Thanks for coming back to read this dispite my hiatuses and inexcusable laziness. I appreciate you so much. Also nothing in this story is medically or scientifically correct.

(Listen to: You're Somebody Else by flora cash)

I'll be peppering in more song suggestions as we go. I hope you enjoy! -walk

------

The sound of his broken cry faded into nothing and his world stopped spinning. Evan's fingers turned cold and his vision blurred with tears and he realized he had never felt anything more real than in that moment looking up at the center of his universe as he died.

Nothing had ever felt so solid and tangible.

So clear.

All his life he had walked along, living each day wondering why nothing felt real, debating if he was really there or not. Colors were muted no matter how bright and wonderful they were. There were days he found himself walking down a sidewalk, air cold and crisp as it filled his lungs, watching the dead leaves falling around him and crinkling beneath his feet. No matter how much he focused on the world around him or how hard he stared at the sky's overcast reflection in the puddles at the curbside, he never felt like his feet were really on the ground. He never felt attached to time or space, he only felt like he was in a bland daydream with no way out of it.

The daily routines were monotonous, he'd blink and be right back on that same sidewalk crushing the same leaves, taking the same cold breath of air that made his throat ache, staring at the sky in wonder and he always tried to figure out why the world was so beautiful but he still couldn't see it. He tried to learn why reality felt so vague yet so fucking painful.

The term 'friend' never meant much to him. No one ever stuck around and the only people that pretended to care were the ones he worked with at random jobs that were forced to see him every other day. It was the only reason they got to know him. But after he left there were no messages asking him how he'd been or them telling them they missed him. No invites to get together. Nothing. He faded back into the grey.

Distant laughs plagued him as he cut through parks full of people with lives that had been solidified and figured out. Lives that meant something to them, lives that were full and colorful, whole.

He wondered why his chest was always so constricted and how it managed to hurt even more as he took the steps and walked into the hospital where his father lay dying while his family's judgmental eyes stared accusingly when the fate of the family business fell into his lap. The beating of the heart monitor droned out a single note.

Evan wondered why he was even still there in a world that didn't feel real.

Until the day he learned how to live.

The moment he walked out of the airport in Indonesia and took a deep breath of warm air and the colors flooded his view, he wanted more. More adventure, more breathtaking views, more of the world, and more of the feeling that filled his soul as he kept moving on. He wanted the ache in his chest to keep fading and over time it was almost gone.

Lucah filled his heart to the brim with a kind of love only a dog could give. He'd never loved anything quite like he loved her. She taught him how to be kind and taught him how to run and never look back even if there was a waterfall ahead and no indication as to how far it actually went down before the water below enveloped you in weightlessness and safety.

Evan had never felt drawn to another human being before. Not before Jonathan and from the very first time he'd met his eyes in the mess hall after Lui had shown him around once he woke up from his coma, he felt a tugging in his chest. Something new.

A part of him thought that maybe life was more mystical and spiritual than he had previously believed.

Religion made sense to him once upon a time, but the longer he went on the more he began to believe that there was a much bigger picture, a more divine universal power than anyone knew. He felt that the stars were once one and then were scattered, left to collect the pieces that had been reborn into tiny grains of sand that slowly, one by one were being pulled back toward each other. He felt like everything was connected one way or another.

The idea of a soulmate was always amusing to him but the more his chest filled with an ache so strong and heavy unlike the pain it had once harbored, he began to think otherwise. The idea that he could fall in love with someone was terrifying and the idea that someone could ever love him back was even more so.

But Jonathan was an empty soul and Evan could see it when he began to fill. It was a small and steady growth, much like himself. It was the subtle grins, the rare laughs, the lingering thoughtful gazes, and the moments that he laid his past out in front of him, confronting his demons and letting them go so that one day he could smile again.

Until one day Jonathan wasn't an empty soul and neither was Evan. They flooded into each other, mixing like the colors on a pallet of endless hues. If he had to define what he felt when he thought of Jonathan he would've said the sunset. He felt warm and safe, reassured knowing that even though the sun was fading, leaving the sky a deep rich shade of blue, he knew the colors would bleed through day after day without fail. The sun would always be there regardless of the rain or winter. Regardless if his eyes were closed or open wide.

(Listen to: Seven Devils by Florence and The Machine)

Jonathan would always be there.

But as he stared up at him, his beautiful tragic eyes that had reflected the sunset on the afternoons when they would perch themselves on a rooftop to watch the horizon, he could feel him fading. Evan could feel his soul draining and the dreaded emptiness hollowed out the hole in his chest once more. It felt like the sun was setting, never to rise again. But it would, it would just lack warmth and saturation. It would lack life.

Evan never wanted to see the sun rise again. Never wanted to hear the waves crashing against the shore like Jonathan's warm hand brushing against his skin. He just wanted to shut his eyes and disappear.

But Jonathan's ragged breaths grew quicker, more uneven, slowly sounding more like growls. It was deep, the noise reverberating in his chest. Then he moved, an arm dropping from the doorframe to clutch at his heart. Fingers twisted in his shirt and he was staring daggers into Evan.

Evan was still immobile, silently crying while the tears fell steadily down the sides of his face. He finally blinked when Jonathan tried to speak in a voice he didn't recognize.

"I - here." He sucked in another sickly wet breath, "Still here."

"Jonathan?" Evan managed to stand up but pushed himself back against the wall when Jonathan lurched forward before stopping himself.

He grit his teeth, "I'm still here . . . not for lo - for long. You need to run."

Evan's chin trembled and his entire body shook with fear, exhaustion, and grief. "I can't. I can't leave you he -"

"Evan!" Jonathan pulled in a lung full of air and his lips pulled back showing every tooth he had before he screamed, the sound started out like a normal yell but morphed into the tell-tale sound of a screamer, the wail as sharp and piercing as nails on a chalkboard, "RUUUUUUUUNNNNN!"

Evan felt every hair on his body stand at attention and whatever adrenaline he had left breached the surface just as Jonathan squeezed his eyes shut one last time. When they snapped open, Evan's heart shattered and Jonathan was . . . gone.

A rush of air passed his beautiful, cold, dead lips and Evan bolted to his left, tripping up the creaking set of stairs to the second story of the building with death at his heels.

A part of him wanted to fight, never give in or let himself be consumed by the very thing they'd been fighting for well over a year. An even bigger part of him wanted to stop and turn and let Jonathan drag him down, teeth violently sinking into flesh, until he was running alongside him even in death.

