Ingrid flipped the page of her book, glasses tilted on her nose. "I thought you were going to sleep the day away," she said. Daylight in my eyes, I rolled over, lifting my head. Finger tracing the page, she hummed, "It's just about noon, sleeping beauty."

"Oh," I rubbed my eyes, my shoulder aching. "I didn't realize."

Ingrid laid her book on her lap, taking a deep breath. "You're probably pretty hungry, yes? You slept straight through supper."

I pushed the hair from my face, sitting on the edge of the couch. "Now that you mention it…"

Ingrid pointed to the kitchen."There's leftovers in the fridge. We tried to wake you, but you kept shooing us away."

I don't remember that. I gave a weak laugh. "Sorry, I was really out of it." I said, my bag sitting on the floor. "Thanks for grabbing my stuff, by the way."

"Yes, and speaking of which-" She rummaged through her purse, tossing a pen and a notebook on the table "-If you need anything else, write it down, and I'll buy it for you."

I stared at the pen and paper, hesistanting. "Thanks." Ingrid was actually being nice. "Where's Jude?" I asked, picking up the notebook.

She raised an eyebrow. "The Commander is in meetings all day, hence why I'm here. He'll be back in the evening."

I scratched my head, avoiding her glare. I forgot about the title thing. "You said there's leftovers." I got up, heading to the fridge.

"Should be on the bottom shelf, in the blue container," she called back. I opened the door, pushing past a milk carton. Grabbing it out, I popped open the lid. Cold lasagna stuffed inside. I searched the drawers for a fork.

"The center drawer." Ingrid got up, walking towards the counter. I rolled the drawer open, pulling one out. I slid out the stool, sitting across from her. Ingrid raised an eyebrow at me. "You're not going to heat it up?"

"No, I don't think so." I shrugged, frowning at it. "Eating it cold is easier than trying to figure out the appliances."

She scrunched up her nose. Adjusting her glasses, she deepened her frown. "I can't seem to figure you out. I don't understand what you want."

"What I want?" I picked at the lasagna with my fork. "I don't want anything."

"That's what I mean." She rolled her emerald eyes. "You live out of a dresser drawer, don't ask for anything...I don't even think you're from Avarice."

"Really, because I've heard you think I'm a gold digger," I hissed, stuffing another bite in my mouth.

She pursed her lips. "That seems less likely now, you aren't exactly strategic." She twisted her watch, giving another frown. "So what are you doing here really? What do you actually want?"

Eyes low, I shrugged my shoulders. "I want...to hold my head up high, do something that matters. Call this an attempt at redemption." Ironic word choice. I rubbed my neck, her glare steady. "That's it, that's all I want."

"Huh..." She paused, leaning back in the chair. "And what do you seek redemption for, Ms. Okie?"

I matched her glare. "Talking too much." I tossed the empty dish in the sink. "I don't trust you either."

"I can accept that," she laughed. "My only interest is in making sure Jude reaches his full potential. He's the best chance Avarice has, not you." Her words stung, a slash at my pride. I'm not sure why. I don't always have to be the hero, do I? Gosh, I'm arrogant.

A muffled ring came from Ingrid's purse, she growled. Getting up, she shuffled for it, flicking open the phone. "What is it?" she said, smacking her red lips. Pausing, she took a deep breath. "Can't I even take one day off without being interrupted?" She drummed her fingers. "I know, I know...it's not your fault." Her eyes fell on me, guilt leaking through. "Give me ten minutes," she muttered. She closed the phone, tossing it back in her bag.

"What was that about?" I asked, leaning closer.

"Something's come up and I have to deal with it." She pursed her lips, swinging the bag on her shoulder.

"So you're leaving me here?" I stood up.

She grinned. "You're feeling fine, right? Stay put, keep yourself busy, and I'll be back in a couple hours."

"Ingrid?" I gawked at her.

"Just stay here. It's fine." She waved, ducking out the door. She left me alone. The door slammed, I hissed in frustration. I'm sick of staying put, doing nothing...but then again now there's no one to stop me. A couple hours is more than enough time to get in a little trouble. Jude's going to kill me. I picked up Ingrid's notebook, flipping to an empty page. This should do the trick. I shut my eyes, locking onto the pulse.

