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I am being very slow to update this and I don't mean to be.

"Don't like that exit." Walker says around a mouthful of sandwich that Cheryl is handing out around the room like a hostess.

"It's fine." He's already been to it and although it bottle necks it's clear and there's very little chance of anyone being able to cut him off the building around it and the chained fences prevent it. Besides which Walker isn't coming with him so his opinion doesn't hold any weight.

"You can eat when you like you know love?" Cheryl says as she offers Steven a sandwich. "You don't need to wait."

Steven's sprawled across the chair next to the window. He'd watched in amusement as Steven tried every possible way to sit with his legs drawn up, every position he had tried had ended within a few minutes until he'd given up and decided on lying with his back against one arm with his legs over the other one. He'd tried curling up slightly only to wince and rubbed his back. He doubts there's one muscle in his body that doesn't ache right now.

He knows that he's sore… Training's rough and he's being hard on him. He might not be able to stop him wanting to do it but he's not going easy on him. He's pushing him as hard as he can only Steven seems to take everything he can dish out. He had spent three hours earlier switching in and out with Walker as they made Steven block everything from punches to head butts, swinging though a little to correct any mistakes.

That was the way he was taught. Make a mistake and be punished although Seamus' punishments were a preparation for torture.

"Demon will get you one day, boy, then you'll be thankful." He's still got the scars from the whip across his back. He can remember vividly the time he had forgotten to clean his gun, only he hadn't forgotten he had passed out in exhaustion having run fifteen miles with 12 stone in his back pack up and down the hill at the back of where they'd been staying. Seamus had hit bone and kept going… His back twinges at the memory. It hadn't taught him to remember to clean his gun but that bone comes around the thirty lash mark.

He focuses on the gun in front of him to clear the memory.

Steven shakes his head at Cheryl.

"Steven eat." He's got to eat more, he picks around his plate at breakfast lunch and dinner, he needs the calories, he has to put the weight on. He punches above his weight, there's undeniable strength in his thin frame but he could do with at least another stone, two, on him. If he doesn't have that then he's going to be too easy to throw around… He doesn't know if he's got the balance right between training and his weight recovery, now he's started he can't back down Steven won't like easing back, recovering then starting training not when they've already started.

Steven looks at him then nods slightly and takes a sandwich.

"Thanks." He says politely.

He can't work him out. It's frustrating. He can read anyone, everyone. He knew the second he saw Walker that he was a cocky prick with a decent heart.

Steven's a contradiction at best, an enigma at worst. When he's fighting he's different, fighting he can get a little grip on him. He's got a temper, it's quick to rise and slow to burn off. Stubborn. Confident. Hardened. Tough. He's got very little flare that needs knocking out of him. He's pretty sure that's from the cage fighting. No messing around in a confined space. No posing or standing on ceremony. Get the hit in. That's how he would do it and he appreciates that because otherwise he'd be knocking lumps out of him instead of just tenderising's him. He doesn't enjoy it but it has to be done. He has to be able to take hits and keep going just like he had learnt. Although he's fairly certain that Steven's used to taking hits…

Sitting there on that chair he looks to want to be in a ball, unnoticed by anyone and left alone. He supposes that it's not surprising given what he's pretty sure he's gone through. It doesn't tally though.

"He doesn't touch anything unless you tell him to." Cheryl mutters.

He knows that Steven can hear them. Cheryl's not quiet even when she's trying to be.

He sighs and looks at Walker who nods in agreement.

"Steven you can eat anything you like whenever you like." He states half sighing.

Steven looks at him, nods a little and puts the sandwich down.

"You do have to eat though at least seven small meals a day." He can't believe he has to explain this.

Cheryl slaps his shoulder and glares at him.

"Is there anything you would like?" He looks at Cheryl. See there. Patience. She rolls her eyes. Alright he's shit at it. He turns his attention back to Steven who shrugs a little.

"You've got a tongue use it."

His head slips down into the collar of the hoodie. "Never been able to choose."

He closes his eyes. Jesus. He hadn't even thought about it. Never realised that he didn't know he could have anything. He thought that Walker… Cheryl… Someone had told him although Steven thought of him at that time as the boss so maybe they had said and he hadn't believed them. He forgot that he was completely relying on what was put down in front of him and eating whether he liked it or not when he was a slave. Food was something he needed not something to be enjoyed.

