Celia is waiting for me in the hall. Her eyes, lined in blue, are wide in expectation. Her curled hair swings around her shoulders, and her lips are stuck in a half frown.

"You were talking to Dr. Quail," she says, as if I might not have realized that yet. "Dr. Ovis was a Deathless person."

"He was Deathless," I correct her. In nine days, she'll be Deathless too. "I know."

"Are you okay?" she asks.

I shrug. "I'm kind of numb."

The sides of her lips curl up. "Welcome to my life."

I smile and remember what she did for me. "Thank you for the slingshot, by the way. I didn't know you liked to make stuff."

"Want to see some of the other stuff I've been working on?"

I need to be a better friend, I think. So why not? Nina's busy with O'Neil, and being alone right now would only make me think of General Sato or Alexander or Nate or Dr. Patel or anyone else I've lost. I don't want to be alone long enough to start feeling the pain. "Sure," I say.

She waves her hand for me to follow, and together we walk down the hallway into the bathroom. We pretend to check our make-up in the mirror while a few girls finish getting ready. When the coast is clear, we hurry into the supplies closet, and down into the drain.

I am surprised by how well Celia and I work together to keep from falling off the sheet of metal beneath us. It makes sense, we're about the same size, but I thought I'd be much stronger. Celia has hidden physical strength beneath the pouty lips and the vacant stare. Daniel was right: Her appearance is her armor.

Once we are into the drain, she hurries to a box in the corner, her ethereal blue skirt floating behind her. "I have been working on this since Nina said we were your army." She slips the box before me, but keeps a hand on its top to keep me from opening it. "I guess I got a little excited about the idea of being part of an army, or part of anything, really. Promise you won't laugh? I haven't shown anyone else. Not even Daniel."

I nod my head in promise. She opens the box, and lifts something silver and spiky and made of black leather.

"Can I put this on you?" she asks.

I have no idea what this is, so I shrug, "Sure."

She throws the leather over my shoulder and straps it in place. The silver spikes point upward in jagged spears that drape down and around my shoulder blade, and it fits over me like a leather armadillo shell. Then she takes a second, and straps it over my other shoulder. As a final piece, she pulls a black plastic collar out from the box, and latches it around my neck. Thin silver chains dip down my chest from the collar, but they barely weigh anything.

"All done," she sighs, as if it's a question.

"Can I see?"

"There's a mirror over here," she smiles, and leads me over to a polished slate of metal. Not much of a mirror, but there's a reflection nonetheless, and I see myself how Celia must: I am a warrior. I'm covered in armor and spikes, but somehow she's made it look glamorous. Like her painting: It's full of pain and beauty.

"Do you like it?" she asks.

"Celia... I look amazing. This armor makes me look amazing. You made this?"

"Mostly," she says to my reflection, "I didn't make the leather or the spikes or anything, I just put it all together. The collar part is discarded military technology. If I wear this one headset... wait, let me find it..." she pulls one from the box, and slips it over her ears. "If I'm wearing this, and your collar is turned on, I can hear anything you say. Neat, huh?"

It's pretty basic technology, but I let her have her moment. "Yeah, that's awesome."

"I was thinking about making some for all the girls. Or is that stupid?"

"The girls would love it."

"Really?" she sighs in relief. "I have all the supplies ready."

"Go for it, Celia."

"Good, because... I'm not into science and I'm definitely not a fighter either, but I want to contribute. I don't want to be useless anymore."

"I am pretty sure this proves you're not useless." She smiles weakly, and begins unstrapping the armor as I continue, "The slingshots, the armor, the painting in Daniel's room. You're really talented. How did you get into art anyway?" I ask.

"My grandma found a pack of postcards from a museum and gave them to me before she passed. They all have Pablo Picasso paintings on them." She pauses. "When I'm gone, I'd like to leave more of me behind."

"The painting in the room is beautiful. You should be proud."

"Oh, thanks. I was inspired by Picasso's 'Flower of Hands' painting. I wanted to do a darker version," she says, smiling.

"Well, mission accomplished. When I first saw it, it reminded me of when I was in the bunker. It's a really powerful painting. What was your inspiration?"

She bites her lip, and hugs the armor to her chest. "It's a long story."

"Nope, not an answer. I want to be your friend, Celia, and friends share stories," I say, hearing Declan's voice in mine, and my heart aches thinking about him. "You know everything about me."

"I don't know where to start," she says.

"Start at the beginning. What's your survival story?"

"Well, Gabriela actually knew the President before all of this. They were in love. He told her about what would happen, and arranged for his wife to be on a trip so she couldn't be saved. They went into the bunker together, and she agreed to be frozen until everything was ready. But before all of that, Gabriela warned my grandmother, her sister, and she came here with my grandfather. My family has lived here in this estate since the bombs went off. The deal was that we would take care of the property and keep things up while Cooper and the rest of them were frozen. So, we did. When Cooper finally came back, he told my parents he was kicking us out. They fought back, so he killed them, but he kept me around. That was five years ago... I was only ten."

I'm speechless. All I can say is, "Celia that's terrible. Is that what you're painting is about?"

She hugs the armor more tightly. "No. It's about being a Comforter. I was the first one. I was Cooper's Comforter for a while, and then I was passed around until they could get more girls. The painting is about that, about all of them," she stops, and allows herself to take a breath, "and about how scared I was. How ashamed I still am."

