Part Three

Chapter Nineteen:

I'm leaning against the doorway of Amara's house, overlooking the village. I've been given my own set of clothes, either donated or from the market; as well as my sisters. I'm actually watching Amara as she takes Kate through the market, and I see her exchanging a strip of black leather for a book that Kate is holding. Around them, I see others who appear as though they are minimizing their booths.

I look beside me as Dean comes to stand parallel to me, a dish towel around his hands. He gives me a small smile and follows my gaze to the market.

"You must have so many more questions," He murmurs. I chuckle with a nod.

"So many," I tell him, glancing sideways. He nods, grinning.

"I was the same," He admits. "Even now, there's things I'm still learning, and I've been here for thirty years."

"Wow," I murmur.

"Yeah," He chuckles. I point to the market, where one of the tents is being closed.

"What's going on?" I ask.

"It's a holiday," Dean tells me. I look to him.

"You celebrate holidays?" I ask. He nods.

"This one is more a tradition though," Dean explains and glances to me, crossing his arms over his chest. "Forty-three years ago today, Eaden was first founded by Primus."

"Oh, so it's what, like the 'First Founding'?" I ask. Dean shakes his head with a small smile.

"Close," He says, and looks back out. "The First Day." He says, then I see him smile, and I follow his gaze. Amara and Kate are walking back to the home, both smiling. Kate turns to Amara as they grow nearer.

"I'm just gonna put this away," She says, and when Amara nods, Kate jogs past me to the farthest bedroom. Amara nods to me when I turn to face her again.

"I'm taking her back to the Amazon tent, your other two sisters and Melissa are there training," Amara tells me, then points to the side. "But I believe your friend is still next door if you'd like to spend time with him before the party tonight." She tells me. I glance to Dean.

"There's a party?" I ask. He nods.

"We set a bonfire, there's dancing, there's wine made by the farmers," He says. I nod, then look back to Amara.

"I'll see if Gray's next door," I tell her, and she nods.

"I guess I'll see you tonight then," She says with a smile, and nods behind me. I follow her gaze over my shoulder and see Kate coming out from the hall.

"Ready," She says to Amara, securing the leather patches around her arm, just as Amara has. She looks to me and smiles. "You coming?" She asks me. I shake my head, glancing to Amara.

"No, I'm gonna hang out with Gray for a bit before the party," I tell her. She nods, looking sideways to Amara, and then they turn to leave.

"Bye!" Kate calls to me as they begin jogging. I wave to her from the doorway, and look to Dean.

"See you," I say to him and he smiles and turns to disappear back into the kitchen, where Olive sits unchanged.

"I'll see you at the party, Oscar," Dean tells me and I smile as I leave.

I knock on the doorway of the hut next door. A short woman's head shoots out into the hallway, her cheeks plump and her hair graying as it brushes her calves. I smile awkwardly.

"Um, hi?" I say, and clear my throat. "Is Gray here?" I ask. The woman seems to perk.

"Elijah!" She calls down the hallway, and a second later, Gray's head joins hers from the back of the hall. He grins.

"Oscar!" He says and I match his smiling face. He turns to the woman. "I'll be back to help you before the party." He nods, and the woman smiles before she nods to me kindly and disappears back inside the home. Gray jogs down the hall to me, and I put out my hand, him grabbing onto it and pulling me into a hug as he reaches me in the doorway.

"How's it going?" I ask him as we detach. He shrugs, looking back into the house.

"Same old, kind of weird though," He says. I nod.

"Yeah, me too," I tell him and we sit outside the doorway of the home, cross legged on the grass. "How's Melissa?" I ask. I haven't actually seen her much, or Gray for that matter. He nods, leaning back on his hands.

"Seems good," He tells me. "Misses her friends and shit."

"Don't you?" I ask. "Miss your parents?" It's quiet again before he answers.

"Yeah," He mutters, and glances sideways at me. "Dude I'm fucking scared." He admits. "I don't know if they're dead or alive or—" His voice catches and he turns away from me, clearing his throat with a cough.

"Zeros," I mutter, and he hangs his head between his knees. He runs a hand through his hair as he sits back up.

"Fuck," He breathes, and looks at me. "The real world fucking sucks." I sigh, and look up at the sky, the blue barely visible behind the mask of grey clouds, hiding from tomorrow.

"Maybe that's what makes it real," I murmur.

Eaden is flourishing by the time the night falls. A bonfire has been set in the center pit. There are people around the market playing on drums and strings, and people surrounding the bonfire are singing. I'm standing on the side with Gray, watching my sisters dance with Melissa. Juliette keeps catching my eye and waving me to join, but I refuse benevolent. Juliette just shrugs and turns, catching Kate's hand and spinning her around as they weave between the Amazons and couples dancing.

I find myself holding a small smile as I watch the two of them, both mirroring each other as they dance. Their blonde hair and brown eyes all shining in the light of the fire, and I realize just how much I fear for my Mother. Who I left. At her own will. To save her daughters. I watch my sisters again, but with a low burn within my chest, and I wonder if it's my heart aching. I smile anyways, however sad it might look, because I saved my sisters, and even if I couldn't save her, I saved a part of her. And I guess that for now that would have to be enough.

I blink as Melissa appears in front of me. She's wearing an old dress of the woman she and Gray are staying with, the hem is ratty, but she's still glowing. She grabs onto mine and Grays hands, holding one of ours in each of hers, and pulls us backwards into the dance. Kate jumps in and grabs Grays hand from Melissa, pulling him around with Juliette.

I almost blink as he's whisked away, but that's before Melissa takes me by surprise and wraps her arms around my neck and begins dancing. I find myself staring at her as my hands travel down her shoulders to her hips, and tugging her towards me more. She smiles as I do so, and she lets her head hang back, looking up at me, and her hair brushing back past her shoulders. I want to smile just as she is, but I don't know if I can—even if I already am—because then I see Amara through the fire. She's dancing barefoot with her Father, she wears a small black shirt and a pink floral scarf is tied around her waist as a skirt. It clips around her ankles as she spins and her face is bright in exhilaration.

Then I lose track of her as Melissa reminds me of our dancing and pulls me around, swaying and stepping slowly, even though the music goes faster. It's calm though. Then she lets go of my shoulders and turns, and I lose my footing as I back into someone else. I whirl around as I trip and I land on my back in the dirt. I groan after I hit the ground and hear a soft giggle. I open my eyes, squinting as the firelight blinks in the corner of my eye. I look up, and Amara stands over me, her feet near my head. Her hair is blowing down from around her hips and she's smiling. I smile sheepishly as I look up at her; it's a beautiful view.

"Hey…" I manage, and she laughs again.

"Hey," She giggles. "You need some help?" She asks. I grin.

"Yeah probably," I prop myself up on my elbows as she comes to stand beside me. She extends her hand to me and wraps around my wrist, pulling me up, and I stand to tower above her, though she's still holding onto my hand. She looks around the fire, seeing people who are still dancing, and singing, and she shrugs, looking back at me, to our joined hands.

"Do you want to dance?" She asks then. I cringe, and the corner of her lip twitches upwards.

"I'm not a perfect dancer," I tell her. She just smiles and pulls my free hand onto her hip.

"The world is an imperfect place," She tells me, and pulls me into a dance anyways.

Chapter Twenty:

I'm sitting on the roof of Amara's house with Gray and Melissa, the three of us laughing light-heartedly. It's probably the most normal anything has felt since leaving the Bunker.

"Oscar," I hear from behind me and turn, Gray and Melissa watching behind me. Amara is crouched on the edge of the roof, dressed in the combat clothing she wore when we had first met her, and leather patch

es over her forearms with a small dagger tucked into the creases.

"Hey," I say, and search her eyes. She nods in the direction of the Amazon tent.

"Defendere would like to see you," She says, and it takes me a minute to remember she's referring to Sloane. I nod.

"Sure," I say, and smile quickly to Gray and Melissa before I follow Amara off the roof, sliding off after she jumps. "Am I in trouble?" I ask. She chuckles lightly, navigating through Eaden.

