavendish exclaims. “I am going by myself.”
“You’ll get killed, and so will Milo!” Melissa says, stepping closer. “Please, we can help. You can’t expect us to sit here and wait for you to rescue Milo by yourself.”
Cavendish hesitates. Then he sighs. “Fine. But you two are going to be careful, you are going to follow my orders, and if I tell you to run or hide you will do so. Understand?”
Melissa and Zack nod. They look scared, sure, but they also look determined. “Let’s go get Milo.”
———
Cavendish turns the corner and sees possibly the most upsetting thing he could have seen. Dakota is standing outside the door, hand on a gun. As soon as the trio step into view, his attention snaps to him. He looks stiff, cold. Wrong.
The gun is raised to point in their direction. Cavendish looks around frantically. Then he taps the kids on the shoulders. “Run!”
They look hesitant. But knowing the plan, they both start sprinting in opposite directions. Before not-Dakota can shoot, Cavendish lunges at him. The gun flies out of his hand as he is knocked to the floor.
“Dakota!” Cavendish says. He knows that he can’t respond, but he wants his partner to hear. “Don’t worry, I’m going to get you out of here. Just hold on.”
Melissa said that the device is a small, tick like device on the back of his neck. He just needs to get to the back of his neck, then he can free him. He just needs to get it off.
But fighting Dakota hurts. Not-Dakota swings, he dodges. He tries to hit him, but he can’t bring himself to hit him too hard. While not-Dakota is rough and brutal. He is shoved into the wall, then pulled back and slammed against it again. He bites back a whimper, sure that he heard a crack from his ribs. He is thrown to a floor, and a foot planted into his back.
Pain burns in his ribs. Tears prick in his eyes as he rolls away and staggers to his feet. It hurts, it hurts so much, but that not what is upsetting him. What is upsetting is seeing Dakota like this, seeing Dakota being used like this. “Dakota, it’s alright. I will fix this.” He assures him. He can imagine whoever is controlling Dakota laughing at that.
He launches back into the fight, dodging blows and trying to subdue his partner as carefully as possible. But he is tiring, and not-Dakota doesn’t seem to be. He is certain that even if he was exhausted, he would still be puppeted around even so.
That thought angers him enough to keep going.
A punch to the face sends Cavendish sprawling. Groaning, clutching onto his burning ribs with a grazed hand, he uses his other hand to wipe his face. Red smears across his hand. He winces.
Looking up, he sees that not-Dakota had sustained a few light bruises and scrapes, but is otherwise fine. He just can’t bring himself to really hurt his partner, but he knows that he needs to, to save him.
After he has stayed crumpled on the ground for a while, not-Dakota begins walking towards the abandoned gun. Cavendish sees his chance and staggers to his feet, biting back a whimper at the agony that shoots through him. He stumbles closer, and throws himself at Dakota.
There is no sound, no whimper or groan, from his partner. But Cavendish can see how much it must’ve hurt. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He murmurs. “I just need to get it off…”
But when he looks down at Dakota’s neck, he doesn’t see a tiny, tick like device. He sees a large metal plate. Completely smooth, with seemingly no way to pry it off.
He tries anyway, but he can’t get a grip anywhere. He tries anyway, desperate and panicking as not-Dakota struggles underneath him. It doesn’t work, it doesn’t work, and in the process he keeps scratching the flesh around the plate with his nails. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m trying…” He can’t do it. It isn’t working. He could probably use tools, but he doesn’t have those tools, not right now.
The sound of an explosion bursts through the area, distracted Cavendish enough that not-Dakota can throw him off. He rolls across the dusty ground, then staggers to his feet.
He looks into the empty eyes of his partner. His partner who he can’t save- not yet. Not right now. And the kids need him to take them back, if he stays here and keeps trying when he knows it won’t work they could all be captured.
“I’m sorry.” He says, voice shaking. “I’ll be back, I’ll save you. I swear, I swear I will.”
The only response is a gun pointed towards him. He has no choice but to run, stumbling and bowing his head with pain pulsing through him. Not all of that pain is physical.