Aria Canterbury was sitting against the back wall of her cell, her arms around her knees. Judging by the marks on her wall, she’d been in this facility for four and a half years. Four and a half years of her life that she would never get back. She still didn’t know why they were keeping her so long. Even her favorite guard James couldn’t tell her. She supposed it made sense; the guards weren’t privy to the study going on here. She had figured out that she was being studied; they’d taken all sorts of DNA samples from her: blood, hair, fingernail clippings, skin shavings, even saliva. They’d also asked her all sorts of questions about her family and childhood and Kinsale. She still refused to answer them, though. If they had done this in a more civilized manner instead of kidnapping her and keeping her in a jail for over four years, perhaps she would be more accommodating.

She also knew that she was one of their subjects who’d been kept the longest. When she was being escorted to the labs, she would look at the faces in the cells. Some would be sleeping. Some would be raging and storming. Some would be crying. Others would be sitting silently, devoid of all emotion. Eventually, though, all of them would change. She was the constant. She didn’t know how she got to be so lucky as to be the one they decided to keep.

All she wanted was to go home. That was all. She missed her family and her friends. She wanted them to know that she was OK. Despite the message she’d tried to get out through the girl who had been in the cell beside her years ago, she could see why her family may have given up hope at ever seeing her again. Maria and George had probably gone ahead and gotten married…she may even have children by now. Chelsea, Pat and Kevin might be engaged or on the verge of it. Had her mother retired, or was she still loving her job? How was Pat’s cooking coming? Had Kevin started his scent business? And Chelsea, had she gotten snatched up by some big-name designer, or was she still holding her own at Needle Pulling Thread? Aria was missing so much of her life, and all she wanted was to go home.
A footstep outside her cell made her raise her head. A new guard? This was a change. Any kind of shake-up in her routine nowadays was relished. She stood up and walked to the bars of her cell. He wasn’t tall, per se, but he looked powerful. He also didn’t look stupid, which was a welcome change from Brian and other guards of his ilk. But this was James’ shift; what was this new man doing here? “'Owaya. Yer new. Ss Jimmy al' roi?” she asked, real concern in her voice. James was the only guard she liked. “Ah, Blimey O’Reilly, wha are me manners? Oi’m Aria. ‘Tis a pleasure,” she added with a curtsy, albeit with trepidation. Though she’d been raised polite and being in this place had helped her overcome some of her shyness, you never could tell what these new guards were going to be like.

Finding an excuse to be down with the facility’s captives had not been easy. Now, as he was now head of the paramilitary operations—which included the guarding of prisoners—he had clearance to go just about anywhere that he wanted to go. The tricky part was that he couldn’t afford for any of it to seem suspicious. Since he wanted to talk to some of the captives, he wanted to take a shift on his own. That meant that for the last couple of weeks had been spent befriending his men. He wanted to be viewed as the good ol’ Southern boy that he, more or less, appeared to be. He had made it a point to bring in refreshments from the local bakery every day and invite guys out for a beer when shifts were over.

“Look, maybe Americans like me do it a lil’ different, but if we’re gonna be out on the field together… Well, I wanna know who’s watching my back out there.” He had explained.

It just so happened that one day a guard named James asked about finding someone to cover his shift. Spencer complained a little that it was kind of short notice, but then he had broken into a slow smile, “Aw, hell. That’s an awful special occasion for your kids. You should be there. Tell ya what, I’ll cover your shift that day myself.”

And here he was.

He was dressed in a fitted tan t-shirt that was tucked into belted camouflage trousers. His shoulder length hair was tied back, and he wore military grade boots that thudded against the concrete floor. He had decided to make a deliberate walk-through, so that he could get a good look at those in the various cells. He had already gone through what paperwork that he dared to get a hold of and hadn’t come across the name he was looking for. It had been years, and he didn’t let himself get his hopes up. Still, sometimes…

“'Owaya. Yer new. Ss Jimmy al' roi?”

Spencer let his feet come to an abrupt stop in front of the cell containing the woman who had spoken to him. Irish. That wasn’t an accent he was likely to ever forget, as he had done some work with the IRA a few years back. He turned, glancing at her as she stuck her face up to the bars. “Jimmy? Oh, James, ya mean? His kids have got some sort of recital tonight or somethin’. I offered to cover his shift.” The man spoke with a distinctive drawl that was definitely not from anywhere in the United Kingdom.

