warnings: mention of vomit, sickness

---

The end began when the Human Assistance Program was re-introduced.

Sophie had settled the elven world a few thousand years back (she'd been counting, not wanting to lose track of the day she'd truly found peace) and she'd been living as normally as she could ever since, juggling life as a woman, a Regent, a daughter, a friend -- even a girlfriend.

She'd pushed to have the program reinstated. Pushed and pushed and pushed until finally, a few Emissaries agreed. With guidelines, of course; If she could monitor and document humans for a few months and return with thorough proof that they'd made improvement since the last time the program was cut off, she could bring the matter to the Council.

All her friends were a huge help. Assisted her with surveillance and articles and even a few stake-outs. Fast forward to a few years later, the elves had come out of hiding and ties with humans had been made again. The two species had just barely begun to mend old wounds and create allies with one another before they broke apart again.

Only this time, not by either sides' choice.

It started two years after the elves integrated themselves back into the Forbidden Cities.

"It" being the disease. The end.

The first death barely made a dent in the world. The very first recorded woman to die of the virus was practically overlooked -- the media didn't bat an eye. It was one case. One fluke in the system. What did it matter? She was in her 60′s, anyway and that marked her as more susceptible to infection or disease.

They were kind of right. She had been vulnerable, but not because of her age, like they thought. And she hadn't caught influenza, like they'd originally deemed.

From there the first cluster of deaths started to gain traction. The world began to panic as news flooded over the globe. Like a steady poison, people gradually learned that there was a new infection, an unnamed killer spreading around, curiously targeting women.

And it moved fast. Once a victim showed symptoms, they were dead within the next couple of hours.

There were only four stages of the plague;

Phase One: Sweating, difficulty focusing, fever, headaches/migraines, abdominal pain.

Phase Two: Vomiting, impaired reasoning, distortion of reality.

Phase Three (Critical): Difficulty breathing/pain in the chest, throat, or stomach, difficulty swallowing/refusal to eat, complete breakdown of rational faculties; erratic behavior; violent thoughts and fantasies; hallucinations and delusions.

Phase Four (Fatal): Emotional or physical paralysis (partial or total); Death.

Once the humans finally got around to panicking and taking action, the elves were still stuck in their own blissful bubble of naivety, assuming because of their "higher" genetics that surely they were safe. Hell, they didn't even have allergies like humans did. What was a little human plague going to do to them?

Their even-mannered state of mind eroded when the first elven child contracted the disease.

Within a matter of months the globe dissolved into chaos. With a 50% death rate, the virus moved and worked fast -- faster than doctors could keep up with. A cure was never invented.

The world suffered a loss of over half its population.

Hundreds of jobs left silent (the medical industry suffered the most).

Thousands of families torn apart (homes were left empty and abandoned).

Millions of graves (Suicide rates skyrocketed, too. Some of the loss was too much for the ones left behind to bear.)

But some victims survived.

A few managed to isolate themselves from the any human or elven contact entirely. Since none had yet to resurface, rumors spread faster than wildfire. Many weren't convinced the society of women existed, but some men insisted there were underground quarantine safe houses that they supplied with food and necessities.

Very little recovered once infected, but there were some glitches in the system. It happened an odd number of times, where a girl would get sick and make a full recovery weeks later.

However, there was one female that was immune -- completely and totally safe from the devastating effects of the virus.

And one fateful day, a single immune female turned to two.

---

- Eight Years Ago

It looked like salmon. Orange and pinkish. Or maybe it looked like the salmon-flavoured cat food she used to give Marty and not actual salmon. Either way, it was disgusting and it smelled vile.

Vomiting on its own wasn't pleasant, but this held a different weight to it. She knew what it meant, this time. This wasn't just a stomach bug she'd contracted: she was sick.

Sick sick.

What was she going to tell them? She didn't so much as have any answers to give them because she didn't have a clue how she'd gotten it. Keefe and Fitz had tried so hard to keep her cooped up in the apartment, thinking that maybe if she waited it out, maybe if she isolated herself from contact, she wouldn't be at such a high risk.

Evidently that tactic didn't work.

In the background, Sophie heard the front door open. Keefe began talking and soon she heard Fitz chatting back - something about helping out with cleaning off the fruit and disinfecting everything. It took Sophie a minute, but in her haze she remembered Keefe had been gone at the store picking up some groceries for them before she'd started feeling sick.

