EVELYN

The dream was always the same, relentless in its repetition, an inescapable loop of dread and claustrophobia. The sinking feeling was so familiar to Evelyn now, it was almost like a second skin—a reminder that even in safety, there was no freedom.

The walls of SFU's bunker closed in around her, the stony comfort of isolation wrapped in the warmth of false security. The concrete walls tightened like suffocating tentacles, pressing in from every side. A faint light from the surface flickered through the cracks, and with it, a voice inside her screamed not to reach out, to stay still, because that's how you survive.

But then the pressure would build, unbearably, until the walls seemed to snap. The endless concrete tunnels morphed, becoming cold and metallic, as if she were being encased in yet another box—another cell. She was in River District, staring at a row of pills on the table, someone barking orders at her. Don't think, just obey. That's how you survive. A cog in the machine, isolated but always controlled.

Suddenly, the scene shifted, and she was staring through the observation screen at the white room of the NeuroGen Facility. But instead of Jonathan, she saw herself—curled in the corner, small and broken. Jaycee's voice boomed in her ears, demanding she act without question, for the greater good. No matter the cost. Keep your head down. Do what must be done.
Evelyn opened her mouth to scream back, to rebel—but before she could, she was suddenly in the grey cell of the Serenity Society. No-mindedness is the answer. Let it all go. Believe in nothing. Be silent. The quote on the wall loomed like a dark prophecy: "When thoughts arise, then do all things arise. When thoughts vanish, then do all things vanish."

And then the gun was in her hand, Adam standing before her as she lined up the fatal shot. Her fingers curled around the trigger, and when Adam's body hit the ground, she felt the shock of pain rip through her own body. She looked down, only to see herself covered in blood.

The walls closed in again, and she woke, gasping for breath.

She could never admit it, because it seemed so wrong, but amidst all the horrors she'd seen, the suffocating pressure of SFU's bunker was the image that would not let her go, no matter how hard she tried to push it away. She knew it well, yet it was never home. She was not just physically trapped in the concrete, but mentally, spiritually—even when she wasn't there, she was still there, following the same invisible orders that governed her every breath. Each layer of concrete was a different chapter in the same story—isolation, obedience, disconnection. Those long two years she'd spent in the bunker, suffocating without even realizing it. And in the middle of that unrelenting emptiness, there was the voice—the voice of what she thought was self-preservation, the voice that reminded her what it meant to survive: Don't reach out. But she always wanted to. Always felt something clawing at her from inside, a desperate hope that there was something more. Somewhere, beyond all of this, was a way to escape it.

And then, that feeling was given a voice. Like a lighthouse in the dark, his voice found her and inspired her, but from SFU's bunker to River District, then the Serenity Society, and NeuroGen, the pattern was inescapable. Orders barked, pills on the table, systems that demanded you silence everything—every voice, every impulse, every fragment of self that made you human. The paradox of it all was the promise of safety, the promise of survival that ultimately led down the same path as soullessness.

Knowing she wouldn't be able to fall back asleep, Evelyn rose from her sleeping bag, careful not to wake her siblings. As the phantom pressure of the bunker began to fade, the real weight returned: Jonathan's ultimatum. She had barely slept, but the decision was unavoidable.

She absently began organizing the stacks of records.

How could she decide, when every choice she'd made had ended in disaster?

But she also knew she couldn't be selfish, not now. Not when everything was on the line. Not when he needed her. Not when they needed each other.

It was what he wanted so she would try. For him, she knew she would do anything.
So, as the sun came up and her siblings woke, she laid out her decision and her plan.

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It felt morbid to prepare for Jonathan's death and even more disturbing that they were planning how to commit his murder. They'd settled on drowning because they all agreed that, as a cause of death, it involved the least physical damage and had the greatest chance of being quick.

They decided on using the fountain because it was still filled with water and easily accessible. It was on the floor just below the record store and in front of the old bookstore, which, in a twisted kind of way, felt comforting to Evelyn.

The main problem with using the fountain was that it was in a central atrium, and the Soulless that wandered the mall sometimes came around that area. Using Jonathan's strategy of simply guiding the Soulless towards a new loop, Liz, Elliot, and Evelyn spent an afternoon extending the taxi line and trying their best to barricade their corner of the mall.

