A/N: Thank you, Danielle and frtaylor, for your comments. It is high praise - thank you! I'm shocked and humbled by your words. I hope that the ending is not rubbish when we get there! No pressure! =)

Here's the next chapter! Enjoy!

Back in the infirmary, Tenley finished patching everyone up and sat down at her desk with a heavy sigh. She was thankful for the much-needed silence and space away from everyone.

It had been quite a day and this was the first chance she had to sit and take a moment to rest. As she sat there in the empty room, her eyes drifted across her desk at the stacks of papers, the occasional pen peeking out from the clutter, and the small ball of rubber bands before landing on a familiar leather-bound journal. Sitting up straight in her chair, she reached for it.

She eyed the cover of the old journal in her hands, noticing the silvered monogram letters embossed on the front. She stared at them, trying to understand what they meant when she noticed the shading was slightly different on the last two letters in the series.

Before she had a chance to properly investigate the cover, the door to the infirmary opened, gaining her attention. A young woman with coppery hair entered, her eyes scanned the place before landing on the doctor.

Tenley blinked at her. "Can I help you?

The woman nodded, holding up her right hand which was bound by a light green kitchen towel, dark hues of crimson visibly seeped through. "I cut myself."

Tenley stood from her desk, setting the journal down as she motioned for the young woman to enter and sit on one of the exam tables across the way. "What happened?"

The woman crossed the room as she explained, "I sliced it in the kitchen," she climbed up onto the exam table, "I tried to wrap it as best as I could but…"

"Let's take a look," Tenley said, pulling a pair of purple latex gloves on. She started to unwrap the blood-soaked dish towel from the woman's hand. "What's your name?"

"Poppy," the woman replied. The moment her wound was exposed to air, she hissed in pain, grimacing at the sight of it before averting her gaze. The cut across her palm was jagged, about an inch wide and 4 inches long, the flesh peeled awkwardly away from the exposed tissue beneath. Some of the shallower sections had started to clot but the woman would need a few stitches.

Tenley's brows drew together at the state of the wound. "You cut yourself?" Poppy nodded and Tenley asked, "On what?"

Poppy bit her lip to keep from hissing out as Tenley began cleaning the wound. "A metal - "

The door to the infirmary opened again, interrupting Poppy's explanation. Both women glanced over to see Quinn halting in his tracks just beyond the threshold. His posture tensed as he stared at them, his hand remained on the doorknob.

Tenley's brow drew together as she took in his appearance. "What's wrong?

"When ye get a moment," he said, his dark eyes never leaving Poppy, "I'd like to speak with ye."

"Might be a while," Tenley told him as she turned her attention back to Poppy's sliced hand.

"I can wait," he told her, not moving from the doorway.

Tenley glanced back over to him, raising an eyebrow. "Are you planning on holding the wall up or are you going to come inside and sit down?"

Quinn's lips drooped into a frown. "I'm going to walk the hallway," he told her, "keep the blood flowing in my leg." He turned, leaving the door wide open as he paced the length of the hall.

Tenley shook her head slightly, turning back to Poppy. "Sorry about that," she muttered, resuming her work on the woman's hand. She paused long enough to grab the suture kit to begin stitching the palm.

"He scares me," she confessed quietly, her green eyes locked on the opened door.

Tenley lifted her gaze to meet hers. "Who? Quinn?" Poppy nodded. Tenley asked, "Any particular reason why?"

Poppy shook her head, her coppery curls falling in front of her shoulders. "He just has that look about him."

"What look is that?"

"The dangerous kind," Poppy confessed, dropping her voice low. "He seems the sort who could murder us all in our beds and we'd never see it coming."

Tenley studied Poppy's expression for a moment. There was a lingering fear on the woman's face but the emotions behind her eyes didn't match. Tenley licked her lips, reaching for the clean cotton swabs. "I admit he's an intense fellow," she told the woman, dabbing the wound gently, "and I think it's amplified when he hasn't had sleep in a while."

