Third chapter in three days. Make sure you've caught up with the previous ones. Things are starting to unravel now...

Only Shadows Ahead

Chapter Fifty-Four

"Starting to think I should have stayed at the marine center," Gi complained, wiping her forehead. "You could have come back with me — we would have been the most feared research team around."

"Spending our days swimming? Cuddling the ocean's creatures?"

"We could have been somethin' special. The 'dream team'."

"Uh huh."

Gi thrust her chest out; dropping her hand to her hip and striking a pose. "Scientists with brains and sex appeal. The women would wanna be us. Men would wanna be with us —"

"Ugh," Linka said, making a face. "No, thank you."

"No adoring guys?"

"It is over-rated."

"Sucks to be you," Gi laughed, clapping a filthy hand on Linka's back. "There, there."

Linka waved a dirt-encrusted finger in Gi's direction. "It is a distraction."

"God forbid anyone distract you from your work," she said, grinning and dodging the swipe aimed at her head. "I've spent the past… well, most of the past seven years watching guys get a little distracted over you."

Linka was indignant. "I do not ask for the attention."

"Not even a month back on the job and nothing's changed." She grinned, wrapping an arm around Linka and squeezing her. "Guys are still lining up."

"Not all guys," she sighed, glancing in Wheeler's direction. "Yankee has been very quiet, lately."

"Yeah," Gi said, following her gaze. "I think he's still coming to terms with everything."

"Perhaps he is distracted, too?" she said with a small smile. She straightened, watching him fondly as he dragged splintered logs towards the awaiting trucks. "Distracted by the thought of food, no doubt."

"Speaking of distracted," Gi said quietly, nodding in the direction of the Parks and Recreation vehicles. "That guy hasn't stopped staring at you since we —"

"He is welcome to stare. I am welcome to ignore him."

"Strapping young man."

"Did you know the female praying mantis allows the male to penetrate her — before she bites his head off?"

"Really?

"Da," Linka said, helping Gi lift debris with some assistance from her ring. "Black widow spiders too."

"You don't say?"

"Uh huh."

"I've really missed our weird conversations," Gi sighed.

"I can be weirder."

"Try me."

"Water can boil — and freeze — at the same time."

"Really?"

"Da," she replied.

"I should probably know that," she mused.

Linka stood upright, arching backwards in an effort to iron out the kinks in her muscles and spine. "I am —"

"I am calling a lunch break."

Kwame's voice came from behind them. He looked weary, covered in dirt and sweating profusely. He wiped his forehead, staring at the damage inflicted by the hurricane.

"Thank God," Gi muttered. "About to pass out."

They followed Kwame towards the volunteer tent, collecting Ma-Ti and Wheeler along the way. A table had been set up for the locals and out-of-state helpers; already being utilised by hungry men and women.

Linka headed to the makeshift bathroom to clean up. Washing her hands and splashing water on her face in an effort to cool down. She leaned forward, touching her throat. The marks were now completely gone. Her hand contained nothing but a faint red line; slightly puffy but nonetheless healed.

The door swung open as she stepped out, heading towards the table laden with sandwiches and cold drinks. She grabbed a plate, moving down the line and waiting her turn.

"Good selection."

She glanced up, seeing the same 'strapping young man' from earlier standing behind her. His chiseled face grinned down at her and she nodded mutely before turning her attention back to the line in front.

"It was great of you guys to come and help," he said, moving forward as the line progressed. "The winds here got to around a category three last night."

"Really?"

"It's an honor to have you here."

She shrugged, eyeing the sandwiches. "It is our job."

"Lost some wildlife, I'm afraid."

"Oh," she replied. She reached forward, loading some food and fresh fruit onto her plate. "I am sorry to hear that."

He continued talking as Linka looked him over nervously. He was well built; his broad chest visible through the expensive polo shirt he was wearing. An engaging smile and a confident manner. She nodded, only half listening as she grabbed a bottle of water, intent on joining the others who were spread out across the floor, propped against the far wall.