And Fitz had noticed, but she'd brushed him off and insisted she was okay.

And then she'd wound up in the bathroom. . .

Her numb hand lifted to the silver lever. When she pulled, the salmon swirled in the toilet, down down down until she could no longer see it. Sophie forced herself to stand on her shaky legs, ignoring the way her knees nearly buckled.

Sophie turned on the faucet. She cupped some water in her hands, wiping off her mouth and splashing her face once in hope of it clearing her mind. It didn't. She dried her face with a towel, flicking the light off before exiting the bathroom.

From the hallway she had a straight view to the front door. Keefe had plastic bags in his hands. He was working on kicking off his shoes as Fitz took a few of the bags. That was when he noticed her.

Sophie didn't respond to his greeting. But she did notice how Keefe and Fitz shared a look, smiles faltering.

"Hey, Foster. You alright? You're not feeling too good." He looked her up and down. "Peanut bothering you?"

Sophie couldn't even smile at the nickname. Keefe had gotten accustomed to calling the baby growing in her "Peanut" as opposed to "the baby". He'd decided on "Peanut" since, at the time, Sophie had been in her earlier weeks and they'd only been the size of a peanut.

Her hand trailed to coddle her bump. Sophie numbly shook her head.

Fitz frowned. "Babe, what's up?"

She licked her lips. She forced herself to hold their eyes. "I'm sick."

Fitz dropped the bags in his hands. The groceries spilled out onto the floor. She watched an apple roll a foot before coming to a stop on the tile.

"What?"

"Sick," she repeated. She ran a single hand over her stomach, knowing the motion was enough to seal the single-word explanation.

Both of her boyfriends looked like they'd been frozen in time. Shock coursed through their handsome features, bleeding to anguish, then slowly coming to an end in raw sorrow.

Keefe was the first to move. The motion was a furious shake of his head. "No." His voice came out hard as stone.

"Keefe--"

"No, you're not sick. You're not--" His voice broke. "You're not sick. You're just. . . You're just regular sick."

Sophie opened her mouth to argue, but didn't get the chance to before Fitz interjected, "You can't be sick." He sounded ghostly. His voice was a shaky whisper. "We were careful."

Sophie frowned. "We were really careful," Sophie agreed, trying to be gentle with them. But her hands were shaking. "But. . . they aren't even sure all the ways it's spreading. We don't know if it's transmitted by touch or if it's airborne or. . ." She cut herself off when her throat constricted from oncoming tears. Keefe and Fitz looked like they were in the same state, eyes glittering.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Don't say you're sorry," Fitz choked. He stepped over all the spilled fruits and cans, pulling her into his arms. Sophie nuzzled into his shoulder, feeling a few of the tears burning her eyes spill out onto her cheeks.

"We could go find a doctor back home," Fitz suggested into her hair. His hands were shaky on the small of her back.

"Elixirs can't fix this. You know that. They already tried."

"They're still trying," he corrected. "They could find something we don't know about."

"Within a few hours?" Sophie's voice came off as exhausted. She shook her head in a similar tired manner. "We can't. They can't. It's. . . It's too late."

Fitz pulled back slightly to gaze down at her. He sucked in a shaky breath, grasping her face in his palms. Sophie lifted her hands and covered them over Fitz' as he gently swiped at the tears streaking down her cheeks. "What about Elwin?" he asked, voice wobbling. "He's always been able to fix things."

Sophie's mouth quirked gently, just enough to brighten her eyes, but not enough to lift her face. She shook her head softly. She didn't need to say no to him. He already knew.

Sophie sniffled, rubbing her thumbs across the backs of his hands as she tilted her head to the right so that she could spot Keefe. From the corner of her eye, he didn't look like he'd moved much. Really, he hadn't moved at all. He was still frozen to the same spot she'd found him in, staring numbly at her and Fitz. The fruits remained in the same space, too. Keefe still had one grocery bag fisted in his hand.

"Keefe," Sophie called softly. "Come here."

He blinked. Once. Twice. Then he looked up at her. "No."

"Keefe," Sophie begged, voice quivering.

