The conversation ended after a few more questions from Jack. Mr. Linscott keeps his mouth shut about most things.
For example, when Jack asked the specifics of the broadcast they'd encountered, Mr. Linscott informed him that it was currently being investigated and was above their clearance levels.
In fact, everything seemed to be above their clearance levels.
"Now, it's getting late," Mr. Linscott stood up and walked over to the door. "Let's get you two situated in your rooms for the night."
He gestured for them to follow him. Jack got up immediately, worn out from his experience and ready to sleep in a real bed. Though he admittedly felt a bit suspicious of the Ministry, certain that someone would be watching him during the night. Elliot did not get up, still stuck in the same position.
"Hey, Elliot," Jack gently tapped him on the shoulder. "We need to head to sleep. We've probably got an early day tomorrow."
"What does it matter?" Elliot whispered, Jack had to strain to hear him. "Everything that mattered is gone."
"Doesn't that just make what's left all the more important?" Jack asked him.
Elliot didn't respond. Jack waited for about 30 seconds before grabbing Elliot and trying to lift him up. He was quite light, which made sense considering he made a living running around, giving him wiry build.
Elliot just let Jack lead him to his room, falling onto the bed before just staring up at the ceiling.
Jack glanced around the room, looking for hints of glass or anything out of the ordinary. While he didn't find anything, it didn't mean they were watching. It just meant they were good at hiding it.
Jack, on the other hand, had a few questions for Mr. Linscott.
"Are we going to get new clothes, or do I just wear these for now?" Jack gestured at his rumpled and dirty continental suit. He'd dressed much nicer than Elliot, as he'd anticipated working in the office rather than running about. He'd been sorely regretting his choice of clothing for the past few days.
Now that he thought about it, he and Elliot probably made for a strange looking pair. Him in his suit and shorter hair, looking every bit like a wannabe journalist, while Elliot sported a white tee, jeans, and shades.
"You will get new clothes come morning. You will have a collection of clothing for when in the Ministry, out in the field, and everyday wear all tailored by a team of concordant." Mr. Linscott explained.
"Your new outfits will help people see you for who you already are," Mr. Linscott continued. "Or who we want them to see."
He glanced at Elliot lying in his bed. "Blue-collar. Greaser."
Then to Jack. "Ambitious. Observant. Journalist."
"They'll feel true. That's the trick."
Jack glanced down at his wrinkled clothing.
"I guess I'll look the part, then."
He wasn't sure if that thought comforted him or not.
He entered his room and looked for signs of spying just as he did in Elliot's room. Just like he expected from the Ministry, he found none. The only things of note in the room were an empty wardrobe, a desk, and a rickety bed. Attached to the room was a bathroom with a toilet, sink, and shower. He collapsed on the bed, ready for the nightmare to be over, though he knew it was just beginning.
Sleep didn't come easy that night. He tossed and turned, unable to sleep due to the thin walls. He could hear Elliot mutter in his sleep.
"Don't take them." Elliot murmured. "Take me. I'm faster. I'm here."
There was a short pause.
"Still time... still time if I run."
He continued speaking in that vein for most of the night. Jack eventually did manage to get some shuteye, passing out and remaining dead to the world for till the sun rose.
He woke to a knock on the door. He scrambled to get out of the bed and tried to part his hair with his fingers to look presentable. He walked over to the door and opened it to see Mr. Linscott standing there.
"Good morning, Mr. Halden." The older man said in his usual dry tone. "It's time for you to receive your clothes before meeting your new team."
"That's good to hear," Jack said, glad to have a chance to get out of his clothes and take a shower.
As he said that, a woman in her fifties stepped into his view holding a collection of folded clothes.
"These have been designed to fit your body and personality. I hope you enjoy them, as creating them took quite a bit of concordant energy." She explained. "They won't interfere with your movements and should remain comfortable despite weather conditions."
"Thank you very much." Jack told her, sincerely grateful for the opportunity to change.
"No problem, dear." She smiled politely at him after handing the clothes before walking away.
"Be quick about it, we don't have all day." Mr. Linscott told him before closing the door to give him privacy.
As he went to change out of his clothes to take a shower, he found something in the pocket of his old suit. It was a small pocket mirror. The glass was cracked, splitting his reflection into warped, overlapping images.
His mother gave it to him the day he left home.
"Never forget who you are," she'd said.
He feared he already had.
Jack put most of the clothes into the wardrobe, keeping a simple black continental suit and red tie. The tie stood out amongst his otherwise dark wardrobe. It was sharp, unmistakable, like a wound that never healed. He took a quick shower and tried to brush his hair, donning the suit.
Once he was finished, he walked over to the door and opened it. He was surprised to see Elliot there, looking more alert than yesterday. Not happy, but not completely despondent either. He had his black hair slicked back, wearing jeans and a white tee shirt. He had a necklace bearing the symbol of the Shepard, a crook and flame. Elliot didn't strike Jack as the religious type, so this was somewhat surprising, though not very. The Shepards Light was the most common religion in Yudror, followed by the Tidal Shorn.
Jack's family had been followers of the Tidal Shorn. He had to go to church every week to learn about the cyclical nature of life. He was never much of a devout person and stopped going to church once he came of age, though he still believes in the Shorn God.
They walked together in silence, following Mr. Linscott till they reached another room.
"This is where I leave you. Try to cooperate with them," Mr. Linscott told them, walking away.
"Are you ready to meet the team?" Jack asked Elliot, glad to see him up and about.
"Ready as I'll ever be." The trace of humor that was once always present had disappeared from Elliot's face. Jack feared it would never come back.
The room smelled of of paper and dried ink. Of sweat and blood. like secrets left out too long. They were greeted by a group of four people. There was a man in his early twenties wearing slacks, a black shirt, and a bomber jacket. A woman in her forties wearing what appeared to be factory workers clothing, an androgynous person dressed in a light brown turtleneck, and a woman almost hidden behind them wearing a grey skirt-suit.
"Hello, kids. My name is Isolde. Pleasure to meet you." The lady dressed as a factory worker said, offering her hand.
"The name's Dane." The man in the bomber jacket said, puffing his chest out.
"Greetings, I'm Sky." The androgynous person greeted them with a reserved smile.
"Annie." The girl in the back said in a quiet voice.
Jack nodded, shaking Isolde's hand.
"Jack," he smiled politely.
"Elliot," came the soft greeting behind him.
The silence stretched just a moment too long. No one seemed very happy to be there.
As Jack looked around, he realized no one there was whole. They'd all lost something.
And yet somehow, they'd become a team.