The Way We Began

Apollo's labored breathing filled the small, ruined space, each shallow inhale making the weight on my chest heavier. He looked worse with every minute, his fever growing, his strength slipping away. We didn't have much time. I pressed a damp cloth to his forehead, the heat radiating off him like a warning, and memories of our past flooded my mind.

We'd met when everything still felt normal. Before the infection, before the experiments, before the world cracked open. It was through my mother—she was working on trials for experimental cancer treatments, this was way before she had cancer, and Apollo was one of the young doctors brought in to assist. I didn't care much about what they were doing back then—I was too caught up in writing sci-fi stories and dreaming about breaking into journalism. He was just another person in her orbit.

At first, I didn't pay him much attention. But Apollo wasn't the kind of man you ignored for long. He had this way of making you feel seen, even when you didn't want to be.

"You write sci-fi, huh?" he asked one day, sitting across from me at the hospital's cafeteria while I waited for my mom to finish her rounds. "You ever think about writing the truth instead?"

I rolled my eyes, pretending not to care. "What's the difference?"

He grinned, that lopsided smile of his already working its way into my thoughts. "The truth matters."

We became friends without meaning to. I started showing up at the hospital more often—not to see my mom, but to spend time with Apollo. He read my drafts, challenged my ideas, and listened in a way no one else ever had. Somewhere along the way, friendship became something more.

But just as things began to shift between us, everything with my mom fell apart.

My mom's health deteriorated faster than any of us expected. The treatments weren't working, but she wouldn't stop the trials. I didn't understand then that she was part of something much bigger than cancer research—something dangerous. All I knew was that I was watching her slip away, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

Apollo stayed by my side through it all. He held my hand at the hospital, sat with me when the nights felt too long, and never let me fall apart completely. But after she died, everything changed.

I threw myself into investigating her death, desperate to understand what really happened. Apollo begged me to stop. He told me it wouldn't bring her back—that I was losing myself in the search for answers.

"You're not the only one who lost her," he said one night, frustration cracking through his usual calm demeanor. "But this... this obsession is going to destroy you, Lib."

"I have to know," I whispered, more to myself than to him. "I can't just let it go."

We fought, and that fight was the beginning of the end. I accused him of being too close to the system, too comfortable within the medical industry that had failed my mother. He told me I was chasing ghosts.

The night ended with us walking away from each other, and I let him go—thinking that if I solved the mystery of my mother's death, it would somehow fix everything. But it didn't.

I followed the trail of her research into places I shouldn't have gone. I uncovered hints of something far darker—an experimental program that didn't stop with my mom. Then, one day, I got too close. A government official offered me access to restricted files, claiming they wanted to expose the truth too. I was desperate, reckless. I walked right into their trap.

I woke up in a facility—sedated, tested, and experimented on. They believed my DNA carried traces of immunity from my mother's treatments, and they were determined to unlock the secret. The experiments were brutal. I became just another subject, another variable in their twisted pursuit of power. Apollo never knew what happened to me—at least, not until it was too late.

I blinked away the memory, my hand still resting against Apollo's fevered skin. He was slipping away, just like my mom had. And this time, I wouldn't let it happen.

"You should have told me," Apollo rasped, his voice barely audible. "Back then... I would've helped you."

"I know," I whispered, my throat tight. "I was afraid. I thought... if I let you in, it would all fall apart."

He gave me that same lopsided smile, though it was weaker now. "You never had to do it alone, Lib. You still don't."

Lecroix knelt beside us, his expression calm but tense. He'd been silent throughout the conversation, giving us space. But now, there was something in his eyes—a spark of determination.

"There's a way," Lecroix said quietly, glancing between me and Apollo. "It's risky, but it might work."

I looked at him, my heart pounding. "What do you mean?"

"The underground lab," he explained. "They had experimental treatments there—unfinished, but promising. One of them was designed to stabilize infection during the early stages. If we get there in time..." He trailed off, letting the implication hang in the air.

Apollo coughed, his breath coming in shallow gasps. There wasn't much time.

"Can we make it?" I asked, glancing between Lecroix and Apollo. "Can it really save him?"

Lecroix's gaze didn't waver. "It's his best shot."

I nodded, resolve hardening in my chest. "Then we move. Now."

Lecroix gave me a brief, reassuring nod. "We'll make it."

Together, we lifted Apollo to his feet, his weight heavy but familiar between us. This time, I wouldn't run from the past. I wouldn't let fear stop me.

And as Lecroix's hand brushed against mine, I knew—we wouldn't lose Apollo.