Giving him a polite smile, she headed towards Gi — who already stuffing her face and waggling her eyebrows.

What? Linka mouthed; half stumbling when she realised the friendly man from the lunch line was still close behind her. "Bozhe moy," she muttered under her breath.

The man plonked himself down unannounced, patting the spot beside him but she stayed on her feet, uncertain. Just wanting to eat her lunch in peace.

It took her all of two seconds to make a strategic decision. She dropped to her knees, reaching for the plate balanced across Wheeler's lap and placing it beside him.

"Hey!" he started, looking at her in surprise. "I'm eatin' that, Lin —"

She wriggled herself back until she was positioned between his legs. Grabbing the remains of his sandwich, she twisted and offered it to him with a wide, apologetic smile.

"Here you are, dorogoy," she said sweetly.

"Thank you, sweetheart," Wheeler deadpanned.

She munched on her sandwich, noticing a shadow of disappointment flicker across the stranger's face. Ma-Ti soon engaged their guest in conversation, discussing the clean-up effort and the volunteers who had given up their time to be here.

Wheeler's hand rested casually on her lower thigh. She leaned back against his chest, finishing her food and doing her best to drown out the constant murmur of conversation going on around the room. Her eyes closed, feeling comfortable and relaxed even amongst the one-hundred odd strangers in the room.

His mouth eventually brushed her cheek and she instinctively tilted her head towards him.

"Yogi Bear not doin' it for you?"

Her eyes flew open; her mouth suddenly devoid of moisture. "What?"

Wheeler nodded towards polo-wearing smooth talker. "Guy's a park ranger, apparently. He's the one who called us in."

Brett.

Brayden.

Chad.

Linka stared hard, unsure why this information had prompted such a physiological response. She clutched Wheeler's hand tightly.

"He is a park ranger?"

"Yeah," he said, frowning. "You all right, babe?"

"Da," she whispered. "Just deja vu."

Brad.

"Deja vu?" Wheeler grabbed her water bottle from her hand, taking a few long swigs from it. "Thought you didn't believe in any of that crap?"

"I don't," she said, drawing a shaky breath.

"Ohhhh-kay," he said.

"Mmm."

"You sure you're all right? You've gone all pale and shit."

She nodded vigorously, leaning forward and stacking the plates, busying herself with tidying up. Keeping herself occupied. She felt Wheeler's hands descend on her shoulders, squeezing reassuringly. He pushed himself to his feet and stretched.

"No rest for the wicked," he said, beckoning for Ma-Ti to join him. The boys wandered off to continue their efforts as Linka stared unabashedly in the park ranger's direction, her mouth still ajar.

Eventually the man left, along with Gi who wandered off to assist the boys. Linka got to her feet, sorting the trash into the appropriate containers.

"Are you all right?"

"Da." Linka nodded, scraping food into the compost bin and turning to face Kwame. "Do I not look all right?"

He shrugged. "I have seen you look better. Do you need a —"

"I am fine." She waved her hand dismissively. "How much longer are we —"

"We will stay until sunset, then move on to —"

"Belarus?"

"Yes." Kwame looked unsure, folding his arms and leaning against the food table. "You are sure your information is —"

"Da," she said. "My source tells me there is an operation underway. A lot of girls are suffering."

"You are not going to reveal your source?"

"Nyet."

"Why not?"

"Because he needs to remain androgynous."

Kwame's lips cracked into a wide smile. He chuckled, touching her cheek with affection. "Oh boy."

"What?"

"All right," Kwame said with a resigned sigh. "It is your call. You were right about the last tip."

"Spasiba." He went to walk away and Linka grabbed his arm. "Kwame?"

"Mmm?"

"What was that man's name?"

"Who?"

"The park ranger you were talking to?"

"Oh," he said as he headed away. "Brad, I think."

She hugged herself, standing in the center of the rapidly emptying tent.

The coffee was disgusting. All froth and no substance.

Bleak took another sip, before making a face and discarding the mug on the small saucer. Tucked away in a corner booth of a random cafe, dreary London was living up to his usual expectations.