Catching my footing, I appeared outside the little elevator. Pacing the hall, I stopped in front of the map on the wall. Here we go. I moved aside a bulletin tacked beside it, something about drug testing, volunteers, extra food stamps. Comes across a little desperate. I clicked the pen, sketching out the lower floor plan. Enough to get an idea of where I'm going. I marked up the page in blue ink, stepping back from the map. Walking backwards, I ducked around the corner. Now to find an accomplice. Back on the medical floor, I pulled my hood up, slinking down the hall.

I slipped into Oliver's room, slowing my steps. He snored, asleep in his hospital bed. I knocked on the bedpost and said, "Hey, wake up, sleepy head. I got a plan." His snoring faded, blinking his eyes open. I waved at him.

Oliver lifted his head, frowning at me. "Phyn? What...are you doing?"

"Wanna break outta here?" I grinned, flopping in the chair beside his bed.

He squinted at me, his eyes lost. "I don't...understand? What are you talking about?"

"Checking out the archives. I need someone to read for me, and you're not doing anything much."

He sat up, rubbing his face. "Aren't you supposed to be resting? Where's Ingrid or the Commander?"

I kicked my feet up. "They're busy people, think of this as me being responsible. I found an alternative monitor."

"But I'm supposed to be resting too," he growled, laying his head back down.

"C'mon, you must be sick of being cooped up here." I pulled the chair closer, grinning at him. "You really aren't bored?"

He cracked his eyes open. "Don't they take ID's at the entrance? Won't you be alerting people of your presence."

I shrugged. "They probably already know I'm here. Everyone seems to be informed of my movements," I huffed. "Plus-" I picked at my nails "-I wasn't planning on using the front door."

Oliver waved his hands, sitting back up. "Oh no, I'm out. No way I'm breaking the law because you're curious."

I sighed, pushing back my chair. "Ok, fine, but it'll take me a lot longer, which increases my odds of me being caught…"

Oliver raised his eyebrows. "I don't care."

"Fine then, wait for someone to tell you what to do. I'm not giving them a chance to stop me," I said, walking for the door.

"Okie, what are you planning…?"

"I'm planning on pulling loose threads. I need to find someone, which is why I need to get in the archives. After that I can put things in motion." I shrugged. "If there's time...I also want to see what they're hiding in archive B."

He buried his head in his hands. "That's the archive they left out of your contract?" he mumbled. I nodded. Oliver sighed, hopping out of his bed. "You're a bad influence on me." He slipped on his slippers, scratching his head. "So how are we getting in?"

I pulled out Ingrid's notebook, showing my scrawled out doodle. "I've dashed this off from the map of the building and I've been inside before...albeit very briefly."

Oliver laughed. "Is that one of the times you were arrested?"

I glared at him. "Possibly, but this is not about that. I have a better idea of what I'm looking for this time."

"Ah, that makes me so much more confident." He rolled his eyes.

I smiled back at him. "Good, I don't want to waste time with questions." He blinked at me as I grabbed his shoulder. "Brace yourself," I said, the hospital room disappearing.

"Stop doing that." He shoved my hand off. I opened my eyes, shelves of boxes towered on all sides. Cabinets ahead of us, as far as I could see. Intimidating. Rolling ladders climbing up the skyscrapers of information, tables in between each row. The sheer amount was nauseating.

"Welcome to Archive A." I spun back to Oliver, raising my arms. "The only archive I've made my way inside." I tilted my head, letting out a laugh. "Let me know if I'm wrong, but from what I can tell this is mostly contemporary records. Paperwork, tax records, identification numbers, etc."

"That sounds about right," he said, staring up at the boxes in his robe and slippers. "Is this really where you want to start?"

I nodded. "Identification numbers have addresses correct?"

"Ah, right, you're trying to find someone," Oliver snorted. "Do I dare ask who?"

I smirked at the fluorescent lights. "The one-eyed mercenary, herself. Who else?"

"Raine?" he spat, chasing after me. "You can't be serious, she's insane and-"

"Great at sneaking in places unnoticed," I interrupted, pointing back at him. "We're losing allies fast, and we could use the help."

Oliver grumbled, following me down the rows of boxes. "But how do you know if her record's here? She doesn't have an ID number on her arrest warrants. She might not even be from Avarice."

"Oh, she's from Avarice. She basically said as much in Idyllic." I turned back to my path, scouring for a reference point. "And she told me her last name at the party. Reimer, I think it was."

