Alviarin stared down at the computerscreen with a frown. None of her efforts were working. She had sent the compiler through enough iterations that at least some useful feedback should turn up, but the results were either gibberish or nothing. Empty.

What was going wrong here? Twelve digit code would take longer, more processing power, no question, but all that accommodated…

She took a step back, wiped her hands on her thighs and rubbed them over her face. Sinking into the chair, she threw her legs onto the table. She had been edgy for the whole morning, slept even worse than usual the last night, and taken the first opportunity to relay the last message to her companions.

Al, the more slender, fair bearded almost mute guy, had started typing hurriedly.

Ouachita national park – trail goes west to east, over 500 miles. Shelters here and there. If we are really north of the lake, we should head east and north, hit the US65 and head north toward Springfield. If we are south, then swim. Both east and west are far detours. Danger of being caught in a corner.

She could still see the words etched in her mind. At least one of them knew more or less where they were. Too bad this part of the southern states meant nothing to her.

The young woman stared at the screen with animosity. On one side the problem was an enticing one. It challenged her on a level that had not been even stirred for the past two years. On the other hand, her subconscious was uneasy about something. And thirdly, how much effort should she put into the solving? Worst case, there were the weapons, ammunitions and explosives behind this door that Chris and Al believed to have picked up in last night's conversations. But how long could she string Ryan and Company along before she tipped the balance?

Either way, there was something she was missing and it would not crawl out of the screen at her. She needed to set up a different feedback array. Alviarin got up, snatched the tiniest screwdriver and disconnected the panel again.

"Hey, woman. You already skipped lunch. Take a break." That was Walt, startling her out of the soldering. His gaze was confused, warning.

"Can't. Need to have something – anything - to show up there. Bring me something to eat down?"

"Will do."

An while later, Greg and Ryan stood in the doorframe, Chris meeting her glance over the latter's shoulder apologetically.

"The men say your eyes are squared."

"Not that bad." Her heart was pounding unreasonably fast. Damn, she had not eaten or drunk the whole day. The two had startled her.

"What's the problem?"

"The twelve digit code. Here… I set up the LEDs for safety – double checking if you so will. The program is doing what I need it to do, I see that the feedback is what it should be. Right?"

Both men were staring at her with mixed expressions. But she could not stop talking. Her hands were starting to sweat.

"I can't figure out what I'm missing. I even tried alternating the order of the pings, in case there is a safety catch built in somewhere."

Right, her eyes were playing tricks on her. Sparks and dark spots. She'd been working in the dim light for too long. Taking deep breaths to calm herself, she let her eyes go unfocused on the open panel. On the back wall, almost too dark to see, was a company logo. She had noticed it, of course, but now… Sound, smell and sight sharpened painfully until everything was suddenly black and white, and she could hear herself speak as if through a long metallic tunnel: "Safety catch – that's a laugh. It's a full blown thirty-two-digit prime number encrypted lock. I'm not a cryptographer."

What was happening? She stood, her vision going dark and light, dizziness and nausea branding against her. Deep breaths, she tried to focus on breathing. But there was too little air down here, even gulping it down frantically did not help. Her throat closed up. Her ears were ringing painfully.

A hand gripped her arm. She flailed directionless at the restriction. Tried to say something, only gibberish. She could not hear herself speak. Her perception sharpened to the point where every tiny detail screamed for her attention, hurt – the brightly colored cables, the horsehead on the man's shirt, the dusty, chalky smell of the room mixing with the ozone from the overheating laptop. The smell… the sounds of deep voices bellowing at her, barring her way, enclosing her vision. Stealing what precious little air was left… air…

….

A long while later Alviarin slowly became aware of herself again. Her hands clamped around her knees. She was sitting on the cold concrete floor. Under… under the table.

Slowly she loosened her fingers. She was shivering like a… a… rattle snake.

"Feeling better?"

She startled, the dizziness and the nausea returning with force.

"Shhhhh. It's me. Chris. Calm. I'm not gonna get any closer." He was sitting in the doorway. "Nobody's gonna hurt you."