"Men and children are one and the same," Poppy commented, smirking slightly.

Tenley gave her a half-smile. "Something like that... What did you say you cut yourself on?" she asked, finishing the stitching.

"A tin," Poppy admitted. She motioned with her good hand nonchalantly, almost as like she was trying to say she was a klutz. "Those coffee tins have those special openers and about halfway to opening it, my hand slipped and I sliced my hand on the lid."

Tenley grimaced at the story. "Ouch," she sighed. "Sounds about as painful as this looks," she grabbed the bandage and began to wrap the hand, "Do you need something for the pain?"

Poppy nodded. "It really hurts, like...I can feel it throbbing!"

Tenley continued her work. "Okay, I'll give you something," she told her, "as well as some antibiotics to make sure there's no infection." Poppy nodded and watched as the doctor poured a couple of pills into a dispensing cup and returned to her, holding them out. "Come back before bed and I'll give you another dose."

Poppy swallowed the pills, sipping the water Tenley brought over to ensure they went down all the way. "Thank you." Poppy smiled as she slipped off of the exam table, making her way to the door.

Tenley started to clean the mess left behind as Poppy left the infirmary. It wasn't long before the silent room was filled with the sounds of another pair of footsteps entering. She didn't have to look up from her work to know who it was. "What was that all about earlier?"

Quinn shuffled over to the exam table. "My dressing needs to be changed."

Tenley lifted her eyes, blinking at him skeptically. "I was referring to - "

"I know what ye were referring to," he confessed, hopping onto the table with a groan.

"Is there something about her that I should be aware of?" Tenley asked as she opened the cabinets to grab new supplies.

He shrugged. "I don't know what ye mean."

She sighed heavily, shaking her head in frustration as she grabbed a new pair of gloves and materials to swap out the bandage on his calf. "Fine," she muttered. "Guess it doesn't matter anyway."

"What's the matter with ye?" he asked, watching her rigid posture as she returned to him with an arm full of supplies.

She scoffed. "What difference does it make? You wouldn't tell me even if I asked," she said. "Just like everyone else is angry for God knows what reason - "

"Ye're talking about Flynn now?"

"I'm talking about everyone," she corrected, her tone growing agitated. "I'm getting really tired of being kept in the dark."

Quinn studied her for a moment before breaking the growing silence and tension between them. "I don't trust her."

"Who?" Tenley asked, unwrapping the old bandage from his leg. "Poppy?"

"Aye," he growled, eyes darting to the opened door to ensure they were still alone. "Ye should stay away from her."

Tenley stood straight, blinking at him. "Why? What -"

"It's better if ye don't - "

"I don't know," Tenley said with Quinn. She blew a hard exhale from her lips, turning back to focus on her task. "I shouldn't be surprised to hear those words from you."

Quinn sucked his teeth. "Ye've got a lot on yer plate already," he told her. "The last thing ye need to be concerned with is whatever that is happening that I can handle for ye."

Gritting her teeth, Tenley kept quiet as she finished working on his bandage. When she finished, she sighed, looking up at him. "Anything else?"

His eyes narrowed at her short demeanor but shook his head. "I'll get out of yer hair," he hopped off the table, "Thank ye. I'll see ye around."

Tenley's jaw jutted out as she cleaned up the infirmary again. She tossed the trash from the suturing, the old bandages, and her gloves into the bin angrily. Shaking her head at the oddities that took place, she returned to her desk, plopping down into her chair with a huff.

Running her hands down her face for a moment, she closed her eyes and took a couple of deep breaths to calm herself. Realizing there was little to no hope of encouraging the numerous men in her life to speak to her about whatever was running through their minds, she decided to continue her examination of the old journal.

Sitting up to retrieve it again, she paused. The book was no longer on the desk where she left it. Tenley recounted for a moment about where she dropped it before people filtered into the infirmary. She could have sworn it was on the desk. She lifted some of the stacks of papers, finding nothing. Opening the drawers, she pushed things aside, searching but came up empty-handed.

