Author's Note: I'm on a roll with this one, and I'm trying to get it done before the little toga-wearing muse in my mind runs away again.I own nothing.


Chapter 3

"Ha—?" she started to say, but the man interrupted her smoothly.

"No, we have not met before. Topper McGee, ma'm." He lifted his hat briefly from his head, revealing pale skin, auburn hair, and green eyes—he was not who she thought he had been.

"Oh." Her heart dropped unpleasantly in her stomach; her sudden hope fading painfully. Not only wasn't he who she wanted him to be, she may just have revealed something to him. But he had deliberately kept her from saying the name—could he know? "Pleasure to meet you, Mr. McGee."

"Topper, please, ma'm. I'm a Milliner; you are almost as good as one from all accounts."

Bowler coughed slightly. Topper and Weaver ignored him.

"Topper, then. And I am Weaver."

"Bowler William, I will tend to this with Mistress Weaver if you so please." Bowler nodded quickly and left, his relief evident in his quick exit.

Once Bowler was gone, Topper shut the tent flap. He then turned back towards Weaver.

"We haven't formally been introduced before, but we have met."

Weaver narrowed her eyes, sorting through her memories. "You were the man who saved me in the forest." Topper nodded. "I owe you my life," she added, a little bit grudgingly; she hated being obliged to someone.

"You might have made it on your own. I just happened to be in the right place at the right time."

"I doubt it—I didn't have any Looking Glass transport on me."

"I wouldn't have one if you hadn't invented it. You've indirectly saved your own skin."

"But where did you get it? It was one of the inventions that Panama and I developed in the last few months."

Topper smiled. "I've been in contact with Panama Alden. She's alive and well. I also," Topper removed a large copybook from a pocket inside his Millinery coat, "have your notes."

Weaver was dumbfounded. "What—Where? How?"

"Panama escaped shortly after you did. She hid in an imagination-stimulant-drug den. She came and found me after."

"How do you know Panama?"

Topper blushed slightly. "We grew up next door to each other. We—well I suppose you could say we were sweethearts. Until Redd. Then she told me she'd had enough. I didn't know that it was her cover, to disappear, to cut all ties from the Millinery and serve as a double-agent."

Weaver smiled, a little forced. She had never been a fan of sweethearts and love. Panama had never mentioned Topper, but then, Panama knew of Weaver's thoughts on love—and Weaver's own romantic situation.

Topper paused for a moment. "Weaver, I am going to ask you a series of questions that may become a tad, well, uncomfortable. But I need you to answer truthfully."

Weaver nodded, her heart picking up speed ever so slightly.

"You are called Weaver?" Topper's voice had taken on an authoritative tone.

"Yes."

"You served as a scientist for the Millinery pre-Redd?"

"Yes."

"You also had a hand in inventing for the Millinery weaponry, working most closely with Panama Alden?"

"Yes."

"You have no Millinery blood? No ancestors who served?"

"Not that I know of. I doubt it."

"When was the last time you were in contact with your parents or other family members?"

"About a year."

"A year?" Topper seemed a little surprised.

"I've been serving as a spy for the past eight months. Contact with family isn't permitted or intelligent if you don't want to get caught."

"But before that? A year is twelve months."

Weaver paused. She picked that the blanket that covered her. "I had an argument with my father. He was very anti-Millinery because of some past experiences. He wanted me to quit because he thought that the only reason I was hired was because they were hoping to bed me. 'Why else would they hire a pretty Civilian girl?' He didn't think I was smart enough to begin with."

"He thinks that badly of the Millinery?"

"He had a rough time with one, but that's all he'll ever say about it. My mother always agrees with my father. And when I left, that was the end of it. I haven't spoken to them or my sisters or brother since."

"I'm sorry."

"It's fine," Weaver smiled. "I've always been the black sheep of the family, the wild one."

"Do you miss them?"

Weaver smiled wryly. "More than I'd care to admit, but it did make it easier for me to disappear for this past assignment."

She didn't like the sympathetic looks Topper was starting to give her. She almost wished he would just ask her the difficult question to get away from this other stuff. As if he read her mind, he switched back to his questions.

"Did you have friends among the Milliners, good friends, at least?"

"Yes, quite a few."

"Ones that you could confide in?"

"Yes, I could."

"Did you ever confide things to these friends?"

"Yes, of course," Weaver laughed. "What woman doesn't need someone to talk to and complain with?"

"And though you say you have confidantes, no one, until you were brought to this camp, knew of your pregnancy. You're not married, are you?"

Ah. They had arrived here. These were the "uncomfortable" questions. Weaver knew, by the way Topper shifted to sit straighter, that these were the questions that had the answers he most wanted.

"No."

"Did you tell anyone of your pregnancy?"

"I told Redd that my husband had been killed by Alyssians—it gave her more reason to believe that I was on her side. Other than that, the only person that knew was Panama Alden."

"But you have no husband."

"Yes."

"Who is the father of your child?"


Duh, duh, duhhhh...