"No," She tells me, and looks back over her shoulder at me. "Primus has requested to speak with you."

"Primus?" I echo. "As in the First Commander?" Amara nods.

"She'd like to speak with you about the Bunker," She explains lightly.

"Oh," I say after a moment. "I thought she was dead." I say, and Amara stops, causing me to stumble back as she turns. She has her eyebrows raised and her jaw slacks in disappointment. "Sorry!" She sighs, grabbing onto my elbow and pulling me to the first tent we she took us to when we first arrived.

"This is the home of the Commanders," She tells me, taking me into the tent, where Sloan stands leaning against the wall. She has a quiver strapped to her back, and a carved bow by her side. She nods to me.

"Oscar," She greets, and leans forward to shake my hand. I nod to her.

"Defendere," I say, glancing to Amara as I try and mimic their accent. The two girls smile though, despite my best efforts.

"Not bad," Amara praises, then nods to Sloane. "I'll see you." She says and turns to leave.

"You aren't staying?" I ask. She shakes her head with a small smile.

"I'm going out on a mission," She says. "We've began conducting search parties around the Bunker, currently we're working on securing a perimeter within a fifty mile radius." She says. I look between the two sisters.

"When will you be back?" I ask again. She shrugs.

"Two days maybe?" She guesses, then turns to Sloane. "Cave tu illi?" Sloane smirks and crosses her arms, glancing to me with a raised brow.

"Pavet, ad te pertinet," She replies. Amara blushes, and doesn't make eye contact with me afterward.

"Shut up," She says, and Sloane grins, then she nods to me. "See you in a few days." She says and I nod, then Sloane and I both watch her leave. I can see Sloane looking at me out of the corner of my eye. When I turn my head to meet her eyes, she averts hers and clears her throat. She points behind me, and I see the first room on the left, just the same as I had last seen it, but this time, the curtain is drawn open to the side and I can see a small cot within the sight of the doorway. I look back to Sloane, who nods, and nudges me into the room.

When I step in, Sloane is beside me, and I can see an old woman sitting on the edge of the bed. An array of candles are lit around her, and when she turns to me, her left eye is nearly entirely gone. The skin below it is black and charred, though the infection doesn't look to be spreading. She notices me staring, and winks her glassy eye. I try not to shudder, but she still laughs lightly. She pats the bed beside her. I look from her to Sloane, and when she nods, I go over and gingerly sit next to the woman. I gesture to my own eye after a moment of silence. Sloane has left.

"Do you have whatever the Zeros do?" I ask. She shakes her head and blinks again. Her iris looks as though it's bled into the rest of her eye.

"I did," She corrects with a cheeky smirk. "I cut out my orbit, and the blackening is a result of the age."

"Is it rotting?" I ask. Then freeze. "Oh I'm so sorry—"

"Yes, it is rotting, slowly," She confirms. "Now tell me about the Bunker." She instructs. I swallow.

"We didn't think there was anything left outside," I tell her. She shakes her head.

"That's not what I asked," She says. "Tell me about the Bunker." She says again, and I do. From the order forms to the security breach to my Mothers would have been surgery.

"Getting out here," I finish with. "It was honestly so surreal. I didn't know anymore what anything would be like. In the Bunker everything is—was—always the same. It took a long time to be able to get used to the changing temperatures, wind, light, and the night." I say. She nods.

"Amara told me you were an astronomer," She says, and I look up.

"She talked about me?" I ask. Her eyes twinkle and nods back towards the door.

"Thank you for meeting with me," She says. I reply with a small smile and nod before I stand.

"Oscar?" She calls right before I leave the room. I look back.

"Yeah?"

"Was there anyone named Taylor in the Bunker?" She asks. I shrug.

"I don't think so," I say, and she falters.

"Thank you for your time." She tells me, and I leave.

I'm sitting in the living room when Artemis comes in through the door. It's been over two weeks since Amara left on her mission. No one seems to have spoken about it, but I suppose no one is really too concerned about it. It's taken a while, but I've mostly understood that the Amazons are actually warrior. Heroes. I guess sometimes these things just happen.

But really, I think that people don't want to admit to what they're afraid of.

Artemis smiles when she sees me. She jumps on the couch beside me, where I'm reading a book belonging to Dean.

"Guess what I got you," She says, her eyes sparkling. I shrug.

"I don't know," I say. Her grin falters into a disappointed lip.

"You're supposed to guess."

"Fine. A prosthetic limb." I say, recalling an old movie Gray and I had once watched. Something about a racoon and a talking tree.

"What? No that's weird," She says. I chuckle.

"Okay, what is it?" I ask. She uncurls her right fist, revealing a small silver twisted quarter moon charm in the center of her palm, it's tied off in wire at the top in a small hook. She's smiling as she holds it out to me. I smile, turning it around so I can examine the design.

"Thanks," I murmur, smiling.

"It was the closest thing to a star," She admits. I look sideways at her.

"Did you know what moons symbolize?" I ask her, and grin when she leans towards the charm. "It's a feminine symbol—"

"Hallelujah."

"—and represents the passage of time, because of its different phases, and actually it's the different phases themselves that give the moon such a unique symbolism." I tell her.

"Like what?" She asks me.

"Immortality, enlightenment, or the darkest side of nature. Time is a constant, and the moon symbolizes the balance of how much time gives and takes," I explain, and find myself thinking back to what Amara had told me the first night we spent in Eaden. "Flowers have thorns too." Artemis scrunches up her nose.

"What?" She asks. I shake my head.

"Never mind," I say. "Thanks Cricket." I pocket the charm. When I look up again, Artemis is looking out through the doorway. "What's wrong?" Her eyes narrow.

"I don't know," She murmurs.

When we get outside, people are running to the villages entry. I'm pushing my way through, Artemis tagging alongside me. I'm craning my neck until I see Sloane at the gates, Amazons standing around her, and a sword held low at her hip.

"What's going on?" I ask as I step behind her. "Is Amara back?" She looks to me quickly, then to Artemis.

"I don't know yet," She says, and faces back to watch the city. A minute passes. Two. There's silence. Then, coming from horizon outside of the city, I see something. Five somethings, in the silhouettes of galloping horses, with stumbling figures sprinting behind them. My heartbeat rises.

"There!" I shout, pointing towards the city. I hear Sloane breathe a sigh of relief.

"Gratias ago Deorum," She mutters (Thank God, I've learned) then turns quickly. She's pulled her scarf over her face and her eyes wear fierce. "In sub dux verbi!" She shouts, holding her sword into the air.

"In sub dux vebri!" The Amazons surrounding shout, and already, half of them are charging towards the city.

Chapter Twenty-One:

Gray comes to stand beside me and my sisters as the Amazons run around us. Three more ride out on either side of us on the great, white horses. We're pushed further outside the fence as the Amazons and people swarm the gates. The figures in the distance come closer into view, and I can see Amara riding in the center, the tied off ends of her scarf blowing behind her. Sloane and the other Amazons are running towards them, and I see how close the Zeros are following behind Amara. Then I notice each of the riders have additional people behind them on the horses.

"It worked," I find myself saying, and notice Gray glancing to me sideways. I look beside me as an older woman shoves at me. She's screaming and tears are pouring from her eyes. She's staring at something out on the dirt path where the Amazons have gone out. Gray joins me and pulls Artemis out of the way, crouching in front of the woman.

"Ma'am, what's wrong?" He asks, and I try to follow the woman's gaze. If anything, she justs sobs more and raises a shaking finger out to where Sloane fights a Zero. My eyes widen.

"Shit—Gray," I say, grabbing down onto his shoulder, pulling him up.

"What?" He asks, and looks up to where I'm looking. It's a little girl, standing in the middle of the battlefield, crying her heart out. Gray and I look to each other. He raises a brow.

"Gray," I say cautiously. "Now is not the time to be a hero."

"No time like the present," He responds, looking quickly to the girl and then back to me again. "Are you with me?" He asks. I huff, looking down at Artemis, Kate and Juliette. If it were them… God, I can't even think about it. I glance again to the little girl, then I sigh and look to Gray.

