Evelyn

Weaver nods her head towards the tracker stalking through the supply boxes. He's got his head angled down but there's a confident stride to his step. Somebody is trying to act the part. Someone should tell Conrad he doesn't have to try so hard, he practically screams authority.

"I wonder where he's off to." Weaver muses from her side, glancing at her cautiously from the corner of her eye. "Looks like he's up to trouble."

Eve sighs, "Well we shouldn't let him be the only person to blame."

It was a little harder for the pair of them to sneak past the curious guards and patrolmen. Seeing women around the armed forces was surprising enough. Eve swiped a forgotten baseball cap off a crate, pulling it down low over her eyes as they stuck to the shadows.

Weaver snorted and Eve looked up to find her pointing at the 'restricted area, authorised personnel only' sign with an eye roll and rebellious grin.

The pair cautiously entered, peering around the different crates for any sign of Conrad. They eventually found him down one of the aisle, scanning the labels and using a pitiful lighter in an attempt to read easier in the dark.

Evelyn stepped forward, her footsteps barely making a sound but it's enough for Conrad's head to snap up. He straightens, pulling away from the crate he was inspecting and stepping back into a familiar fighting stance. Instinct and muscle memory truly is an interesting thing.

"What are you doing down here?"

She hums, scanning the boxes.

"Working out whose lives are worth saving when these blow up in our faces."

His brows furrow, "I was under the impression that you took an oath to help all."

"Oh I did." She brushed the dirt off one of the labels. "But three months in a jungle with limited supplies and no contact is the plot for Lord of the Flies."

She grins at the tracker. "I don't plan on being Piggy."

Something like approval shines in his eyes, an understanding flaring there. Yeah, she's seen some shit too. Footsteps, louder than what Evelyn's had been, echo through the area. The pair turn to face Weaver who walks towards them with a blank expression.

"Plus," Mace taunts, "We could ask you the same question."

His head tilts to the side, staring the photojournalist down. "We?"

She hums, "Evelyn and I."

Conrad's eyes narrow and he glances between the two women. For a moment Evelyn feels guilty, as if she's done something wrong. What for she doesn't know but nonetheless the feeling is there.

"The better question would be, why does a geological mapping mission need explosives?" Weaver states, strolling along to look at the crates. "Surely there are easier, safer methods."

"Evidently you weren't listening in class." Conrad admonishes before turning to Evelyn and lowering his voice. "Is there a particular reason you're always up so late?"

"I'm a night owl Mr Conrad," She drawls, "Twilight hours have always been the best for getting jobs done."

"Well here's all the seismic charges." Weaver calls down to them from up ahead.

Conrad gestures ahead of himself, allowing her to move first so that they can walk side by side. Evelyn takes in the room, the dark, shadowed crates filled with explosives, hidden away in an equally shrouded room light only by bad lights and the occasional red glow from one of the wall switches.

Doesn't paint a particularly nice picture of these supplies.

"The seismic charges are for the geological survey." Conrad states, its clear he doesn't believe himself but military types have always been good at just parroting information back at you. "Though the amount they've packed..."

He trails off and Evelyn fills in the blanks. You don't need this many bombs to make a map. Hell you don't need any but what do those guys care?

"Interesting that they're using explosives," Eve murmurs as the three of them stroll through the crates, Weaver moving up ahead and falling behind as she takes photos. "Especially since they've already got a geologist who's going to spend the first month working on a land map by vantage points and using the helicopters."

"The explosives are for underground mapping." Conrad counters as they wait for Weaver to take another photo. "To check the density of the rock and sediment, scout out caves, underground lakes and potential oil spots."

Evelyn looks at him disbelievingly, "Uh-huh, you really believe that."

"I didn't say that." He tilts his head to the side, hand tucked away in his pockets. "What about you? What do you think they're doing with all those explosives?"

"Well unless there's a small army waiting for us that I don't know about I'd say they're waging an invisible war."

Weaver turns around, leaning against a crate as she raise a brow at Evelyn. "An Invisible war?"

"C'mon, you've both met Packard."

The pair of them make similar noises of disgruntled agreement.

"He's a war dog. Some men have just been built for the fight, raised and honed for it till it's all they know." She drags a hand through her hair in irritation. "It's clear he was none too pleased to end the war, he wanted to stay and finish the job. I certainly can't imagine a man like him taking to civilian life."

"So what, this is one last hurrah?" Weaver frowns, not following along. "Some kind of suicide mission where he can go out with honour."

"Or he could be stockpiling for a fight." Evelyn counters. "Instead of trying to end something, he wants to prolong it. Drag it out for as long as possible... Who do you think reassured all those scared researchers and scientists that they could visit the island for months instead of days."

"The man is wound pretty tight." Weaver agrees.

"He's a decorated war hero." Conrad adds on, slowing to a stop so he scans Weaver head to toe. "It's the package they come in."

For a moment the pair stare each other down, a silent battle of wills as they try and work the other out. Evelyn thinks this is the first time she has seen a pair have some tension that isn't sexual. More competitive.

"And you? Isn't shooting a mapping mission a step down for a photojournalist?"

"The right photo can alter opinions." Evelyn defends, stepping closer to the pair before adding on. "And win you a Pulitzer."

