A/N: Thank you, fritzen and Timeless Badger, for your reviews and comments! I enjoy reading them!
Badger, I don't have a storyboard or an outline...lol I know, I know - blasphemy! I'm glad you're enjoying this story though! I hope the next few chapters don't disappoint.
We have (after this one) 6 chapters left to go before it's over. I appreciate you guys being a part of this crazy ride. Enjoy!
Early the next morning before anyone else in the bunker was awake, Agent Christopher gathered the team in the main room. Once everyone found a place surrounding the large harvest table, she began her briefing. "I've discovered some very interesting developments."
"Us too," Wyatt interrupted, motioning between Lucy and himself.
Lucy blinked at the interruption, glancing at Wyatt who nodded encouragingly for her to speak up. "Oh, uh," she muttered, turning back to the others, feeling a bit uncomfortable, "I have been reading this book," she held up the maroon book, "and I think it holds clues for us."
"Clues?" Rufus repeated excitedly. "Blue's Clues?" He raised his eyebrows at Jiya, hoping to lighten the darkening tension within the room. Jiya rolled her eyes, suppressing a smile as she tried to listen to Lucy.
Ignoring his joke, Lucy nodded, flipping the book open to show them the various drawings, stopping on the drawing of the woods outside of Roanoke where the three time machines were concealed within. "Whoever drew these pictures left hidden messages behind in all of them."
Rufus's eyes turned into slits as he stared carefully at the image. "What am I looking for?" he asked. "Waldo?"
"Pretty close actually," Lucy replied.
"You mean to tell me that Waldo is Rittenhouse?" Rufus asked as his head snapped up to meet her gaze.
Lucy shook her head, scoffing at him. "No," she told him. "I mean...the time machines."
"Oh," he muttered. "That...right…"
Wyatt rolled his eyes at Rufus as Lucy continued, "I thought it was strange at first until I saw these." She flipped the pages until she stopped at the drawing of the three-story brick house.
"Why does that look familiar?" Rufus asked, glancing at the others.
"Because," Flynn began, crossing his arms over his chest, "We've been there."
Agent Christopher blinked at the picture, lifting her gaze to Flynn. "Come again?"
Quinn nodded. "He's right," he confirmed. "That's the Austen estate in Steventon." Everyone turned their attention over to Quinn to see him seemingly unimpressed with this information.
"Okay, what about this one?" Wyatt asked, flipping through the pages until he stopped on the picture of the strange building with the tall bell tower.
Rufus balked. "That's the creepy place in the Hamptons."
Flynn nodded. "The Coast Guard's station."
Wyatt raised an eyebrow, turning the book back to look at it. "Huh...you're right," he said, glancing up to Lucy, "I can't believe I didn't remember that one."
"This is all very fascinating - " Quinn began.
Wyatt interrupted him. "That's not all!" he flipped to the author section at the back of the book, "Whoever wrote this book or at least this part, they drew the same way from the 'Wanted' posters when you guys headed back to Douglass's birth." Lucy unfolded the saved 'Wanted' posters and slid them across the table for everyone to see.
Agent Christopher studied everyone's reaction to what Lucy and Wyatt shared. Everyone seemed stunned to some degree - everyone except Quinn.
Mason cleared his throat, turning his gaze briefly to Jiya as he announced, "We've been compiling a list of events that took place during April 5th - "
"What year?" Wyatt asked.
Mason blinked at him. "All of them."
"All of them?" Wyatt repeated before he chuckled, "How many different events could have happened on that specific date?"
"Quite a few, it turns out," Mason told him. Lucy nodded to silently confirm that fact. He pulled out his notebook. "823, Lothair I is crowned King of Italy by the Pope... 919, the second Fatimid invasion of Egypt begins...1081 - "
"Not to be impatient," Wyatt interrupted. "But is there anything more recent over the years that would be relevant?"
Mason flipped a couple of pages, his lips pressed into a thin line. "The Mayflower set sail from Plymouth to return to England in 1621…uh…" his eyes darted about the page, "1862, the Battle of Yorktown…"
Wyatt motioned for Mason to place his notes on the table for everyone to look over, which he did reluctantly. As they were scanning through the long list of events - including important births and deaths - Jiya licked her lips, raising her hand to speak.
"That's not all we did," Jiya confessed. All eyes bounced over to her, causing her to shift slightly in place. "We tried to come up with personal connections to the date - "
"Personal connections?" Wyatt repeated, glancing between Jiya and Mason, lost.
"Like…" Jiya motioned toward Mason, "He got his first business partnership for Mason Industries on April 5th…"
Mason took in the shocked expressions and cocked his head off to the side as he answered, "It was a long time ago...took some digging but... the contract was dated for the fifth."