"It doesn't mean you're sick. You don't have to be sick sick. You're pregnant. This could just be regular sick." His voice cracked halfway through, face breaking for the first time. Lines wove through his delicate features and his eyes blurred with tears.

"I don't want you to die," he rasped.

"Keefe," she choked for the second time, holding out a hand.

Keefe dropped the bag in his hand without a second glance. He navigated the minefield of canned food and vegetables, scooping Sophie's free side into his embrace once he reached her. Nuzzled between the two boys, Sophie shuddered.

"You can't say it's too late," Keefe persisted through a hiccup. He buried his face into her hair. "You can't just say it's too late without trying."

Fitz's arms cinched tighter around her. Most likely because he was trying to reach Keefe at the same time. She couldn't tell, though, her face in Fitz's shoulder.

"The probability that anything could be done at this point is too low."

"But it's not zero," he pushed. His body quivered behind her.

Sophie's chin wobbled. She sucked in an uneven breath, trying to keep herself from getting Fitz covered in tears and snot before she reached down and held onto Keefe's hands splayed around her belly.

"It's. . . It's close enough, babe. Too close. I'm sorry." She squeezed his fingers with hers. He squeezed back, but didn't loosen his grip immediately. In fact, it took a few minutes of standing there, quiet sniffles and crying reverberating around the entryway before Sophie had the courage - and the strength - to speak again.

Her voice was still vibrating as she whispered, "When. . . When it's morning, you need to take me to the hospital. I'm far enough in that they could do something for the kid - an emergency C-section, maybe. You've got to try."

An unintelligible whine came from one of them. An ugly, painful sound. "Sophie, don't--"

"I'm serious," she urged. "You have to try. You have to promise me you'll try. You won't even have to move me. They'll come out with a stretcher and everything if you just--"

"Foster."

Fitz's hands were shaky in her hair and Keefe's hands on her abdomen were just the same. She took that as her cue to slow it down. "I'm sorry," she whispered, feeling their chests shiver and vibrate with their weak attempts to keep the sobbing to a minimum. Her lip quivered and she reached up to wipe her nose. "I just want you to try. Please."

Fitz ignored it, for a second. "It could be a mistake."

Sophie shook her head. "I don't think it is."

"It could, though, Foster," Keefe added.

Sophie managed a choked laugh. "Yeah, I guess. If I. . ." Her throat tightened. A few tears streaked down her cheeks. "If I, um, wake up in the morning you can tell me told you so."

Keefe made another sound behind her and Sophie couldn't decipher whether it was that of a laugh or a whimper.

Sophie felt Fitz press a few kisses onto her head which made her lips crack into a sad, weak smile. She sniffed, rubbing at her blurry eyes. "What do you guys want for dinner?"

Both of their chests shook with bubbled laughter. "Whatever you want," Fitz said, running a hand down her back.

"You always pick good," Keefe agreed, kissing her shoulder before laying his head down on it.

Sophie's chest tightened. The smile grew on her face and she blinked back more tears. "Can we, um, can we spend the rest of the night in the car? Then you won't have to move me if. . ."

"Okay," Keefe and Fitz said in unison.

"Thank you," she croaked.

The remainder of the evening moved by fast - faster than she could process. She'd never understood why people mentioned time going past in a blur until then.

All too soon they'd cooked food, all too soon they'd gathered blankets and pillows, and all too soon they were huddled in the backseat of the car. They ate spicy noodles in silence, legs and hands tangled together.

They only got halfway through the meal before they all started crying again.

Sophie didn't know who started it, but they all had to give up and put their bowls aside in the front seat so that they didn't spill. They held each other for a few hours. They returned to their cold meals when the moon shone bright overhead, silently sipping and slurping with puffy eyes.

Eventually, they fell asleep.

Keefe was the first to wake up the following morning. The sun was bright and made the car hot and sticky. Whatever time it was, they'd slept in late. Probably because they'd stayed up far too early.

It took him a few seconds to become adjusted to where he was and why he was there, but soon his eyes landed on Sophie and Fitz.

And Sophie was still breathing.

She stayed that way the next day, too. And the next. And the next. She stayed that way until they brought a new member of the family into the world in the back bedroom of their tiny apartment - a girl.

And when their baby continued to breathe, too, they knew things would one day be alright.

