Hey guys, it's me, Agent-Pumpkin, but you probably already knew that.

So firstly, yes, as you probably noticed, I changed my user name – I am now Agent-Pumpkin almost everywhere. Secondly, yes, this IS the first chapter to the apparently long-awaited sequel to WoHC. I'm sincerely hoping it'll be a brilliant read for you all, and I'd like to take a small moment to thank every single one of my readers for sticking by me since the beginning of Wonders of Human Contact, and to any new readers, I hope this is a pleasant read for you (though you'd be better reading WoHC first if you haven't done so). Thanks so much! Thirdly, I started an Ask-Wilson/Whimsy thing on Tumblr, so if you could follow on there, that would be so great – I thank you for any support in advance! The link is on my author profile on here, if you wish to do so – and if not, I totally understand too! ^^

So, without further ado, here's the first chapter – please review, I'd love to hear your thoughts! Also, yes, there are some odd things in this fic, and original characters and places. I hope this doesn't anger anybody. This chapter will probably be a little shorter as it's the opening one; bear that in mind, please.

~Jess~

X x

People who claimed that shadows were mere figments of imagination were wrong. Ignorant liars. It wasn't so much a pretence, rather something that most people were able to block out, treating them as if "out of sight, out of mind" could really fix everything wrong with the darkness; pretending that simply not paying attention to them would make them go away and melt into nothing; acting as if nothing went on when the lights faded out.

Of course, they were all pretenders.

Whimsy couldn't deny that she had felt eerie presences as they trailed through the vast cave, slender fingers trailing down her back and over her shoulders, as if warning her to go back as some greater (and more scary) force lay ahead of them. However, she had not let her imagination run wild – she hadn't been able to, for keeping her securely in touch with her sanity was Wilson, whom clung tightly to her hand, a torch in his other like so many times before. During their times of darkness, he always seemed to be there, equipped and ready. As if feeling her tension, Wilson spoke up softly.

"There's nothing you haven't faced already here, Whimsy. Don't worry. I'll keep you safe."

The sentence soothed her busy mind, though it didn't still the adrenaline that was coursing through her limbs, as if preparing her to run at the slightest sign of danger. She had to keep in mind that this place seemed vague and almost normal, almost like something they would see back home, give or take a vacation. Despite it's exterior and gaping entrance, the pathways were now quite narrow and conspicuously different to whatever form they seemed to have taken upon first glance. The rough rubble beneath their feet was no match for their tough boots, but was still sharp through their soles. There wasn't much to the cave, just a general, normal, bleak outlook of nothingness. She had become accustomed to feeling helpless and beyond any kind of aid; not even Wilson and his mastermind ways could rid her of that feeling on occasion. However, it was rare for her to feel so lost nowadays...

"I know you will," she breathed, peering around, despite there being nothing to see. She wouldn't speak up about it just now, but she could feel the tell-tale pang of hunger racing around in her gut. She hadn't eaten very long ago, but it had barely filled a hole in her stomach, leaving her quite unsatisfied and hungry for more substance. Carefully, she stepped over a large rock and then tightened her grip on Wilson's hand, partially to let him know she was doing fine and partially to curb her own guilty pleasures. She enjoyed the warmth of his hands, even wished she could feel it more often on occasion. Perhaps it was the Winter getting to her... warmth always seemed so hard to come by as soon as that "glorious" season rolled around.

Wilson was currently facing a dilemma: his own twisted feelings. He knew he had to relieve them somehow, had to get them off of his chest... but no time seemed an appropriate one with everything that was going on. Having to seek refuge while being on the move had taken its toll on them, and had made them weaker than they'd ever been since they started travelling together; what the scientist found odd was that there had been no signs of Maxwell's cronies for a good while now. He figured they would have run into spiders or something by now. But no, excluding the odd shadows on the wall that seemed to try and grasp them from time to time, everything was undisturbed and silent.

"Perhaps we could stop for a little while... count together what supplies we have, and make some kind of plan," the gentleman said calmly, taking his bag from his back. What he would've done for the icebox full of food right then... he wasn't so hungry himself, but some meat sure would have taken his mind off of the emptiness in his head at that current moment. It seemed that anything would have sufficed as a lowly substitute for the endless arguments his brain pitted against him.