"Let's do it," I say, and he crouches, taking off in a sprint almost immediately, with me following behind him.

"Oscar!" I hear someone yell, but I grit my teeth and sprint to catch up with Gray. The little girl notices us, as do many of the Amazons. Sloane slides in front of me, her eyes channeling fire. My heart races as I watch Gray continuing without me.

"What the hell is wrong with you!" She demands.

"There's a kid!" I shout back, pointing. She turns, seeing Gray running to the little girl, just as Zero is about to jump onto the girl. She looks back at me.

"Fine," She growls, then turns and grabs a dagger from her boots and throws it, hitting the Zeros calf and making it fall to the ground. She steps out of my way and twists her sword before slicing it across a Zeros chest, and I take off again. Gray is already running back, the little girl cradled in his arms, nevermind the Zero advancing on him.

"Gray!" I shout and point behind him. He turns just in time for the Zero to scratch across his face. The little girl shrieks and Gray hurriedly passes her off to me as he turns and kicks the Zero back. I begin running back, holding the girl tight against my chest and pressing her face against my shoulder. "You okay?" I ask him. He presses his hand against his flailing skin, looking at the blood he draws away. Three jagged cuts were made by the Zero into his cheek.

"Yeah," He pants and picks up speed, passing me and running back into the gate, where I see him collapse when Dean grabs out to him. I'm panting, and I'm so close when a Zero jumps in front of me. I yelp and stumble back, turning around on my ankle only to be faced with another Zero.

"Oscar!" I hear and look up, Amara raises her bow and shoots the Zero I'm facing. I turn as she jumps off her horse behind me. She hits the horse and it runs towards the village.

"Amara," I breathe as she raises her bow again and shoots the Zero that jumped in front of me. Then she turns and her eyes widen.

"Duck!" She yells, and I do, crouching down to shield the little girl in my grasp and look up as Amara jumps over me and wraps her legs around the shoulders of a Zero that was creeping behind me before she flips herself and it backwards into the ground, slamming the Zero onto the ground. I gag as it's neck snaps. Amara somersaults backwards and pushes herself up.

I just stare, she looks behind her shoulder then back to me. She nods to the village.

"Let's go," She says and I nod, waiting to follow her back through the gates. The woman who was sobbing takes the little girl from my arms, muttering hysterical 'thank you's. I look down to Amara.

"Where's Gray?" I ask her. She shrugs, untying her mask.

"Wasn't he with you?" She asks, appearing smug.

"He was, but then he got scratched and your Dad took him," I explain. Her head snaps up and she looks almost pale.

"He was scratched?" She echoes. I nod. "Stercore." She mutters.

"What's wrong?" Sloane asks, appearing beside her.

"Gray was scratched," She tells her gravely. Sloane's face quickly morphs to match Amara's stricken expression. Both girls are looking to me solemnly. I feel my heart rate quicken.

"What?" I ask. Amara looks down at the ground just as Kate runs up beside me. She looks just as nervous as the two girls.

"Tink?"

"Oscar you'd better come," She says. "It's Gray."

When I burst through the white drapes of the tent, Gray is sitting up on one of the cots, a woman with a thick braid is wearing a mask as she sits across from him, speaking lightly. Gray looks as though he's crying, or about to. Juliette, Melissa, and Artemis are standing behind the woman with Dean resting a hand on Juliettes shoulder. Artemis is tucked into Melissa's chest, and looks smaller than she has in a long time.

"Gray," I say, and catch his attention. He sniffs and turns away quickly.

"Hey dude," He says, a little too forced.

"What's wrong? You'll be fine, right?" I ask. When no one answers, I look to Dean. "He's gonna be fine, right?" I ask, and look around. "It was just a scratch." I go to step forward, and I look down as Amara's hand curls around my elbow.

"You can't get too close to him," She murmurs. My chest heaves heavy. I look back to Gray, who refuses to look at me.

"Why?" I ask, my voice sounding too damaged than I'd like.

"Oscar," Dean says, his voice soft. "There's only one way the Brain Curse can be passed."

"No I don't understand—what's the Brain Curse?" Dean expression turns solemn, and he looks behind me to Sloane.

"Cerebrum execratione maledicta congessit," He recites, and brings his gaze back to me. "It's what we call the virus." I feel my body go slack, and my heart drops into my stomach.

"No," I say, and look to Gray, who still isn't facing me.

"The only way to catch it is to be scratched or bitten, afterwards the virus imbeds itself," He says. I shake my head again.

"No, you're wrong," I say. My throat feels tight. I can see Gray is crying, though the left side of his face is invisible to me. "What about your wife?" Dean shakes his head.

"Oscar that was different. We don't even know what that was."

"It's not different," I try and argue. "You said it was a miracle—"

"Oscar," Gray says and I look to him, he's finally turned so I can see his face. His skin has already begun to purple and puss from the cuts. "I have to leave." He tells me, and I can see just how pained he is. His eyes are tired, though they appear as though they'll burst with energy at any moment. "I have to, before any of you catch whatever flesh fucking disease this is, and before…" He doesn't finish, because we all already know the inevitability of the virus. He sniffs again.

"There's no chance you'll survive," I say. He half grins through his silent tears.

"Either this will kill me or something out there will," He says. I realize I've began to cry.

"You realize this sucks, right?"

"Oh yeah," Gray says. "Devastation is a pastime." He tells me and I choke on a laugh.

"That was my thing," I say. He just shrugs.

"I guess we can't all be winners," He says with a sigh, and suddenly I know we're talking more than just a phrase.

Gray has been given a cow. He holds it on a rope, standing just outside the open gates of Eaden. I'm standing in a line with my sisters, Melissa, Dean, Sloane, and Amara. There's only a few feet that are separating us. It's painful. Gray tries to smile. Kate's hand grabs onto mine, and in turn, I reach beside me for Melissa's. They're both crying, as are my sisters. But I'm not. I wonder if that makes me selfish.

Then again, Gray isn't crying either. I remember one thing from when we were younger, fantasizing about what was outside the Bunker.

'See you on the other side,' We'd thought. The back of my throat tastes bitter now. I hold eye contact with Gray as Dean and Sloane pulls the doors closed, I can still see him through the gaps in the wood. Then he turns, tugging the cow along with him.

"Peace be with you," Sloane says, and alongside us, Amara and Dean nod.

"Peace be with you," They echo.

"What?" I ask. Amara looks at me.

"It's a blessing, for his next life," She says. We're silent, then beside me Melissa murmurs the same thing. Then Juliette, and Kate, and Artemis. I take one last look at Gray, just before he fades into the stars.

"Peace be with you," I mutter. I'll see you on the other side.

Chapter Twenty-Two:

I'm mulling over in my lab, my head resting in my crossed arms, Green sitting beside me, quietly solemn.

"Dr. Chambers?" She asks, the echo breaking the wave of silence that had elapsed. "We knew this could be an outcome." I look up as she speaks, and stretch out my arms, relieving their cramped positioning on my desk. "Green, please," I say, continuing to look down the trial results broadened on my computer. I can see my reflection. My eyes look tired. Then I feel guilty. If I feel this bad, how does Stacy feel? What about Kelly? I sigh. "I just don't understand." I mutter.

"Then run more tests, study the reactions,"

"That's what I'm doing, and the reactions are that their nervous systems are shot with Schizoid." I shoot back. Out of the corner of my eye Green retaliates, shrinking into her chair. I sigh, running a hand over my forehead. "Okay, I'm sorry. I just…"

"Don't know what to tell them?"

"Not exactly," I say. "It's more about how to tell them."

"I don't think there's any easy way," Green says.

"Well how do you think you would feel?" I ask, side eyeing her. Green blanches, rubbing her arms with her hands.

"Yeah…" She murmurs. Both of our pagers go off. She checks hers first. "It's Stacy."

When we get to the room, she's vomiting heavily. One of the nurses is holding a basin under her chin, the other is wheeling a fluid IV into the room. Kelly has been pushed to the far corner of the room. Each person in the room, exempting Stacy, has a paper mask covering their mouths. I tie one around my own face as I step into the room. I look to the nurse.

