- Suspect No. 1 -

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You wandered into the great room with Vanya by your side, passing by the old newspaper articles and magazine covers that depicted you and the others - of course with the exception of Vanya. The events occurring when those pictures were taken and the articles printed ran through your brain. Those events felt like they happened yesterday, but also a thousand years ago; it was strange.

Vanya glanced wistfully at the group photos before turning to the book shelf, and her hand brushed the dark cover of a book that was placed right where you had left it several months ago. She turned the book over to see her own face on the back cover.

"Did you ever read it?" she quietly asked. Her shoulders were hunched, and her gloomy frown practically screamed: "Please don't hate me!"

"Yes, actually," you chuckled. "It was quite the page-turner."

She frowned. "The others certainly don't feel the same way, they've made that much clear."

The corner of your mouth twitched upward as you softly bumped her shoulder. "Don't worry, it'll take a little more than a book ."

She glanced up at you.

"You're literally the only one I one-hundred-percent enjoy having around," you replied quietly, bumping her shoulder again. She laughed in reponse.

"So you really don't mind the book?" she timidly asked.

You shrugged. "I figured someone would write one eventually. Personally, I'm glad it was you that wrote it instead of some clueless tabloid. Besides, it's not like you wrote anything besides the truth."

"People always say the truth hurts."

"A lot of things hurt. There are worse things than being told you're a negligent bitch through a book."

"My, my, Miss (Y/n), where on Earth did you learn such language?" The gentle voice laced with sarcasm came from the other side of the hall.

"I can't seem to recall," you joked, earning a chuckle and shake of the head from the talking chimpanzee.

"Miss Vanya, so glad to see you here again," he said warmly to the woman beside you as she approached the talking monkey and embraced him. When they broke apart, he noticed the book in her hand. "I see you've found your book."

"Told her 'it was quite the page-turner,'" you quoted yourself, to which he chuckled again.

"Did . . . Did Dad ever . . . y'know, read it?" Vanya asked.

Pogo thought for a minute. "I couldn't say with utmost certainty. (Y/n) would know for sure though . . ." He trailed off as he turned expectantly towards you.

You shrugged, "I've seen him glance at it a few times, but he's never picked it up while I was around, and the only time it wasn't in its place on the shelf was when I was reading it." You saw her disappointed face. "At least to my knowledge," you quickly added.

She nodded and glanced at the giant painting above the fireplace. She sighed, "It's good that one of you is back . . . How long has it been since Five left?"

Pogo looked at you. "Sixteen years, four and a half months." Vanya gave you a pointed look, to which you shrugged. "Reginald would ask me every now and then."

She turned to you with a knowing look, "Well, you would probably know better than anyone."

You sighed out a laugh, "You're not wrong."

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