She swallowed convulsively. The shivering only got worse.

"You haven't eaten nor drunk all day, woman. Here." He gently threw a chocolate bar her way. For some reason, that was the last straw.

Her throat closed up, momentarily choking her, until she grew aware of the tears running down her face. Touching the wetness with icy fingers, she held them out to him.

"Wha…?" It sounded more like a confused squeak, but Chris did not even twitch.

"You had a panic attack. Started speaking some foreign language. Started hyperventilating. Hit Montgomery in the face." He winked at her. "Try to just let it all wash past you. Eating should help. I have some water, too."

Nothing he said made sense.

"No, don't dwell on what lead to it. Focus on the now and here. Eat." His grumbling voice calmed her a little. Unable to open the plastic foil with her numb fingers, she suffered him to come close enough to rip it for her. The first few bites were like cold, dusty straw in her mouth, but when the sugar hit her stomach things started to warm and gain color.

"See? Eating helps. Go on, be done with it." He offered her a bottle of water, which she would have emptied mindlessly if the large hand had not tilted it from her mouth.

"Slow, girl, or it was all for nothing."

Finally, a second bar later, Alviarin found her voice. "A panic attack?"

"Aye. Never had one?"

"No." It was true. She had no idea what had just happened. She felt cold… freezing even.

"Damn scary for you, amiright?"

"Shit, yeah." She had picked up too much casual swearing from these guys. "I hit Ryan?"

"He tried to touch you – instinctive move. Stupid. People can't bear touch when they're like this."

"Everything was closing up on me."

"It's different for everybody."

"What then?"

"Al and Walt pulled them away, I stayed. Watched over you."

"You've dealt with… this before."

"I have."

She was coming back to herself. His eyes warned her. This was not a subject for down here, where people were listening. What had happened? She scanned the room dazedly and her gaze caught on the open panel. The logo…

"Hey, I said no thinking. Stay with me."

"I know what…" There was a buzzing sound in her ears. "Twelve digit code…"

"Francie, look at me. Stop. I need you to let me pull you upright and get you into the fresh air. Otherwise you'll have a total breakdown."

He was right. She needed to… "Out. Right. Air. Sun."

Hoisting her upright none too gently, Chris led her past the frozen faces of Walt and Al, half-carried her up the winding stairs, out into the freezing night air.

She sat down with her back against one of the large oak trees. The burly ex-soldier hunkered down close to her.

It was the cold, fresh air, the clear sky that washed through her senses like so much clean water. Starlight.

"No sun. What time is it?"

"Past eight. Took you a while to come out of it."

"How did you…"

"Al used to have them… PTSD. His are different from yours, he gets violent, you pull into yourself. But him too, can't stand touching. You're not that good about strangers' touch stone cold sober."

She had to grin, but sobered with a memory. "Thanks for … everything. Keeping watch over me. Making me shut up just now."

"So there really was a reason, not just you sleep-deprived and stressed out?"

Suddenly the cold bit into her. "There was a reason."

Chris considered her, nodding. "Listen, we're good to go. Though don't underestimate this episode. Takes more out of you than you think."

"I don't think I can do another day down there. This... The enclosure…"

"You're claustrophobic?"

"A bit."

"Hey, I hate to ask, so soon after… but I heard Greg and Ryan talk… heard any of that?"

The shiver crept up on her, reaching for her fingers, her ribs, making her teeth chatter.

"Chris…"

"They were not surprised at the crypto-gibberish you sputtered."

"Thirty-two digit prime number encryption…"

The burly man grimaced in frustration, glancing back over his shoulder. "Here they come."

Indeed, to Alviarin's chagrin, the unmistakable silhouette of wiry, shortish Greg accompanied by who would undoubtedly be Ryan Montgomery were striding toward them, the light of the few still lit windows behind them.

"Feeling better?" There was honest concern in the melodic voice.

"She's getting there."

"Francie?" Ryan insisted.

Shit, she was not up for this. "I meant w-what I said. I can't break the code. R-rather put C4 a-against the door."

"Hey, calm down, young woman. Things might look different tomorrow."

