My eyes open to artificial light streaming in through the open door. I roll to my back, stretching my limbs so that I take up the full space of the small cot. I blink my eyes, pushing the sleep out them, when I see Tucker getting dressed next to me.

"Aideen, has anyone ever told you snore?" Tucker comments as he sees me moving. He moves to block the light coming in, so my face is in the shadow and all I see is the outline of his figure. "Just a little, like a really annoying whistle."

I grab the pillow from behind my head and chuck it at him. He ducks for cover but ends up getting a face full of fluff. Laughing, he pulls his T-shirt over his head and runs out of the bunk room, narrowly avoiding the assault of another pillow. His absence reminds me why I was in his bed in the first place, and the events of the night prior come rushing back to me. The sting of lies hits me again and I am blindsided by the pain. I am surprised by how much it hurts.

Freaking Jeremiah. I never was as close with him as I was the rest of Henry's children. He was two years older than me and had left the house just shy of his 18th birthday. Meaning I only lived with him for several months after I had moved in. Despite our limited relationship, this was a new low even for him. And I didn't even want to think about Henry. The man who pretty much raised me even before I lived with him and his family. This was the betrayal that stung the most.

Rising quickly, not wanting to dwell and wanting only to plot and scheme revenge, I throw one of Tucker's sweatshirts over my head and skip across the cold concrete, leaving the bed unmade.

The smell of coffee hits my nose. Diverting the direction of my skipping footsteps, I head towards the aroma.

"Someone is in a good mood." I hear a voice behind me call out.

"No time!" I call out, turning my head over my shoulder to locate the speaker, who ended up being Henry; the hurt hit me again, like pressing on an already sore bruise. You know it is going to be uncomfortable, but you check anyways, feeling the ache where you apply pressure. "Coffee first, conversation later."

Stopping at the cart I pull out a mug from the shelf underneath and fill it from the pot. Bringing it up to my face, I feel the steam rising from it tickling my face. I inhale deeply, finding comfort in the smallest things, even while I continued to feel the betrayal nestled at the center of my stomach. But I couldn't let it show, I never let it show. Instead I put on a face.

Taking my mug, I proceed to the living area where people are gathered. A box of donuts sits on the coffee table amidst the semicircle created by the three couches. I reach in grabbing one, not even noticing which kind I take hold of. They are already too picked through to give much care about what kind I grab. I sit, crossing my legs underneath me, on the couch next to Tucker, who reaches over and grabs a section of my doughnut in my hand, tearing it off popping it into his mouth before I can react. I scoff at him and elbow him in the ribs. Which causes him to double over in pain, making me almost spill my coffee.

"Wimp." I remark, smirking, as Tucker rubs his now sore side.

Conversation gradually resumes among the small group as I finish what remains of my doughnut without any more disturbances from Tucker. I catch tidbits of conversations regarding how the Mets were doing since the start of their season last month, to the newest relationship gossip among some of the long-time group members. Apparently longstanding couple Julie and Mark broke up. I had thought for sure they were going to get married. Clearly, others shared my opinion.

The newbies sit dazed and confused as we throw out names and slang that they have no reference for. In a group like ours, with the history we have, there is a lot for them to pick up on. But they are here, and they are trying, and I am thankful for them, regardless.

As I am listening to the mumbles of everyone around me, one of the newbies jumps in with a question. Tall and athletic, she has a surprisingly high-pitched voice, even for a girl. "Why do you all call yourselves QoR anyway?" She asks.

I step in, adding to the conversation for the first time all morning. "It's short for Queen of Hearts. It's what we call our group."

"Okay but aren't you just a branch of the Hades Initiative? Why not just use your group number given to you by them?"

"Yeah, we are." I respond as the room goes quiet. The conversation has officially entered unspoken territory. "We just prefer to go by a different name." Everyone's attention is on me. Those who know, know the full implication that this conversation could have. Especially considering the time of year. Those who don't know have picked up on the shift in the room. No longer was this a collection of individuals talking about the weather or baseball.

This girl clearly didn't get the hint and she pressed on anyway, disregarding the glances at Henry everyone else was giving. "Well who picked that out? It's dumb and confusing for the rest of us" There was a collective intake of breath around the room.

