Hey guys, so sorry I haven't updated in awhile! I've been crazy busy with tests and other fics and studying for the bio SAT, which it turns out I'm not even going to take because my mom registered me wrong... anyway, I decided to flash back a little bit and do Harper's POV from right after she met Milligan. Hope it's not too confusing and people are still reading this! Thank you to my lovely fans, you're the greatest 3

Also, I'm working on assembling a cast list in Google Drive, and when I'm done I'll post the link so you all can take a look, if you think you would be interested in that.

Harper

He had said his name was Milligan, but that didn't seem to fit him, somehow. She wracked her brains as they set off into the corridor, aided by a narrow beam of light, thanks to her just-in-case-there's-an-apocalypse flashlight. She didn't particularly know why it was that as long as she could remember, she had been fiercely independent, unusually agile, and, she rather thought, a tad more talented than the average woman when it came to making split second decisions, gauging distances in the blink of an eye, and getting from point A to point B without batting an eyelash.

Except this strange man had entered her life and in a matter of minutes everything had changed. Silently cursing herself for losing focus, she shifted her mind elsewhere.

"So, where does this tunnel lead to?" asked Milligan. Though he whispered this, his voice echoed against the walls.

"I'm not a hundred percent sure," she said, congratulating herself for sounding so business-like (she'd been afraid that the second she opened her mouth she'd say something bumbling and incoherent or, worse, say nothing at all), "but we'll probably find out soon." She gestured to a glint of metal in the distance. "I'd say three hundred feet, six and a half inches."

The hallway was brightening up considerably as they drew nearer; Milligan shot her a peculiar look, which she saw out of the corner of her eye and chose to analyze later.

"Any idea where the kids are?" she asked gruffly.

"Well, by now he's probably shoved them in a cell somewhere," said Milligan stormily. She got the sense that he was a normally calm man, but when the children's lives were in danger his tone of voice became strained as if barely containing a pulsing ball of anger.

"Right," she said briskly as they got close enough to see what was ahead, "it looks like some sort of pothole-type thing." She cringed inwardly. "Pothole-type thing"? Pathetic. Pull it together, Harper.

"I do wonder where it leads," mused Mr. Benedict, stroking his frowzy beard. "I suppose it's probably an entrance into his office, or a watch tower, both of which would be convenient."

"Ready to find out?" asked Milligan, who had sped up in order to get there first. It did appear to be the kind of port you see on boats and things of that nature.

Disgruntled that he seemed to feel the need to go ahead - really, did he think she was that incapable? - Harper hastily reached for the handle. A split second later, she'd been tackled and shoved against the still-earthen wall of the tunnel. "What the -"

"Thank me later," muttered Milligan into her ear. She was acutely aware of his warmth pressed up behind her and his hands, surprisingly gentle, over her mouth. Oh, this was ridiculous. Heat rushed to her face - thank goodness it was so dark; they'd retreated back into the shadows of the corridor - and she mentally slapped herself. Just because she hadn't seen, let alone talked to, a man of her age in forever didn't mean that she should, could, or would have feelings for the first guy that showed up.

"What's going on?" she whispered.

"Good one, Milligan," Mr. Benedict said next to him, with a pat of approval.

"What in the world are you talking about?" asked Harper, frustrated beyond belief.

Milligan nodded towards a small red light affixed to the frame above the entrance. As they watched, it turned a hot, angry red and a high-pitched, whiny alarm started to go off. A laser unfolded from the dot of light and began scanning the area. Though it came dangerously close - centimeters from her left cheek - it receded and the light dimmed, alarms winding down.

They tip-toed cautiously towards the entrance, then, and ever so carefully twisted the handle around, then waited with bated breath, poised to run if McCracken had any additional defenses set up. Apparently he didn't.

"Let's go," said Milligan in a low voice. "Harper?"

Her heartbeat sped up as he said her name, and she looked nervously at him. They made uncomfortable eye contact for a moment before Mr. Benedict subtly cleared his throat and, red-faced, she seized a lip of the pothole. In no time at all, they'd removed it completely.

"Wow," breathed Harper, climbing through the aperture. They had stepped into a seemingly abandoned atrium, all white and silver and blinding metal. "This is what his headquarters look like?"

"No time for that," Milligan snapped.

Good gracious, what in heaven's name is wrong with you? I'm telling you, pull it together!"Sorry," she mumbled.

"We need a map," said Milligan sharply.

"Right," said Mr. Benedict, striding confidently over to a small, slim laptop perched nearby. He opened it and, deftly tapping the keyboard, pulled up a map.

"How did he...?" Harper began to ask, but Milligan shook his head.

"Nobody knows," he replied, smiling slightly.

They crowded round the laptop anxiously. A map had popped up, which Mr. Benedict was studying closely. There were a bunch of numbered quadrants and color-coded (the colors used were, of course, varying shades of brown and grey) sections and tiny annotations that, evidently, he could decipher. "Someone's coming," he said mildly, snapping the laptop shut. "This way."

They hurried after him, unable to react, and he led them down yet another desolate hallway. He paused, looking quickly from side to side before making the universal "all clear" sign.