“Ah, Blimey O’Reilly, wha are me manners? Oi’m Aria. ‘Tis a pleasure,”

He eyed the woman as she introduced herself, going so far as to give a formal curtsy. In spite of himself, he chuckled. “Ah, Aria. I do believe your Jimmy had said somethin’ about you, Miss. Since the both of us are stuck here for the evenin’ I s’pose we shouldn’t stay strangers. The name’s Michaels… Spencer Michaels.”

This man certainly didn’t look like the rest of the guards, especially with his long hair. There was also a bit of a twinkle in his eye that made Aria wont to like him. The other guards weren’t nice enough to have any sort of life in their eyes, and Jimmy hated this job so much that it was hard for him to be here. Aria swore that if she ever got out of here, she would find Jimmy a better job herself. To be honest, she’d been looking forward to seeing Jimmy tonight. The cells on either side of her were empty, so she’d been alone all day. To occupy herself, she’d run through a few of the shows she’d been in, complete with saying all the lines, singing the songs and doing the dance routines. Her singing voice was rusty; this place didn’t inspire much singing.

She had gotten into the habit of introducing herself to the guards since she figured they would be seeing a lot of each other and it was the polite thing to do. She hated being here, but if there was the slightest chance that she could find any kind of friendliness, she was going to take the opportunity. Of course, it has backfired with Brian, who was still hopefully asking her if she’d developed Stockholm Syndrome about him yet. All the same, Jimmy made up for it.

“Jimmy? Oh, James, ya mean?”

She blinked when the new guard referred to him as James. Every James Aria had ever known had been called Jimmy, so she had a hard time calling him by anything else…despite the fact that everyone else called him James. “Ah, aye, sorry. We don't really go for full names back 'um if thar's a way ter shorten dem,” she replied with a sigh at the thought of Kinsale. As far as she knew, there was still no crime there. All the same, she worried about her family. If they knew about her, what was to stop them going after the rest of her family?

Then his accent registered. He wasn’t English. Hell, he wasn’t from the United Kingdom, or anywhere in Europe. His accent wasn’t completely unfamiliar, and Aria knew she’d heard it somewhere before. Still, if she didn’t ask, her curiosity was going to drive her crazy. “Beggin' yer pardon, but Oi canny place yer accent. Wha ye from, if yer don't mind me askin'?”

“His kids have got some sort of recital tonight or somethin’. I offered to cover his shift.”

Aria smiled and shook her head. Of course Jimmy would get someone to cover his shift in order to be at a special occasion for his children. She knew that his children were young, and things like recitals were incredibly important. Of course, it didn’t always change. She would be incredibly insulted if her family ever missed one of her shows. “That's Jimmy for yer. 'Tis awfully nice av yer ter cover 'is shift. Can Oi take dat ter mean dat you're not loike de other guards?” she asked hopefully. She really didn’t want to have to kick this man in the groin.

“Ah, Aria. I do believe your Jimmy had said somethin’ about you, Miss.”

Aria’s smile widened a bit when the new guard mentioned that Jimmy had said something about her. She couldn’t imagine Jimmy bonding with any of the other guards, but this one seemed all right. Perhaps Jimmy would make a friend here, and that would make this a little more tolerable for him. “Ah, aye? Waaat did ‘e say?” she asked, genuinely curious. She didn’t know what Jimmy could possibly have mentioned about her; she really wasn’t all that special…except for the fact that she’d been here for so long.

“Since the both of us are stuck here for the evenin’ I s’pose we shouldn’t stay strangers. The name’s Michaels… Spencer Michaels.”

Aria let out a sigh of relief. He was friendly. Thank goodness. Perhaps between Jimmy and this Spencer Michaels, her nights wouldn’t be so bad. “Aye, if yer gonna be coverin' guard shifts, you'll be seein' plenty av me. Ah've been 'ere for donkey's years, an' Oi proobably won't be gettin' oyt any time soon. Spencer Michaels is a nice name. Welsh ancestors, Oi suppose?”

“Ah, aye, sorry. We don't really go for full names back 'um if thar's a way ter shorten dem,”

This statement caused Spencer to do a quick calculation in his head. He arched an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth threatening to tug upward into a smile or smirk. “Beggin’ your pardon, Miss, but I’m pretty sure that ‘Jimmy’ has the same number of letters as ‘James’ does.” Nope. He was not above playing up his accent by any means. He was actually pretty good at pulling off various accents, but there was something about being able to use his own natural one for a change… even if he was making it a bit more pronounced than usual.