"No, Ryan. This is impossible."

He seemed taken aback at her fatalistic insistence, or maybe her flighty use of his first name.

Greg tried to change the subject: "Was that the reason for this… episode?"

He had not counted on Chris. The burly veteran kept his tone neutral, his words biting: "Ye've been threatening her left and right, kept her working down there non stop – and she's claustrophobic. Ask again why she snapped, presented with a problem she can't solve."

Greg had the grace to look shamefacedly at the young woman, then at his friend.

She hardly knew how much she dared. "What's behind this d-door? Why is there such a so-sophisticated lock on it? T-titanium walls, t-titanium door, p-prime encryption?"

"None of your concern." Ryan bit down on the words.

Greg put a hand on his arm. "We'll postpone, Ryan. Think about it."

The taller man ground his teeth together. "I'm not giving up on this. Are you certain you can't do it? Given more time-"

Why wouldn't he let it go? "I'm telling you, I can't do it. There is nothing you can do to me that will make me able to decrypt a code such as this! It's called cryptography! I'm…" she managed to stop herself and take a deep breath. Her desperation was making her dangerously careless. "I'm an engineer, and not a specialist."

A coarse curse rose into the otherwise silent night air. Ryan turned away from them, kicked the floor in utter frustration and anger.

"Damn bloody Sherlock and his safety measures. I need the-"

"Ryan." Greg's voice held warning, an effort to pull the other guy out of his thoughts.

It made Alviarin reckless. "Somebody must have the codes, though?"

Ryan turned back, eyes black slits in a shadowed face. "Oh, all right somebody has the codes. The same somebody who blew up the mainframe in the first place. That's where the safety hatch was for all them locks. The bit that is completely ripped to pieces. The reason I finally had you brought in. The reason your precious friend had to die! Because we needed somebody who could…" He had closed in on her to the point that Chris started to move to deflect him.

"Ryan! Shut up and calm down." Greg's harsh words held an order. He jerked roughly on the taller man's arm.

"Oh, what's lost, Greg? All know she worked with the Navy. Hearing about the solar field at Springfield was what alerted Burt to her. But nobody's come looking for her. Nobody knows that we exist. Because otherwise... Either she's not that good, as she keeps saying herself, or they're so undermanned and underequipped, they're scared of us. She's not going anywhere. It doesn't matter how much she hears."

A new figure joined them from the darkness. "Guys, don't mean to interrupt, but you're attracting attention."

Alviarin pulled her half-undone braid over her shoulder, the heavy rope holding a measure of safety in it's familiar feel.

Frank Salomon twitched. He stared down at her in a way that made her exchange a glance with Chris – the bear had noticed it too. Well, she must be quite a sight.

"Don't want to frighten Francie here overmuch. What happened down there?"

Greg shrugged the older man off. "Nervous breakdown. Keep the people away, will you?"

Alviarin had already reached for Chris shoulder, pushing herself upright. "I think I'll head inside."

"Shouldn't the doc see her?"

Damn bloody Salomon for interfering again.

Chris tried to help. "And do what exactly? She needs sleep, and not be locked underground for days on end."

But this was getting dangerous – Chris advocating too loudly for her well-being would make the more aware Greg suspicious. So the young woman dropped her hand from the bear's shoulder, and nagged with as much annoyance as she could muster: "I just want to be left alone for a change."

It was blond Siobhan who saved the moment. She came hurrying over the street with the child in her arm.

"Greg! Francie! What happened?"

Even Greg seemed relieved at her appearance. "Ryan, I think Siobhan should take Francie home, and you and I can discuss the further proceedings. Sound good?"

The addressed grumbled something, still visibly aggravated. Greg motioned to Frank, who frowned in annoyance, but tugged the leader away by the arm.

Gratefully accepting the offered hands, Alviarin stood, nodded minutely at Chris and turned to follow her blond neighbor. At the corner of her vision she saw Ryan's countenance change like quicksilver, bumping his shoulder into Frank's.

"You may want to claim that girl, but you might have some competition…"

Claim her?

It took Alviarin all her self-control not to throw up on the spot.