"What's her status?" I ask. Towards the back of the room I see Green harboring Kelly out of the room.

"White blood cell count has halved since our last session of lab work, she's at a high infection risk," The nurse tells me, handing me the chart. I flip it over, reading the nurses last note on Stacy's vitals. The last one was Cara's, who said she was stable except for a slight infection risk, which was only four hours ago. I glance up from the chart, meeting the nurse's eyes.

"Is it just her?" I ask. The nurse shakes her head.

"Mr. Garcia is exhibiting similar symptoms, we're monitoring him and just assigned fluids," The nurse tells me. I nod.

"Good," I say. Stacy stops vomiting, and I take my place across from the nurse. "Stacy?" I ask. She moans painfully as a response, her eyes fluttering.

"I hate this," She croaks, leaning forward on the nurses holding her up. I purse my lips and lower my eyes. The nurse glances to me and I swallow, looking back up to Stacy.

"I know, Stacy," I soothe. "We're gonna implement you on a basic antibiotic to try and bring your white blood cell count back up." I explain. She nods, falling back against her pillow. The nurse puts an oxygen mask over her face. When her eyes finally open, they land on mine, and I wonder if my regret shines through them.

"What's wrong?" She asks hoarse. When I glance to Green and the nurse instead of answering, she pleads again. "Eleonora, please, tell me what's wrong. Is it not working?" She asks. I shake my head.

"No, it's working, the cells are shrinking, but there's something else," I tell her. Stacy nods.

"What is it?"

"We're noticing some fluctuation in your serotonin levels, causing you to develop a minor personality disorder, something we call Schizoid, and your personality seems to be depolarizing," I try and explain. Stacy looks from me to Green.

"What do you mean?" She asks. I swallow again, past the resting tightness in my throat.

"The treatment may be diminishing your personality, because the chemo is designed to attack the frontal lobe, where all your personality inhibitors are," I say. Stacy is blank, then she starts laughing, filling the oxygen mask with hot air. Beside me, Green blinks blankly. Stacy laughs harder, sounding hysterical in her own schematics. She laughs, then it turns to coughing, though she still laughs, and eventually, it leads to her eyes tearing, and she begins to sob, pulling away at the mask.

"So I still have a tumor, but I'm losing my personality," She says and giggles again, coughing on a sob. I move further alongside the bed and press the mask down over her face again, willing a silent prayer she'll keep it on.

"Dr. Chambers," Green alerts me then.

"What?" I ask, turning to look at her, and every part of me seems to melt. "Oh." Kelly is standing in the doorway. Her mask still on and her hands gloved. Her eyes are red, and the hem of her mask is damp across her tearline.

"Mom?" She asks timidly. Stacy ceases her sobs, now containing them to just hiccoughs and silent tears.

"Hi baby," She says. I look to Green.

"Can you handle this?" I ask. She nods.

"Yeah," She says and steps back so I can leave the room. When I step into the hall, I hear footsteps echo lightly behind me. "Where are you going?" Green asks. I respond without having to look back.

"To find Dr. Blake." I say, and turn the corner.

I page Dr. Blake for a half-hour. He isn't in the OR, or the ER, or radiation, or oncology, or CT. I page him again once more before I turn the corner into my lab. I swing the door open and pause in the doorway, the bottom of the door hitting my back and I stumble into the lab.

"Dr. Blake?" I ask, incredulous. He turns in the chair.

"Chambers," He greets with a smile before he toes himself around again. As I walk into the lab, my shock is replaced with anger.

"What the hell?!" I ask, spinning the chair so he faces me. "I've been paging you for the past forty-five minutes!"

"Oh, sorry," He says, turning around from me. "I was just looking over the studies you've recorded." He says, and his eyes seem to soften. "I'm sorry about Stacy." He says and I feel my body let out from the adrenaline. He stands from the chair, placing his hands on my shoulders. "Breathe." He instructs, and I do, feeling the tension lessen in my shoulders.

"I have no idea what's happening," I admit, looking up at him. He nods.

"That's the thing about clinical trials. You never know what outcome you're going to get," He tells me. I shake my head.

"The results keep coming back weird. I just think there's more we can be doing," I say. Dr. Blake sighs.

"Sometimes it gets to a point where there's no more you can do," He replies. "What is it that you teach you're interns? God's can't live whatever?" I feel the tips of my ears burn and shake my head.

"But we aren't there," I say, ignoring his previous statement, stepping out of his touch and facing his eyes. "Not yet." I say. "And I'm not giving up, because I'm not going to let it get there." I say. Dr. Blake smiles.

"That's why I like you, Chambers," He says. "These people were already at that point, you've just given them the choice to keep on living. And when you reach that point again, there'll be something else you'll come up with." He tells me. I attempt a weak smile.

"Thank you," I say. He nods and returns my small smile.

"Good, now hold onto that confidence," He instructs, pulling my chair from behind him and placing it between us. "Sit down, and get to work. You'll come up with something." He tells me. I grin. "You always do." He pats the chair and walks out from behind it. He walks past me. I continue to look at the chair, at the lab, at the countertops and around the microscopes.

This is my playing field. The patients are my end goal. I turn around just before Dr. Blake leaves.

"Dr. Blake?" I ask. He turns, stopping before he opens the door.

"Yes?" He asks.

"Etsi deum non in æternum vive," I say. His eyebrow quirks and he turns more to face me.

"What?" He asks, a hinting smile tugging at his lip. I grin.

"Even God's can't live forever," I repeat, this time in English. He smiles.

"That's it," He says softly, then turns and opens the door, leaving me to throw myself back into my chair and slide along my desk.

I look again, examining the contents of the desk, trying to see anything I could have missed. I conduct the experiment again, testing the chemotherapy on the cancer cells, this time with the addition of synthetic serotonin makeups. Then I slide it back under the microscope slide, and my eyes widen.

"Oh my God," I mutter, and push back from the microscope, turning to look at the single sticky-note Dr. Blake had stuck to the monitor of my computer screen where it reads in big red capital letters, underlined with three exclamation points marking it:

ACETYLCHOLINESTERASE

Chapter Twenty-Three:

My problem is chemical synapse.

After a neurotransmitter releases, something happens called a nerve impulse, which results in chemical imbalances within the synaptic cleft. This is how the serotonin neurotransmitters are depolarizing. This is how Stacy is losing her personality.

I realize this as I take my research of the acetylcholinesterase into the early hours of the morning. It didn't just affect the acetylcholine; it affected everything else around it, and will most likely lead to the loss of many motor functions and limbic systems, not to mention the cranial impacts.

One of the nurses from Stacy's room pages me around four. I read the page, feeling guilty for not wanting to leave my lab, but remind myself of my job, and grumble (probably from my lack of sleep) as I push myself out of my chair.

As I near the room, my eyes narrow. I can hear screaming from Stacy's room, and as I grow nearer, I see Kelly being led out by Green, who's pressing gauze against Kelly's hand. My jaw drops and I break into a run, catching Greens frantic eyes once she spots me.

"What the hell is going on in there!?" Green shakes her head.

"I have no idea, security is on there way with restraints," She tells me, quieting her voice so Kelly doesn't hear too much. I nod, seeing security and two of the nurses turn the corner. I hold my hand to them to wait before I step into the room.

"Stacy…" I start, then duck as a vase hits the wall behind me and shatters. I cover my head and yelp as it collides with the wall behind me and shatters. When I look up again, security has shoved their way past me and are restraining Stacy to the bed. Her face is red, and she's breathing too heavily. She's yelling as the security guards hold down her arms and thrashing around on the bed, pulling out her IV, and a line of blood begins to travel down her arm. She's panting and her left foot convulses. I look to one of the nurses who has come into the room beside me.

"Get her a sedative and up to CT," I say, my heart beating deafeningly in my ears. The nurse nods and takes over once security has left, tying Stacy's hands and arms down to the hospital bed. She fixes an oxygen mask over Stacy's head after she reattaches her IV and inserts a sedative into her bloodstream. I step to the side as she and another two nurses unlock the wheels on the bed and begin to move her out into the hall. Stacy glances to me, limp in her bed as the nurses move her.