It was far from perfect, but it would have to do. It had only been a few days, but Liz suggested that once starvation or dehydration took their toll within the week, it would be too late. She hadn't needed to remind Evelyn; the rapid decrease in Jonathan's lucid state already made Evelyn feel as though she were watching the final grains of sand run through an hourglass.
Neither Liz nor Evelyn had liked the idea, but Elliot insisted on going in first. Elliot argued he was the most adept at tying knots due to his experience in scouts, which was crucial when it came to restraining Jonathan in a way that would prevent him from being a danger to them. Liz and Evelyn were forced to agree that, for everyone's safety, it was better to let Elliot take the lead.

Evelyn struggled not to hold her breath as her little brother slowly crept into the back room. She and Liz stood just beyond the door, weapons ready should something go horribly wrong.

From her position, she could just make out Jonathan seated in the far corner of the room. His movements were jerky, and his lips trembled as he muttered incomprehensibly to himself. His expression was blank, eyes unfocused. Evelyn could feel her heart hammering in her throat. She couldn't get used to the sight of him like this. He looked so... broken, so unlike the person she once knew.

"Easy," Elliot murmured, his calm and steady voice clear even through his mask. "Hey, we're here to help."

Jonathan's head snapped up at the sound of the voice, his eyes wide, frantic. Jonathan's body tensed as he recoiled from Elliot, and Evelyn was briefly reminded of the way he'd acted that night he'd had that nightmare. The defensive way he'd scrambled back, as if awaiting a blow. She shot a glance at Liz, standing beside her, her gaze locked on Jonathan, her jaw tight but her expression unreadable behind her mask.

"I'm a friend. It's Elliot, remember?" Elliot moved forward slowly, his voice never wavering. "We're here to help. But you have to trust us. Let us help."

For a moment, it looked like Jonathan might make a break for it, but then his shoulders slumped. His eyes fluttered closed, and he took a deep, shaky breath.

"No," he whispered hoarsely. "You don't... understand. You can't—you don't... know... what I'll do."

Elliot knelt in front of him, careful to keep a non-threatening distance. "You are in control," he said, his voice gentle but firm. "You won't hurt us."

Jonathan's hands clenched into fists, and a faint tremor ran through his arms.

Liz and Evelyn exchanged a quick look. Neither of them had ever seen Jonathan like this before. They knew the situation was escalating, but they still couldn't quite understand how it had gotten this bad so quickly.

"Jonathan," Evelyn called softly, "we're here. We're not going anywhere."

For a moment, it felt like the room held its breath. Then, with a sudden shift in the air, Jonathan's eyes locked onto hers—desperate, pleading, and full of an emotion she couldn't quite place. "I don't... want... to... hurt you," he said. The words were so quiet and hollow, it made Evelyn's heart ache.

Elliot stepped closer, barely a foot away from him. He extended the makeshift straitjacket they'd fashioned out of an old button-up and some belts, cobbled together from the surrounding clothing stores. "Then we'll make sure that doesn't happen," he said firmly. "We're all in this together."

Another long silence blanketed the room as Jonathan seemed to contemplate this.

"We need to do this now, while you've still got a soul left to save." Evelyn said.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Jonathan was on his knees, body positioned over the fountain, arms and legs bound tightly by Elliot's knots. Evelyn and Liz stood behind him, hands free to assist when the time came. Elliot had already been sent toward the taxi line, armed with Jonathan's HAM radio, to report if the soulless showed any activity.

They were as prepared as they could be.

Jonathan was surprisingly calm, all things considered. After they'd gotten him out of the store, a sense of clarity seemed to settle over him. It was a cruel irony that this was the most aware, the most him he'd seemed in days—almost as cruel as the fact that they needed to kill him to save his life. They had prepared for what to do if he wasn't lucid, which would have been more difficult. But Evelyn wasn't sure if she preferred it this way, watching him take in what could be his last view of the world. He stared into the fountain, marveling at the way the light from the window above reflected off the still water like tiny diamonds. The frost and cold had finally cleared, giving way to the first perfect day of spring.

"You... know," he said, offering her a weak attempt at a smile, "after... this... is over... I'd... like my... sanity... back."

Beneath her mask, Evelyn felt a small smile touch her lips, but she forced it away before it could show in her eyes. She glanced at Liz. Her sister's expression was unreadable behind her mask, her eyes distant and lost in thought. As if sensing Evelyn's gaze, Liz turned to meet her eyes and offered a reassuring nod.

"I'm... ready," Jonathan said after a long moment, lowering his head toward the fountain.

Suddenly, static crackled through the air, and Elliot's voice came through the radio, strained and uneasy.