“Beggin' yer pardon, but Oi canny place yer accent. Wha ye from, if yer don't mind me askin'?”

Spencer leaned against the wall across from Aria, bending one leg so that the bottom of his boot was pressed against the wall as well in a vaguely ‘John Wayne’ type of pose. The only thing missing was a big cowboy hat. “Me? Oh, I’m just little hick from the hills o’ Kentucky… straight out of the good ol’ U.S. of A.”

“That's Jimmy for yer. 'Tis awfully nice av yer ter cover 'is shift. Can Oi take dat ter mean dat you're not loike de other guards?”

The man let his shoulders rise and fall in a shrug as he looked up to fix Aria with steel blue eyes. There was a humor in them, yes, but there was a coldness there too… the type that came with a particularly splotchy past. “Coverin’ his shift is just my job, but no, I don’t think you’ll find me as being like the other guards.” He gave a little sigh. He wondered if, by the end of this conversation, she wouldn’t think he was worse. Just how much should he divulge? Surely, he wouldn’t be very popular if she found out that he was basically running half this show now.

“Ah, aye? Waaat did ‘e say?”

He watched her eyes light up at the thought that the one man who’d bothered showing her kindness in over four years (according to the file he had read after his conversation with James) had thought to mention her. “Oh, just that I should try talkin’ to ya… that he didn’t want ya to be too lonesome while he was gone. And he wanted me to tell ya that he’d be back for his next shift.” He thought for long moment before continuing. “He must be awful attached to ya, cuz I get the feeling he ain’t all that keen on this here job.”

Not that he could blame him. He was trained to deal with this sort of thing, and it was hard not to grab the keys and leave all the cells wide open. That wouldn’t do anybody any good in the long run though… Once he had enough proof and had a sure fire way to bring the whole organization crashing down to its knees…

Until then, he had to keep his head down and stick to the job like always.

“Aye, if yer gonna be coverin' guard shifts, you'll be seein' plenty av me. Ah've been 'ere for donkey's years, an' Oi proobably won't be gettin' oyt any time soon. Spencer Michaels is a nice name. Welsh ancestors, Oi suppose?”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Aria.” He said, meaning it. His own curiosity got the better of him. Diana Forrester had a husband and daughter and Spencer, himself, hoping to discover her fate. He wondered about this woman’s family. “Have you got anyone waitin’ for ya… y’know, on the outside?”

She asked about his ancestry, and he gave a slight grimace. “I wouldn’t know, really. Dad and I never exactly… saw eye to eye.” Mostly because Spencer’s were swollen shut.

He glanced around. There were only two other occupied cells in this expanse of hallway, and they were located at the other end. He held up a finger to signal that he needed a minute. Then, he walked down to check on the other captives. Both were snoring away. When Spencer returned, he was carrying a folding chair, which he set down right across from Aria. He then proceeded to settle onto the chair, which creaked a little under the weight of his well muscled form.

Could he ask? Should he? That was a lot of trust to put into someone… especially a captive who had been here for so long. Laugh as she might at Brian’s advances, Stockholm Syndrome wasn’t that rare of an occurrence in such situations. Still, she only seemed attached to James, and after talking to the man, Spencer knew that he was not of the same ilk as these other guys.

Just in case the others were awake, he lowered his voice a little, leaning a little closer to the woman’s cell bars. “Aria, would ya mind so much if I were to ask ya a question or two?”

“Beggin’ your pardon, Miss, but I’m pretty sure that ‘Jimmy’ has the same number of letters as ‘James’ does.”

Aria blinked at this. Oh, come on, he knew what she meant. “Aye, sir, but Oi tart yer caught me meanin'. We go for nicknames, loike,” she explained with a smile. Jimmy sounded so much less formal and more likable than James that it was preferred by her…and all the other lads she’d met named James. As for her accent, it was one of the few things that reminded Aria of home, so she clung fiercely to it. She wasn’t as bad as Chelsea, who would intensify it if anyone complained of her being unintelligible, but she wouldn’t water it down into a work accent like Maria unless she was in a show that demanded it. She was Irish, through and through.

“Me? Oh, I’m just little hick from the hills o’ Kentucky… straight out of the good ol’ U.S. of A.”