"With who?" Wyatt questioned, "Rittenhouse?"
Mason shook his head. "No, this was way before I worked on the machines."
"We did full background checks on every one of us," Jiya admitted, "and we found a lot but nothing that stood out as something important."
"What'd you find on me?" Wyatt mused out loud.
Mason cleared his throat. "You broke your arm in the third grade and then you enlisted for special forces - "
"You found that out by a background check?" Wyatt asked, skeptically.
Mason and Jiya shifted awkwardly like kids who were caught sneaking cookies before dinner. Mason shrugged. "We might have looked through Homeland Security's files - "
"You hacked the servers?" Agent Christopher asked, a silent lecture on her expression as she turned to face them. She shook her head. "We'll talk about that later…"
"So," Rufus started. "You're saying we're no closer to learning anything of importance?"
"If you would all stop talking for longer than two seconds," Denise began, "I was going to share what I've learned." She slid the printout of the 'hidden' investigation toward the team. "Turns out," she lifted her gaze to Flynn, "You were right… your serial killer in 1822 was from our present."
The team listened to Denise as she explained her findings and the notes on the investigation that took place after the transport was attacked. She even told them someone within Homeland Security tried to bury the file deep within the mainframe.
She placed a photo on the table, sliding it forward. "He had one visitor during his stay in that prison," she motioned to the image, "unfortunately, the woman hid herself quite well from the cameras."
Quinn studied the photo alongside the rest of them. Agent Christopher could see the information she presented seemed almost new to him, though he was hard to read at times.
Keeping her gaze fixed on Quinn, she added, "I'd also like you to take notice of the list of inmates that were on that transport."
As the team read through the missing inmates and security guards, Denise kept staring at Quinn for a reaction. When everyone's head snapped up, mouths agape, Quinn didn't seem surprised as his dark eyes lifted to meet hers.
"Wait," Wyatt asked, standing from the table. "You mean to tell me that this," he pointed to the paper filled with names, "this is the Reynolds? Our Reynolds?"
"Reynolds is from our time?" Rufus questioned. "Like...how did we not notice this before?"
"That's not all," Denise confessed.
"I don't think I can handle anymore," Rufus muttered, turning his gaze over to her.
Agent Christopher admitted, "Any guesses when his incarceration date was?"
"You're joking!" Wyatt gasped.
She nodded curtly. "April 5th."
"My head is spinning," Lucy sighed, sitting back in her chair, rubbing her temple with her fingers.
"So," Wyatt began, shaking his head as he turned back to the report on the transport, "Reynolds was under our noses the whole time and now he's gone?" Agent Christopher nodded and he added, "So, we're back to square one…"
"Unless we can figure out who this woman is," Denise retorted, pointing to the image before them.
"We have better luck figuring out who wrote Lucy's novel," Rufus muttered.
Quinn picked up the image of the security camera, studying the woman in the picture. He sucked his teeth before saying, "I think I might be able to help ye with that."
Before anyone could press him for more information, noise entering the main room caught everyone's attention. Glancing over to the hallway, they spotted the kitchen workers padding in, eyeing the team curiously as they shuffled by to set up for breakfast.
Agent Christopher gathered up the files and photos, looking at the team. "Be careful here," she warned. "If we are just learning this information now, there's no telling what we still have to uncover."
The team nodded, heading on their way.
As Tenley and Flynn walked down the hall together, he asked, "Are you coming back to the room?"
She stopped, looking up to meet his gaze. "Are you still mad at me?"
"I wasn't mad, Nine," he told her. "Frustrated but not mad."
She hummed a response, telling him she didn't believe his words. "Maybe in a while," she told him. "I have something to do in the infirmary first."
"Are you okay?" he asked, eyes darting about her face in search of concealed answers.
Nodding, she replied, "Yeah. Just tired."
He watched her leave for the infirmary with worried eyes. He knew something lingered on her mind but she refused to share it with him. He tried to give her space - to let her come to him - but he was quickly losing patience. He wanted to reassure her that whatever was weighing on her shoulders, he could carry that burden for her, that she didn't have to do it alone.
Knowing she would be in the infirmary for a while, Flynn returned to his room to rest his achy leg. The moment he entered his room and collapsed on the bed with a huff, his eyes caught a small envelope propped up against the lamp on the nightstand.
Furrowing his brow, he reached for it. The delicate handwriting on the front wasn't familiar to him. Propping himself up onto his elbow, he glanced around his room for signs of someone rifling through his belongings but found nothing.
Turning his gaze back to the envelope, he flipped it over, breaking the seal. Inside was a 4x6 photograph and small note. He read the note first.
'Loyalty is hard to find. Trust is easy to lose. Actions speak louder than words.'