It sounded more ideal than the heinous burn in his lungs or the searing ache in his chest as he vaulted through window after window, running up staircase after staircase until he made it to the rooftops, head pounding, heart thrumming an unfamiliar and empty tune. The tower wasn't too far, but Jonathan was fast. He was faster than the first screamer Evan had ever run from and he knew he wouldn't make it much farther. Definitely wouldn't make it to the tower.

Looking back wasn't an option. If he caught one more glimpse of his face, Evan would stop dead in his tracks and embrace his death gladly. He was starting to wonder if he was already dead. If somehow he had died on the first night and everything after was just Limbo. A neverending purgatory he was meant to run through relentlessly, losing everything over and over again.

The air was tense, the fear palpable. No sound but the air entering and leaving his lungs, the pounding of his feet on the rooftops, and the ragged demonic snarls that we're still right behind him.

Evan made a decision when he reached an intersection he knew well. He reached back into his pack and found the keys that had always stayed there from the moment they picked them up at the police station. Moments later he fell into a quick slide as he reached the edge of the building and grasped the pipe on the side of the brick that he knew was there. He descended quickly and smoothly, still refusing to look back at him.

But it was clear by the distance of the sounds Jonathan's new body made that he had opted to take the fire escape instead of following Evan down the pipe. It bought him precious time as he took a deep and steady breath while jogging into the police station, feeling for the right key.

The metal door swung open beneath his fingers and he fished for a pair of handcuffs from the long ago decomposed officers that lay gathered on the floor. Evan pushed his way into the cell block that was still as dark and ripe with death as he remembered.

He stepped into the same cell Jonathan had pulled him into, shut the door, and stepped back just out of reach as hands slipped through the bars reaching for him.

Jonathan's breathing was ragged and quick, restless and Evan was so numb he couldn't even cry anymore. He caught his breath and cuffed one of Jonathan's wrists, locking it with the other. His eyes glowed so bright in the dark that Evan almost didn't need to turn his flashlight on, but he did it anyway.

Jonathan growled and turned away unable to run due to his hands being bound to the cell bars. Evan angled the light away just enough until Jonathan lunged against the metal once more, close enough that Evan could crouch and reach into his pocket for the vial of glowing liquid that was visible through the fabric of his pants.

He stood back up and held Jonathan's hands down, taking a moment to just simply watch him struggling with nowhere to go, no one to eat, no life in his eyes. His skin hadn't quite lost it's color yet, his veins not yet blackened and sickly.

Evan sighed, "God . . . you're still beautiful even when you're dead."

He gave a sad laugh, "And I still love you. I'll always love you, Angel Boy and you were right when you said that if you were dead I wouldn't let you stay that way. Even of this doesn't work, I'll try to find a way. And if I can't . . . if you die, I die. Remember?"

He didn't expect a response of course but he felt better just pretending that he was still there and that his hands were warm instead of ice cold in his hands. That his eyes were a comforting shade of the ocean when the light fell on it just right.

Evan pressed his lips to Jonathan's icy hand and pulled the protector off the needle before he plunged it straight into Jonathan's arm, saving half in the case that it actually worked. This was all they had left and the sun would be rising soon. Patterson would be coming.

The end was on the horizon.

------

Marcel was heading back to the tower once the last group of civilians had been lead through the forest. A path had been marked on a spare map. Marzia along with a few more locals that knew the land began to guide everyone further inland to safety.

He sighed as he took the elevator up the clinic once more. Scotty refused to go. He couldn't open his busted jaw but he made it clear he wasn't leaving unless Marcel went with him. So Marcel had no choice but to lock him in a room for safe keeping while they continued to pick up the pieces of the fucking disaster that had just went down.

It was their last night and the sun was only an hour from rising. An hour from ending this nightmare, but it would more than likely just start a new one.

Langley was getting stitches alongside Murphy, both unconscious in the same hospital bed now, resting while they could. Arlan was bagging up supplies in case they needed to run at the last minute, not that they thought they could escape Patterson and his men for long. Lui was doing everything he could to help David and the others but there wasn't really anything left to do but wait for word from Jonathan or Evan.

That was when Lui ran out into the hallway and called for their attention, radio in hand. "Marcel! It's Evan. He's at the police station and he needs us to come down there. Now. Grab Brock, Evan asked for him specifically."

Marcel gave him a quick nod and sprinted down the hall where he found Brock at a window looking down at the city, "Hey, man. We need you to come down to the police station with us."

Brock looked over amused, "Have I done something wrong, officer?"

Marcel grinned, "Not yet. It's Evan. He needs us. I don't know what's going on but we don't have a lot of time left."

Brock nodded and followed him out without question, but he had a hunch. The nerves twisted in his gut as they stepped out into the dark early morning. The sky was slowly getting brighter and he felt sick the longer they ran, the air felt thick with anticipation.

------

The police station was quiet.

"I'm back here." Evan called to them calmly with a resigned air to his tone.

Marcel stepped over the rotting policemen and stopped just short of Jonathan who was lying haphazardly on his knees, arms cuffed to the bars. He shifted his eyes over to Evan sitting against the wall of the cell, arms on his knees as he stared at Jonathan.

There was an obvious question on his tongue but Evan finally looked at him and gave a small shake of his head.

Lui took a deep breath and put his hands behind his head, "Shit . . . fuck!"

Brock put a hand on his friend's shoulder and squeezed before moving in closer to Jonathan's unconscious form. He crouched and could hear his quick breaths and he felt an erratic pulse when he pressed his fingers to his neck. "His heart shouldn't be beating that fast. Brian's was so slow I could barely feel it. I think that's how they're able to function for so long without food. Their systems consume much slower."

Evan held the syringe in his hands and stood, eyes empty, "I gave him half after he changed. The veins that had blackened slowly stopped spreading. It retreated for a second and then stopped. He passed out. It doesn't work."

Brock shook his head and stood back when Evan unlocked the door and let himself out, "It's the closest positive outcome we've had though. It's like it has an effect on the first few infected cells it comes into contact with but doesn't have enough of what it needs to spread throughout the rest of the body. It's always been an issue, the carrier."

Evan moved Jonathan's head to the side, "He's bleeding relentlessly, is there a reason why? And it's still red."

"I don't think the virus has run it's course yet, you stunted it but now he's stuck in between turning and healing with nothing to push it in either direction." Brock held him still when Evan uncuffed him, cuffing his hands behind his back. "And he's bleeding so bad because his heart rate is through the roof."