---

- Present

Something whapped her leg. Sophie flinched, groaning as someone made a seething sound.

Sorry, sorry. Sleep. It's okay. You can sleep.

She recognized that voice. She'd recognize that voice anywhere, even without the noticeable accent.

"Fitz," Sophie whined.

A defeated grumble echoed in the tiny space. "I'm sorry," he whispered, sighing. "Good morning."

Sophie blinked, trying to get her eyes to adjust to the sunlight streaming in through a crack in the curtains. Fitz was sitting up near her, clearly struggling to shuffle throughout the blankets and sleeping bags strewn over the floor.

He smiled at her briefly and it quickly morphed into something sheepish. "Venus wanted his book, so I came to grab it. Didn't mean to make as much sound as I did. Or, you know, kick you."

Sophie blearily glanced at the worn paperback book in Fitz's hand. "Is'okay," she promised, hoping he ignored the way her voice was a low rasp.

"Think there's any chance you could get back to sleep?"

Sophie shook her head. Even if she made sure all the curtains were closed over the van's windows and somehow the metal walls of the vehicle suddenly became soundproof, there was no way she was getting back to sleep. That was just the law of her body. If she was up, she was up. No discussion.

"Sorry."

"It's fine, I should probably get up anyway." Sophie stretched out her legs and sat up, grateful when her body didn't retaliate with any aching bones or muscles. "Where are Venus and Nova?"

"With Keefe," Fitz assured. "We moved away from the van so we wouldn't risk waking you up, but, that didn't really work out."

Sophie nodded, humming an, "Mm," in confirmation as she ran a tired hand down her face to hide her yawn. "Did you guys eat?"

Fitz cracked an unexpected smile. "Yeah, but, funny story," he began, already laughing lightly. "Venus wanted me to cook him a porkchop over the fire and I told him no because, well. . ." Fitz gestured to himself like that summed it up.

Despite her exhaustion, Sophie started laughing softly with him. Sophie had never quit (occasionally) indulging in animal products, when they'd been reintroduced to the Lost Cities. Fitz and Keefe, however, had stayed strict to the diet they'd grown up with (even if it was more difficult because of the limited array of human vegetables and fruits).

Novalee and Venus both caught on to their parent's eating habits at young ages, knowing they'd only get to eat anything animal-related if they asked their mom.

Sophie snorted with laughter. "Why'd he even bother asking you?"

"Keefe thinks he just wanted you up. You know how he is."

She did. Venus had always been fairly attached to her. It wasn't as if he didn't do well with Keefe or Fitz -- he loved both of his dads -- but there was a slight chance he preferred his mother.

Sophie smiled, shaking her head. "Well, I'm up, now."

"You are, yeah. Morning." Fitz bent forward and slipped a hand behind her neck, pressing a kiss to her forehead. He leaned back, grinning. "What do you want for breakfast? Could make you a porkchop."

Sophie had almost missed the tease, distracted by the way he circled his thumb along the hairline at the base of her neck. She rolled her eyes, eliciting laughter from Fitz. "Get out," she said, playfully shoving his shoulder.

His chuckling only increased at that, though he did listen, slipping his hand away from her and crawling out the rear door. He faced her once he hopped out, outstretching a hand for her. Sophie grabbed a loose hair tie and pinned up her hair before taking his hand and letting him help her out.

Outside, Sophie could instantly smell the fire. A few feet away from the van, a blaze had been started, a couple of logs and a blanket laid out in a circle around it. Keefe wasn't too far off from the area. She watched as he, Nova, and Venus scuffled around through the brush, giggling and panting. Probably playing tag, from the looks of it.

Fitz went to fiddle with the fire while Sophie stood and watched the kids, smiling. At one point Nova was picked and when she went to tag Venus (the obvious target, since he had the smallest legs and therefore took the slowest strides) she miscalculated the amount of force and sent Venus slamming down to the ground.

Fitz and Sophie winced. Keefe jogged over to him and scooped him up, tears and dirt and all. "Novalee," Keefe said.

"I didn't try!"

"Well, then what do you say?"

Novalee apologized as Venus continued to sniffle -- rather dramatically, Sophie noted. She shook her head, lips quirking. She felt bad for him, she really did, but sometimes he had the tendency to lay it on thick for sympathy.