Now that he said it, it clicked. She wasn’t quite sure where Kentucky was, but never being out of the U.K. and not being entirely familiar with the U.S, she supposed that made sense. But in the American films she’d seen, she seemed to associate his accent with what Americans called “the South.” To her, it always sounded like they were referring to a different country…then again, she was from the south of Ireland, and Northern Ireland was a different country. Perhaps it was like that in America, and just not as formal. “Blimey O'Reilly. Yer American? Yer backgroun' check must be spotless if they're lettin' yer work 'ere. Waaat ye used ter do?” she asked, genuinely impressed. He had a military look to him, in spite of his hair.

“Coverin’ his shift is just my job, but no, I don’t think you’ll find me as being like the other guards.”

Aria let out a sigh of relief at that. These guards were pieces of work. If they weren’t trying to grope her, they got their jollies by pushing her around, even after she stopped struggling. She was going to be here just as long as they wanted her to be, so getting hurt unnecessarily just didn’t seem worth it anymore. “That's gud ter nu. De others either try ter grope me or rough me up, an' Oi canny tink av anythin' yer cud possibly do worse than either av dohs,” she replied, Brian in her mind’s eye. Was he really so lonely that he had to try to grope a captive little slip of a thing like her?

“Oh, just that I should try talkin’ to ya… that he didn’t want ya to be too lonesome while he was gone. And he wanted me to tell ya that he’d be back for his next shift.”
“He must be awful attached to ya, cuz I get the feeling he ain’t all that keen on this here job.”

Her smile grew into a full-fledged grin. Jimmy really was the sweetest soul. She had nothing but the deepest sympathy for him. Offered a promotion and a raise, and then to find himself stuck here. It just wasn’t fair…but then, it wasn’t fair to any of the prisoners, either. They’d done nothing at all to find themselves here except be born with magic. “’E really is sweet. An' 'e's de closest tin' Ah've got ter a friend 'ere. Oi don't tink ‘e knew waaat ‘e wus gettin' 'imself into whaen ‘e tuk dis job. Not dat 'e'd betray dem, t'be sure, but ‘e 'ates workin' 'ere,” she said. Jimmy had never said as much, but it wasn’t difficult to tell.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Aria.”

She inclined her head in thanks. His sympathy was appreciated, and she was used to it. Whenever the cells on either side of her got used and she spoke to the occupants, they always reacted with gasps of shock and horror when they heard how long she’d been there. She was always quick to reassure them that she hadn’t heard of anyone else being kept that long, and she was sure that they’d be out of here soon enough. She had yet to be wrong, though, “soon enough” was quickly becoming relative.

“Have you got anyone waitin’ for ya… y’know, on the outside?”

Aria drew back slightly at that. She was worried that the people here would find out about her family and go after them next. It was unlikely that half-bloods turned out to be non-magical, so she could only hope that her family was doing a better job of staying incognito when it came to magic than she had. She still didn’t know how she’d slipped up. She figured that they didn’t know about her family, and that’s why they were safe. And though Spencer seemed friendly enough, she didn’t trust him. “If Oi did, Oi wouldn't be likely ter tell yer. 'Oy am Oi ter nu yer won't go runnin' aff ter de 'igher-ups an' say yer nu av more ter kidnap. If Oi 'av a family, Oi'm not helpin' yer lot git yer 'ands on dem,” she said with a quiet ferocity. If there was anything to gain from her being taken, she hoped it was extra vigilance and care on her family’s part.

She blinked when he walked away. Had she offended him? Well, if he was only here to gather information, good. She would be glad when Jimmy returned. Had they noticed that she talked to James and decided to try to good cop, bad cop routine? She wasn’t so naïve to trust any guard who showed her kindness for five mintues. But then Spencer returned with a chair, which he set up across from her cell. She eyed him warily. What was he after?

“Aria, would ya mind so much if I were to ask ya a question or two?”

She sighed. This is precisely what the doctors wanted. They asked her questions about her heritage, her upbringing, her village. “Spencer, Oi don't mean ter offend yer, but if you're jist after informashun, you're oyt av luk. De doctors sent yer, did dey? Oi won’t answer their quesshuns after four an' a 'alf years, so dey decided ter try a different tack? Oi'm not gonna 'elp dem figure me oyt, an' if that's why you're 'ere, yer may as well leave nigh,” she replied with a shrug. “O’ carse, Oi suppose it does depend on waaat yer want ter ask,” she reconsidered, eyeing him suspiciously. She would answer basic questions, and the doctors already knew she was a half-blood, since they’d asked her while drugged up and she was too groggy to think to stay quiet. But that was all they’d gotten out of her, and this would be no different.