"Well…" Oliver muttered, scratching his head. "I have to admit I'm a little impressed."

I raised my chin. "I do pay attention," I laughed, spinning around. "But now we have to narrow down our search."

Oliver sighed, "If we went through the front desk, we could've figured it out on the computer."

"You know, we can't do that." I walked over to one of the cabinets, pulling out the drawer. "These have to be alphabetized." Flipping through files, Mervin, Mervis, Merwin. These are M's. "We gotta look further down." I closed the door, eyeing Oliver.

"Even if you find her address, what are the odds of it being correct? She probably won't even be home."

Back to picking holes in my plan. I took a breath. "It's a start, from there we can learn more. She can't hide forever."

Oliver opened his own drawer, looking back at me. "I got Q's over here," he said. I nodded, moving on ahead. We yanked open drawers, sifting through the row. Rolling the next drawer open, I laughed, holding up a file. "I found an R!" I slid over, names jumbling together. "Is the next letter an i or an e?"

"It would be an e," Oliver said. He smirked at me. "This is good spelling practice for you."

I narrowed my eyes. "Don't make me regret inviting you."

"You can't get rid of me now." He slammed another door shut.

I flipped through, mouthing the letters, r, e, i- "Hey is this it?" I lifted up the stack of files, Oliver taking it from my hand. He scanned the folder.

"Ya...these are all the Reimers'," he muttered, lifting the folder. We walked to the table, laying out the files. Both of us poured over the list of names, flipping through pages. Oliver shook his head "No Raine. I'm sorry, Phyn."

"What?" I pulled the page away. "I was sure…"

"There's nothing else we can do." He stood up, the chair sliding. "She must've cleared out her old records."

I pointed at the sheet. "There are other Reimers here," I argued.

"And are you going to track them all down? Ask them if they're related to enemies of the state?" He raised his eyebrows. "You won't get anywhere." I swallowed my spit, averting my eyes. Oliver nodded his head. "We can figure something else out. Just put it back and we can see what's in Archive B."

I laughed, "So you're curious too." He rolled his eyes, gathering up the pages. I took them from his hands. "I'll put the file back," I said, walking back to the cabinet. Oliver checking his watch, I stuffed the Reimer pages inside my jacket pocket. Sliding the drawer shut, I left the empty folder. "Let's go," I said, pulling out the notebook pad with the floor plan. He took my hand, working up an image, I followed the rhythm.

I opened my eyes to the dim, dusty room. The hum of temperature conditioning over the room, high ceilings. The same rows of shelves, the boxes varied in size. Large glass displays around the front. The center tables were stocked with more tools, supplies, the kinda stuff used to view old documents. I don't understand...why is this place off limits?

Oliver slipped his hands in his bathrobe pockets. "What sorta damage would letting you see a historical archive do?" he muttered.

"From what I've heard they don't teach you much history in Avarice," I said, wandering towards the display cases.

Oliver followed. "I guess not, they cover the typical stuff. Our historical relations with Vitriol, the fall of Tetrad, the day we rose up from the ashes and became a nation, Redemption day. Besides that, it's mostly generalized themes." Oliver stopped and read the labels. A broad sword and hand weaved baskets rested behind the glass.

I bit the inside of my cheek. Better to know. "Have you heard of the Great War, the war that formed the Tetrad alliance?"

He shook his head. "Should I have?" He blinked at me. "Wait...are you saying they're hiding parts of history?"

"I don't know...but no one I've talked to knows what I mean. The only thing anyone ever mentions about Tetrad is it's fall, and even then it's vague."

"Where did you learn about this?" he said, moving over to the next display. "Strange that you'd be the only one. "

I shrugged. "I'm interested in history...I came across most of this stuff in an old book."

"And how does that work with the functionally illiterate thing?" Oliver looked over with a suspicious eye.

I froze. "The functionally part, I can pick out words, and sound some out. I've gotten help with a lot of the complicated parts." I glared at him. "Librarians are very nice."

"Okay, I'll take back my suspicion-" Oliver stopped, his face going blank.

"What is it?"

"Phyn, you gotta see this. This drawing looks just like you," he laughed, pointing at the glass. What? My heart pounding, I pushed Oliver aside. A large book rested open, yellowed paper, the edges worn, nearly hiding a familiar design. It's my atlas.

