The inside of the vault was impressive. The ceiling towered two stories above me, an industrial fan spun slowly, part of the reason why it smelt significantly less dank in here than just outside in the tunnels. The steel walls held together with giant bolts, gave the feeling of being inside a submarine, a large submarine. In the center of the room was a large table, covered with maps, photos, and assorted documents; really, the proof of all our work can be laid out just like this. I shake off the feeling of inadequacy as it spreads over me like a wave. Off to the right was a small living space with rather squashy looking couches. Beyond that was a series of smaller doors. In total, there were six people lounging around.

Running toward me was Jo, keys in hand, "See you next week!" she yells at me. I hear the vault door close behind her.

Pulling my pack off my back, I drop on a chair. I make my way to the other side of the table were Henry is sitting, staring intently at the documents in front of him. I pull the chair out next to him and plop down.

"Anything new?" I ask.

Henry answers without looking up, "No, just checking to make sure I didn't miss anything."

"Henry, you never miss anything."

Henry looks up meeting my eyes, pushing his reading glasses up on his head. "You are wrong, Aideen. I missed you." He says as he pulls me in for a hug, holding on tightly. "It's good to have you back."

"Glad to be back." Pulling out of the hug, I give him a smile. He looks tired, more tired than the last time I saw him. But the fire in his eyes burns no less bright. Despite the challenges we have all faced, him especially, Henry keeps it together. Fueling our small group. Pulling us together even when we are thousands of miles apart. Call it what you want, Henry is our lynch pin.

"How have you been, my dear girl? Is Jo putting up with you yet?"

I shake my head at him, looking offended. "What are you suggesting? That I am annoying or something? Because I rebel against that statement!"

"Of course, you rebel. I am not surprised! You can never just take any constructive criticism, can you?" Henry pats my leg once and stands up. He heads for a coffee cart along the wall that I hadn't see yet. "Do you want a cup?" He gestures to the machine. "That was a dumb question, right? I am trying to work on reading the female mind, so therefore, I should know you always want a cup." I nod in response.

"Let me guess, Caney has officially reached the I-am-a teenage-girl-and-I-am-always-right-phase?"

"Oh, has she ever!" He sets my steaming cup of coffee down in front of me. "Absolutely nothing I say is right anymore. And that girl has no problem telling me when I messed up, even though I didn't mess up. I swear she said she wanted the blue phone, not the pink phone. But no, apparently, during the course of a week, the blue phone was not cool anymore!" He pauses his little rant, peering at me as I look at him over my mug. "It's like she had a bad role model or something."

"I don't know what you are talking about." I remark, "I take none of the blame, and all of the credit." I set down my cup, it's too hot to drink quickly anyway.

"I mean you raised me, and I turned out fine. She will be too." I try to be reassuring, though I don't think he buys it.

Henry sighs, running his hand over his forehead. "Unfortunately, I think Sally had more to do with your upbringing that I did. Caney doesn't have her."

Sally died five years ago next week. Caney was only eight when it happened.

"Where is Caney? Is she here?" I ask, changing the subject. I am not ready to venture into the conversation of Sally just yet.

"At her Grandma's, Sally's mom. I wanted to give her some normalcy going into next week. Also, I figured it was safer for her there. God knows, the last thing I need is for her to be sneaking out and roaming the streets of Brooklyn unsupervised. That girl wants me to die young or something I swear!"

I chuckle, he looks at me quickly before joining it. Sometimes, in certain situations, it's better just to laugh it out.

We both sip at our coffee; silence with Henry is easy. Silence has always been easy with Henry, for as long as I can remember. He never asked questions, he just knew I needed someone to know that I was heard. That my cries to the universe, to God or to whatever cosmic power thought of the sick joke called my life.

"Who's all coming?" I break the silence with my question.

"Everyone."

"Wait, like everyone, everyone? The whole kit and caboodle?"

"Yes, get ready for a family reunion because they are all going to be here."

"Jeremiah must have really found something big if he is calling in all the troops." I look to Henry for confirmation for Tucker's theory. Jeremiah is Henry's oldest child, two years my senior, I only lived with him around for about a year.

"Not exactly a finding so much as a plan."

The range of emotions that ran across Henry's face concerned me. I could tell he wasn't thrilled about the plan, though he trusted its potential outcome. Henry was methodical about his plans. We, all of us involved, were like family to him. A plan had to be darn good and with minimal risk before it received a Henry stamp of approval. Meaning very few of my plans were ever executed. I liked high risk for the chance of high reward. Jeremiah was a bit like me in that aspect. If Henry was having second doubts about his plan, it must involve high risk. It also must have been pushed through without Henry's consent. Maybe Tucker was right to be concerned about Jeremiah.