"Hey, guys... uh, quick update—Leonard's gone."

Evelyn's heart plummeted to her stomach as she thought of the useful security guard at the head of their queue of soulless.

"What do you mean, gone?" Liz asked into the microphone, trying to keep her voice steady, though Evelyn could feel the hint of panic beneath it.

"Like gone, gone. The taxi line's all waiting, but he's not here to direct traffic."

Evelyn froze, the weight of Elliot's words hitting her like a blow.

"He's probably at the food court or something." Evelyn's voice was sharp as she tried to keep focus, shooting Liz a glance. "Ask Elliot to go check. Maybe he can—"

Before she could finish, Elliot's voice crackled through again, more urgent now.

"He's not at the food court either. Just checked. Guys, I don't know where he went!"

"We need to look for him," Liz said, white knuckles clutching the microphone. "Without him to distract them... We can't..."

Evelyn could feel the knot forming in her stomach, growing. The burden of saving Jonathan felt heavier with each passing second.

"If we wait, he's still going to make it, right?" Elliot asked. "We have time?"

The weight of Elliot's words felt sharp and sobering, like nails biting into her skin. Her brother had always been quick to form attachments. The two of them had been the sentimental ones—like her, he wore his heart on his sleeve. And though he didn't say it, Evelyn knew he'd already grown fond of Jonathan. Evelyn could feel it too—the pull of hope, the desire to fix things, to save him—but the harsh reality was that they were out of time and there was already a snag in their plan.

As she stood there, torn over how to proceed, Evelyn couldn't help but wonder what it was she now brought to the table. Liz had been seemingly born with her encyclopedia of knowledge and wisdom, and Elliot possessed a confidence and sense of adventure she herself had never felt. She'd always thought it was her optimism—her ability to look on the bright side—that made her an asset, but lately, that optimism had been hanging by a thread.

Evelyn glanced back at Jonathan, who still stared into the fountain, his expression unreadable. His body was tense, bound, but calm. He was prepared.

But Evelyn wasn't so sure she was.

"Maybe we shouldn't—" Liz began.

"No." Evelyn said, surprising herself with her own assertiveness. "We don't know when Leonard will be back... or if he ever will."

"If we go ahead..." Liz said, hesitating. "Without him, we're operating with soulless who have no routine. It's riskier—"

"We don't know how long Jonathan has. It has to be now. Trust me." Evelyn said, turning to Jonathan.

"I'm going to bring you back." She promised.

Jonathan tilted his head up to catch Evelyn's eye. Beneath the sheen of white, she could see the glimmers of those pensive, stormy grey eyes that never failed to take her breath away. Yet this was the first time there was something different in them: a flicker of hope. He believed in her, and she knew in that moment, more than ever, she could not fail.

"Tell Elliot to get ready," Evelyn told her sister.

"Evie..." Jonathan said, "I... trust... you..." With those final words, he pushed the rest of the air out of his lungs and lowered himself into the water.

At first, everything was still, but then the stream of bubbles and splashes ripped through the water as his fight-or-flight response activated, and his primal instincts began to fight against his act of self-destruction.

Evelyn and Liz fought to keep him under, their hands firm on his head and shoulders, forcing him back into the water with each violent thrash. Jonathan's screams were muffled beneath the surface, replaced by terrible, gurgling gasps. Evelyn could feel his body arching desperately against hers as she held him down. She knew he couldn't hear her, but the words spilled out anyway.

"It's going to be okay... it's going to be okay..."

Then, the radio crackled to life, and Elliot's voice, panicked and desperate, cut through the air.

"MAYDAY! MAYDAY! I don't know what's going on, but—holy shit! They're coming! They're—holy shit—they're on the move! Can anyone hear me?! GOING TO NEED BACKUP HERE!"

Liz's eyes, wide with terror, locked onto Evelyn's. Jonathan's body arched against them again, and together, they forced him back into the water. While they'd prepared for this possibility, Evelyn hadn't truly thought it would come to this. Not now.

"You got this." Liz said. Her voice was steady, though her eyes betrayed her fear. Evelyn could feel her own panic rising within her.

"We'll buy you as much time as we can." Liz stepped back, and Evelyn adjusted her position to compensate for Liz's absence, throwing her full weight behind keeping Jonathan beneath the water.

Liz grabbed the microphone. "Eli, get to the upper-level food court, to safety. You can report from above. I'm coming!"