It was cold and raining.

Big surprise.

He checked his watch, rubbing his brow and doing his best to ignore the two little turds situated adjacent to him with their families. About ten years of age, the youngsters were alternating between whining at their parents and doing laps of the cafe; tearing past Bleak at regular intervals.

The parents were ignoring them.

"You do not seem like a cappuccino drinker, Bleak."

Her soft voice caused him to lift his head. She dropped into the seat opposite, looking a great deal more put together than the last time he'd seen her. Blondie placed her purse on the table, nodding towards his choice of beverage.

"European countries have no concept of coffee."

"Really?"

"I like it strong," he said, taking another sip. "Like tar. Clean's the insides out."

"Charming."

She sat nervously, clutching the strap and looking around, as if worried someone would see them.

He grunted, pushing forward a large yellow envelope. "That's the files. The floor plans. Copies of the transactions."

"Does Plunder suspect —"

"Plunder's got his hands full with the government breathing down his neck."

"But if it get's too dangerous for —"

"Then I'll cut and run."

"All right." Her slender fingers closed over the envelope, tucking it inside her purse and motioning towards the waitress. "Do I have time for a coffee?"

"You're payin'."

"Always a gentlemen." She rolled her eyes, placing her order and settling back. "Anything new?"

"Got a new phone."

"Bleak, you are honestly —"

"Some new memories," he said, smoothing a palm across his gleaming head and slumping back in his chair. "It's still scattered. Bits and pieces are comin' back. Findin' it hard to put 'em in order."

"Me too."

"I think we were underground for a while."

"Da," she said. "I think it was an abandoned railway —"

"Power was fucked."

Blondie nodded. "I remember being taken for a drive through the desert."

"Dudes with masks."

"I do not recall Blight or Kroi after this."

"Nope," he said. "Your Coke was spiked."

She nodded, glancing around the cafe. Bleak took the opportunity to scrutinise her. The girl's blonde hair was tied back in a loose pony tail, her face covered with a light layer of make up. Red lips and long lashes framing her wide, green eyes.

"I remember the raid."

"The house with the bomb shelter," he said, eyeing the belcher necklace hanging around her throat. "Pinched some nice lookin' jewellery from —."

"Da, I found those," she muttered, touching the chain. "Ma-Ti gave me the bag."

"Don't think I pinched that one," he said, motioning towards her chain as a frothy mug of milk was placed in front of her.

"All right."

"Hmph."

They sat in silence for a while, sipping their drinks and doing their best to ignore the high pitched shrieks coming from the unruly children nearby.

"The CIA contacted me last week," she said slowly, dragging her nails back and forth along the melamine table. She met his eyes. "Came to see me while on a mission. Wanted me to meet with them."

"What did you tell them?"

"Told them I do not remember anything."

"MAL given you anything else?"

"Nyet," she said softly. "He has not made contact again."

Bleak nodded, contemplating his next move. "Don't get all whiny and pissed with me," he muttered, ducking into his front shirt pocket and retrieving a crumpled item. He tossed it onto the table and crossed his arms, eyeing her sullenly. "Think this might be yours."

"What —" she started. He watched her bottom lip drop as she reached for the photograph, unfolding it slowly and smoothing the edges flat. She passed a trembling hand over her mouth; her eyes welling up as she glanced up at him in shock.

"I think our future ginger ninja shoved both this and the chain into my pocket before we went through the —"

"Oh my God," she whispered, wiping a few stray tears away. She turned the polaroid over with trembling hands, reading the untidy scrawl and phone number on the back. "My Wheeler said he could not work out how you managed to contact him."

"You remember posin' for this?"

She shook her head, looking pale and overwhelmed. "Maybe it will come to us eventually."

"Hmph."

She rubbed her face, squinting as her eyes flitted over the twenty or so faces grinning for the camera. Bleak was well aware of it's significance — this little memento solidified everything. It was the only direct evidence of their ordeal. She smiled gently at Bleak and he shifted slightly, uncomfortable at this almost pleasant interaction.