I page Green to meet me in CT, and follow them.

She shows up just as we're about to leave, and I put my hands on my hips. She looks to me timidly as she jogs down the hall

"I'm so sorry, I was taking care of Kelly," She says.

"Kelly isn't your patient,"

"No but she did need six stitches," Green tells me. My cold demeanor drops, much like how guilt sags on my heart.

"Oh God," I mutter and rub a hand over my eyes. Green nods.

"So what's the diagnosis?" She asks, looking down the hall where the nurse is wheeling Stacy out of CT. I sigh.

"I had to get a psych consult," I say, nodding for us to follow Stacy. Green falls into step beside me.

"And?" She asks.

"Intermittent explosive disorder," I recite, looking sideways at her. She shakes her head.

"Where did it come from?" She asks.

"The acetylcholinesterase," I tell her.

"What?"

"The enzyme I put into the drug," I say, the back of my throat tasting sour as I finally admit it. "It's doing more than just breaking down the cancer receptors. It's breaking down neurotransmitters."

"Shit," She says. "Can we fix it?" She asks. I sigh.

"I don't know. The brain isn't an exact science," I say. "Even if it does rewire itself to what it was before, that would take at least sixty days, and who knows how much more damage we could do before then." Green is silent for a moment.

"Then why are we still doing it?" She asks, and this time, I don't have an answer.

I find Kelly in the waiting room, scratching at the stitches that go along the side of her hand.

"Kelly?" I ask. She looks up at me, pulling her sleeve past her hands and crosses her legs beneath her in the chair.

"Hi, Dr. Chambers," She says. I smile sadly and sit across from her, trying to mirror her posture as I cross one leg over the other.

"How are you doing?" I ask her. She shrugs.

"Shouldn't you be asking my Mom that," She mutters, drawing further into her sweater. I nod.

"You're right, but I know you got six stitches from Dr. Green," I say. She flushes. I nod towards her hand. "Can I see them?" I ask. She shrugs again, but pulls up her sleeve and leans across the space between the chairs so I can see her hand. The cut starts on the side of her thumb and continues down to her wrist bone. When I nod she takes her hand back.

"What happened?" I ask her.

"My Mom threw a glass at me," She spits, and she almost cries again. I nod.

"Do you want me to tell you why?" I ask. She glances at me, biting her lip. She nods slowly.

"She has an impulsive disorder," I say. "As a result of the medication, which I am going to consult with Dr. Blake, and we're going to reconsider the drug." Kelly looks to me again.

"Does that mean you're stopping the trial?" She asks, and again, I have no answer.

"I don't know yet."

I recount the events to my Grandfather that evening as we do the dishes. I washing while he dries.

"I don't know what to do," I say, handing off a mug. "I mean I'm nervous, but they're so much more scared than I am." I say.

"You're supposed to be," He says, and my brow furrows.

"What?" I ask, looking to him out of the corner of my eye. My Grandfather glances to me with a twinkle in his eye.

"Amata," My Grandfather says softly, putting his hand over mine. "All this was built on a chance. You can't throw it away as soon as you start to doubt yourself. And if you really wanted to stop this, you would have done that months ago." He tells me, and removes his hand from mine. I pout and pass him a plate.

"Why do you have to be so wise?" I ask with a joking smirk. He shrugs and grins back at me.

"It comes with age," He replies. I smile and hand him a glass. "But Amata, you define your own strengths. You made these choices, and you live by them now. The question is; what are you gonna do about it?" He asks. I sigh.

"Well it's not like I have much of a choice," I say. "I have to talk with Dr. Blake."

"Are you going to stop the trial?" He asks, echoing what Kelly had asked when I gave her no answer. I wasn't sure.

People can try their whole lives trying to do the right thing, but what exactly constitutes if something is right? If it's beneficial to others that person is trying to love and protect and heal, doesn't that make it right? But what if it hurts you? Does that still make it right?

The world isn't black or white. And I can't give an answer, not yet at least. Because my Grandfather was right. This was all built on a chance. And I can't give it up that easy, because then what happens to Stacy? And Kelly? And Mr. Garcia?

I hand off another glass and shrug.

"I don't know yet," I say. "I don't want to give up, but I also don't want to be the reason these people have permanent brain damage."

"And why is that?" My Grandfather asks. I set down the glass I'm washing.

"Because it's the right thing to do?" I offer, echoing his lesson on being a 'good man'. He raises a brow.

"It sounds like you're trying to convince yourself more than me," He says, and I sigh. He places his dish towel on the counter. "Do you remember what I told you about your Mother?" I glance sideways at him.

"You tell me a lot of things about my Mother," I reply. The corners of his eyes twitch with a small smile.

"Miserere mei, ut matres moribus ducant me ad terminos," He recites, and I smile.

"May my Mother's morals lead me to merciful endings," I translate. He smiles and nods.

"Think about that for a bit," He tells me, then sends me to bed.

Chapter Twenty-Four:

As if another thing has to go wrong, I'm sitting with Kelly beside Stacy's bed. Stacy has a rash on her left leg. It's swollen, and red, and expanded past the marking I'd put around it earlier. Along with that, she has a fever, and apparently no amount of antibiotics can keep her from throwing them back up again. She's limp from fatigue and a layer of sweat has matted along her hairline. I've had her moved to the ICU to try and contain any bacteria she could be exposed to with her weakened immunity; her white blood cells are still deteriorating.

Not only that, but she's been getting snappier, more irritable, more violent, and more paranoid in every diagnostic I've run. Kelly looks exhausted beside me. Her eyes are sunken and I haven't seen her smile since before Stacy threw the glass at her. She's rubbing her hands together, and I look down at her hand. Her stitches were taken out yesterday, with no infection. Doesn't necessarily mean she feels any better.

She's watching her Mother as she sleeps. I'm watching Kelly watching Stacy, glancing every once in a while to monitor the rash. I squint as I notice Kelly's head bobbing.

"Kelly when was the last time you slept?" I ask. She shrugs and stifles a yawn, pushing herself up straighter in the chair.

"I'm fine," She says. I raise a brow.

"That's not what I asked," I tenderly remind her.

"I know," She murmurs and forces her way through a blink.

"Kelly," I say again.

"Hm?"

"Why aren't you sleeping?"

"Not important," She mutters.

"Kelly."

"It's no big deal, plus, what if something happens?"

"You're still right here,"

"But I won't know," She stresses, and when I glance to meet her eyes again, they're welling with tears that threaten to spill over. "You don't get it." She says. "For the past two years it's been not knowing. Spending every birthday and Christmas like it's the last one. Now with the trial, anything could happen. Literally anything." She sniffles and uses the back of her hand to wipe beneath her eyes. "My Mom threw a glass at me. She has a personality disorder and an impulsivity disorder and she still has the tumor." I look away from Kelly's gaze and fixate on Stacy. On the steadiness of her breathing. And then back to the rash.

"You're right," I say. "I don't know. But I also never knew my Mom. But my Grandfather did. And he keeps her alive, every day. And I get that losing your Mom" —my voice cracks— "is gonna suck, it's really gonna suck, and it's gonna be like that for a long time." I say. "But the fact is that you're still here. You can keep her alive. Even if no one realizes that now, you will. I promise." I say. She's still crying, but the tears are silent and calm. She nods, listening to me.

"And I promise that I'll make her better. I'll make the chemo better. I'll do everything better. But we have to work together." I say. She nods again.

"Okay," She whispers. I nod this time, and though I've never been as connected with my patients and their families, because I know the pain it brings to me and them, I scoot my chair closer to hers and throw a hug around her shoulders. She leans into my touch easily, holding her arms tight around my torso and digging her head into my shoulder. She sniffles again, then pulls away in a moment. Her tears have stopped, and left her eyes glassy.

"Thank you, Dr. Chambers," She says. I nod, and realize. It's time I talk to Dr. Blake, because I need to take out the acetylcholinesterase. I'm already taking too much from these patients in my attempts to give them something more.

When I do track down Dr. Blake, he refuses to listen to me. We're climbing the stairs to the fourth floor.