It was gone.

Agent Christopher sat in the hidden control room, typing madly at the keyboard. She compiled a long list of things she needed to look up within the Homeland Security mainframe to find answers to the numerous questions that were rising.

A knock on the door gained her attention as she glanced over to see Jiya and Mason entering. "Are we interrupting?" Mason asked.

Denise shook her head. "You can come in," she told them, motioning to the screen, "I was just about to log into the Homeland Security network."

"Can we do anything to help?" Jiya offered.

With a short sigh, Agent Christopher thought for a moment before nodding. "There is something you could get started on for me," she said, turning her gaze over to the two. "Start compiling a list of what happened on April 5th."

"What year?"

"All of them."

"All of them?" Jiya repeated, eyes widening.

Denise nodded, turning her gaze over to Mason. "I think there should be a separate list of personal achievements or accidents for that date as well," she suggested.

Mason cocked his head at her. "You think there's a personal connection to the date?"

"Better to have all bases covered, don't you agree?" she asked, turning back to the computer monitor. "Besides," she added, "if Bloodstone or Rittenhouse - whoever - is invested in anyone from our team, maybe there's a connecting piece to the date. I might be grasping at straws here but…"

Mason nodded, giving her a reassuring glance. "I'll let the others know so they can work on it as well," he told her. He took a step away, stopping at the door, glancing back over to Agent Christopher. "For what it's worth," he said, "I think you're doing the right thing."

Denise didn't acknowledge the remark as she returned to her typing. Jiya and Mason exchanged worried glances before they started their task.

Jiya sat at the other console in the control room, writing down any important information pertaining to April 5th throughout history - including people's births and deaths - leaving no stone unturned.

Agent Christopher spent the better part of the evening at the computer, scanning and scouring the encrypted files of Homeland Security, hoping to catch a glimpse into the name Flynn mentioned earlier.

It took her the better part of the evening to finally dig up some brief reference to an incident that had been flagged as odd and still ongoing in the investigation. The more she looked into the matter, the more she realized someone within Homeland Security had been hiding pertinent information from those in charge - from her.

The report in question was a detailed account of a couple of agents that arrived on the scene of an accident in the middle of a desolate highway - the same highway as it turned out that would lead a person to the maximum-security prison Flynn had been incarcerated at.

According to the document, a service crew left the prison to clean up a section of this abandoned highway but halfway to their destination, the transport stopped. The agents' investigational report concluded that nothing was wrong with the bus or accompanied transport security vehicles. They stopped of their own volition.

The strange part was that most of the guards were slaughtered alongside 90% of the inmates on the bus. Whoever led this attack was known to the driver and other security detail as the bullet holes were inside the vehicles, suggesting their assailants were on the transport.

Agent Christopher scanned the list of those on the service crew, including the guards assigned. Her eyes landed on those 'missing' from the deceased, zeroing in on one in particular - Jose Dorangel V. Gomez.

Sighing heavily, Agent Christopher pulled his profile. He had been moved from Venezuela's prison to this facility shortly before Flynn's arrival. This man did stab Flynn as well as a few others during his stint, killing a few and - as Lucy stated before - fed the remains to other inmates during his kitchen service duty.

Shaking her head, Denise continued to search his record. He had one visitor during his incarceration at this facility - a young woman. There were a couple of images of the visitor bench but the quality was poor and it didn't help that the woman wore clothing and glasses to hide her identity. There would be no easy way of uncovering who this woman was.

Agent Christopher crossed referenced the date of this transport massacre. It happened almost a year after Flynn's. She sighed, leaning back in her chair, feeling like she was missing a key component to this whole ordeal - one she felt was staring her in the face - one she'd feel silly if she missed it.

Pulling up the list of names for the missing inmates and guards, another name caught her attention, causing her to gasp out loud involuntarily.

R.V. Reynolds.