"He moved on."

"Huh?"

"The other Wheeler,' she whispered, running her finger over the polaroid. "He chose not to hold onto it."

"What the fuck does that —"

"It is a message for me." Another tear slipped down her cheek and she wiped it away hastily, glaring at him. "Why did you not tell me you had —"

"Think I've fuckin' done enough for you, your highness," he snapped. "Forgive me for not —"

"I did not mean it like that." She shook her head, clutching the photo tightly to her chest. "You are such an angry –"

"Have you told the rest of the Happy Hero Fun Club any of this?"

"Nyet," she whispered. "I would not know where to even —"

"You remember your marital status?" he said, settling back and enjoying the red flush creeping into her cheeks.

Her reaction told him everything he needed to know.

She paused, tucking an errant lock of hair behind her ear, before nodding self consciously.

"You told him, yet?"

"Nyet."

"Christ." He shrugged, taking another sip of his froth as she stirred her drink with a teaspoon. "You two are morons."

"I know."

Bleak frowned, peering at Blondie's drink. "What the fuck is that?"

"Chai latte," she said defensively. "It is a milk-based tea —"

"Smells like fuckin' Christmas."

"Tastes like it too."

"Ground-up reindeers and pine leaves?"

She pursed her lips, hiding a smile. "Cinnamon. Ginger. Cloves. It is very nice."

"Blurgh," he muttered.

She propped her chin in her hand, staring him down with a wry smile. "Maybe this whole experience might open your eyes, Bleak."

"Why?"

"Try new things," she said, gesturing around them. "Slow down. Stop and smell the roses. Appreciate the fact that we are here and we can change things, now."

"Uh huh."

Blondie tilted her head. "You are still a man of few words, Bleak."

"Yep."

She muttered something under her breath and Bleak smirked.

"What?"

"Pridurok," she said quietly, finishing her weird drink and sliding out from the booth.

"That German?"

"Ja." She grabbed her bag, leaning forward and flicking him in the centre of the forehead. "Bis spater."

There wasn't enough room for the paperwork, no matter how hard Ma-Ti re-organised the clipboards and wads of stapled documents.

The plastic table was way too small, but he did the best he could. The next person came forward, holding a bowl and their identification. It was a pre-requisite when applying for aid. The camps mostly held genuine refugees — men, women and children persecuted for whatever 'crimes' their victimisers accused them of.

These people had been through hell. He'd spoken to one young man — a teenager — who had witnessed his entire family mowed down by machine gun. He'd survived by playing dead. Crawling out by moonlight and making his way towards the border on his own.

Ma-Ti could feel the waves of grief flowing through him.

Sometimes his element sucked. It weighed heavily on him, heightening his empathy to the point that he suffered for it.

But someone had to help. These refugees had witnessed some terrible things. They deserved a life free of violence and persecution.

"Okay."

He smiled, watching Kwame distribute the rice evenly as he beckoned towards the next person.

"Hello!"

The process went on — Ma-Ti checking and marking off against his paperwork; Kwame pouring the rice bowl by bowl.

The lunch-time line begun to diminish. Ma-Ti shielded his eyes, glancing around the dusty valley dotted with dome tents and makeshift toilets. Linka was sheltered under a small gazebo nearby, administering medication and applying dressings to wounds. Gi was talking to a young girl over by the communal kitchen, and Wheeler was kicking a ball around with a rag-tag group of kids.

The game seemed to be in full swing; a large crowd of people had gathered to watch, sending excited cheers and laughter towards the players. Black and white. Muslim and Christian. Refugees and staff.

Ma-Ti grinned, sitting back in his chair, wishing that the world could just learn to get along. Maybe it was a naive idea, but it didn't stop him hoping that mankind was capable of greatness.

Kwame and Gi had by now jogged over towards the melee and Ma-Ti's eyes flicked towards Linka again. She sat quietly under the gazebo — bent over, elbows pressing upon her knees and staring at nothing in particular.