"Chambers I don't have time, I have to go check on my patients,"

"And I'm trying to talk to you about our patients!" I snap. Dr. Blake sighs and turns, stopping on the stairs. I stumble as he turns, looking down at me on the step. I stare just as defiantly. He puts his hands up.

"Fine, you have my attention for," He glances at the watch on his left hand. "Seven minutes?"

"What?"

"You're wasting your minutes." I shake my head.

"I think we should stop," I say flatly. He blinks.

"I'm sorry, what?" He asks.

"I think we should stop the trial, it's getting too dangerous, either we do that or take out to acetylcholinesterase," I say. Dr. Blake brow knits together.

"Don't you want to save these people's lives?" Dr. Blake snaps. I almost fall off the step at his outburst. "This was your idea, Chambers. Your drug, your consequences." I feel my hands shake.

"This isn't just on me," I shoot back and shove my finger at his chest. "We both did this. And you'll be damned if I don't fix it." I say. Dr. Blake still stares at me, his expression icy, but eventually, his eyebrows relax.

"I'm sorry," He says, lowering his defense. "And you're right." He says. I let out a silent breath of relief and feel my shoulders roll back. "Start with taking out the acetylcholinesterase, then we can consider stopping the trial." He tells me. I nod.

"Thank you, sir."

The next day, Dr. Blake and I are revising the drug. I'm showing him the tests I'd done before the construction of the drug, and he assists me in creating synthetic cranial tissues around the extracted cancer cells.

I put the acetylcholinesterase into a syringe and tap at it to settle the mixture. Dr. Blake watches me from across the table. When I hover it over the petri dish, where the original drug still resides in slowly breaking apart the cells, I glance to Dr. Blake before I mix the Carboplatin and Bevacizumab with the acetylcholinesterase. The enzyme acts almost instantly, even if it's not visible, and I slide the petri dish across the table to Dr. Blake, who gingerly places the petri dish under the microscope. I watch him as he looks into the microscope.

He whistles.

"Damn," He mutters. I nod.

"Yeah," I say. He looks up from the microscope, his eyes flashing.

"This is incredible," He says. "Are you sure you want to remove it from the equation?" He asks. I nod stiffly.

"Yeah," I breathe, crossing my arms over my chest. "Stacy's already losing her personality. Who knows what might happen next—to her or one of the other three patients." I say. He nods and steps away from the table.

"Okay," He says, then continues to walk around the lab, looking down at all the experiments. "Have you named it yet?" He asks, glancing to me.

I shake my head.

"I haven't thought on anything," I admit. He nods, pursing his lips.

"Good to know." I look up.

"Why?" I ask. He shrugs.

"I just thought maybe you'd like to know I currently hold three pages of paperwork in my office that needs a full intake of the drug, including a certified name," He tells me. My jaw drops.

"It's gonna be official?" I ask. He nods. "Oh my God!" I say. Dr. Blake grins and nods towards the door.

"Come on, we both need to sign," Dr. Blake says, opening the door and leading me out of the lab.

The line is blank.

I've filled out everything else.

Dr. Blake and I have both signed, our signatures looped on the last two lines of the page.

But the line remains blank. I'm tapping my pen against the desk. Dr. Blake sits across from me. I glance up to him, then click the end of the pen and scribble something down, signing it with a dot, and sliding it across the table to him.

He nods with a smile as he takes it, letting his eyes skim over the print.

"Zygomatic Epidemic Depressant Drug?" He reads, looking over the page to me. I nod.

"ZEDD.

Chapter Twenty-Five:

Artemis falls onto her back in the pit. She huffs as she falls back and her staff hits against her chest. She winces as it hits her and Amara bends over her.

"Are you okay?" She asks. Artemis nods with a wheeze. Amara shakes her head. "No you're not." She corrects. "Get up, you're done for the day." She says. She picks the staff up and nods to me to enter the ring and peel Artemis off the floor. She looks up at me as I ease her back onto her feet.

"Thanks," She mutters. I nod.

"Come on, let's take you back to the house," I say. Over the week since Gray left, I've been easing more into calling Amara's house just the house. It's not close enough to being a home, not yet, and maybe not ever. Artemis nods and leans into my side as we walk out of the tent.

"Is your chest sore?" I ask. She shrugs.

"A little, I probably just winded myself or something," She says. I shake my head.

"My sister, the Amazon," I say sarcastically.

"I've winded myself before we got here," She argues.

"Yeah? When?" I ask.

"When I was your sister, the gymnast," She says. I consider, nodding my head back and forth.

"Fine, you win," I say, and she grins. When we walk up to the house, Kate is sitting outside with Melissa. They both look up as Artemis and I reach the doorway. Melissa stands when we get there, and Kate follows her lead, moving to take Artemis' hand from me. I wave oddly to Melissa. We haven't spoken much since Gray. She nods with a small smile.

"Can we talk?" She asks. Her hair has grown since we got here. It blows my mind how much has changed. I nod.

"Sure," I say, and fall into step beside her as she starts walking. "What's up?" I ask. She shrugs, kicking a pebble.

"Not much," She says. "I've been thinking about Gray." She says. "I've just been really lonely."

"You can come to the girls practices with me," I offer, "Or why don't you talk to Amara, see about doing some more training?" I ask. She half-grins and glances to me.

"No, I couldn't do all that," She says, and we fall into silence. "I'm happy it was you, Oscar. Out of all the people in the Bunker I could've ended up running for my life with, I'm happy it was you." She says. I give her a small smile.

"Me too," I mutter.

"And I'm really, really, really sorry about Gray," She says, and just like that, I feel numb again.

"Yeah I know."

Later during the night, I leave the house again to shimmy my way onto the roof. I look up at the stars. Even from just sitting here, I can see Gemini. It's one of my favourites; symbolizing heroes and brotherhood. I never had a brother, only ever my sisters, but Gray was all I ever needed.

It's too long before I realize I'm crying, and that's after I choke on a sob. I clamp a hand over my mouth and pull my knees into my chest, squeezing my eyes shut as if it would stop the tears. It doesn't, and instead they spill over my clasped hand while I muffle my wavering breaths. I shove my face into my knees, not wanting to look at the stars anymore. There was a time I would have given anything to see them. Now I'd give them up to have everything go back to the way it was.

I sob again, and bite down on my hand to keep from crying out, no matter my face has puffed up as I'm crying. Even despite my efforts though, my body betrays me as hushed whimpers escape the grasp on my tongue. About five minutes later, I'm only crying silently, though I haven't moved, afraid something else will come out if I do. I hear something on the roof behind me, and I curse myself as my eyes water more.

"Oscar?" Amara asks, her voice soft, and my shoulders give out and shake, tears spilling over my face again. I let my legs drop in front of me, and my hand falls from my mouth, letting out ragged breaths. My face is hot with embarrassment, and my breathing doesn't regulate. Then I see Amara in front of me, she's bent beside me and holding my face in front of her. Her hands come up to cup my face and her thumbs wipe beneath my eyes as they spill with tears.. They're dry and calloused. "Oscar, Oscar you need to breathe." She says, and I gasp, overwhelming my body with air and then cough erratically. "Okay, okay." She mutters and takes her left hand off of my face, grabbing onto my hand and pressing it against her chest—and oh my God my hand's on her boob and this is so not cool—and she lets my head rest against her right palm.

"Feel my heartbeat?" She asks, and I give a shaky nod. "Good, breathe in time with it." She says and directs my eyes to hers. She sucks in a deep breath and I shakily do the same, the rhythm of her heart becoming more constant as my senses begin to dull. After a while, she nods, but still holds my hand against her heart. "Oscar, you just had an anxiety attack." She says after a moment. I don't respond, but I nod, my embarrassment becoming more apparent now that I've calmed down.

"Thanks," I murmur. She nods.