Weaver rolls her eyes at her, "Okay, uh-huh. You keep playing both sides there doc."

Eve scoffs. "I don't fancy having the two most tolerable people here argue constantly. I'll lose my mind."

"Oh so you want us to play nice." Conrad teases, voice low as he peers down at her. "You didn't strike me as a mediator."

"And I didn't think of you as a mercenary."

Conrad holds her gaze for a moment longer, a moment too long before turning to Weaver. Evelyn rapidly blinks, clearing her mind before strolling further into the storage bay. She keeps one ear on the pair behind, for some reason hoping that they'll get along.

"I didn't know a war photographer would be interested in something so..."

"Full of conspiracy theories?" Weaver purses her mouth. "And I'm an anti-war photographer."

"Well I'm glad the two of you are getting on but come look at this." Evelyn calls over her shoulder from where she's staring at piles of metal grates. "Someone want to take a guess at what creature would be big enough to fit in one of these cages?"

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Dinner is a more subdued affair, which is relative considering the crowd Evelyn is currently bunking down with. Queues for seconds and thirds had been and gone leaving she, Weaver, Conrad and Chapman at their little table.

Chapman had sat further down with Mills who had left in search of a second helping of dessert. Seeing he had been abandoned by the younger man the Major had pulled up a seat opposite Conrad and started a game of cards.

It's Go Fish.

They were a bunch of decorated soldiers playing Go Fish. How very on brand of them.

"You keep in touch with any of your old Navy mates?" Weaver asks over her cup of coffee. Eve swears that woman has an addiction. If there wasn't a camera in her hand then there was a coffee.

"Not particularly. Half of them didn't make it out, and of the rest of us most decided to stay on. Hard to keep in touch with so many when they're so spread out and dropping like flies."

"I know the feeling." Chapman straightens out his lips in displeasure. "It's hard enough keeping in touch with my family, let alone with all the boys I've served with."

"Wife?"

"Grace and my boy," A proud smile splits his face. "Billy."

Eve grins, she had always wanted that life.

"How old is he?" Weaver asks, forcing Chapman to awkwardly put his cards down for a second and drag his hand through his hair. A nervous tick but she noticed it could do with a trim.

"I just missed his birthday for this mission, actually." He looks genuinely disappointed with himself. "He'll be turning 11 in a few days."

"Maybe you'll get him a parrot for his birthday." Eve nudges his boot with her own, grinning at him. "Or some never seen before species of glowing frogs."

"Or a snake." Weaver adds on with a tease smile and Chapman rolls his eyes.

"No, no, you ladies aren't thinking grandiose enough." Conrad smirks over at them from across the table. "What about leopards, or panthers? Something big."

"Woah, calm down Tracker." Eve leans away from him in mock disapproval. "Those ain't kid friendly animals."

"They aren't adult friendly either." Chapman shudders at the thought and the other burst out in laughter. "Speaking of my family, I've got a letter to write."

"Night."

"G'night!"

Conrad collects all the cards, offering to play a round with Weaver who blinks in surprise. She glances to Eve as if for approval or maybe encouragement before accepting. It was nice to just sit with them, playing games and chatting about their lives.

She learns that Weaver has travelled all around the world straight out of univeristy for six years. She had started with travel journalism and hitchhiked her way across Asia. Once she had seen the beauty of other cultures, experienced their foods, their dance, clothes and languages she had fallen in love with them.

Hiking and day trips were her compromise when she lived in Europe as a part of the foreign press for America. She had been limited to offices in cities but when she came home she couldn't unseen what she had lived. She had lasted two years in that office before coming back home to America.

The beauty and the poverty. Wars of the social kind were being waged against anything determined as 'other' and she wanted the masses to see what she had seen, to love it as she had. Not to hate it.

Then of course she got involved with the war in her late twenties. Two years of brutal photographs describing a world she hadn't experienced before. But one she wanted to change. Photographing a Mapping excursion would be a different pace, exploration and curiosity rather than the desperate purpose of changing minds.

Plus she was curious as to what Monarch was hiding. Weaver didn't seem to be one to back away from a challenge.

Conrad had stayed silent but a few offered drinks later, begging and convincing from Evelyn had him sharing his tale of woe.

A loving family but a father who died of cancer and a mother struggling to pay the bills. Conrad was following in his older brother's footsteps– Aaron – who had died in the war five years ago. It was clear that the wound still hurt a bit even if Conrad had seemingly moved on.

The Tracker had spent most of his childhood hunting with his father and brother, deer, fox, badger and the occasional turkey for thanksgiving.

And that was all he had been willing to share which was honestly more than Evelyn expected. Though she had her suspicions that the rest of the stories were of his army days. None were too keen to get into the recent and personal trauma so late at night.

Not when they had two days left on this ship in close quarters and little privacy to run away. When Evelyn's turn came to share she had choked up, surprised by the question even though she knew it was coming.

Thankfully she was saved by the cleaning staff who bustled them out of the mess hall and bid them a good night.

Weaver had been quiet on the walk back to their room. Mentioning that they should spend tomorrow getting to know Miss San. Maybe she was disappointed that Eve didn't share, either way they went to bed that night with unspoken words.

A/N: A little bit of a look into their personal lives and back stories, what did you think?