Jonathan fought violently beneath Evelyn's hands, desperate to survive. Her body ached, her breath ragged, but she couldn't let go.

"It's okay," she whispered, even as his screams were muffled by the water. "It's going to be okay."

"We'll buy you as much time as we can," Liz repeated, putting down the microphone. "But—twenty minutes. Evie, you hear me? Total. Then you get yourself safe. No matter what." Liz reached up to remove her watch, placing it carefully on the edge of the fountain. Evelyn nodded, her heart hammering in her chest as she tried not to think about what her sister's words implied.

"LIZ HURRY!" Elliot's voice came through the radio again.

"Go!" Evelyn shouted, and without further delay, Liz grabbed the weapons they'd laid out by the fountain and took off at a sprint to clamber over their makeshift barricade to their brother's aid. Jonathan's arms writhed beneath her, struggling in vain against the ropes and cloth that bound them.

"I've got you." She soothed as he choked on the water filling his lungs. "It's okay. I've got you."

After what felt like an eternity, the thrashing finally stopped, and she could feel a final shudder go through him as all the fight left his body. At last, he was still. The distant sound of static filled the air, and she could only hope that Liz had reached Elliot in time.

Her fingers, slick with fountain water and sweat, found their way to Jonathan's neck, and she waited as his pulse faded beneath her fingertips. She pulled him from the fountain and expelled the water from his lungs.

He wasn't breathing.

No sign of a heartbeat.

She stared at Jonathan's limp, pale form lying unmoving on the floor before her. Her mind only registered snatches of conversation now coming over the radio.

"Leading the swarm towards the right quadrant of the lower ground level—"

"There's so many of them—"

"More are lining up at the door—"

She could hear the panic in Elliot's voice over the radio, but she didn't have time to think about what was coming. Right now, she had one job.

One job.

Save Jonathan.

She could hear Liz and Elliot shouting to one another over the radio, coordinating their positions and traps, but she blocked out the sound, instead focusing on the watch Liz had given her—their father's watch.

She placed the heel of her right hand on the center of his chest and stacked her left hand on top. She knew once she started this, she wouldn't be able to stop. If she messed this up, there would be no chance of resuscitating him. She took a deep breath, interlaced her fingers, and began compressions.

She could do this.

She had to.

She would not fail.

She couldn't.

He was counting on her.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The sounds of Liz and Elliot's chatter through the radio melted away with the rest of the world. To Evelyn, there was only the feeling of Jonathan's chest beneath her hands as she counted each compression, moving only to deliver a rescue breath.

Her arms felt like fire, muscles screaming in protest with every pump against his chest.

She didn't know how long she could keep going like this, but she prayed it would be long enough. As the time wore on, Liz and Elliot's voices grew silent, and the only sound that remained was the soft buzzing of static.

She stared down at Jonathan's limp body beneath her hands, then back at her father's watch, watching helplessly as the minute hand completed its journey. Twenty-six minutes.

Her hands shook with each compression. Jonathan's body remained still, but Evelyn didn't stop. She couldn't.

She was pre-med. She knew that most people were revived after about twelve minutes. Chances of survival decreasing with every passing minute. After twenty minutes? CPR was usually pointless. She also couldn't help thinking about the quality of it. She had been counting on trading off with Liz, but now, exhaustion was winning out. She felt like she barely had enough breath for herself, let alone enough to share with him. Dizziness swirled at the edges of her vision, her body begging for rest.

"I won't let you go, Jonathan," she whispered, but her voice broke in the middle of the words. A soft, strangled cry escaped her lips. "I can't lose you."

The static crackled again on the radio, and suddenly, a familiar voice broke through the noise.

"Hey Backpack, this is Guy. Do you copy?"

For a moment, Evelyn didn't register the voice—too caught in the mechanical rhythm of CPR. Her mind was a blurry fog of exhaustion, but then it hit her. The image of a very hairy, very eccentric survivalist filled her thoughts, and warmth flooded through her chest, spreading from her heart to her fingertips, down to her toes.

"Guy?" Evelyn gasped, the fatigue melting away at the sound of his voice.

"I heard the distress call," Guy continued. "I know you're busy and can't respond, but I've just met Lizzy and E here. Keep going, kid. Don't stop. We're not losing him. You don't worry about us, we've got these guys over here!"

The words held her like a buoy in stormy waters. Despite the overwhelming fatigue, despite the terror gnawing at her insides, Evelyn pressed on, her strength renewed by the small but significant spark of hope. She was not alone. There was still time.