"You don't have to thank me," She says. Her right hand moves to curl her fingers in my hair. "Can you tell me what triggered it?" She asks, voice kind and light. I don't want to answer, and I feel my eyes tearing again. I shake my head, gnawing on my lip. "Oscar please, let me help you." She pleads. I shake my head, blinking rapidly as tears fall down my face. No, I can't. I'm in charge, I've been in charge since the bunker. My Mom trusted me to look after Kate, Jules, Artemis, but even beneath those margins I've failed to do the one other thing she's asked of me. I've let myself fall apart, and now I can't even put myself back together. I blink away another tear and look up at Amara, my guilt manifesting itself.

"Gray…" I whisper, and my hiccoughing turns back into small whimpers.

"Oh," Amara says, finally dropping my hand from against her heart, though she still holds her right one against my face. "Shh…" She says, and I purse my lips together tightly, hanging my head against her hand. I lift my face to meet her eyes, my tears hot and red as they fall over my face, and her hand.

"Do you know what he told me?" I ask. "That the world fucking sucks. And he was right. And I can't even tell him." My voice cracks and Amara's face softens. She pushes herself onto her knees, pulling my head into her stomach and pulling me into a hug. My legs curl underneath me and I cling to her.

She soothes me for the rest of the night, and when I see her the next morning, neither of us mention it.

Chapter Twenty-Six:

Sloane and Amara bombard me in the living room a few days later. I look up from a book I'm reading when they both stand in front of me.

"Hey… " I say slowly. Amara quirks a smile. Sloane nods to me.

"We'd like to put your sisters on a mission," She says. My eyebrows raise.

"Isn't it dangerous?" I ask, trying to hide my uncertainty. "I thought they weren't ready."

"They're not," Amara says, clear as day and I'm even more confused.

"What?" I ask. "Then why—"

"It's something we do, an exploratory of sorts, to see how they act and react to the circumstances," Sloane explains, then nods down towards me. "If you're okay with it." She affirms. I glance to Amara, gnawing on my lip. Almost willing her a silent prayer in reference to our night on the roof. She nods.

"They'll be with me the entire time," She says. "I'll keep them safe." I nod, feeling a sudden beat in my chest, letting tension lessen from my shoulders.

"I know you will," I say, watch her smile, then nod to Sloane. "If they're okay with it then go for it." I say. Sloane nods and looks to Amara. She nods as well, then Sloane turns and leaves, smiling to me as a goodbye. Amara sinks onto the couch beside me, stretching out her arms. We're both silent, except for the beating of my heart in my ears, my thoughts racing around Gray and my Mom.

"You okay?" Amara asks me, and I quickly glance to her. Her small smile falters. "Gray?" She asks.

"They're all I have left now," I say abruptly. She's quiet for a moment and her arms strain, letting them fall to her sides.

"I promise you, I'll do everything I can to keep them safe," She says. I nod.

"I know," I echo, and look sideways at her. "I trust you."

They leave that night after dinner. The village had a potluck arranged. I sat beside my sisters with Amara, Melissa sitting on my other side. My sisters are dressed the same as Amara and all the other Amazons. The black haltered tops, combat pants, hidden daggers, leather straps, and the knee-high hiking boots. I saw one girl with a quiver hanging down her back, another with a sword sheathed beside her hip, and another with a whip rolled and tied to her belt loop.

I was looking at my sisters more than actually eating the broth, which is actually a lot better than I had expected it to be. They looked different. A good different. Artemis doesn't have as much energy, and I noticed her slowing down, taking in little things and details. More often she's been sitting up with me to watch the stars. Kate smiles more, she doesn't mull over knowledge anymore, not that it's a bad thing, but she's opening herself to opportunities and listening more intently, acting more wisely and analytic. And Juliette… she's gotten brighter. I felt a twinge of pride, realizing we had left the Bunker three months ago.

Their hair had grown as well, mine is shaggier now than what it was, and even Amara's reaches far past her hips now. It suits them though.

I smiled when Kate noticed me watching them. She grinned, and Juliette and Artemis mimicked her.. I almost sigh at the memory. If they've changed this much, what does that leave me with?

Dean stands with me as we watch them go; almost half the Amazons are going. They aren't taking the horses because they're in such a big group, but I still see the silhouettes of bows and spears. I don't realize I'm holding my breath until Dean claps my shoulder, causing me to lose my footing.

"You okay?" He asks, and when I glance to him, his eyebrows are not. I nod, my vision a bit tinted, and shake my head to rid the dizziness. He grins after I steady myself. "It's the first time you're watching them go." He says, almost reading my mind. "It happens to the best of us." I look up at him.

"Does it get any easier?" I ask with a feeble smile. Dean considers, then shrugs.

"It does for some," He says. He slings an arm around my shoulder and pulls me away from the closing gate. "Come on." He says. "There's nothing we can do but wait."

I'm in the Ruined City, walking through the deserted land. It isn't cold, but it isn't warm. There isn't any wind either, and the buildings aren't as put together as I thought they were. Or maybe they weren't. I'm unsure now. I try to look around me, but everything seems a little fuzzy. The only thing that's clear to me is that I can see my Mom in front of me, she seems far away though. She isn't limping, and I can't tell if she's smiling or not. Her mouth looks neutral, if that makes sense I guess; not smiling but not frowning. Then her jaw drops down and her skin begins to rot. Her mouth lets out a low moan as it manifests itself with the disease.

Her skin and mouth turns gray and wilty, her teeth falling and hanging from her jaw. The rest of her body begins to crumble as the disease spreads from her mouth all down to the bottom of her hands and feet. Her feet disappear first, breaking apart and turning to dust. She remains still standing and her arms reach towards me as she screeches, her entire body turning to dust and leaving me in a cold sweat: The last thing I see being her bulging eyes just before they disappear in front of me.

I throw myself into an upright position on my cot, looking around the room and scratching at my throat. It's too dark, and everything feels tight, too tight, and I remember the face of my Mother. I gasp and fall off to the side, holding myself on my hands and pressing them into the ground, trying to focus on the beat of my heart. A hand spreads on my back and I freeze, turning around wildly and hitting my head against the wall.

Dean winces as I hit my head and he holds onto either side of my arms.

"Oscar, are you okay?" He asks. I let out a gasp of air I'd taken in and my chest heaves out with it. I nearly shake my head, but I'm trembling too much to attempt it. My shirt is stuck to my chest and I croak, bringing my hand up to claw at it. "Okay, okay, you need to breathe now." He says, and I nod, focusing my eyes on his as I try and copy his breathing.

He nods after a minute, once my breathing has sustained a reasonable tempo.

"Amara told me you had anxiety issues," He says, taking his hands off from my arms and uses his left to ruffle my hair, pushing it back out from my eyes. I shake my head.

"I don't," I deny. He nods, almost grinning.

"You do," He says. "Sorry." I shake my head again.

"I've never had anxiety issues," I say.

"Never in the Bunker?" He corrects with a cocked eyebrow. I go to shake my head again, then stop, feeling guilty when I realize he's right.

"Oh," I say quietly. He nods again, then stays silent, weaving his hands through my hair. My eyelids feel heavy and I lean further into his touch. I blink and I see him smiling. "Thank you." I mutter.

"We've all got issues kid, don't be ashamed of it," He says, then takes his hand out from my hair. I nearly fall forward and jump back when he does. "Sorry, I'm probably not at all like your Dad was. I'm used to playing with the girls' hair." He says. I shake my head.

"No it's fine," I assure with a small shrug, and then there's silence again. I half-sigh. "My Dad died about six years ago, when I was thirteen." I say.

"I'm sorry," Dean says. I shrug.

"I think I was okay with it, I mean he was always cheating on my Mom, and I hate that it took me so long after that for me to actually realize that; even though he was a dick; he was still my Dad, y'know?" I say. Dean nods.

"Yeah, I know," He says with a small sigh. "I want you to know I'm not trying to impose on your life or anything." He says. I nod.

"Yeah it's okay," I tell him and I roll out my shoulders awkwardly, drawing my legs underneath me in a criss cross matter. "Besides, it's kind of nice to have someone to look up to." I say, a bit softer than what my tone had been before. Dean smiles and puts his hand on my shoulder comfortingly.

"You're a good kid, Oscar," He tells me. I smile, and look up abashed as Dean moves another strand of hair out of my eyes. Then he nods and stands to leave.