Evan hauled him over his shoulder with a small grunt and the guys started moving the decaying corpses out of his way, clearing his path silently out of respect for the man on his shoulders and it was exactly what Jonathan deserved. To be treated like a fallen war hero, like a man that had shook the world, saved countless lives, and given his own to protect one more.

Evan clenched his jaw tight and tried not to think about the fact that Jonathan was going to die either way; the virus or blood loss.

He flinched away when he felt Marcel's hand on his shoulder as they made their way back through the streets. The sky was casting a pale purple hazy glow into the streets as their shoes carried them toward the hospital.

"Your legs are shaking. I'll carry him the rest of the way if you need me to."

"Don't touch him." Evan felt short of breath, "Let me do this."

Marcel gave him a curt nod and stepped aside, trailing behind him with the others. It was silent for the rest of their journey there and Arlan was there to let down the gate with glossy eyes when they stepped through. Even heard nothing but the clinking of metal cuffs in his ear. He felt nothing as they walked into the elevator and stepped out into the clinic where David, Sark, and Anthony were waiting with heavy hearts.

It wasn't until they had Jonathan tied down to a bed with needles and monitors attached to every piece of pale lifeless skin he was showing, that he finally felt the pressure on his chest about to break him. Evan gasped for air as he watched them drawing thick dark blood from his arms, shaking their heads after each test. He sucked in another plea for air at the sound of his heart monitor going off like an assault rifle.

Evan covered his ears to stop the ringing, the beeping and the memory of a scream that was repeating itself endlessly in his head.

But it wouldn't stop.

"Make it stop." He breathed against the glass window in front of him, the pane that separated him and the only thing that had ever made his feet feel planted to the earth for more than five seconds.

But it wouldn't stop.

"Make it stop!" He pleaded with no one.

There was a hand on his shoulder as he began to hyperventilate. Evan pushed them away and stumbled down the hall to the small waiting area where his hands reached for the armrests of a metal chair. An exalted yell tore through his throat and he slung the chair across the room, the sound echoed around the otherwise silent area.

His next victim was the desk by the intake computers that didn't work. Evan's arms dragged across the counter top and the pens, monitors, and old paperwork went flying, slowly settling against the walls and floor.

He pulled at his hair and sank to his knees until his forehead was pressed into the cold tile floor as he tried to scream away the agony that was paralyzing his body and mind.

He begged with a strained whisper, "Make it stop . . ."

Evan wanted to die. More than anything.

A small gentle hand ran over his back and soon they were pulling him up and Langley was holding his face in her cool hands. Her face was pale and tired much like everyone else's but she still managed a small smile for him, "Hey. You're still here. Jonathan's heart is still beating. You can't give up just yet."

Evan closed his eyes and fell against her chest, letting her hold him, trying to feel some sort of comfort in her grasp but it was fleeting and just like all those years ago he felt like there was no way out of the misery he was completely engulfed in. Not this time around.

"Get up." Langley slapped at the side of his face when he wouldn't move. He was too caught up in the memory of Jonathan saying the exact same thing to him just an hour before.

"Get up!"

Langley stood and yanked him to his feet, leading him back down the hall to the room where Jonathan still lay dying slowly but surely. Evan stumbled in and Brock looked up at him from his seat by the bed.

"Evan, he's losing too much blood. If it doesn't let up before I can finish sewing up the wound, we won't have enough time left with him to run more tests." Brock watched Evan expectantly, but the man was still dazed.

Evan's fingers twitched, "What are you saying?"

"He needs blood."

"We don't have any?"

Brock spoke carefully, "No, but even if we did I don't think it would be enough."

Evan closed his eyes and things finally became clear in his clouded mind. After all the years he spent wandering, trying to find his purpose, his reason for living, his end game; he'd found it. Right there at that moment. Evan had lived to get to this point, to swallow his fears and give his life to save one that was worth more than his own. His hopeless wondering, questioning, it all led here to the screeching monitors, the sterile white walls, the fading soul strapped down to the bed. This was where his life was supposed end.

And he was okay with that.

Evan squared his shoulders and lifted his head. He caught Brock's curious gaze and said, "I'm universal."

"You're O-negative?"

"Yes. Let's start a direct transfusion, we don't have time for anything else. He needs all I can give."

Brock sat back, slightly startled, "Evan, that'll probably -"

"Kill me? I know." Evan pulled a chair against the bed and searched for rubber tubing to tie his arm off with. He locked the door and was met with worried and confused faces looking in. "Do it."

Brock gave him a small nod and moved to the other side of the room where David and Sark were studying samples under a microscope. David turned his head to look at Evan when Brock said something in his ear. The doctor nodded, grabbed their tools, and made his way over.

Evan didn't flinch when Brock tied his arms down to the chair and soon after, his legs to the bottom.

David hesitated, "Are you sure about this?"

Evan rolled his head to the side and stared over at Jonathan's fragile form, bloody and chest heaving endlessly. "I'm sure."

------

Marcel beat his fist against the window, "Hey! What the fuck is going on?"

But no one inside the room would answer and they were left pacing until it became clear.

"He's giving him blood."

They looked on as Brock continued to sew up the gash in Jonathan's neck as Evan faded in and out of consciousness until his head fell forward and didn't rise again.

Lui huffed in disbelief, "They're draining him dry."

"Let him do this. It's what he wants." Langley piped in from where she was leaning against the wall.

The elevator doors opened at the end of the hall and Arlan came in, "They're coming. Patterson. About a mile out."

"Can we hold them off?"

Arlan shook his head, "That's not our only problem. They stopped the caravan and they're marching the civilians back this way."

Marcel closed his eyes and rubbed his face as hard as he could, "Alright. This is it then."

"Shut up, man." Lui shook his head and suddenly gripped his friend's arm when Evan seized in his restraints before falling into violent convulsions. The three doctors scrambled to hold him still as the blood kept flowing.

Marcel beat against the door again when the men stepped away as Evan tore an arm from his chair.

"What's happening?!"

Brock shook his head, "I think the virus travelled through his blood and up the tube. It's fast. I knew this was going to happen."

"Then why did you do it?! Now you have two screamers locked in a room with you!"

They went silent when Evan finally fell still. No one moved until the silence grew too thick and they started glancing around at each other in tense anticipation.

Langley's heart crawled up her throat when Jonathan's head turned to the side slightly. She curled her fingers in when he tried to move his arms but found them restrained and the longer she watched, the more confused he seemed. The more alive he looked, not ravenous or desperate.

But he was weak, eyes drooping closed, and Evan was motionless beside him.