He had only been teasing her about the nickname ‘Jimmy’ verses ‘James’, and when she replied, he just grinned to let her know as much.

“Blimey O'Reilly. Yer American? Yer backgroun' check must be spotless if they're lettin' yer work 'ere. Waaat ye used ter do?”

“United States Marine Corps,” He made a point of angling a hand up to his temple and stopped leaning against the wall to stand at attention. A moment later, he relaxed to add, “but I’m more of a freelancer nowadays, I reckon.”

The talk turned to James again, and Spencer nodded. He had gathered as much about the man already, and he was already planning to make a call to his best friend, Persephone, to see about hacking in and getting the guy’s name in the database to receive a different post. When the shit hit the fan, he would like for James to be free and clear of the whole mess. He seemed like a nice guy. “He does his job, which is what matters. Maybe he’ll get a post somewhere else soon.” Though Spencer didn’t like the idea of taking the woman’s only friend in this place…

Spencer had glanced over her file and knew that Aria had never said a word about her family to the doctors. He didn’t really expect her to tell him anything either. It was more of a test. If there was anyone in this place that he might be able to trust with a secret, he figured that it was probably this little Aria. So, her response did not disappoint him.

If Oi did, Oi wouldn't be likely ter tell yer. 'Oy am Oi ter nu yer won't go runnin' aff ter de 'igher-ups an' say yer nu av more ter kidnap. If Oi 'av a family, Oi'm not helpin' yer lot git yer 'ands on dem,”

He didn’t respond. He just gave a little nod before doing another check of the area. Since the capture of one of the soldiers, they had been trying to lay low for a couple of weeks. Plus, the wizards were more vigilant. This meant that there weren’t all that many new captives coming in. This was convenient for Spencer. He moved slowly and methodically as he unfolded the chair and got situated on the seat. He leaned forward so that his elbows were on his knees, looking right at the woman behind the cell bars.

“Spencer, Oi don't mean ter offend yer, but if you're jist after informashun, you're oyt av luk. De doctors sent yer, did dey? Oi won’t answer their quesshuns after four an' a 'alf years, so dey decided ter try a different tack? Oi'm not gonna 'elp dem figure me oyt, an' if that's why you're 'ere, yer may as well leave nigh,”

He remained silent, letting her go on until she finally paused for a breath. She paused, fixing him with wary eyes. That was good. Four years in here hadn’t dulled her good common sense. He was glad to see it.

“O’ carse, Oi suppose it does depend on waaat yer want ter ask,”

“You seem to be a lady that can keep a secret...” This wasn’t easy for Spencer. He didn’t let himself get close to people. He couldn’t usually afford to trust anyone. This mission, though, was different. For the first time, it was personal. “Before I ask, though, there’s something you should keep in mind, and that’s this: You can’t always trust what ya see and hear. Sometimes, ya just gotta trust your gut. Does that make any sense at all?”

Without giving her much chance to respond, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. He didn’t open it right away. He just tapped it against his knee. “I don’t wanna ask about your family and friends. I’m just curious ‘bout somethin’, and I figure that you might be able to help me.” He paused, letting that sink in before he continued. “I don’t s’pose there’s ever been an American that’s come through here? As a captive, I mean. Some while back, maybe…”

“United States Marine Corps…but I’m more of a freelancer nowadays, I reckon.”

Aria let out a low whistle, impressed. She was always struck by the people who chose to risk their life for their country. Aria loved Ireland, but she really didn’t think she’d be much of a boon to their military. She knew that the American Marines were the elite, though, so this Spencer must be good at what he did. “Be the bloody 'oly. Waaat else does a freelancin' Marine chucker?” she asked, cocking her head to the side.

“He does his job, which is what matters. Maybe he’ll get a post somewhere else soon.”

Much as Aria liked Jimmy, she was glad to hear this. He didn’t deserve to be here any more than she did, and she was the stupid one who had walked to her late-night rehearsal alone all those years ago. She didn’t want to lose her only friend here, but Jimmy shouldn’t be here. “That's gran' ter 'ear. T'be sure, Ah'll miss 'im, but yer man shouldn't be 'ere in de first place. 'E's too gud for dis place,” she replied with a sad smile.