That's another thing he can't work out about him. Half the time he's like a… Normal isn't the right word, functioning could be closer, person the other half he's still a slave or at least his mind is still in slave mode.

"Is there anything that you've had while you've been with us that you've liked?"

"The meat with the long string."

"Bolognaise." Cheryl supplies. "I'll make you some."

Steven shakes his head violently.

"It's no trouble love, honest we can have it for tea."

He doesn't miss the look Walker's giving him. He knows. Steven's a long long way off okay.

"Did you explain all this to him?"

Walker lips curls a little.

"Yes because that's my job. He's your pet project... I just help out."

He could happily punch Walker but Cheryl will bitch about it and he doesn't need the headache.

"He's not my pet project." He's not a pet.

"Really." Walker raises an eyebrow at him. "That kid won't hack it. You know it, I know it. He's too messed up."

Steven gets up, anger flaring behind his eyes, if looks could kill Walker would be six feet under, he half expects him to launch himself at him. He doesn't. He walks straight past them and through into the bedroom.

"Nice." He shakes his head, sighs and drags himself up.

"I'm not saying he's not going to have uses. I've got the bruises to prove he can fight but it's here." Walker points to his temple. "Up here he's wrecked."

Steven's standing by the window. Shoulders tense and up. He's breathing heavily.

He twitches a little in the doorway. He doesn't know what to do for the best. Comfort him? He doesn't even know how and he doesn't know if Steven's going to take it the wrong way… He leans against the door frame.

"He's right." Steven states firmly.

His bottom lip rolls against his teeth, his cheek twitches.

"Innit he." Steven turns and looks at him. "What they've done. I'm worthless. Don't even know why you bothered getting me out of there. I'm just causing problems."

He stretches his neck to the side.

"You're not worthless." He's known worthless and Steven's not it, not by a long stretch.

"I am though. Don't know anything… You know I've been clinging on by my fingernails… I don't know how... Am I meant to be…?" He shakes his head and turns away again.

"Don't listen to Walker."

"He's right."

"Walker doesn't know you. I don't know you." He's not sure Steven even knows himself, what he's capable of. "You've survived and that's a start… Not many people could." There's plenty of people that wouldn't be doing as well as Steven has been doing. He's still got fight so many slaves he's seen haven't got that. They're conditioned to within an inch of their lives, can't think for themselves, act for themselves. Steven can do that he just… He's waiting to be punished and the kind of scars that he's seen on his body he knows that those punishments have been severe the kind that a person would do anything not to endure again. He's being careful. Cautions. He doesn't know that he won't beat him, burn him, cut him as punishment for the tiniest thing or just because he can... He wouldn't torture him. He's tortured people before especially for information, he took no pleasure in it, it had been necessary at the time. Torture and training are two entirely different things, the only punishments he's been handing out are in training and only because they could save Steven's life. The lessons have to be learnt. Pain is a valuable tool in training.

Steven snorts and his shoulders drop. He looks so vulnerable. Tiny. The urge to comfort him rises, he steps forward then stops himself. It won't help him.

"Walker doesn't decide what you can or can't do… I don't. Cheryl. Nobody decides that but you. You can do anything you want to do."

Steven shakes his head.

"I wouldn't be wasting my time training you if I didn't think you could do it." He didn't even want to train him. Nothing would make him happier than Steven quitting, he's been through enough he doesn't need to put up with training. He should be relaxing, recovering and learning about the world, the civilian world where all the demons, the creatures are just nightmares that someone else has to deal with. He shouldn't be putting himself through it but he was the one who wanted to.

"You think I can?" Steven asks turning back towards him looking at him through his lashes with the kind of hope, the kind of awe that has him feeling uneasy and a little proud that he put that look there.

He nods despite himself. He should be saying he can't. He should be sparing him but the look on his face, the need for reassurance he can't deny him that. Not when he's lost so much.

Steven smiles. A proper smile.

"Can I come with you tonight?"

"No. You're in no fit shape." Steven's shoulders sag. "Soon though."

When he knows that Steven can defend himself properly, as the strength to keep up and can run far enough that there would never be any question that he could fall behind. Then he'll consider letting Steven come with him on reconnaissance. He doesn't think four hours sat on a roof watching demons will do his recovery any good.

"Eat. Sleep. Train. Then we'll see."