"Here we are," he said a mere thirty seconds later. He motioned for them to join him. "Stay tight to the wall." Pressed up against what appeared to be yet another endless, monotone sheet of metal, Harper and Milligan held their breath. Mr. Benedict was deep in thought.

"So, how long have you been living like this?" whispered Milligan.

"Since - "

Mr. Benedict rapped the wall sharply, then tapped their knuckles and jerked his head down an opposite hallway.

"Where are we going?" hissed Harper.

"Don't ask, just follow," replied Milligan, offering a crooked smile. She felt her insides flip flop, followed by a wave of frustration, and sped up so as to avoid making eye contact again.

"Here we are." Mr. Benedict rubbed his hands together. "Harper, would you mind...?"

"What?" She followed his line of sight upwards, gaze falling on a small, barely noticeable vent. "Right. Um, can one of you - "

She'd looked to Mr. Benedict, but Milligan swiftly came forth and boosted her up. "You got it?" he asked, bearing her weight with impressive ease.

"I think so," she said, scrambling to get her fingers over the edge of the vent. However, there was the fact that she was still hanging onto a thin metal rim, body pressed against a decidedly smooth and slippery wall. Glancing down, she saw that Milligan still had her firmly supported, one arm wrapped securely around her lower leg. "Er... would you mind just, um, holding me like that?" she asked, stumbling over words. This was getting ridiculous.

"Of course," he said, the warmth of his hand pressing against her kneecap reassuring and also relatively distracting.

She gritted her teeth and concluded that she was going insane.

Ah, feelings. How muddled they make things; how utterly irritating they are. You know what I'm talking about, don't you? You see, they are tricky things with a rather unfortunate tendency to prod you at the least convenient - and most unpleasant - times. What's more, even if you put your metaphorical shields up and avoid the incessant nagging, eventually they come back, ten times as strong as before, and you're stuck dealing with an utter mess. Yes, feelings are uncomfortable, wonderful, crazy, marvelous things indeed.

"Harper?" Mr. Benedict was looking up at her kindly, but she sensed impatience and urgency behind his tone of voice.

"Sorry, sorry!" Okay, Harper. This is absolutely not the time to burst into tears or curl up in a blob of embarrassingly strong emotions, or whatever you want to call them. Right now, you're in a rather perilous situation, which may or may not determine the survival of five children, so for the love of god, please just pull it together and get that darn vent open. The pep talk seemed to work. Pleased with herself, she grabbed her screwdriver, twisted the base around until the right size came up, and within eight seconds had the vent open. "Catch," she said, tossing it down to Mr. Benedict, who nodded appreciatively.

The duct was about a foot and a half square, but this challenge was refreshing. She'd been trapped with nothing to do for so long that she was relieved, if out of practice, to be faced with an actually productive task. One can only play tic tac toe against themselves for so long.

"I'm going in," she informed the others. "I'll toss down a rope in a little bit, okay?"

"Copacetic," said Milligan, and winced as though he'd just said something mortifying. "I mean, okay, good, sounds like a plan."

"Um, Milligan?"

"Yeah?"

"You can let go of my leg now."

"Oh, right."

So... that happened. Harper carefully slipped two arms into the shaft, pressing firmly against the sides to brace herself as he relinquished his grip. Very, very slowly and cautiously she pulled forward until her shoulders were completely inside the narrow passageway.

Now came the hard part. Sucking in a deep breath, she leveled her head so it was at the same angle as the opening, and slid smoothly inside. Scrabbling blindly at the metal edges - it was pitch black - she wiggled easily forth. Now she was completely within the flue. Pausing only a moment to catch her breath, she continued towards the small glimmer of light up above. It took her thirty-three seconds to reach it. Peering through the slits of the other vent, she glimpsed heads and heard children's voices. Footsteps echoing against the passageway, she slid backwards a few feet, and called out to Milligan.

"Boost me up," he instructed Mr. Benedict immediately. The man obliged, and with an indignant "Oomph!" he was in, staring directly at Harper's feet.

"You there?" she asked.

"Right here," replied Milligan. "Should we bring Mr. Benedict up?"

"Ah, yes, that. Here you are." Harper extracted a long, supremely strong rope from her pocket, and passed it back until their fingers touched. For a brief, breathless interval his hand overlapped hers, and then he withdrew, mumbling a thanks.

He dropped the rope down and, ignoring Harper's protests - she insisted that she really didn't mind helping - single-handedly pulled Mr. Benedict up.

At this point the vent was a tad over-crowded. This was a small problem, seeing as they were on an urgent rescue mission and being able to breathe was somewhat of a priority.

"Hurry," Milligan said in a choked whisper to Harper.

"Hold on!" Flustered, she inched forward as quickly as possible and reached the other vent. In no time at all, she'd unscrewed the bolts, moved it to the side, and jumped out, followed by Milligan and Mr. Benedict.

A tall blond girl, a handsome teenage boy, another one, who was lankier and African-American, a five- or six-year-old, and an extremely awkward looking, freckled young man looked back at her, eyes wide.

"Harper," she said briskly. "I'm here to rescue you."