Stopping in their tracks, Whimsy sat down on a rock and thought. Her mind was still blank after she had fallen asleep in the sea – she couldn't remember a single thing, even though she desperately wanted to. She could recall being lifted up, and movement beneath her, but she hadn't had the faintest clue where she was, or even how she was. Was she lucky to be alive? Either way, she was still as lost as she was since she first woke up. She suddenly shuddered, feeling the sensation of discomfort creep up her arms as a shadow seemed to sneak over her, enveloping her tiny body with its "fingers"; she leapt to her feet and began to pace, not going unnoticed by Wilson himself.

Too busy to worry about her for the meantime, Wilson carried on with his tasks. Some grass, sticks, flint, a couple batches of berries, a few bunches of bananas, a tiny bit of gold and another queer metal littered the ground in front of him.

"Oh dear...," he sighed, staring at the produce ahead of him, not feeling very optimistic about it. "I felt I had a little more than this... and more useful too."

He frowned deeper as he set to work, making meek, sorry-looking tools out of what he had. He didn't feel right asking Whimsy to construct them (even though, admittedly, she could make them better than he could), she still looked so 'out-of-it' due to her near death experience. Truth be told, the episode in the ocean was the only time he had ever truly feared loneliness. Wilson was a reserved man anyway – he kept himself to himself and was very much indulged in his own company, finding it the best possible source of comfort he could get, but Whimsy had taught him that not everything could be gained from himself, and that he had to learn to reach out to others sometimes, if only for them to hand him a part for his latest invention in which he couldn't quite reach. It was the simple things he found himself thanking. The day-to-day chit-chat, the extra pair of eyes to help him sought things out and discover new things, those types of things that anybody who had been surrounded by people for a lifetime would probably have forgotten.

"There we go...," he whispered to himself as he pulled back from his handiwork, observing his weak attempt at an axe. Definitely not a formidable weapon, but it was no worse than what he used to make, and it would certainly keep reasonably sized enemies away. He still had his spear too, as luck would have it. He further constructed a shovel, a pitchfork, and a pick-axe.

"Mighty helpful." he heard from his side and he turned his head to give her a smile. Whimsy had always been fairly supportive, and it made him feel pleasured to know she was the first – and, in his books, hopefully the last – to make him feel special, in a way that didn't make him feel like he needed some kind of special doctor.

He chuckled at her, apparently humoured. "Don't you go back-pedalling on me, feeling sorry for yourself. You could have made them better, and you know it."

She let out a "pfft" of humour, before shrugging nonchalantly and nodding her head. "I suppose so." the small female paused for a moment, before twitching slightly in the musky air, picking herself up to stand in front of Wilson, who was still knelt down. "We should start moving again. We don't know what's here, something could happen any time..."

"Don't you want to eat first?" he asked, his brow furrowing ever so slightly. She wasn't going to refuse him again, was she...? It was an unpleasant time, when she couldn't accept that she needed his help and tried to do everything on her own, only to have a breakdown in the form of broken memories and horrific nightmares. As predicted, she shook her head, though what he didn't foretell was a smile as she did so.

"I will later." she grinned. Wilson stared at her a moment, before nodding slowly and then standing up, picking up his newly-made tools and torch with him, easing the former items into his bag. He slung his bag over his shoulders and adjusted the direction of his light, before offering his hand out to her again, her accepting it graciously. He enjoyed feeling close to her, enjoyed keeping her safe, it made him feel more of a man. He wouldn't have said that his manhood had been compromised in any which way since being brought here, merely he had forgotten his place in the world and didn't really feel comfortable amongst the contents of this odd world.

They continued to walk down the passageways that the cave so unpredictably threw their way. It didn't seem possible, the cave seemed small enough to trek around it in a day from the outside, but inside it, it was a completely different story; almost as if it was bigger on the inside.

"Huh? Wait," Whimsy opened her mouth to speak, stopping walking all together, Wilson shortly following suit and raising a brow at her. "What's that down there?" she asked, peering down the narrow walkway. It seemed to be a large rectangle, but it wasn't identifiable from such a large distance away. Slowly, she tugged Wilson along with her, venturing closer to the peculiar object in question. She knew better than to rush towards it out of raw curiosity, everything so far had, in one way or another, tried to kill her in this blasted world. Once only a few feet around from it, she stopped, confused.

It seemed to be... a door.

X x

Maxwell was furious. His "comrades" had returned, but had brought back no news of the two's whereabouts. They were making him out to be a fool! Standing up from his seat in rage, he paced around the room, his shoes making eerie echoes sound throughout the entire place. The shadows behind him seemed to cower as he moved around swiftly, debating on what to do. Perhaps he could simply call on his shadow hands to locate them – they could finally be of some use.