With the lunch-time crowd now dispersed, Ma-Ti packed up and headed towards her.

She seemed preoccupied these days. Ma-Ti had taken to attempting a discrete beam every now and then, finding her energy clear and bright — no longer scattered. But the brief moment of contact would falter every time, replaced by the sensation of metal doors slamming in quick succession.

At least that was what it felt like.

Linka was actively shutting him out. He'd only tried a few times and the glare she had given him in return hadn't been worth it.

He reached her and she looked up. Her cheeks were flushed with heat but she smiled nonetheless, patting the fold-up faded deckchair beside her.

"How can I help you, little one?"

"My finger hurts," he complained. "Writing too much today."

"Oh, will a band-aid help?" She stuck her bottom lip out, pretending to scrutinise his finger and he shoved her lightly. Her pony-tail bobbed as she chuckled, shoving him back and fanning herself with a smaller clipboard. "Oy, it is hot here."

"Yes," he agreed, looking up as the hollering reached a crescendo. "Wheeler will end up with heat stroke if he keeps that up."

"Mmm," she said, a smile playing on her lips. She reached for her water bottle, drinking down half of the contents. "He is in his element."

"Certainly knows how to work a crowd," Ma-Ti laughed. "Never fails to bring people together."

"Da." She nodded, a pensive look passing over her face. "He is a good man."

The question popped into his head — the go-to phrase that had been repeated many times over the past few months.

Are you all right?

But he knew better than to use it.

"Ma-Ti?"

"Mmm?"

She bit her lip, looking down at her hands. "I want us to go to Washington."

What?" he said, startled. "Washington?"

"Da," she said. "Can you… can you help me speak to Kwame?"

"If you spoke to him yourself, I am sure he would —"

"We have been so busy. It is only going to get worse." She wrung her hands nervously. "I need to see for myself… I need to show you."

"Show us what?" Ma-Ti frowned, staring at her. "Linka, are you beginning to remem —"

"There are things…" she began. "It is complicated. I need to know that what I remember is real."

"Linka," he breathed. "Where —"

"I am not ready to talk about it," she said quickly. "I need to see things for myself. See if it matches what is in my mind. Then I will tell you what I know."

"All right," he said, scratching his head. "Washington?"

"Da."

"I guess we can speak to him to —"

"Get him!" Gi's voice resonated; high-pitched and excited. Ma-Ti jumped to his feet as Wheeler came barrelling towards the med-tent with three cackling boys in hot pursuit.

"He's runnin' from the defence," Wheeler yelled, dodging a youngster's attempt to grab his shirt "He's into the end zone. He scores!"

The ball was slammed down and Linka yelped, throwing herself sideways out of her seat to avoid getting hit. Wheeler collapsed into the deckchair, out of breath and red-faced from running around. He threw his arms over his head, shaking off the boys attempts to drag him back into the game.

"Nah, guys, I'm done," he panted. "Nearly killed me."

A chorus of groans followed. Ma-Ti shooed them away with a smile.

"It is not advisable to be exerting yourself in this climate, Yankee."

"Sue me," he croaked. "I need medical attention, babe."

Linka tutted, tipping the remainder of her water bottle over a cloth bandage and tossing it over Wheeler's face. "There you go."

"Thanks, toots," he said; his voice muffled beneath the wet material. "Your maternal qualities are overwhelming."

Ma-Ti smiled, meeting Linka's eyes and she grinned back, flattening her palm over Wheeler's face and squishing the wet rag down further.

"Get off," he moaned in response. "Crazy woman."

Ma-Ti nodded, giving her the thumbs up. Walking away, he threw a cursory glance over his shoulder and his heart warmed at the sight.

Linka had pulled herself to the edge of the deckchair; legs folded underneath her body, leaning over and sponging Wheeler's forehead while talking softly to him. Her head eventually lolled and she rested her cheek on the edge of the plastic, nudging his shoulder with her forehead. Eyes closed and resting together.

He smiled to himself, walking faster as he moved to rejoin Kwame and Gi.