Langley turned toward the elevator and walked as fast as her wound would let her. She brushed Arlan off when he jogged after her. "Where are you going?"

"Outside. Patterson should be getting close, I need to delay him for as long as I can even if it's for only a minute. The docs need as much time as we can give them." Langley slammed the button to the lobby and Arlan rode it down with her.

"Okay, but what do we do?"

She shrugged, "Let me talk to him. Or I could just shoot him. That'd be amazing and totally worth dying for."

Arlan shook his head in disbelief as they stepped out into the empty lobby where every sound they made echoed across the tile. He opened the door for her, "You're insane. But that's what I lo-"

"No." She jabbed him in the gut, "Don't say it."

Arlan opened his mouth, but she shut it again with a look.

"Don't say it, please."

Arlan was about to reach for her but stopped when he saw a small group of men in military fatigues rounding the corner at the end of the road. Stalking toward them was Luke Patterson, their untouchable enemy and stuck on his face was that unforgettable smug smirk he always wore. Like he'd won before the game had even started.

Langley stood at the gate and leaned against it when Patterson and his men came to a stop. Her head barely crested over the top but he was almost two feet taller. He smirked down at her, draping his arms over the edge. "Open up, sweetheart."

She smiled sweetly, "What's the password?"

"Game over." Patterson wet his lips.

Langley gave a disappointed tisk with a slight shake of her head, "Ooh sorry, but that is incorrect. I'll give you two more guesses."

"How about I break this ratty fence and then let you guess what else I'm about to tear down?"

Langley laughed lightly and shrugged as she pushed herself away from the gate, "Hm, you know, that sounds like a shitty idea and extremely rude since we built that fence from scratch. How about I open the gate for you but only if you agree to what I'm about to propose?"

Patterson tapped his finger against the metal, "Or you could quit stalling the inevitable and open this fucking gate before I start killing people ahead of schedule. I'd like to start with you, beautiful."

Luke winked and Langley was fiddling with the knife in her pocket, but Arlan gave a slight shake of his head.

"I'll tell you why I'm stalling and I'll open the gate as long as you agree right here and now not to kill or take anyone until you see for yourself what's going on inside. Can you do that? Or does that hurt your massive masculine ego too much to not have your way?" Langley raised a brow, waiting until he put his hands up in mock surrender as he back away grinning.

"Alright, we'll play you're little game."

------

Evan surged back into consiousness so fast he almost puked. He felt like he was falling, light as a feather, heart rate so slow it was like it wasn't beating at all. But the energy he felt coursing through him was like he had swallowed the sun. Yet he didn't burn.

He squinted against the flashlight that was shining directly in his eye, too bright and sudden.

"Evan?"

A needle slid out of his arm and he moved his hand out of reflex and heard the wood he was still strapped to splinter. The energy was buzzing in his fingertips and he felt the urge to release it.

"Evan, can you hear me?"

Evan blinked and focused on Brock's face that was so clear it was stunning. He could see every speck of color in his eyes, every microscopic piece of peach fuzz on his forehead, every strand of brown on top of his head.

Evan inhaled, every scent inside the room filled his nose; deodorant, faint shampoo, latex, rubber, metal, paint, washing detergent, cleaning solution, sweat, and blood. So much blood and he could hear several different hearts beating at once. Three were beating at a slightly higher rate, one was his own, and the other was fast but steadily falling into a rhythm that soon matched his own.

Evan turned his head to look at the man beside him to find him staring back, eyes still as yellow and florescent as they were an hour ago. Jonathan blinked once before his eyes slid shut again.

"How is he?" Evan whispered, even his own voice seemed amplified in his ears.

"He's stable, but until he fully wakes up, we won't know if he's okay or not. Evan, how do you feel?" David checked his pulse, "You should be dead."

Evan grinned and stretched his legs, barely feeling the restraints pulling easily and tearing away, setting him free. "Good. I feel really fucking good."

David moved back to his station and pressed his eye to the microscope, motioning for Brock, "Look at this! It's his blood. Why didn't we think of this before?"

Brock look down the lens, "Maybe because we never had O negative blood to test before. But even then . . . I don't think it's just the blood. It's his blood. There's an incredible immunity there to . . . well, everything. It's not fighting the virus, but absorbing it and modifying it to it's advantage. It's improving the body instead of wrecking it."

Evan was standing, looking at the old scars on his wrist before he glanced up at the two men looking over at him in complete awe.

"He's the cure."

David glanced out the window where there were new spectators, "Yes, but he's also a weapon. This is what they were looking for the entire time."

On the other side of the glass, Langley was standing tall and firm between the military and the room like she could stop six combat trained men with rifles slung over their shoulders.

Patterson pulled a radio to his lips, "New orders, fellas. Get me some more legs down here at the hospital. We've got a new payload that needs transport."

Langley snapped her eyes to his, "You gave your word, shithead!"

Luke readjusted his gun, looking down on her as if she were a flea, "I gave my word I wouldn't take or kill anyone before I assessed the situation. I have assessed the situation and will now take whatever the fuck I want, gorgeous. That was the deal."

She lunged, dodging his arm that reached out to catch her and a second later she had the tip of her blade pressed threateningly beneath his chin and he had her hair gripped tight in one of his fists.

"Easy there, tiger. You're getting me all excited." Patterson chuckled, listening to the cocking of weapons on either side of them. Everyone in the hall had a gun drawn and the air was getting thicker by the second.

"I'll do it." She seethed, face inches from his as she glared up with pain running through her scalp. It was nothing new and nothing compared to what Tyler had inflicted on her.

"Do it and you're dead. It'd be such a waste of a pretty face." Luke winked and felt the edge of the knife sink ever so slightly into his flesh. Blood trickled down his chin.

"It'd be fucking worth it you slimy sack of shit."

"Let her go." Came Evan's calm and steady voice which was almost unbelievable compared to the hysterics he was in only minutes ago. "Let her go or we've got a big problem."

"Oh yeah? And how's that?" Patterson asked out of pure curiosity.

Evan didn't miss a beat, "Because if you don't I will kill each and every single one of you before you can steal another gulp of our air."

"I don't buy it. Show me what you can do."

Evan reached for the hand that was gripping Langley's hair and applied a small amount of pressure that snapped Patterson's wrist bone into pieces with ease.

An agonizing yell filled the hall as he fell back against the wall clutching his hand. The guns were aiming again but he barked out an order, "Do not fire! We need him and the other one alive!"

