"So, I'm just going to go over this with you once more, just to make sure we have all our data correctly," Veronica says, and I nod, tired and annoyed and just wanting to get this over with.

"Okay. Go for it."

"You started hearing Moonchild in your head after the hypnotism experiment was conducted, approximately nine months after Moonchild's death."

"Yes."

"Unlike other Moonchild Syndrome suffers, the Moonchild in your head was not there immediately after you broke free from the mind control."

"Not like she is now, no."

Veronica nods as she scans her clipboard. I can only imagine what's on it. "Yes. And you told me that unlike other sufferers, you can see Moonchild as well as hear her?"

"Yes, she's slightly transparent but she's there most of the time. Sometimes I'll hear her voice in my head, but she seems to like making herself visible to me."

She hums as Milo scribbles something down on a piece of paper. "Yes, and you did say she seems to actually have her personality. She isn't just the amazing person you saw her as while under the mind control."

I snort. "Yeah, no. If I could punch a figment in my head in the face, I would."

Milo snickers at my comment, but Veronica seems unaffected. "Alright, just one more thing-"

My annoyed groan cuts her off. "Ronnie, I've answered all your questions, I've sat through all your blood tests, MRIs, CAT scans. What else do you need?"

She purses her lips at my whining. "I like to do more than one test to make sure my data is accurate as possible. Plus, with how many times you've been experimented on, I need to do even more tests because your mutations might effect the results."

I bristle at her comment. "I've been in these labs with you all day."

"We just want to make sure we have all the necessary information when we head to Manor House Center tomorrow," Milo interjects, and he blushes when Veronica sends him a grateful look.

"I understand that, but we don't have that much information to begin with. I've been living with Moonchild in my head for nearly a year and a half and it's not like she's told me anything."

"She probably wouldn't know," Veronica says. "You said she can access your memories, but it wouldn't make sense for her to have access to hers when she was alive. She probably knows just as much as you as to why she is there in your head."

I bite the inside of my cheek. That honestly does not make me feel any better.

"But we need to have as much data as possible to give to the people at the manor. If the rumors are true, then they have the technology we need to find out just what Moonchild is..."

"And how to get rid of her," I finish, swallowing thickly. It's weird to think of her not being there anymore... in my head. She's been there for what-a year and a half now? It's sort of like how I felt when I thought I could get my voice back. I couldn't speak for two and a half years, and suddenly there was a chance I would be able to. It felt unreal.

This feels unreal.

It feels like something that's not going to happen. It feels like something that shouldn't happen.

But I stay quiet. I mean, how would they react if they knew how I felt about this? They'd probably think I was losing it for real this time if I told them I might actually miss having Moonchild there.

I mean, she's been a real pain in the ass before-she's a real pain in the ass even now-but she's also helped me out of a lot of tough situations. I sometimes think I wouldn't be alive today without her.

Our relationship is a weird one, one I can't even explain to myself, much less to anyone else.

"Alright," I sigh in exasperation. "What else were you needing again?"

"Oh, just a sample of your DNA." She puts on a pair of gloves and grabs a long Q-tip from a jar on her desk. "Just need to swab the inside of your mouth for that."

I nod, opening my mouth and letting Veronica do her thing without a word of protest. She grins when she has her sample, putting it in a container for future tests. I think she says something else, but I don't hear it. I've lost just about all focus, but I'm not surprised since this has happened constantly throughout the day. It's a constant blur of re-asking questions, almost as if I'm being tested, as if they think I'll give different answers.

I stand up without a word, still slightly zoned out. I don't offer any goodbyes as I leave, just a small wave to Milo. He doesn't notice. He's too busy talking to Veronica. He's practically beaming as he talks to her, and I know his happiness shouldn't make my stomach turn so much.

But I know how this is going to end for him.

I twist the engagement ring on my finger, and almost laugh. I thought the same thing about me and Sam, and look where we are now...

A part of me truly hopes I'm wrong, because even though I don't agree with Veronica's... methods for some things, I do know she makes Milo happy with her scientific knowledge and chess skills and whatever else she's interested in because I honestly couldn't put in the effort to find out.

Once I leave the laboratory building, I breathe in the cool air and let it out slowly, thankful to be away from florescent lighting and surfaces that smell a bit too clean for my liking. And with spring slowly making its way here, I don't mind being outside as much. The warmer weather is something I have deeply missed, and I'm hoping it'll be warm when Sam and I finally get married.

It's still weird to think that we're getting married. If someone had told me me and Sam would be engaged two years ago I would have laughed. If they would have told me that when I first came to Abel I probably would have stabbed them out of fear and anger. Every time I look back at the past I see how much I've chained...

And sadly, how much I haven't.

