JONATHAN

Jonathan swore he might grind his teeth to powder as he listened to Evelyn's proposal. The idea itself was absurd, but now that Evelyn had latched on to the notion that her family was somehow involved in the development of the cure, she was like a dog with a bone and she stubbornly was not letting go. If that wasn't concerning enough, she was convinced he might join her.

            "Did you hear what I said?" Evelyn asked, almost impatiently.

Jonathan nodded, "I did, I just chose to ignore you because I'm not sure when you lost your sanity. I'm sorry but I can't even pretend to entertain this fantasy! The cure? It's a fairy tale, you know, something parents tell their children at night to give them hope."

            "You don't know that for sure, you said you've heard—"

"Evelyn! There is no hidden bunker of scientists and doctors developing a cure! Let's face it everyone knows the cure is more of a myth than an actual research effort at this point. Even in the super unlikely event that any of those rumors are true, why would I come with you to search for said 'secret lab'. I'm not gallivanting off on a dead end, suicide quest with a random stranger."

"A) We didn't just meet," Evelyn protested, "we've known each other for a few days now. And B) I don't gallivant. I have a plan. I always have a plan."

Jonathan rolled his eyes in an exaggerated fashion. "You barely have a concept of where you are, how could you possibly have a plan?"

"I didn't say it was the best plan!"

"This all might make sense in I don't know a movie or whatever but, even someone as certifiably insane as you must admit, we know nothing about each other! You'd have to be an idiot go on a quest this stupid!" Jonathan instantly regretted his words when he saw the look on her face. Of course, she had done just that. She had come to his rescue without knowing him and stayed with him and kept him alive.

"I'm sorry, it's not... it's just that... I don't take people places."

"You took me here," She pointed out.

"That's different, I was coming back here anyways, it was convenient. I was not helping you."

"But you are helping—"

"That was not intentional,"

Evelyn let out an indignant huff. "You just helped me break out of holding and helped me find my first real lead! You cannot say that was not intentional."

"I owed you for saving my life. Now my debt is paid. That's all there is. If you think your family is still alive after all this time, you're being naïve. If I were you, I'd embrace the fact that they're probably dead, hell I'd rather it that way than if they became soulless. You gotta wake up from this fantasy world you live in and look around at reality. Yes, it is sad, it is horrific and it is unforgiving. The sooner you realize that the better off you'll be in this apocalypse." Even as he spoke the words, Jonathan knew they were terrible. He hated to say them, but she needed to hear the cold hard truth of it. "In reality, you don't save strangers. You look out for yourself. You don't go hunting down secret science bunkers. You find the first place that seems somewhat safe and you bunker down. You don't build connections, you certainly do not—"

"What?" Evelyn spat, "waste resources making radio shows?"

The comment struck Jonathan like a slap in the face, and for once he found himself entirely unable to form a response. He didn't know she had a temper or that she could be cruel, in fact, she'd seemed incapable of it. She stared him down; her eyes brimmed with angry tears but then she did something he did not expect. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

The cloud of anger slowly dissipated, "The world isn't as awful as you make it sound. Yes, awful things have happened, but it won't always be this way. I choose to believe that. And for the record, you're right. You don't owe me anything. I'm sorry to have taken up so much of your time."

She didn't look angry anymore but there was a kind of sadness in her giant melting brown eyes, a look that could get you killed outside the walls of River District and a look that for whatever reason felt like it was killing him inside. He didn't know why but he suddenly wanted her to be angry again. He wanted her to scream, yell, maybe throw something at him or perhaps maybe just give him the cold shoulder, but he couldn't look at her when she looked at him like that. He didn't deserve that.

He shifted his gaze outside; he could see the orderly lines of people filing into the old presentation center for the tribunal to determine Evelyn's fate. He instantly wished his mind didn't connect the image before him with that of the taxi line back at the mall. The thought was disturbing but both lines were equally pointless. The Serenity Society converters could only make wild accusations about the colony's corruption, Jonathan had a backstage pass. While not as wild or fabricated as the Serenity Society's claims, River district was still run like a military organization which meant there were ranks to be pulled and the ubiquitous belief that certain information was strictly on a need-to-know basis. That's why he knew the higher ups had already sealed Evelyn's fate, providing the opportunity to voice public concerns were just a formality so that they wouldn't have a mutiny on their hands. At least any more than they already did, that is. The small but growing population of Serenity Society members were goading the people in the lines like a small horde of angry pajama models... and if Evie was right... if any of them knew Evie had connections to cure... He couldn't even begin to imagine what that could mean. The tribunal on the other hand, he knew what the tribunal would do. They'd question her for information, test her abilities to see if she had any useful skills. Her background as a medic would likely allow her a place in the district and then just like that, she'd be another soldier, another drone.

That's when he caught sight of the guards patrolling the square. There was always security, but there was more of them then there ought to be. Fewer were dedicated to the Serenity Society members than would be expected and Jonathan noticed that their firearms were raised, and their search lights were on. They were inspecting the buildings.

Evelyn paled when she noticed what he was looking at. "It's because of me, isn't it? I'm sorry."

Jonathan gave her an unreadable look, "they cannot find us together, especially not here."

"They haven't sounded an alarm?"