Evan stood there patiently as the man caught his breath. "I suggest you leave."

Patterson was sweating from his pain but still managed to muster up enough mental strength to attempt to appear menacing and authoritative. It wasn't working. "Your deadline is up. You were just infected yet here you are, a living breathing cure. That's good enough in my book. So we're taking you and your other half in there and calling it a day."

Evan stepped toward him but stopped when another soldier held his weapon a bit higher. So, Even stepped toward the soldier instead and with one hand gripped the rifle in his fingers and gave a slight squeeze. The metal splintered and the gun was reduced to pieces, clinking to the floor.

Patterson was growing visibly stressed, "Listen up, Korea! If any of my men including myself don't walk out of here, my platoon has strict orders to blow this entire building sky high!"

Evan turned back to him, leaving the soldiers speechless, fear growing in their trained eyes. "Yeah? Well, we've been living in this hellhole, struggling, avoiding death for so long while you priveleged pansy ass military gameshow hosts watched from a safe and comfortable distance, that I don't have any more fucks to give. And the only reason I'm going to let you live is because you're going to make sure everyone here gets out alive, unharmed, including the civilians or you get nothing."

Patterson shook his head, a determine smirk pulling at his lips, "No can do, my friend. We're not leaving here without the goods and the civilians aren't my problem. I'm only here to pick up the experiment and tie off loose ends. And it'll happen whether you let me walk out of here or not. Either I leave here with what I came for or we all go up in smoke and we'll be just another scrubbed mission for the books."

Evan glanced around at all the faces he knew so well, the only real family he ever had and he knew that he would never let them die for him and deep down he knew he couldn't threaten Patterson anymore than Patterson could stop following his fucking orders.

Marcel could see him considering it, "Evan, don't you fucking dare walk out of here with him. If Jonathan were here -"

"If Jonathan were here, he'd walk out of here in a heartbeat if it meant he was protecting you. Just like how he didn't hesitate even for a second before he put himself between me and a screamer. He'd die for you and so would I." Evan took a breath that filled his head with too many smells, so strong he could tatse them; gunpowder and musk. He rolled his neck, trying to quell the roiling energy within him.

"Let's talk. Alone." Evan directed his gaze on Patterson's pained face and grinned, "Pinky promise I won't kill you. Unless you want me to take your mind off that wrist."

Patterson considered it for a moment before he told his men to stand down with a flick of his chin. "Down the hall, stay in sight."

Evan led the way, giving Marcel and reassuring pat on his shoulder as he passed. He made his way down the hall into the waiting room he had destroyed earlier and turned, waiting for the man in charge to start the negotiation that he felt was coming.

Patterson held his shoulders back, masking the fire in his hand, "You and your boy are leaving here with us and that's the end of it."

Evan grinned and crossed his arms confidently, "Not likely. This is all I'm offering and if you don't accept, then I guess we can kiss this life goodbye. I'm the only one that's leaving here with you. Jonathan isn't going anywhere, I don't even know if he's okay at this point. But I'm okay. Like you said, I'm a leaving breathing cure. It's my blood, not his so you don't need him for anything. As far as everyone else is concerned, let them go home. There's so few of them, that even if they wanted to let the truth out to the world, no one would believe them and brush it off an a ridiculous conspiracy theory against the government. It's pretty common. And the civilians need homes, shelter. Release them into the neighboring cities and keep telling the media whatever fucked up viral outbreak story you've been pulling out of your asses the whole time. They never experienced what we did first hand, they've been living in this hospital the entire time with only our reassurances to keep them calm. No one here deserved this and you're fucking lucky I was even in Rio in the first place, so I reckon I have a big fucking say in what happens to me."

The man turned his head and squinted against the sun flooding through the hospital window. Luke looked back at him knowing that any other course of action would only make the situation spiral and the people here weren't the only ones that were ready to get the fuck out of Rio. "You'll come with us without any more fuss?"

Evan gave a nod. "Yes. As long as I have a solid promise that no harm comes to anyone else here and that Jonathan is left under the care of our doctors no matter where they go."

"Alright, then it's settled. I'll have a few birds called in to escort your people to the nearest Army base where they'll undergo the standard medical evaluation before they're put under protective details until they return to their homes. I'll have some teams lead the civilians off to the outer cities and get care packages delivered and then we'll call it a day."

Evan sighed through his nose and wet his lips, "Then it's settled. Let me get my shit in order first and then we'll go. I need to say my goodbyes, but I need to ask one more question?"

"Shoot."

"Where's Bryce?"

Patterson smirked, "Figured it out, huh? Yeah, he's one of ours. But he got too attached to his little friend Ryan and I cut him a deal. If he let the other group into the hospital to stir the bees, I'd make sure Ryan got a good leg when he gets out of here. So we'll be bringing him along with us on the ride back home. Should be interesting because he had no fucking idea."

------

(Listen to: Here in Spirit by Jim James)

The sound of blades whipping through the air echoed in the distance and Langley was taken back to the time one of her best friends in high school was carried into a helicopter and flown to the nearest hospital where he died from his wounds. She refused to get into cars after that day, instead using a bike or a board to navigate the wild streets of southern California.

Watching it land on a rooftop made her remember standing in silence on a wet sidewalk as three separate family members were flown away after their house burned down. The firemen worked as she looked on, letting her soul split into more fragments while they hosed down her childhood home and washed away her empathy. Empathy she couldn't feel until she found Murphy at a coffee shop one fateful day.

Langley didn't know how or why things had ended up this way, but she had a feeling it was because the universe liked to take and take and take some more. It liked to place her in the worst situations and see how much stronger she could come out on the other side.

The people she had met in Rio, the family they had created was worth more than her misery and self-hatred. It was bigger than her and she had to keep it that way. She had to keep it together, because once they parted ways and let it all fade into a nightmare, it would all come crashing down on her again and that would be the final straw. There had to be something more than just getting on the next transport and saying goodbye, more than likely to never see any of them ever again.

So, when Evan told her that they were going to be taken home she kept her feet planted right where they were, "I'm staying."

Murphy was finally on her feet, though still weak. She was right by her best friend's side, unmoving, "If she stays, I stay."

Arlan crossed his arms with Lui to his right, chin held high, "If they stay, we stay."

"There's nothing left here." Evan shook his head.

"There's something." Langley countered. "I don't trust Patterson and you shouldn't leave."