I pressed my head to the glass, pouring over the page. An ink sketch sprawled across the page. The drawing wasn't there before, over the map of Mirth. Careful lines forming a woman's face, my face. Determination on my brow, fire-like resolve….It's so lifelike. I knew the hand, the style so familiar. My eyes stung, an ache tearing up my heart. I left my atlas on the hillside...Luca would've had it after the fight. I choked on my tears, fingers tight on the glass. He didn't die that day.

"Phyn…" Oliver stepped back, his eyes wavering.

I didn't move, my vision blurring "I don't want to talk about it."

"But...why?" Oliver looked between me and the picture. "I don't understand what this is."

I turned slowly, blinking away the tears. "I- I don't know how to explain this…"

Oliver's eyes went wide. "Are saying that is a picture of you? How is that even possible, is it a forgery-"

"The book is mine." I lifted my eyes, the ache settling in my chest. I'm sick of hiding the truth.

"Yours?" he laughed, his grin fading. "No...Phyn...you can't mean- that's ridiculous."

I hung my head, tracing my fingers along the glass."If I knew this was here, I would've come alone."

"Tell me something that makes sense," Oliver said. I kept my mouth shut. I don't know what to say. I moved my eyes away. "Phyn?" He shook his head, eyes wide with desperation. "Because this doesn't...what am I supposed to think? Everything about you is strange. You can't read, you have no ID, your face is in this old book...Tell me I'm wrong."

"You're not." I met his eyes, clenching my jaw. "Congratulations, Dr. Strong, you've figured it out." I lowered my head.

Oliver's face twisted up, he kept shaking his head. "You're really saying...you're from the past?"

"Five-hundred years," I muttered, pointing to the glass. "I left the atlas behind...I know the person who drew this."

"How is this even possible?" He stepped away. "Tell me, Phyn.""I don't know," I laughed, closing my eyes. "I was fighting someone who could manipulate time, I can only think our abilities interacted."

Oliver murmured, "Time manipulation plus teleportation-"

"Equals, time travel. I know it sounds insane, but that's all I can come up with."

"Everything sounds insane," Oliver said, rubbing his face in his hands. "I don't know how I can wrap my mind around this."

I crossed my arms. "Take your time, I've had five years."

"Phyn…" He stepped closer.

"Don't," I cut him off. "I don't want your pity...all I want is to take what's mine, get this out of here."

He blinked, confusion turning to panic. "You can't steal it!"

"It's not stealing if it's mine, well...not mine exactly, but pretty close." I did steal it in the first place. I sighed, reaching for the rhythm.

Oliver grabbed my wrist. "I don't care, there's cameras. You'll be found out."

I shook his hand off. "Let them come for me. I'll be long gone."

"And what about Avarice?" He raised his chin. "Are you just going to abandon us?"

I squeezed my eyes shut. "I'lI figure something out. I need it, even just that page." I need something to hold onto.

"So who cares about the living then?" he growled. I took my hands off the glass, his eyes wide with fury, tears building up. He clenched his fists. "I've lost people too, my wife, my daughter. You can't be stupid for mementos, not when there's so much at stake."

"What's at stake? This fight is not my problem, I don't even know if Avarice is worth saving," I roared, regretting those words. I don't mean that.

"And who will be left to suffer, the leaders with escape plans? Or the already starving citizens?" Oliver paced, pointing at the door. "Don't let the fake extravagance of the capital fool you, beyond the city things only get worse. Rations are shrinking, battle lines inching closer; we're losing soldiers faster than we can recruit them...if we can save someone else's kid," his voice cracked, "I thought you believed in this."

"I do," I cried, gripping my head. "...I have nothing...I thought there was nothing left." Such care in each line of the picture, admiration. Proof that someone loved me...somewhere. I hung my head, my breath shaky.

Oliver's eyes softened. "Please...it's not going anywhere." He met my eyes. "Just wait, wait till this is over."

I peeled my fingers off the glass, my heart falling to my stomach. "Okay...I'll wait." Everything in me fought against those words, there were probably other drawings inside, real maps to compare to today's. Gosh, this hurts. Right within my grasp, and I have to let it go…

Oliver hung his head, standing stiffly. I moved my eyes away, the front door swinging open. Someone's here? Two heads bobbed between shelves, speaking in hushed voices. Oliver waved his hands wildy, motioning at the intruders. I glared at him, pressing a finger to my lips. Better to listen than to freak out. Tiptoeing around the case, I dragged him with me. Hidden in the corner, I squinted through the glass. Faces hidden, their words too soft. Just a little closer. Both male, one of them with whitish-grey hair. Turn around, come on.