Jonathan shook his head, "they won't do that, creates panic. Too much emotion. Look we have to go." He pulled Evelyn away from the window, "listen, I can get you back to holding, make up some excuse or something. There's still a chance they will let you stay—"

"Jonathan, I appreciate everything you've done for me, but I can't go back to holding. I know you said that it's a fantasy, but I choose to believe that if I can make it this far then so can my family. I believe they are still out there and if they are they will be looking for me too. I have to keep looking. If they're not here, I can't stop."

Jonathan ran a hand through his dark hair and let out a loud frustrated grunt, "okay, c'mon, I'll sneak you out."

Evelyn blinked at him, clearly prepared to fight with him more on the subject. "What?"

He grabbed her arm and towed her through the backdoor of the records room at a full sprint.

"Thanks—" She tried to say.

"Don't thank me." He told her. His voice sounded harsh, harsher than he'd intended, and Evelyn suddenly grew quiet.

Luckily most people were still at the tribunal, so it wasn't difficult to avoid the crowds. They zig zagged around the back of the buildings and Jonathan found himself moving instinctively left and right through the dark, changing direction anytime they drew too near any search lights or foreign footsteps.

"Slow down," Evelyn kept hissing at him, but he could barely hear her. He knew he couldn't keep up their pace much longer, he was aware that at least one of his stitches had torn because he could feel blood dampening his shirt, but he refused to let it slow him. His hand felt cold and slick with sweat, but he tightened his grip on Evelyn's arm and kept going. He didn't allow himself to imagine what would happen to her if he lost her in the dark. Suddenly she twisted out of his grip, and he felt a sudden panic rise in his chest as he stopped and blindly groped the air in search of her. She startled him by taking his hand.

"That's better, isn't it?" She said, holding up their intertwined hands for him to see, "you were going to yank my arm out of the socket!"

Jonathan mumbled what he hoped sounded like an apology and kept moving. Normally, he would have come up with some kind of witty response, but he was at a loss for words. He was grateful for the cover of darkness because he could feel his cheeks burning with embarrassment as they sprinted through the back-alleys hand in hand. His hands had never been his best feature. He still hadn't grown into them the way his mother had promised when he was a child. They were calloused and rough, covered in scrapes, and his eczema was flaring up again because of the cold. His self-consciousness surprised him, and he quickly dropped her hand.

They continued for a time but soon his pace started to drag, his laboured breaths were murder on his broken ribs and he wondered how he hadn't felt the pain before. Evelyn had slowed down behind him, trailing him like the owner of a wounded, old dog. It was patronizing, yet he couldn't do much about it. Finally, they reached the alley way nestled between his apartment building and the row of townhouses overlooking the water.

"It's a dead end." Evelyn pointed out, insightful as ever, "What kind of exit is this?"

"Look, I haven't used this way since back when there were orders to stay within the walls. It should still be intact. I mean, I'm probably the only one who used it."

"You were a scavenger?" Evelyn asked, suddenly interested.

"Something like that." Jonathan grunted as he reached down to lift the manhole cover. A wave of nausea suddenly forced him to brace himself against his knees and close his eyes. When he'd opened them again, Evelyn had removed the manhole cover and was fishing around in her backpack for something. There was a ringing in his ears and spots had started to dance across his vision.

"Go," He wheezed, "Get out of here,"

"You're bleeding," Evelyn said, exercising her annoying habit of stating the obvious while evidently struggling to pull a first aid kit in a Ziploc bag out of her pack. There were search lights in the distance, and he knew they'd be found in no time.

"They are right behind us! You really have to go!"

"But—"

Jonathan shook his head, "I'll be fine, they'll take care of me, but you, you have to go. When you're down there you'll need to head north, then at the first intersection take a right, then you're going to keep going until you see a cluster—hell, you know what?" He grabbed the notebook from the top of her open bag and scribbled a crude map of the sewer system, "follow that."

His chest was on fire now, and he sank to the ground, gasping for breath. Evelyn moved towards him, but he waved her off roughly.

"Don't! I'm done helping you so just go!" He tossed the book in her direction. Evelyn drew back, stunned by his sudden outburst. Jonathan could not remember the last time he'd raised his voice; it had never been in his nature. There was real fear in her eyes, and he knew that the look he gave her was terrifying not because it was angry but because it was emotionless.

"I'll go," she whispered, and she maneuvered herself, so her legs dangled into the sewer.

"Go," He hissed. She didn't move. Instead, she turned and looked at him solemnly. She was clutching her father's notebook, clinging to it like a lifeline and Jonathan realized that perhaps that was because that's what it was to her.

"You might not believe it but, you were never in debt to me." She said, "I helped you because I wanted to. Thank you... for everything. You've done more for me than you know."

"Go." Jonathan repeated and thankfully, Evelyn seemed to regain enough good sense to finally listen to him and heaved herself into the murky tunnels below.

Jonathan summoned the last of his strength. He slid the manhole cover back over the hole and rose shakily to his feet.

"Don't move!"  A man's voice barked. The voice struck Jonathan like a bolt of lightning. His head snapped to attention as his father stepped into view at the mouth of the alleyway and he knew all too well that for this, there would be hell to pay.