"I don't really have any other choice." Evan looked in through the window at Jonathan motionless on the hospital bed, the doctor's still keeping check on his vitals. "There's no telling what they'd do to him if I let them take him, too. Me leaving gives them a little more time to help him. If he lives, he lives and that's enough for me. If not, then at least I can say that I tried and I can die with one less regret."

"Evan, please."

They followed him down the stairs when he pushed his way through the metal door and made his way down.

"I have to go." He turned on his feet and looked around at the lobby one last time, the room that served as their own little makeshift headquarters for so long it felt like a second home to the countless others that he found comfort in on the rooftops. What he wouldn't give to fall into a random bed one more time beside Jonathan, feel his warmth and security, his hands and his lips.

Evan's eyes fell on the front doors and he recalled the moment Jonathan had walked through them as the sun was rising one morning not long after Evan had woken up in the tower, dazed and confused. He grinned at the way Jonathan had eyed him carefully, scrutinizing his motives, silently studying him in the dim light as he dropped off more supplies and headed back out into the streets, a lone wolf. Evan forced away his memories and stepped out into the blazing sun, looking back only to smile at them all standing there like the rough and tough defenders they would always be.

"I love you guys and I'll miss you." Evan swallowed. "If it's in the stars, I'll see you again one day. If not . . . I'll see you on the other side."

Evan turned and forced one foot in front of the other, energy mixing with anguish and grief and it took a lot more than he was used to, to stop himself from destroying everything in sight. Somehow he knew that he could. He knew he could punch a hole through steel and brick, could run until the sun set and jump fifteen feet without question. His gut told him so, but he held it in and stepped into the helicopter, taking the seat beside Ryan who still seemed as confused as the day he joined them in the hospital. Evan understood why though, since Ryan had been locked upstairs out of harms way while everything went down.

"Hey, man." Evan gave him a small grin and let the soldier across from him slip cuffs on him even if he could pull the small chains apart as if they were paper. It was for show.

"What's going on? Why are you being treated like a prisoner?" Ryan asked honestly out of curiosity, hand resting on his knee where the other half of his leg was missing.

Evan watched the ground beneath them get farther and farther away, "Because I'm the cure."

Ryan hesitated for a moment, fiddling with the zipper on his jacket, afraid to ask his next question. Evan waited patiently, all he had was time, time until he was tested and interrogated to death. Or kept alive as a guinea pig in a ten by ten room, eyes on him for the rest of his life.

"Where's Bryce?"

Evan tore his eyes away from the blue sky and he didn't need to say anything because Ryan knew. Evan could tell by the way his chin quivered as he nodded to himself.

"I didn't want to think about it when the other group got in. I didn't - I knew. I knew it was him when he didn't come back up and no one even saw him when the fighting started. I knew something was wrong when Luke had us holed up at their compound, it was the way he treated Bryce. He treated him like shit, but Bryce never flinched, like he'd practiced, been trained to endure it. But I didn't think about it, I didn't want it to be true because he actually treated me like an actual human being, like he really cared, ya know? I just wish I wasn't so fucking weak. He was doing his job and I thought that he really meant it." Ryan choked, "It was all a fucking act."

"It wasn't." Evan rubbed his hands together. "Bryce let them in so you could get out of here and get a new leg. He made a deal with Patterson, because he cared about you. You were his friend, Ryan. That was real."

Ryan let his tears fall and Evan turned his attention back to the beautiful and tragic scenery of Brazil as it slowly faded and all that was left was water and blue.

A stunning blue, deep and whimsical, a sea of memories and an impossible future. A mesmerizing blue, wide open and full of promise, an endless sky, an undiscovered past and a pipe dream.

Blue like the pale morning light as he peered through his camera lens, capturing the dust in the still air, the expanse of tan skin draped in thin sheets.

Blue when he closed his eyes, the sound of the helicopter drowned his senses. Blue when he breathed.

Blue like Jonathan.

------

(Listen to: Everybody Wants to Rule the World - Joseph)

"Scott."

Marcel read the writing on the paper that Scotty has given him. "I'm not leaving without you."

"Your jaw is fucked. You need meds, meds we don't have."

Scott snatched the paper back and scribbled more words down angrily before he thrust it in his face. "I'M NOT GOING ANYWHERE. I MIGHT NOT BE ABLE TO TALK, BUT I CAN STILL FIGHT YOU."

Marcel deflated, shoulders sagging as he slid down the wall to let his head fall forward against his knee. He was tired, beyond anything he'd ever felt before and Scotty was being Scotty; a difficult, stubborn little shit. Ever since day one with Scott, it was a constant battle, one they eventually compromised on, settling for sharing their feelings instead of eye-fucking each other each time they exchanged supplies and weapons.

To be fair, Marcel knew he'd been the difficult one at the start, brushing off the flirting as soon as it was over. In the end it was Scotty who shut and locked the door behind him one day and spun Marcel's chair around, leaning down in one fell swoop and kissing the fucking life out of him making Marcel forget about his knives, the smell of shaved metal being replaced with everything that Scotty was made of. Which was comprised of soft breaths, ridiculous stories, rich laughter, and a deep respect for others and their passions. Scott made Marcel feel something other than stuck in the monotonous routine of sharpening, eating, sleeping, and the droning on of small talk.

He still made him feel that way, even now as he slid down beside him with a new paper in his hand, holding it out for him to read, "My jaw will be fine. I love you and I won't leave you. If I leave it'll be because we are all leaving together. Okay?"

Marcel rubbed his eyes and slowly accepted it, moving an arm around his shoulders, pulling him close and that's how they stayed until the next problem came to ruin their solitude.

------

It was all very surreal, seeing so many people out and about, the bustling of civilians out in the streets beneath military tents being sorted and supplied before they were to be transported off to the outlying areas. To think that there was still a world outside of the quarantine they had called home for so long, it was a strange feeling.

It felt like it had only happened within a blink of an eye now that it was drawing to a close. This was like the slow roll of the credits, the calm of a sweet reflective tune playing in the background.

But Langley knew that this was one of those times where if you stayed seated until the last words scrolled up and out of view, that you'd find there was another secret scene that hinted at a second act.

She was waiting for their sequel.

When Patterson came through the open gates, Bryce trailing behind him in his military slacks, she felt it coming and part of her was kind of relieved. There was a reason no other helicopters had come after Evan's left. There was a reason for everything and they knew theirs and it wasn't like they had planned to leave each other behind to begin with.

"New orders from the top, not just me, kids." Patterson slipped his hands into his pockets and it was so casual that it was almost out of character. He didn't seem like the man he'd previously been for past year and a half. He seemed sympathetic now somehow.