"You're fine, Venus. Come here. Dad got your book."

Venus pouted in Keefe's arms, only growing more deflated when his eyes landed on his mom. "Mom, did you see that? Nova--"

"I saw it and I said you're going to be just fine."

"Mm, don't know about that, Mommy," Keefe countered, inspecting Venus' knees. He brushed off some of the dirt and pursed his lips. "Nope, you're not fine."

"See!" Venus howled.

Sophie gave Keefe an exasperated look, practically asking why he was stoking the fire willingly, when his mouth twitched. "Yep," he continued, "looks like we're gonna have to cut it off."

Venus' reaction was instant. "No!" he wailed. "No, I don't want to!"

When he started flailing in Keefe's embrace and looked ready to sob, Keefe tightened his hold and laughed. "Wait, wait! I'm kidding! Venus, bud, I'm joking. It's okay."

Fitz piped up with, "Dad needs to stop being an. . ." trailing off at the right time so that he could mouth 'asshole', eyes glittering as he looked at Keefe.

"I joke like that all the time! You know this already!"

"Good news is," Sophie interjected, strolling over to Keefe and Venus. "You can move your legs, apparently."

"Yeah, all that squirming and you nearly took my eye out."

Venus laughed. Keefe rolled his eyes and lowered him to the ground. The moment he touched down, he went on his way to pester Fitz for his book.

Venus and Nova were polar opposites in that way -- Novalee had a vendetta for reading, but it was more than half of all the things Venus was interested in doing. Every so often they'd be travelling, make a stop, and stumble across a library -- and Venus would beg to be able to look at the books and trade in a few of his old ones for new volumes.

Sophie guessed it was because he liked learning about the Before. Getting a taste of what life was like and what people had thought.

"You look tired," Keefe observed, hands on his hips.

Sophie looked at his heaving chest. "So do you. You sure running around and getting sweaty is a good idea?"

"No," he admitted. He grinned. "But it gets the kids tired."

"You wanna be careful with how tired you make them, though," Sophie warned. "Otherwise they're going to take a nap and then be up all night."

". . .Fair."

Sophie smiled and grabbed his shirt collar to pull him forward. She quickly pecked him, retreating back to the fire. Novalee and Keefe chattered in the background as she shuffled to sit next to Venus. Fitz had sat nearby, at some point, as well.

"Learn something new?" she asked Venus, hoping it would get him talking. She shared a look with Fitz, nodding as her son started searching for an answer.

You look antsy, she transmitted.

We're kind of low on fuel, Fitz replied.

Sophie got delayed in responding, trying to juggle having to answer Venus and Fitz. Once she finished with her son, she replied, I thought we went into town just a little while ago?

Keefe was planning to, Fitz admitted, but he never got around to it. Wouldn't hurt to get a bit more food, either. Fill up the waterbottles. . .

That means we'd have to move towns again.

I know, but it's not like we planned on staying here for much longer. You know it's risky to do that.

She sighed, reaching up to brush a hand down her head. I should cut my hair soon.

That might help, Fitz agreed. But we've been doing just fine without it. Hoodies work wonders. He smiled.

Yeah, they do, but only for a little bit. And only from a distance. I should probably get a binder, too--

"Are you two talking?"

Sophie blushed. "Sorry, I didn't mean to ignore you, baby." She mussed Venus' hair. "You can keep talking. I'll listen."

Venus gave them a skeptical look before he launched back into his info-dump. This time Sophie did derail all her attention from Fitz and the fuel issue to Venus, listening as he heartily shared little tidbits from the book.

After a minute, Fitz rose and sent a quick transmission. I'm going to get fuel. I'll stay in contact. Watch the kids -- I don't trust Keefe.

Sophie smirked. No problem. Stay safe.

Venus barely noticed Fitz walk off to the van to get his jacket as he continued to talk and read little excerpts to Sophie. Novalee and Keefe were busy doing whatever behind Sophie, so she sent a quick update to Keefe, who also gave the thumbs-up.

Fitz disappeared into the trees, walking to town, and for a few minutes, everything in the camp remained steady. Peaceful.

"Mom?"

"Hm?" Sophie asked.

"Why do our Dads do that?"