"Dean?" I ask him before he turns down the hallway. He looks over his shoulder, resting his hand on the wall.

"Hm?" He asks with raised brows. I'm more embarrassed of the flush appearing on my face than my request.

"Can you, um, kind of help me with something?" I ask. He nods and turns back so his body is facing me.

"Of course," He says, crossing the space between us. "What do you need, bud?" I nod up towards my hair.

"Can you help me cut my hair?" I ask. Dean smiles and nods, grabbing a pair of scissors from a shelf on the wall and striking a match to light a candle. Then he comes to kneel in front of me, and takes the first cut.

Chapter Twenty-Seven:

When Dean and I are eating breakfast with Olive the next morning, Sloane joins us. I'm a bit shocked to see her, she's usually doing other business or sitting in the Commander's tent. Dean smiles.

"Good morning, Amata," He says. I look up from my water glass. He's said that to Amara too. I make a mental note to ask Dean what it means. Sloane smiles and sits beside me, nodding to my head.

"Nice haircut," She says, and I nod, then my eyes widen when I'm reminded of Sloanes long hair.

"It isn't disrespectful or anything?" I ask. "With the whole hair and strength thing?" Sloane shakes her head and looks up to smile at Dean as he pushes a plate towards her. He sits on the other side of Olive. I've come to know that she still eats; someday's it's lots, somedays too little, someday's none. She never seems to change though, and I can tell it breaks Deans heart.

"No," Sloane says. "Everyone is welcome to be as they are, that's why individual identity is so spiritual to us. You can only be your own person." She explains. I nod.

"I just feel like there's still so much I'm still learning," I say. Dean nods with a small smile.

"What did I tell you?" He asks. "There's something new everyday." He says and lifts his water glass. I grin and do the same with mine. Out of the corner of my eye I can see Sloane smile fondly at our small exchange before she takes a bite of her scrambled eggs.

"Oscar, I was wondering if you would like to join me in an Amazon tradition," She says. I swallow my food.

"What is it?" I ask.

"Every six months, the Amazons and close family go to the Commander's tent to pray over the flowers," Dean supplies. I look back to Sloane.

"Oh yeah I've seen those!" I say, glancing between the two. "What are they for?" I ask. Sloane takes another sip of her water before she answers me.

"A flower is planted every time an Amazon dies in battle," She tells me. "It became a tradition when Primus and the first Amazons arrived to Eaden, they began the garden in the spirit of everyone who had been taken by the virus."

"Oh." I say quieter.

"Would you like to join us?" She asks again. I glance to Dean, feeling uncomfortable in my answer. "Wouldn't it be kind of invasive?" I ask. "I mean if it's just the other Amazons and family then—"

"We all have someone to mourn," Olive croaks then. My jaw drops and my gaze snaps across the table to her. Sloane and Dean are at her side in an instant.

"Mama?" Sloane whispers, laying her hand on her arm and smoothing Olive's silver blonde hair. Dean's eyes are hopeful, even though there's something behind them that holds sadness. Olive's eyes are on me, alert and different from the other times I've seen her looking lost and distant. No. This time they still hold the same uneasiness, but there's a spark behind the glassed barrier they hold. She raises a weak finger and points it at me.

"Your grave will be no different than the others." She says, following her last statement, her hand shakes and falls back to her side. Just like that, she's gone again. Sloane is crying, she presses her forehead against the side of Olive's head. Dean just steps away from her, falls back into his chair, and lays his head in his hands. I'm too silent, and I hear him crying. Unlike Sloane, his cries echo the room in mourning, and it's a moment before he steps away from the table, goes into his room, and closes the door.

I go with Sloane, Dean, and Olive. We bring Melissa with us too. She holds my hand as she walks beside me. We're walking right behind Sloane, Dean, and Olive. Sloane is in the front, leading the parade of families through Eaden. She's humming something low under her breath, slow and soft. Dean hums in the same melody. Olive limps alongside him, her face blank. She holds a cane in her right hand to help her, and her other arm loops around the crook of Deans elbow, his hand resting over hers.

I don't know the song, neither does Melissa, but our heads are still bowed like the others. The Amazons who walk behind us are humming the same melody, echoing Sloane and Dean. We walk to the Commander's tent, where outside, Primus is already standing, two Amazons at her side.

When we go to stand beside her, she's singing, and the humming Amazons switch to sing along. It's the same slow beat as the humming was, holding the same melody.

"Sunt ocelli somni pleni, somne veni, somne veni," They sing, and we walk to stand in a rectangle surrounding the perimeter of the flower beds. Melissa and I are beside Dean and Olive, who in turn are next to Sloane and Primus.

"Rident stellae, splendet luna, stellae micant mille et una. Lalla, lalla, aut dormi aut lacte," They sing. I look around me, blandly mimicking the hum of the song. The Amazons are all looking to the flower bed, where more than a dozen flowers are planted; roses, lilies, daisies. It's almost nauseating how beautiful tragedy is.

"Nisi, lactes dormi, dormi. Micant stellae mille et una, splendet luna, splendet luna," It's solemn, the song, and as mournful the whole ordeal is, the atmosphere is calming. "Sunt ocelli somni pleni, somne veni, somne veni." The song ends, and they sing it once more. This time, I'm more familiar with the melody and can hum easily with it. Melissa picks it up with me and squeezes my hand.

"Sunt ocelli, somni pleni, somne veni, somne veni. Rident stellae, splendet luna, stellae micant mille et una. Lalla lalla, aut dormi aut lacte, nisi lactes dormi dormi. Micant stellae mille et una, splendet luna, splendet luna. Sunt ocelli somni pleni, somne veni, somne veni." The song ends for a second time, and they don't sing it a third. I glance sideways at Melissa, whose mouth is pressed thinly as her eyes chart around the flower beds and to the Amazons standing around them. Sloane clears her throat.

"Ignis fouet nostras," She says. The Amazons repeat it.

"Ignis fouet nostras," They echo. The Amazons take a step away from the flower bed and kneel, I look down as Dean pulls me back with them to kneel on the ground. Everyone's heads are bowed to the flowers.

"Oh Lord," Primus says. "Thank you for this day, and we thank you for these sacrifices in the hopes you are watching over them now in heaven." She says. "We pray for the lives that were taken, and for the lives that are still fighting for us today." My stomach jostles at the thought of Amara with my sisters. "And I pray that when I pass, I too will be joined in your kingdom of heaven, as well as the flower beds of the Amazons, where my sisters and I will reunite in your glory." She says.

"Oh Lord," She says again. "May you keep and guard the General Amara and the new Amazons Kate, Juliette, and Artemis. May you keep and guard Amazons Mindy, Gabrielle, Paula, Elizabeth, Alyssa, and Harriet." She lists. I half glance to her, kneeling beside Sloane, as she mentions my sisters. "May we pray for a miracle to repent us from this time, may we believe and trust in you to keep and guard us on our journey, and may we rise from the ashes of our fallen. Amen."

"Amen," I mutter in the echo of the voices. Sloane swallows.

"Let us recite the Our Father," She says.

"Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread, and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. Amen."

"Amen," We say again. Then they stand. I look around as they do and push myself up off my knee, then taking Melissa's hand as she rises to her feet. We watch as some of the Amazons linger among the families gathered at the flower beds.

"This is amazing," Melissa says quietly, just so I can hear, and I nod.

"Yeah," I say, looking around. "It really is." Melissa sighs and leans into my shoulder, our hands still holding onto one another's.

"I wish Gray could have seen this," She murmurs. My breath hitches, and it's a moment before I exhale deeply again. I end up sighing.

"Yeah," I say again. "Me too." In reality, Gray might've said it was a load of horse shit, but I didn't think Melissa needed to know that. He was never really religious. I was a little, because my Mom was catholic, but now it's easier for me to understand it. Religion isn't just about believing in something bigger than you; it's having to. Because without that hope, you don't really have anything left.

"Are you ready?" Dean asks us, angled to the pathway back to the house. I nod, looking to Melissa.

"Ready as I'll ever be," I say, because what else is there?