I pull Celia into my arms as she fights back tears. I feel sick, and anger towards Cooper builds within in me. He has to die.

"Celia, I had no idea," I say. "If I did, I never would have insisted I switch with you. I mean, yeah, I want to be with Daniel, but at least with him, I'd know you're safe."

"It's okay, I wanted to help."

"Mitchell hasn't tried anything, has he? Because I swear, I will castrate him if he has."

She chuckles. "No. Daniel taught me how to break someone's nose, and when Mitchell asked me to stay to get to know me, I channeled you, and told him if he touched me, I'd break his nose."

I laugh. "Really? You said that?" She smiles, nodding proudly. "You're pretty incredible, Celia Rivera. Don't let anyone make you feel otherwise." A coal of guilt burns in my chest. "Especially me," I confess. "I wasn't exactly your biggest fan before, because of Daniel, you know?"

She nods in understanding. "I had a feeling," she says.

"But if I ever treat you badly or say anything mean to you, you have permission to break my nose."

She laughs. "I don't think I'll need to do that, but thanks. We're friends now, right?"

"Sure."

"Friends don't break friends' noses."

I smile. "No, no they don't."

"Well, we should get back upstairs," she says. She folds the armor back into the box and rests the headset on top of the pile. I leave my slingshot in the box, so no one finds it. We walk to the elevator, and prepare to pull ourselves back up, when I hear Winston's voice echoing through the drain.

"What?" Celia asks.

"Did you hear that?"

"The voice? It's probably one of the Workers."

"Yeah, it's Winston Fowler," I say, rushing over to the vent that Ian had shown me.

I peer through the cracks in the grate, and see Winston, still chained to his iron post. His eyes are so lined in black circles that I can't tell if it's from being beaten or if it's from malnutrition. Then I see Daniel and a stupefied Phoebe standing in front him. What is he doing down here?

"Please, Phoebe," Winston wails, "You can't be gone. You can't be lost."

Phoebe looks at him like a lost dog. "I'm not lost, silly man, I'm standing in front of you."

"What is wrong with her?"

"She's been implanted with control devices on her brain. I'm so sorry, Dr. Fowler."

"Why would you do that?"

"I didn't, sir."

"Gunther, then?" The words are barely coming out of his mouth anymore, and since he's turned away from me, I can't tell if he's crying or just exhausted.

"Yeah," Daniel mumbles. He turns around the room, checking for others. "Phoebe, go look at the wall."

"Okay," she laughs, and walks over to the wall.

"We will stop it, Dr. Fowler," Daniel whispers, barely audible. "We will take the implants out."

"Is that what Gunther said?"

"No, it's what I'm saying."

"Who are you?"

"I'm Daniel Crowley. I'm the resident Physicist here. I'm the one who you will be working with to install the detectors."

"Crowley... I know that name..."

"I'm the one who sent the transmission out for Isla Blume. The first one."

"Is she okay? Is she still alive?" he asks him hurried tones.

"She's wonderful, don't worry. She's safe. I've been keeping an eye on her. Not like she needs it, though. She's actually leading the escape out of here. She's the one who's going to get you both out of here." My heart swells. He truly does believe in me. "Dr. Fowler, I need you to come with me, though," Daniel says, looking back at the mindless Phoebe. "Do you trust me?"

Daniel bends down to unchain Winston from the spike, and helps him up. Winston groans from the strain. "Daniel, if you're telling me the truth, then that means I have lost everyone who means anything to me. First Rumi, then Phoebe," he says, gesturing over to the circling blonde in the corner, chasing dust in the air, "then Kevin, and now Alex. I have nothing left. I don't need to trust you, because I have nothing left to be afraid of."

Mitchell comes into the room and tells them it's time to go before pulling Phoebe away from the wall, and guiding her out of the room.

"Sure. We'll be right out," Daniel says. Mitchell nods and closes the door behind them. "One thing," Daniel whispers, and I lean closer to the grate to hear him. "When we're out of here, and Isla and I get you back to the camp... I want to be a soldier. I want to be in command."

Where is this coming from?

"What about science?" Winston asks, as Daniel turns the key to unchain him.

"I don't love it like I used to anymore. I can't stand for people using it as a weapon. At least fighting doesn't pretend to be something it's not. I want clarity. And I want to be in charge. I want to have a say in what happens."

What? I know I've changed, but I hadn't stopped to consider how all of this has changed Daniel.

"You have my word," Winston says, shaking his hand. "I won't be able to lead anymore anyway."

Daniel leads Winston out of the room, and shuts the door behind them. As the lights turn off and the cryo chambers glow brilliantly blue, I see only one of them is occupied. Hugh. I make a mental note to break into the room and get Hugh out before we escape. I can only imagine what Declan's face will look like, but Daniel's request is stuck in my mind.

"Did you know he wanted to fight?" I ask Celia.

She shrugs. "Hasn't he been doing that all along?"

I think about it, about our childhood. His insistence on playing soldiers, his joy in reading war books, his love of hunting. Him leaving the house to fight. Have I been in love with a soldier all this time without knowing?  The thought twists in my stomach. How could I not have realized this about Daniel?