"Phyn," Oliver hissed a whisper, "We need to get out of here." I ignored him, my gaze fixed on the conversation. I want to see this through. "Phyn," his voice angerier.

"You don't learn anything without taking risks," I hushed. "They get too close and I'll get us out of here."

"Fine…" he grumbled, falling back.

The silver-haired man's face turned, dark shining blue eyes, a controlled expression. Victor Kendall. I cackled to myself, a grin forming. Jackpot, I wouldn't mind having dirt on him. His threat still weighed on my mind. Not a threat I take lightly.

The pair stood in front of the first display, the second man was younger, his face obscured. "I don't know why you brought me here," the younger man said. His voice was Brian's.

Victor laughed, slipping his hands in his pockets. "You assume an ulterior motive?"

Brian lifted his glare. "I don't find dusty books all that interesting. I suspect neither do you."

Victor shook his head. "Don't be so dismissive. There is nothing new under the sun, nothing that can't be anticipated." Victor smiled through the glass.

Brian sighed, staring blankly. "An interesting thought."

"Brian, Brian." Victor chuckled, "Interesting is something people say when they're trying to be nice." Victor took a step along the glass. "How satisfied are you with your position at the Tower?"

Brian shrugged his shoulders. "I have no complaints, Ingrid is a fair boss, the pay is better than anywhere else, I-"

"Then why turn to treason?" Victor tilted his head. He knew? I dropped my jaw. Oliver swore under his breath.

Brian's face went pale. "I- I don't know what you're talking about. I would never-"

"Denial will only take you so far. If you're open and honest we can tidy up this whole situation," Victor said. Did Jude know he was doing this?

"Tidy up…? Does that mean, you're on my side?" Brian stammered. I held my breath.

Victor scrunched up his nose, letting out a cackle. "On your side? You don't have a side, Brian. Your fall is imminent, all your allies will crawl away and leave you to it." Victor raised a finger. "What I'm offering is a silent exit, no shame for your family."

Brian stepped back, tightening his fists. "You're lying, you know nothing!"

Victor tilted his head. "Allister may be dead, but his records speak loudly. I would take this seriously."

Brian's eyes went wild, he stepped back. "Do you want to know who else is a part of the plot, which council members were interested-"

"No-" Victor stared him down with dull eyes "-You don't think I don't know the wolves from the sheep? There's nothing I want from you. Your loyalty is pathetic, selling out your Commander," he scoffed.

"Commander? He isn't a Commander, he's a fool. If you want to follow such a weak willed excuse," he hissed.

Victor laughed, "Are you any better?" He motioned to the room. "Take a look around you, centuries of history and one common thread. People are always eager to point the finger, not so eager to take responsibility for themselves."

"This is me taking responsibility, the Commander can't do what's necessary. We're better off with the council in charge."

Victor nodded his head. "Ah so you're playing both sides. Pleasing both the ambitious council members and Vitriol. I like it, no matter who wins, you look like a hero."

Brian's eyes went wide, stumbling back into the shadows. "You can join me! I'll let you in."

Victor rolled up his sleeves, traipsing after him. "Sorry, but I prefer the Commander alive. This plan of yours is short sighted."

"You can't do this!" Brian cried. "I deserve a trial."

Victor sighed, "If you insist, but your poor parents…I tell you what, I'll let you go, give you a moment to decide. If you come to your senses, come find me, otherwise I'm bringing hellfire." Brain's eyes locked in terror, he staggered to his feet, backing away.

"Oh, and Brian," Victor called after him, "don't think Vitriol will help you, not with your dual interests."

Brian swallowed the lump in his throat, shaking his head. "You're the devil," he stammered. Stepping back, he scurried for the door. Hurling insults as he left the room, the door slammed shut.

"Pathetic," Victor sighed, arms resting behind his back. Calm across his face, he paced along the display. Unsettling… I shrunk back. At least Brian was being dealt with, that's comforting. Oliver pulled on my arm, my eyes slipping up. Victor's eyes locked mine, his smile falling. Oh no…oh no. I grabbed Oliver's arm, catching my beating heart. We vanished away.