Sophie's eyebrows scrunched up. "Why do our Dads do what?"

"They leave us here," Venus explained. "And you cover up."

Nova's panting got louder behind Sophie as she approached. Sophie peeked back to see her looming, hands on her hips, hair stuck to her forehead with sweat. "We talked about this, Venus, remember?"

"Well, I forgot," he whined.

"You talked about it?" Keefe asked, switching the subject back around as he jogged up.

Sophie was a bit surprised, too. "When?"

"When Venus checked out the teenage puberty book or whatever. We were reading it together and he was asking me questions and. . ." Nova trailed off.

Keefe encouraged, "It's fine, Nova, we're not angry."

"No," Sophie assured, looking at Venus and her to make sure they knew it. "No, I just. . . Didn't know you'd had a talk about it."

Novalee nodded, still a little sheepish. "He asked about some pregnancy things in the book and I explained, so it made sense, and then that got into binary sex talk and. . ." Nova shrugged. "I just told him what you told me. About, um. . ."

Venus snuggled up against Sophie's arm. "Men take advantage of girls."

Sophie blinked softly. "Some men do," she agreed, nodding. She stroked his hair. "They're. . . angry. There's not many women left. So. . . they might try to hurt Nova and I if they know."

"Yeah," he muttered. "I remember now."

"I'm sorry--" Novalee began.

"No," Keefe started, wrapping an arm around her. "It's not your fault. We should've told him, we just. . . I don't know, we figured we should wait until he brought it up."

"I'm sorry, Nova, that shouldn't go on you," Sophie agreed, holding her eyes. She peered to Venus, who looked pretty helpless all curled up against her side. "I'm sorry for not telling you myself, Venus, that's my fault, too. I didn't want to scare you. It was just. . . Normal for you. To see me covered up. And to hide the fact that I was different. It always has been normal, ever since you were little, so I didn't think you'd be curious about it until later and then I could bring it up."

He shrugged. "I don't care. Just don't like it. Doesn't make sense."

"Doesn't," Keefe empathized. "But we should have been the ones to tell you. And Mom and Nova are safe - we don't have to worry. That's why we've got an escape plan for every place we stay at and that's why we've got codes--"

Red.

Sophie and Keefe stiffened.

Red, Fitz transmitted again, more urgent this time.

". . .Are you okay?" Novalee asked.

Sophie snapped out of it first. "Red," was all she had to say before Venus and Novalee jumped into action. Keefe helped Sophie to her feet as the two kids started gathering blankets and books and utensils, running to cram them into the back of the van. Sophie and Keefe worked on dousing the fire, scattering the coals and logs as best they could before Fitz ran around the corner, out of breath.

Sophie knew they didn't have time to stop and talk, so she decided to multitask as he poured new fuel into the tank.

Why is it Red? she pressed, opening a channel between the three of them. Keefe started helping pack the clutter into the van, so Sophie went to wrangle the kids and help them get settled.

There's a man who knew about you. Or knew you were. . .

How'd he know about Foster? Keefe asked, voicing exactly what Sophie had been thinking.

Must have been hanging around our camp at some point. Remember how the kids mentioned hearing something?

They thought it was a raccoon--

Apparently not, Fitz mumbled.

How the fuck did this happen? Keefe cursed. Did he tell anyone?

Not from what I could tell.

"Mom, you're talking apart from us again," Venus whined, clearly agitated. His lip quivered and Sophie frowned, struggling to throw the blankets and sleeping bags on top of him and Nova. That was their quick getaway plan, if they had the van as an option -- Sophie and Venus and Nova would crawl into the back, lay on the floor, and cover themselves. Keefe and Fitz would take the front.

Keefe hopped into the driver's, starting it up as Sophie piled in. She closed the door behind them and settled down in between the two kids while the engine rumbled. "Sorry," she apologized, snuggling up to Venus. Nova was pressed against her back, shaking. "You don't have to be scared, it's just in case. There isn't anyone here, we're just leaving early."

"It was a man again," Novalee stated.

"It was," Sophie confirmed.

"It's always a man."

"Or men," Venus whispered.

"Shh," Sophie ordered, shushing the two of them. "Have to be quiet, remember?"

Fitz got into the passenger side of the car, putting the fuel at his feet.

And they drove.