He read and reread the note, confusion washing over his expression. He didn't understand the meaning of the note until he looked at the photo that was included - a picture of Rowan intimately embracing Tenley in the infirmary. Her arms were wrapped around his neck, almost leaning into him. Rowan's lips were against her ear and her eyes were closed.
Rage bubbled up within his core as he stared at the image. Questions flew through his mind as he wondered when this picture was taken. It was clear that Rowan and Tenley weren't aware they were being photographed - whether this made it easier or not to swallow was another matter entirely.
He knew there had to be an explanation. He took a deep breath to try and calm his knee-jerk response. He knew the picture made the situation look bad - like something they were hiding from everyone - but as he learned from spending years hunting Rittenhouse, he knew nothing ever appeared as it seemed; there was usually an explanation behind everything.
He stood from the bed and left his room, marching down the hall towards Rowan's room. As he neared the door, he paused, weighing his options. Deciding to hell with it, he knocked on the door three times.
Shuffling on the other end could be heard before the door opened, leaving him standing face to face with Rowan. Rowan blinked at him, a wave of confusion washed over him as he asked, "Can I help ye with something?"
Flynn's hardened jaw clenched before he tilted his head slightly. "We need to talk."
Tenley scoured the infirmary, searching for the journal. After checking and triple checking places she normally stashed it, it was clear it was no longer there. Sighing, she placed her hands on her hips, shaking her head as she glanced around the room.
"Have ye lost something?" a voice spoke by the door.
Turning around, Tenley's eyes locked onto the gentle face of Charlotte. She offered a small smile, dropping her hands from her hips to approach her, holding out her arms to help the frail woman into the infirmary. "I've misplaced something," the doctor explained. "What brings you here?"
Charlotte took timid steps toward the exam table with Tenley's help. "I've been having some headaches lately," she confessed. The moment she sat down on the table, she released a heavy sigh. "Now, what's this about misplacing something?"
"Oh," Tenley sighed. "The journal I found to jog my memory…"
Charlotte shifted in her place. "Misplaced," she repeated, her voice dropping low, "or taken?"
Tenley blinked at her. "You think it was taken?"
Charlotte licked her lips. "It's an important piece to the puzzle," she confessed.
Tenley's expression shifted into one mixed with confusion and realization. "Why is it important?"
"Do ye know where it came from?" she asked. When Tenley shook her head, Charlotte leaned forward slightly, "I gave it to ye."
"What?"
The old woman nodded. "It's rather complicated, I'm afraid."
"We have time," the doctor countered.
Charlotte shook her head. "Unfortunately dear, that's where ye're wrong." Before Tenley could ask what she meant, Charlotte asked, "How much have ye read?"
"All of it," she confessed.
"And have ye noticed the cover?"
Tenley nodded. "Of course," she said. "It's an old book...but," she whispered, "The monogram on the front is strange." Charlotte waited patiently as Tenley continued to muse out loud, "I noticed the other day - before it went missing - the monogram was slightly different in color -"
"What would cause that?"
Tenley shook her head slightly, shrugging half-heartedly. "It's hard to say," she began. "It could be age, it could be -"
"Added?" Charlotte suggested with a knowing look.
"Added?" Tenley repeated, raising an eyebrow at her. "Why would someone add to a monogram?"
Charlotte glanced over to the door briefly, making sure they were alone. "I couldn't tell ye sooner but…" she sighed, "the truth is, ye are the one who gave me the journal, to begin with."
"No," Tenley began. "I would have remembered that."
Charlotte chuckled. "Ye don't remember because ye haven't done it yet." Tenley opened her mouth to ask a question when Charlotte interrupted her, "I met ye when I was a wee one...ye saved my da one day…"
"Why are you telling me all of this?"
"Because," she started with a shaky weak voice, "I'm afraid I might not have much more time…" When Tenley's brows drew together at her words, she confessed, "I'm dying…" Before Tenley could say a word, Charlotte shook her head. "It's all right. I'm prepared…"
"Dying?" the doctor repeated, her eyes drifting the length of the woman before her. "What's happened? Should I get Rowan and Quinn?"
She shook her head. "They can't do anything for me now…"
"What do you want me to do?" Tenley asked. "How can I help you?"
"Ye can't," Charlotte explained. "It's unavoidable now…" she swallowed, licking her lips, "the next vision I suffer will be my last…"
"Vision?" Tenley repeated, blinking the stunned expression from her face. "Like…"
"Yes, dear," Charlotte confirmed glumly. "Unfortunately, I do not know what my next vision will be about but...I am hoping it is one of a better future."
"So…" the doctor said, drawing out the word, "What...what should I do?"
"Stop Reynolds."
Tenley studied the old woman's face. "Do you know who Reynolds is?"
She shook her head. "No," she admitted. "But ye do."