Aria liked this man, but that in no way meant that she was going to answer any questions he asked her. The doctors had tried all sorts of methods to get her to answer. They had tried bribing her, bargaining with her, starving her, keeping her sleep-deprived, drugging her…she just supposed that this was their latest attempt to get information out of her.

As much as Aria wanted to go home, she still refused to answer the doctors’ questions. She knew that answering them would probably be her ticket home, but she didn’t want to help them. She knew that she was lucky in that they really only asked her questions and took DNA samples. She had heard of others in there being given shock treatments and having experiments done on them. Aria didn’t have that high of a pain tolerance, being neither as tough as Chelsea or as clumsy as Maria. The strength she did have, though, was internal, and she would keep the wizarding world’s secrets as long as she could.

“You seem to be a lady that can keep a secret...”

She acknowledged that with a nod. Hadn’t she just proven that?

“Before I ask, though, there’s something you should keep in mind, and that’s this: You can’t always trust what ya see and hear. Sometimes, ya just gotta trust your gut. Does that make any sense at all?”

Aria blinked. Was he telling her that she should trust her gut and let him in because he seemed trustworthy? She couldn’t do that here. Once she was out of here, perhaps she’d go back to being the sweet, shy, trusting girl she’d been, but she’d seen too much deception and betrayal here to trust someone she just met…let alone someone who worked for the kidnappings. Still, she knew what he meant about trusting her gut. “Aye, Oi see waaat yer mean…” she began, but then he cut her off.

“I don’t wanna ask about your family and friends. I’m just curious ‘bout somethin’, and I figure that you might be able to help me.”

That threw her for a loop. He wanted to ask her questions, but not questions about her? What other information could she possibly have that he would need but didn’t have access to? Maybe he was planning a trip to Ireland, she thought dully, and wanted a native’s impression of the best places to visit. He would be better off speaking to Maria, really. She raised her blue-green eyes to his face and waited for him to continue.

I don’t s’pose there’s ever been an American that’s come through here? As a captive, I mean. Some while back, maybe…”

Oh. He wanted information about another prisoner? “Don't yer 'av access ter files? Yer couldn't jist luk it up?” she asked, but still she thought. An American? She had met plenty of English prisoners, but something stuck in her memory from a few years ago. Yes, the cell to her left had had an American woman in it who was about her mother’s age. The woman had been terrified, and Aria had reached out to her. She had been a tourist and had been taken. What was her name. Donna? Dana? Diana? That was it, Diana. She looked back to Spencer. “Aye. Oi remember wan. She wus taken while she wus on 'oliday 'ere. 'Er name wus Diana,” she replied. She took a deep breath before continuing. “But last Oi saw 'er wus a few years ago. Dey were usin' 'er for experiments, she said. Oi saw dem take 'er from 'er cell ter de lab, but she didn't cum back. Oi don't nu if they let 'er go after dat, or if they moved 'er somewhere else 'ere,” she finished, biting her lip. For all she knew, their experiments had gone terribly wrong and Diana was dead. "Is dat who yer lukin' for, lad?"

Spencer wasn’t sure if this was the best course of action or not. He had been getting frustrated because he was so close to the truth… to finding out what had become of Diana, but he just couldn’t quite find the proof he needed somehow. Sometimes the only thing left to do was to take a risk or two. That was why he had decided to see what Aria knew. He knew that revealing that he had no interest in her family would throw her for a loop. At least, that’s what he had hoped to do. She didn’t have to trust him; not right away. He had time to work on that. It was unlikely that either of them would be going anywhere particularly soon. He would still be coming to work every day, and she would continue to be imprisoned. He would have liked to have changed that latter part, but he wasn’t able to take that big of a risk just yet.

“Don't yer 'av access ter files? Yer couldn't jist luk it up?”

He shrugged, not wanting to betray just how important this information was to him. “It was a long while back. Who knows what might have happened to those records by now?” He had looked through all of the records readily available to him, but if there was a file on Diana Forrester it was either in with the Deceased or Special Cases. He hadn’t managed to get that sort of clearance yet, and Persephone kept griping in ‘technobabble’ that he only half understood about why she couldn’t just hack into the Rabbit Hole’s database.

So, it had come down to good old fashioned legwork for now. That was fine. Spencer was good at legwork.

