Cogs Of Fate

Behind The Door

Agent Christopher sat at one of the smaller tables in the main room, drinking the strongest coffee the women working in the kitchens could muster as she poured over the details of the 'hidden' investigation, the picture from the prison as well as the maroon book Lucy studied. She tried to find that connection between them somehow - some insignificant detail that would tie it all together.

She was on her third cup of coffee, already feeling the shakes from the overload of caffeine when she pinched the bridge to her nose to rest her strained eyes for a moment. Heaving a sigh, she leaned back into her chair.

"That's one of my favourites," a small voice said nearby. Her eyes fluttered open, darting over towards the direction of the voice. She saw a young boy rocking up onto his tiptoes to catch a glimpse of the opened book on the table.

Her eyes drifted to the book which laid open to the image of the Austen residence. "It seems to be quite popular around here," she admitted.

His smile widened. "Have you read it yet?" he asked, climbing onto the chair beside her.

She shook her head as she sat upright. "I have not," she told him, "but my friend Lucy has."

He nodded. "I like Lucy," he said, "she's smart and pretty..."

Denise couldn't help but smile at his innocence. She missed this age with her own children - how they attached themselves to strangers or people they just met. In fact, her own son used to flirt with the cashiers in grocery stores when he was a toddler. They'd tell her he'd be quite the charmer when he was older. She felt a pang in her heart as she reminisced over her family.

"You look heartbroken," the boy commented, blinking at her with concern.

She smiled sadly. "I miss my family."

He nodded. "Me too."

"Where is your family?"

"I..." he hesitated, giving her a glance that she had seen before in her own kids as well.

Denise leaned on her elbows to look at him at the level of his eyes. "What's your name?"

"Wren."

"Well, Wren," she said. "My name is Denise," they shared a brief smile, "Now that we know each other's names, we aren't strangers anymore."

He seemed to be processing her words before nodding. "That's quite right, I suppose," he said thoughtfully. He held her curious gaze before admitting, "I've been told my mum died a long time ago..."

Denise tilted her head at him. "I'm sorry to hear that."

He shrugged again. "It's all right," he whispered, eyes drifting down to the table, "I never knew her." Agent Christopher opened her mouth to ask another question when Wren's hands darted out to grab one of the pictures before them. "Hey!" he cried out excitedly. "It's Poppy!"

"Who?"

He turned the picture around to show her. "Here," he said. "Poppy is..." he paused as his brows drew together as he turned to look at the picture again, "Where is she here? I don't recognize this place..."

Denise asked, "You know that woman?" Wren nodded, still studying the picture. "Where is she now, Wren?"

His eyes lifted to meet hers. "Oh, um," he thought for a moment, "I'm not entirely sure. She's been quite busy lately and Ms. Genevieve has been watching me - "

"Is Poppy still here inside the bunker?" she asked the question, knowing no one had left - that she was aware of. She felt the small bubbles of panic rising should he say no. If he said no, she had no idea what to do about it.