Everyone pushed themselves to their feet where they had been lounging on the steps, waiting for news of their fate.

"What's up?" Arlan slipped his fingers through Langley's, letting her know they were all still a team.

Luke squinted against the sun that was directly overhead. "The plan is still to get the civies out, but you guys and gals can't leave until the threat has been neutralized entirely."

Murphy stepped forward carefully with a hand on her sore side, "The threat? You mean the screamers."

Luke nodded, "Normally that's something they would leave to us military blokes, but they want us out on a new mission as soon as we wrap it up here. So, I convinced them to leave it to you and your gang. Told them you were good for it and you know better than the rest of us how to kill them."

"How sweet of you." Langley smirked, "How long do we have?"

Luke shrugged, "As long as it takes."

"What happens when we're done?" Lui piped up from the back. He hadn't bothered to get off the steps.

"I'm leaving you with a satellite phone and some equipment to help in your endeavors. You give the number that's programmed on there a call and you're home free." He rubbed at his beard and glanced around quickly before he lowered his voice, "But just between us, when it's done and you call, don't wait around for them. Because not even I can say where they'd take you. All I can say is, don't trust anyone from here on out even if they say they can get you home."

"So you're suggesting we disappear?" Marcel raised a brow.

"Yes."

------

(Listen to: The Night We Met by Lord Huron)

"What do you miss most about home?"

"Besides everything?" Jonathan grinned as he lay on his side, hand pressed against Evan's in the ambient light of the six o'clock sun. They were comparing their fingers and Jonathan's were just under a centimeter longer than Evan's. Just like their height difference.

Jonathan brushed his hair away and rolled to his back, "I miss being a kid. But what I miss the most is the weekends. Because when you're a kid, the weekends are like tiny vacations from school and it makes the time more precious, more fun. Every Sunday, instead of going to church we opted to stay in as a family and clean, because nothing tests the strength of your faith like trying to do your chores to you mother's approval without half-assing it or striking up deals with your siblings to get them to do it for you."

He chuckled to himself before he continued, "Anyway, every Sunday was cleaning day and it never failed, rain or shine, at eight in the morning. The windows were opened and the music was blaring as we cleaned so it was never really a chore or inconvenience. It was an occasion, a tradition, and it was fun. We'd dance on the couch or have singing contests with the broom as a microphone. It's just always a good memory for me and I miss it."

Jonathan stared at the ceiling for a while, lost in his thoughts with a faint smile until he noticed how quiet it was. He turned his head and found Evan watching him intently, "What?"

Evan gave a small shake of his head before he broke into a smile and pushed himself up to move closer, "Nothing. It's just that I did that, too. But not with my mom or dad. It was when me and my sister would stay with our grandmother in the woods. My favorite place."

Jonathan listened, engrossed in the way Evan spoke with his hands like he could see everything he was describing right in front of him. "The windows were those double-paned ones, that had been painted so many times that they stuck really bad and it took an act of Congress to pry them open. The floors creaked, the kitchen was old as dirt, everything had a story like, 'you're Papa tripped on that rug and almost cracked his head open, but he didn't drop the pot of peas'. Stuff like that. So anyway, it'd take us ten years to get the windows open and then Granny would put on her old record player and she loved America in the fifties, so we jammed to fifties music all day long and I can still see her swaying on the porch while Put Your Head on My Shoulder by Paul Anka echoed into the trees. That's what I miss."

Jonathan grinned as the six sun got brighter as seven a.m. ticked closer. "That's one of my favorite songs. Along with that one big song that was on the Fallout games."

Evan snorted and pushed himself to his side to look down at him, "The Wanderer?"

Jonathan laughed, "Yes! Ohh, I'm the type of guy who'll never settle down, where pretty girls are, well you know that I'm around!"

Evan sat up and did a little shake and snapped his fingers, "They call me the wanderer, yeah the wanderer!"

They pointed at each other and sang in unison, "I roam around, around, around, around, around!"

Jonathan laughed more than he had in a long time as they sat there in the early morning hours, reminiscing over music and Jonathan stored it all away as another moment in time he'd never forget.

He couldn't forget a single moment spent with Evan, not even the bad ones. Like their fists meeting each other's faces or the constant arguments, the tired looks, the running.

Could never forget his brown eyes during a sunset.

------

Jonathan could taste his lips on his, could smell him, faint and slowly fading as the time ticked by and the black void behind his eyes began to lighten and there Jonathan was squinting against the sterile white of the hospital room.

Around him were so many faces, each of which he could make out perfectly crisp and clear, every freckle and perfect imperfection. He could smell the blood beneath Murphy's bandages, the shampoo and soap on Langley and Arlan's freshly showered hair and skin, the detergent on Brock's new t-shirt. But most of all, he couldn't smell or taste Evan and within seconds whatever had been lingering, was gone.

Jonathan waited patiently as Brock and Anthony released his arms and legs from their restraints, then he sat up and took another overwhelming breath as they stared at him expectantly. He wet his dry lips and looked up, "Hey."

Langley bursts into tears, happy tears and if Jonathan focused hard enough he could see the reflection of the room in the drop of salty liquid that trailed down her face.

A few seconds passed and the tension grew in the room the longer he looked around, waiting for someone to tell him what he needed to know. But they were scared and he could feel it. Scotty had goosebumps.

Jonathan broke the silence because he had so much energy his teeth were about to start chattering, "Where is he?"

Silence. Someone took a deep breath.

He turned to Brock who had the steadiest heartbeat out of them all, "Did I . . . did I kill him?"

Brock let a small grin show and he shook his head, "No."

Relief flooded his body. "Then what happened?"

"A lot of things." Sark turned in his chair and crossed his legs. "Long story short, his blood is the cure. He gave you the vial of the base cure we had, but all it did was slow your turning. We did a blood transfusion, using him as a donor. The virus infected him, but it turned him into a super human instead of a mindless beast. It seems it did the same for you."

Jonathan blinked, processing the information. He slowly nodded and tried not to break the bed frame beneath his fingers as his slow heart rate tried to hurry itself. He felt like he was going to fucking self destruct. "So, they took him."

"Yeah, but he made a deal. We get to live, the civies get rehomed, in exchange for him." Langley spoke softly as if it would lighten the weight of the situation.

He went to stand and everyone took a step back. Brock put a hand on his arm, "Take it slow. All Evan did was flinch and he broke the arm of his chair. Tore a gun into pieces, too. You have more strength than you can feel right now."