“Aye. Oi remember wan. She wus taken while she wus on 'oliday 'ere. 'Er name wus Diana,”

Spencer nodded, not trusting himself to say anything right away. He hadn’t been one hundred percent sure that he wasn’t barking up the wrong tree. This whole Rabbit Hole thing had seemed to fit, but he didn’t know until now that Diana had been here. He kept his features schooled into a mask of calm, even though what he really wanted to do was to go find one of those stupid doctors and bash their head against a wall until he or she told him what he wanted to know or was little more than a bloody pulp—whichever came first. What he did was to sit there across from Aria as she continued to describe what little she knew about his foster mother.

"Is dat who yer lukin' for, lad?"

“Sounds ‘bout right.” He drawled. He leaned forward, putting his hands on his knees. “I want you to know that I appreciate you helpin’ me out. I know it don’t seem like much, and I guess it’s for my curiosity more than anythin’ else… but I appreciate it all the same.”

Never let it be said that he wasn’t polite.

“So… what is it ya do to pass the time?”

OOC: Sorry for the wait, love. It can be hard motivating a muse for a character you didn’t create 

Aria hadn’t seen her family in over four years, but she could imagine how they had reacted to her being taken. She wouldn’t be surprised if Maria and Chelsea were in some organization devoted to stopping the kidnappings. She had heard some of the guards muttering about one of their own being taken captive by wizards. That had given her a burst of hope that the wizarding world was finally—finally—striking back. They had been living under this fear for too long, and Aria still remembered what life had been like under You-Know-Who. Was it too much to ask for some peace?

She knew her family would be doing all they could to find her. She hoped that they hadn’t stopped their lives in order to do so—she would feel unbelievably guilty—but she knew that they would lie down and take it. They were Irish, and they were the Canterburrys. They had all gone through a terrible loss that had gone unpunished, and Aria knew that her family wouldn’t want that to happen again.


“Sounds ‘bout right.”

Spencer seemed like he was doing the same, just more effectively. Was Diana a family member? Was that why he was here? For information on her? It made sense: why he wasn’t like the other guards, why he was kind to her, why he’d volunteered to take Jimmy’s shift. He’d heard that Aria had been here longer than anyone else, so she would be the most likely to know if Diana had been here. Maybe he’d even looked at her file and saw how little the doctors knew about her, so he knew that she could keep a secret. Still, she softened as she looked at him. He was looking for someone, just like her family.

“I want you to know that I appreciate you helpin’ me out. I know it don’t seem like much, and I guess it’s for my curiosity more than anythin’ else… but I appreciate it all the same.”

Aria smiled. She still didn’t trust the man completely, but she certainly liked him. And her gut was telling her that he was all right, especially since he hadn’t asked about her family. She knew that he was asking for reasons other than his own curiosity. “Dare 'as ter be a reason yer lookin' for 'er. Oi nu dat Oi'm not bein' forthcomin' wi' me own secrets, but Oi can be trusted,” she said softly, stepping back up to the bars. “Is she yer ma, lad? Or an aunt? It doesn't matter, but Oi'm sorry. Naw wan deserves ter lose someone ter dis place.” As someone who’d been raised very polite, Aria appreciated his manners.

“So… what is it ya do to pass the time?”

Aria smiled. She could understand trying to change the subject from things that might show emotions. Chelsea did it all the time. “Well, whaen they're not takin' samples or tryin' ter git me ter answer quesshuns, Oi'm 'ere. It gets pure boring, t’be sure. Oi used ter blather ter de people in de cells beside mine. Learn their stories, reassure dem, yer nu. They're usually shuk, an' Oi mind me first days 'ere. Oi loike ter 'elp if oi can,” she replied. She rubbed her newly bandaged wrist; they’d taken blood from her again the day before. Perhaps she’d start fighting again when they tried to take samples. She was sick and tired of being poked and prodded. “But dare 'asn't been anyone next ter me in weeks, so Oi usually sleep early mornin' ter afternoon. Den Oi occupy meself by 'eadin' through shows Ah've been in. Oi did lashings av theatre back 'um. By den, Jimmy's usually 'ere, so yer man an' Oi talk. Whaen yer man leaves, Oi sleep, an' de cycle repeats,” she shrugged. “Waaat aboyt yer? Waaat d’yer chucker whaen yer noyt ‘ere?”