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home and
grated against everything in the house that came before it.
    At last returning Caton to her
place of exile, Sole glanced toward the cameras, softly informing Caton they
were virtually-controlled with a stream up to Jack’s computer. The fact that
she sounded as disturbed by the fact as Caton brought some measure of comfort,
if not relief from the ever-watchful Cyclops.
    After that, Sole left her, and
Caton went back to the files, which, much to her dismay, hadn’t miraculously
vanished in her absence. A few hours later, fingertips just starting to crack
from the continuous contact with dusty files, she was finally free to go and
she headed back up to the kitchen to thank Sole, who seemed honestly happy when
she told Caton she would see her in the morning and provided the unsolicited
information that Amelia was upstairs in her office.
    Not particularly wanting to
approach the other woman, but not particularly wanting to spend the entire six
months afraid of running into her boss either, Caton slow-stepped up the stairs
and hesitated outside the door of Amelia’s office. Finally sliding into the
doorway, she discovered Amelia with her head bowed over a piece of paper, hand
moving across it, and waited for a break. When Amelia at last dropped the pen
on the desk and leaned back, Caton watched her pull her bottom lip between her
teeth in concentration, trying not to notice the way the buttons on her shirt
strained as Amelia stretched, revealing a hint of red silk against skin.
    “Same time tomorrow?” she asked,
and Amelia jostled to attention as if she had no clue Caton was standing there.
“Sorry,” Caton uttered, and it sounded as insincere as it felt.
    “Did Sole say you could come up
here?” Amelia questioned in a tone that reminded Caton just how deceiving looks
could be.
    “No,” Caton replied. “I didn’t
realize I needed permission.”
    For a moment, Amelia said nothing,
her chest expanding and contracting as she stared across the office.
Fleetingly, it occurred to Caton she should try being less confrontational,
though she doubted it would change anything.
    “I don’t like to be surprised,”
Amelia stated at last.
    “It won’t happen again,” Caton
uttered. “Since this filing is going to take months, can I wear casual
clothes?”
    “I don’t care what you wear,”
Amelia countered with such indifference, Caton bristled instantly.
    “Okay.” She couldn’t stop the
irritated sigh from leaving her lips. “I don’t know what’s going on, but Jack
said you needed help. That is the only reason I am here. Now, I’m helping the
city, and as long as I get paid I’m fine with that, but I could help you.”
    “I don’t need your help,” Amelia
calmly asserted. “I don’t know why Jack brought you here. I just need to keep
you busy until I figure that out.”
    She seemed more annoyed than
concerned by the situation, and did appear to be telling the truth. So, neither
of them knew what was going on, and they were enemies for no other reason than
they had been pitted against each other in some weird power play Caton probably
should have seen coming, but didn’t. Now that it was in motion, all she could
do was let it play out. She couldn’t win. Amelia couldn’t win. It was Jack’s
game, that was clear, and only he knew what he expected to get out of it.
    “Goodnight,” she said, surrendering
to the situation as it was and getting no response from Amelia.
    She didn’t expect one.
     
     

Chapter 8
     
    Each day, Sole greeted Caton with a
smile and the offer of coffee. By the third day, Caton gave into her
hospitality, figuring it was going to be a long six months regardless, but
would be considerably less painful adequately caffeinated.
    On the rare occasion their paths
crossed, Amelia eyed Caton warily, her expression revealing nothing. She said
“good morning” if it was morning, “goodnight” if Caton was on her way out, but
that was the extent of the conversation, and she