He wakes up with Justin's cold hands on his neck. He opens his eyes, and Justin's smiling down at him, a cold and unfriendly smile. The sort of thing, Chris thinks, that defines Justin.
"They've got another," Justin says, as soon as Chris looks at him. "The other cell."
Chris sits up, forcing Justin's hands away. The air in the room is cold and biting, as if the window had been left open all night. He knows this isn't the case, because the only window in the room is sealed, has been since he got here.
"Another what?" Chris asks.
Justin looks smug. "Another one. Hostage?"
"Like me," Chris says.
"Yes," Justin says, crisply. "He is local, this time."
Chris turns towards him slightly. "He's not here," he says, a question.
"No," Justin agrees.
Chris doesn't expect Justin to tell him where he is, and he doesn't want to know. He doesn't think he would have much use for knowing, anyway. It makes him feel helpless, useless. Trapped.
"Do I know him?" he asks instead. A harmless question. He knows a lot of people.
"I think," Justin says, "Perhaps. Chasez, I think." The name sounds foreign on Justin's lips, in Justin's voice.
"Yes," Chris says. "I know," even though he doesn't. It feels like he should.
Justin seems satisfied enough to know this that his smile doesn't falter when he leaves.