A new voice enters the discussion, saving me from having to explain. "My mom coined it." Jeremiah responds. I turn around and sure enough, he was standing at the doorway of his bunk room, looking disheveled. "Based on the phrase 'Off with their head!' that we use in reference to Cerberus."

He unhitches himself from the door frame and walks to the sink. The sound of running water is the only thing you could hear in the entire vault space; no one dared make a sound, not even the belligerent newbie. The ones familiar with the story knew better and even our outspoken newbie could now feel the dark shift in the room. Jeremiah splashes his face with water before continuing.

"Cerberus refers to the three headed dog that guards the entry to the underworld in Greek mythology, and the Hades Initiative is designed to dismantle the control of Cerberus program, so, it was only fitting. You know," he pauses to dry off his face, "cut off the heads of the beast, like the Queen of Hearts."

I decide to add to the conversation, seeing as how Jeremiah wasn't going to say anything further. "QoR also relates to the original myth. Kore would become the wife of Hades; we consider ourselves married to the Hades Initiative, even if our work is a little more 'off the grid' than what they do."

"Sally, my wife and his mother," Henry adds, gesturing toward Jeremiah, "was the original Queen of Hearts, she even had the red hair to prove it. She died, five years ago next week. We keep up the title in honor of her." The sound of pain resonating unmistakably in his voice.

"What's your name?" Jeremiah asks as he moves to sit on the table in the middle of the room. The sound of rustling paper breaks the silence as he clears a space.

The girl next to our athletic build friend, elbows her when she hesitates. Heads shift back to her expectantly. "Carmen," she chokes out, "Carmen Martinez."

"Well Carmen, Carmen Martinez," Jeremiah asks as twelve heads swivel to look at him again. "Clearly you haven't lost someone at the hands of Cerberus, otherwise you wouldn't be nearly so insensitive. So why are you here?" His tone challenges her, not responding would mean she would be kicked out immediately. Responding with the wrong answer would also imply she would be kicked out.

"She is here for me." A small voice chimes in. The small girl next to her who elbowed her earlier speaks up. She had to have been even smaller than me; next to Carmen, she looked like a child. "I asked her to be here."

Maybe Carmen wouldn't be kicked out. This girl might have saved her.

"And who did you lose?" Jeremiah asks no more nicely, shifting his gaze form Carmen to the other new girl. His full attention is on her. This was a side of Jeremiah that has been developing in the past five years; the side that can manage a room full of adults with simple body language. He had stepped up to the role of QoR leader well. He knew how to throw his weight around.

"My brother, Samuel."

Jeremiah relaxes marginally at her response, relating to her pain. "What did he do?" He prompts.

"He was a political advocate; arguing for the removal of the Monocratic Party from the head US political system."

Jeremiah looked stunned. We all did. Few people had the courage to stand up against the party so openly. "Your brother had balls; we all applaud him. What's your name?"

The small young woman seemed to have found her voice and now speaks with authority knowing she has Jeremiah's support. "Harriet Turner."

"With a name like that, we would be glad to have you." Just like that the dark tone which had descended over the vault brakes and normal conversations resume. Harriet and Carmen talk quietly among themselves.

Unfortunately, Harriet's story was the same as a lot us in the room. We had almost all lost someone by the direct hand of the Cerberus group and their unparalleled support of the Monocratic Party. Opponents of the Party didn't last long against the powerhouse, nongovernmental agency that was Cerberus; not when they didn't have to play by the same rules.

That is what we are all doing here though, fighting back against a system that takes away choice. While there was a point in our history that warranted the seize of power from the people, the day in which it served its purpose is past. So here we are, fighting back quietly and slowly because it is our only chance. Here we are, fighting against a system that most don't see as a problem because they are directly benefiting from it. It isn't until you are disadvantaged by it that you see how much influence it has had in your life. And it is at that moment that you throw off the oppression, you throw off the governance and you fight back. You fight back in the only way you know how. For us, that means joining underground resistances, quietly collecting data and intel to bring to the masses and show them their oppression.

For me, it means finding a family when I have none left. And as of last night, there is one part of my family, I realized, I had forgotten about. Which meant today I would be cornering Jeremiah to get my family back. I only had to figure out how.

I lean over to Tucker, whispering in his ear. He nods in response, looking confused. I give him a the-less-you-know-the-better kind of look in response.