Making Plans

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Twenty-Two

John

It was another hour before Sam and Adam were allowed to join us, each of them wearing the same psychiatric facility clothes that we all were forced to wear. Adam was the last to join us, and I was certain they had been grilling him the entire time about his former ties to the Mogadorians. His eyes were baggy and tired, and his hair seemed ruffled as if he had been running his hand through them nervously. Six immediately rushed over to Sam and gave him a tight squeeze, after he checked on Adam, but they were both fine. A little exhausted, but fine.

It wasn't long after we were all together that a few interns brought bags of McDonalds, and the scent of freshly salted French fries and a Big Mac made my stomach growl. We were each given a large Coca-Cola and an apple pie as well, but I'm pretty sure between the sudden lunge for food, Nine ended up with two medium fries while Marina sneaked her an extra pie, leaving me pie-less and making me steal my fries back from Nine. 

Madeleine kept close to Nine for the rest of the time, and she hardly spoke. Her hair was pulled back out of her face, but her shoulders were hunched as if she were trying to make herself smaller. It was obvious that something had happened during her interview - something that hurt and scared her. Nine held her hand under the table, or put his arm around her shoulders, or allowed her to use his lap as a footrest. Either way, they were touching at all times, even when they ate. Were they a little over-touchy as a couple? Yes. But did this situation call for anything else? No. He was comforting her in the best way he knew how, by letting her know that she was protected at all costs. That's probably the best that Nine could offer anyone.

I scarfed down my burger quickly, and Adam gave me half of his. Apparently, he wasn't that hungry. 

"Thanks, man," I said with a mouth full. 

He nodded with a small smile as he picked at a few of his fries.

Agent Walker gave us a few minutes to eat and speak before she came in, followed by a group of agents looking to put their names down as the ones who helped curve an alien invasion. The red headed woman who dominated the scene earlier sat calmly at the head of the table, while her men sat on the opposite end. They had us on each side, and while every instinct in my body was telling me to get out, I knew I was trapped. I was just going to have to wait it out.

"I see that you all enjoyed your meal." She motioned to the mess of wrappers and boxes that littered the table with an amused grin. "If any of you are still hungry, I can see about getting you some more."

"Oh, that would be fantastic," Nine said with his usual grin. "I would enjoy a Whopper from Burger King, if that's alright with you-"

"Either way," Agent Walker interrupted, trying her best to hide her smile. "We looked over each of your statements and each came up similar. And, to the disbelief of my colleagues" - she sighed as she looked down at her scowling agents - "I believe you."

My heart leapt in my chest. "You do?"

"I do." She nodded.

Marina beamed as she squeezed my arm excitedly. Finally, we seemed to be getting somewhere! We weren't just spinning our tires, because the FBI was beginning to believe us! A balloon was beginning to swell in my chest as I began to taste the sweet breath of victory ahead.

"But, some other higher up officials don't."

The balloon popped. Of course it did.

"So, what do we do?" Six asked. Her arm was draped over the table that seemingly put a barrier, either intentional or no, between Sam and the agents.

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