"Okay." Jonathan stood carefully, taking each step slowly. He ran his fingers along the concrete wall as he made his way into a small warzone that was the waiting area. He stepped over the papers and scattered pens until he was staring out at the city with a new clarity and it felt like he was actually seeing it for the first time.

"It's beautiful."

The colors were still so vibrant, the blues of the sheets he and Evan hung across the rooftops stood out and blew in the wind. He could smell the ocean from here and the dirt beneath the boots of all the military below. "If they have what they want then why aren't we leaving?"

Murphy clapped him on the shoulder and grinned sarcastically, "Because we have another job to do before we leave."

"Let me guess," Jonathan ran his hand over the glass in front of him, "we're on cleanup duty."

Marcel placed a hand on his other shoulder, "Yes, but we've already discussed it and we've got a plan and we don't care whether you like it or not because we're not letting you do this alone."

(Listen to: Hold by Vera Blue)

Jonathan closed his eyes and instead of seeing red, he saw purple. A color he only ever associated with Evan. He would never forget the time when they were on the roof of the hospital painting new figures on the mural, when Evan was crouching and lost his balance, falling back onto a plastic plate full of purple paint. He refused to get new pants, said they were too comfortable and that purple was a pretty rad color anyway.

Jonathan recalled biting his lip to keep from smiling each time he ran behind him because Evan had taken the liberty of painting a white smiley face in the middle of the massive purple smudge.

"My ass is always happy to see you!"

Just another memory stored away and he thought about the fact that he didn't get to say goodbye and none of them knew where he was being taken, who he was with, or if he would still be alive come tomorrow.

Jonathan reared his arm back and punched the three inch thick glass, sending it shattering down below. A few pieces clanked around their feet and they all watched in wonder as his skin healed itself before he had time to bleed.

"Alright then, Wolverine. Let's get ready. Nana Maria is outside, she wants to see you." Langley tugged at his arm, "And if you think Evan didn't leave you something, then you're an idiot."

Jonathan huffed and let himself be lead down to their bunks, "Of course he did. It's probably that fucking furby."

"No. Not the furby." Langley smirked before she opened the door, "It's hairy though."

Lucah lept out and into Jonathan's surprised arms, falling back onto the floor with him as he laughed, "Hey, girl."

She whined and licked at his face, probably wondering why he felt different or why her dad wasn't there. Jonathan stroked the hair on her head and sighed, "Just you and me now, but I promise we'll find him one day or we'll go down trying. That cool with you?"

She huffed and flopped in his lap happily, blissfully unaware of how long that might actually be or the fact that it would be impossible to begin with. But he stopped thinking about it and rubbed Lucah's belly until she was satisfied.

Langley had left them alone long ago and Lucah's nails clicked loudly in the silent hallway when Jonathan finally found it within himself to get off the cold floor.

The door to his and Evan's bunk was wide open and he was scared to know what was within. A note? A picture? Had he escaped already and run back?

Jonathan rolled his eyes at himself but it seemed like something dramatically heroic that Evan would try and do. He stepped into the room and flipped the switch, letting light flood the dim room.

The only thing there was Evan's camera sitting in the middle of the bed, but beside it was Jonathan's phone and with hands that would've been trembling if it weren't for the new blood running through his veins, he picked it up and unlocked the screen.

The first thing that made his eyes water was the picture that had been set as his background; Evan posing with Lucah in a selfie that could've been used as a MySpace profile picture ten years ago. Peace sign, tongue stuck out, the whole works.

Jonathan wiped at his eyes and pulled up his picture gallery to see what else he'd left and found a video, only a few minutes long but that was more than enough considering Jonathan thought he'd never see him again at all, in person or captured on screen.

He sat down with Lucah's head in his lap and pressed play.

Evan smiled and brushed his hair back, "Hello there, beautiful. So, as you can tell, I'm not there anymore and I know you have no idea how to live without me. It's a tragedy, I know, but you will find a way." He let his mood soften into something more serious, "You always do. If you made it, if you're okay and I know you will be because you're the strongest person I know, just remember that I love you. More than anything worth loving in the entire fucking universe. You taught me how to live again, taught me how to do so many things, some are R-rated and you know exactly what I'm referring to. Honestly, I'll probably develope a limp later on in life." He laughed at himself and Jonathan wanted to tear his own hair out when Evan let his eyes water, "I know, deep down, that I won't see you again and I know I more than likely won't leave from wherever I'm going. But you can and when you get out, I want you to go home and be with your family and wake up on a Sunday and open all the windows and dance and dust and sweep to your heart's desire. You have my camera, all those memories and I want you to keep them, show them to the world. I want you to live, not just for me, but for yourself. For Lucah."

Evan sniffed and tears fell and Jonathan sobbed. Evan soldiered on, "I'm not even gone yet but I have this cheesy fantasy that I escape whatever laboratory I'm confined to in the future and I run. I run as far and fast as I can and I end up in Indonesia, where my life started over for me. And I make a small living there and I'm okay, I find friends there I met a long time ago and one day, a few years later maybe, I'm sitting there enjoying coffee or something and I see you in a crowd and I chase you and there's music, a festival, something wild and fun and you'll kiss me. You'll teach me how to dance. I'll feel whole again." He paused and wiped at his face before he smiled one last time, "And that's what I'll be thinking of for the rest of my life. My own small fantasy as they take samples and run tests and turn other people into weapons for their own use. I'll think of our time together here and I won't regret it. I'll think of you . . . Angel Boy, Anjo, Mr. Lonesome and Independent . . . my Jonathan."

Jonathan had never known heartache like this. He'd never known pain this retched as he played the video over and over again until he couldn't feel his own face, until he couldn't produce anymore tears . . . until the sun began to set and there was a tap on his door.

He looked up warily at Arlan who had nothing but sympathy in his eyes. "We're ready. Meet us up at the clinic."

Jonathan slowly sat up and gave Lucah one more rub before he furrowed his brows and glanced back up at the man, "Why the clinic?"

Arlan gave him a grin before he turned, "You'll see."

------

It was the last thing Jonathan expected to find; five of his friends strapped down to seats, a table and tray beside each with a small syringe full of glowing liquid lying in wait.

Five friends . . . six, as Arlan took the empty chair at the end, about to change into something inhuman, something like him.

Marcel took a deep breath and readied himself as Brock prepared to push the needle in, he took one last look at Jonathan and managed a wink, "Told you we weren't letting you do this alone."

(Listen to: My Name is Human by Highly Suspect)

Thanks again for reading!!!