He snapped his fingers demandingly, two dark hands emerging from his shadow and disappearing into the floor to retrieve the targets they had silently been ordered to collect. A moment passed... then a minute... then another... and Maxwell was only getting more impatient. When they eventually returned, the demon looked pleased – until he discovered they were empty handed.

He narrowed his gaze and dismissed them, sitting down again with a restless and angry sigh. Suddenly, realisation seemed to strike him, as if a giant epiphany had simply landed its way into his brain.

"If they cannot bring them back...," he paused, eyes softening a little as he began to understand his situation. "That means they must be out of my area..."

X x

This didn't make much sense. After deducing that nothing harmful was down the way they had started to explore, Wilson and Whimsy had weaselled their way through the tight gaps, coming face to face with a door. It had an odd appearance, almost like a dungeon door. It wasn't the fact that it was a door that was so surprising, in fact, as Whimsy had discovered what it was when she had gone closer. No, what was so surprising was its whereabouts. Why was it here, of all places? The dust on the giant loop (that seemed to be the door handle, Wilson noted silently) implied it hadn't been touched for years. However, the wood was still strong and almost-pristine as ever. Like a newly built door, in fact.

Whimsy stood on her tip-toes, trying to see through the metal 'gate' at the top, but nothing greeted her eyes excluding the typical darkness she was so used to seeing. She frowned a little. Surely there was something on the other side, so why couldn't she see anything there? She sighed, standing normally again, before noticing a small lock indicated just under the door handle. Turning to the scientist, she sighed yet again.

"I don't think we could progress anyway. It's locked."

"That's odd. It doesn't seem as if there's anybody – or anything – around to lock it...," he replied, his brow furrowing in confusion. "Or hold onto some kind of key." he added, brushing a hand through his messy black hair, trying to make sense of something. Softly, he pushed Whimsy out of the way, hands making gentle contact with her back, before kneeling down and examining the lock; upon first glance, it was typical, but he began to gain a strong feeling that he had seen it before, even though it couldn't be possible. Something in his mind was clicking, and whatever it was, it was strong enough to make him think he understood just what was supposed to fit in that lock. He stared at it hard, mind whirring with a long forgotten aptitude.

And then his mind recalled something important.

"Whimsy," he said quietly, earning a curious glance from the female beside him. "Do you still have that key?"

The sculptor stiffened. She did, it was securely in her pocket as per usual. She felt a peculiar buzz of excitement as she touched the small item in her back pocket, nodding silently at him. His lips quirked a little, a slow smile making its way onto his face, the flames from the torch flickering gently against his pale complexion giving him an almost angelic look. She thanked the dark around her as a soft tint of colour raised to her cheeks at the thought, before she handed the key slowly over to him, dropping it cooperatively into the palm of his hand.

"Thank you," he muttered as he inserted the key slowly into the lock, blowing away dust as he did so. The door gave a callous creak as he twisted the key, the lock clicking ominously. He couldn't believe that had worked. Of all the things that could have possibly happened, it had actually worked. He wasn't used to that, wasn't used to things going his way, or even slightly to his advantage.

As the door swung open a tiny fraction, a certain giddiness took over the gentleman. This was working! He stood up straight with a new found confidence, tightening his grip on the torch and handing the key back to Whimsy, who slunk a thin rope through the hole at the top of the key, tying it and draping it around her neck. She felt it was safer there – always in view. And if she wanted to hide it, she could always tuck it under her shirt, her shirt not coming down very far collar-wise anyway. Wilson raised a brow at her, before turning his attention back to the door. Having nowhere else to go, it would only be logical to go this way...

"I wouldn't be doing that if I were you."

A foreign voice? It definitely hadn't been Whimsy who had spoken, he knew her voice all too well – it made him smile and feel warm and happy inside. This voice was short in speech and dull in tone – all in all, not too pleasant. He turned his head to Whimsy, who looked equally as puzzled, a fraction of fear in her blank eyes, before the pair of them looked back at who had spoken, recoiling slightly in shock.

Sat there behind them, was a tiny, black cat.

X x

Done, done, done~! Anyhow, don't worry, all will make sense in the next chapter – well, okay, not ALL, but c'mon, this is just the beginning. I hope this was okay for an opening chapter, things WILL develop as time goes on so you can be sure to not misplace judgement or anything when I tell you it'll be good. Please, if you like this story, and haven't checked out my prequel, The Wonders of Human Contact, please do so, you'll like that too – and please, if you have a minute of spare time, follow me on Tumblr (again, the link's on my page) and/or DeviantART too!

Please review, I'm curious to hear your thoughts on all of this nonsense~!

~Jess