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He wasn’t truly sure of his own name. He had set up the details for everyone else but skipped past himself, again. He sat back and pondered a moment. Waldo and Franz and their variants are unusable. It might seem suspect if he used a name in the same vein of Joan. Perhaps… Michael. A German name, fairly common in a variety of cultures, and a question to remind him of his shortcomings.

But it was still a strange thought. Changing herself once again. She wasn’t sure if she had any new personas left after all she’d been through.

The reckless teen, the lovestruck wife, the fumbling new mother. The fearful captive, the ruthless fighter. The calculating torturer, the broken and desperate woman.

Anthea Hopper, Anthea Schaeffer, Anna Norris…. Joan Stones. 

Who was there left to inhabit? Who was she going to be in this new life? 

No. That didn’t matter. Her family would be by her side to help her put those puzzle peices together. This was a clean slate. She could rebuild herself. Waldo could rebuild himself. They were going to do this, and do it well. 

Her phone buzzed in her hand. She glanced down at it. Sarah’s name flashed and quickly faded off. Missed call.

The files were gone.

There were no traces of their old life left. Memories, both good and bad,  to be sorted through— that was all. 

"I don't have any decent experience in creating a new identity, unfortunately. We really should figure it out sooner rather than later though..." He briefly thought, spinning around to the computer, followed by an expression of realization, then spinning back to humanity.

That same notion of “see, things are going to be okay. Look, your family is here.” came back, making her smile grow. 

"Joan Stones? Well, it certainly rhymes. And it has some great reasoning behind it." She… vaguely remembered something relating to Joan being the patron saint of prisoners, right? Yes. It was beautiful, actually. A new name, a new chapter in all of their lives, and her new name even had a wonderful meaning behind it.

He wasn't truly sure of his own name. He had set up the details for everyone else but skipped past himself, again. He sat back and pondered a moment. Waldo and Franz and their variants are unusable. It might seem suspect if he used a name in the same vein of Joan. Perhaps... Michael. A German name, fairly common in a variety of cultures, and a question to remind him of his shortcomings.

Anthea pulled her sleeve up, eyes on her watch. 2:13:25.

The phone only had a chance to ring once before Sarah picked it up, her voice sharp. “Whatever happened to that deal where you gave me a heads-up when you tried to bring down the infrastructure of a government conspiracy again? The place is in fucking shambles. I don’t know what the fuck you did but—”

"Will you shut up for a second, please?" A sigh. "I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t warn you. There wasn’t time. There isn’t. When I get a chance to dump this phone for a clean one, I’ll call you back and explain. But right now, I need one last favor from you, please. Then I have to hang up.”

Sarah’s voice softened. “You’re afraid they’re going to trace it… So you’re safe? Hiding? God, Anthea— okay. What do you need?”

2:13:32.

"The filing room. It’s in the laboratories— the basement. Take the elevator and press the B key. Filing cabinet ‘S’— I need you to burn my files, which would be under ‘Anthea Schaeffer’ and any that you see under the name ‘Waldo Schaeffer’. Make sure you don’t miss any.”

"Waldo Schaeffer? Who’s—"

"He’s my husband, Sarah. I— I found him, we broke out. Please. Just do this one last thing for me. For my family." 2:13:40. "I have to go. I can explain everything later. Call me when you can. One ring if you were able to do it, two or more if someone or something stopped you. Understand?"

"Filing room, burn anything related to you and Waldo Schaeffer. Ring once after I’m done. Let it keep ringing if Shane or someone else shows up. I hope you know how much you’re asking of me. This isn’t just coming up with ideas or making a distraction. I won’t be able to talk my way out of it if they catch me—"

“I know!" She shut her eyes, realizing how loud she had gotten as she had spoken. Some of the children were staring at her. She lowered her voice again. "I know— I’m sorry. If I could do it myself I would, but that would be reckless. More than asking you to. You’re not under suspicion at all. You’ll be fine. I— I have to  go." 2:14:05. 

She hung the phone up, letting out a loud, shaking sigh. Sarah had to be okay. They had no reason to suspect her. She’d be fine. Had to be.

The mother wrapped her arms around Aelita again. “She said that she would do it. A friend of mine who’s helped me out a lot. She said she’d get rid of the physical copies for us.” It was all that she managed to get out. Leaving out the fact that if Sarah got caught she’d very likely be tortured and killed. Her only friend and ally during her ten or more years of hell, and Anthea had just pushed her into the line of fire one last time. God. This entire situation was so fucked up. It was sickening. No one was spared. 

Right. Names. New names seemed like the last thing she should be worrying about right now. But it did make a good distraction. She wiped the tears that were forming in her eyes away. It had to be a name that didn’t stand out.

She smiled a bit, remembering when she and Waldo had tried to figure out names for their daughter. Debating while sitting in the living room after work or while making breakfast. Calling each other during work to debate sudden ideas. Nadine, Sloane, Emma, Nina, Danielle, Evelyne, Joan…

"Patricia? Evelyne? Joan? I don’t know. What name did you pick? Maybe that’ll help me decide." She gave a small laugh. It was so familiar.  

Karborn