I walk through the town, no destination chosen. It's evening time so few people are out and about. Most of them are taking their showers after a hard day's work, hoping to freshen up before going to eat dinner. I know I should probably do the same. I smell like the labs and my stomach is growling from skipping lunch to stay and be Veronica's test subject for the day, but I like the quiet. I like how the air is cool but not a bitter cold. I like how the dirt shifts under my shoes, how the wind whips my hair around-hair that I will most definitely have to cut tonight.

I find myself at the park a few minutes later. The trees are still bare, but the grass is green instead of brown and dead. There's very little to do here, which is why the children prefer to go to the playground or Rec room, but it's a good place to have a peaceful outing and pretend you're outside, enjoying the sun, living in a world without zombies or Sigrid.

The park is empty besides me, so I walk over to a tree and lean against it, shifting and wincing as the bark scratches my skin through my shirt. There are benches placed in here, but I've been sitting all day, and the last thing I want to do before this day ends is to do it again. But I still lean against the tree, watching the orange sky, looking for any stars that might be making an early appearance into the night sky.

I absentmindedly fiddle with the ring on my finger. It's the metal one, not my running one. I find myself touching the ring-whichever one I choose to wear-a lot. It hasn't taken place of my 'grabbing my backpack strap' habit, but it has come close. But it makes me feel a bit better, knowing within a few months me and Sam will be married, something I never thought would happen.

"Callista!"

I look towards the sound of the voice, and a small smile pulls at my mouth as I watch Peter approach. "Hey."

"Hey. Dinner's almost ready. I thought I'd come by and tell you since you weren't anywhere to be found."

"Thanks," I say, my voice tired. "I'll be there in a minute."

I expect him to head off, towards the dining halls or something, but he doesn't. Instead he just stares, tilting to head to the side as blue eyes search for something I don't know.

"What?" I ask finally, crossing my arms, still leaning casually against the tree.

"Are you okay?" He asks, and while he sounds sincere, I know he's talking about tomorrow, and I find myself slightly annoyed because Jody, Tom, Milo and Maxine have asked me that same question over the last few days.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

He huffs, and I give him another raised brow.

"What?"

"You know, for someone who used to be good at lying, you, my darling, are now a terrible liar."

I roll my eyes, an amused scoff leaving my lips. "Why'd you ask if you already knew the answer?"

"Because it's polite," He says as if it's obvious. His voice holds an amused tone, but disappears quickly. "But seriously... are you okay?"

I shrug. "Honestly, not really... but it's just nerves. I'll be okay. I always come out of this stuff okay."

Peter laughs, the sound clear and bright. I would consider it a pretty sound if I wasn't confused by it.

"Why are you laughing?"

"You forget who you're talking to, sweetheart. We've known each other for a long time, remember? You don't come out of these things okay. You come out of them alive."

Same thing.

It's not. We both know it's not.

"I guess you're right."

"I know I am. It's how it's been with me, with you know, the whole immortal thing." He grimaces, and I remember all the things he's gone through. Even though I'm still hurt by his dishonesty of who he was, I sympathize with him. "With how much you've survived, we're practically the same in that aspect."

I force out a laugh, my shoulders tensing as I'm reminded of my own immortality. He doesn't seem to notice. Even so, I work quickly to deter the subject, even if I only do so slightly.

"Well, I'm mostly just nervous because I might actually find out why my Moonchild Syndrome is slightly different than everyone else's."

Peter looks at me with interest. "Why are you nervous about that?"

"Because I don't really know what the different answers could be... What if there's something really wrong with me and that's why I'm different? What if Van Ark'a treatments or-or something else is the reason why I'm different? What if they can't get Moonchild out of my head? What if... what if...?"

"What if what?" He asks softly.

What if they can?

What if they can and I don't want them to?

Peter sighs and rests a hand on my shoulder. "Look, I'm not going to pretend to know what it's like to have been quite literally haunted by the woman who made you mass murder a bunch of people and then nearly kill the love of your life. I'm not going to pretend to know what it's like to have her come and go on a whim for a year and a half and you having to keep it secret for months... but I do know you, Callista. You're like me. We don't always come out of these things okay, but we come out alive. And if we come out alive-well, then we can work on becoming okay."

I smile at his words of encouragement. "Thanks, Peter."

"Anytime, darling. Now, are you ready to head to the dining halls or are you going to stay out here a little longer? I mean, it doesn't bother me either way. If we go inside we eat, if we stay out here, then I can smoke a cigarette."

I scoff and flick his arm. "You don't need to smoke any more cigarettes today."

"And how would you know that?"

"Because I know you, and you smoke way too much, even for someone who won't really be affected by it. Plus, you whine when you smoke."

He gasps in mock offense. "I do not whine!"

"You do," I grin. "You always talk about how all the cigarettes have gone stale and how you hate it so much and all that."

"Well, you wouldn't want to smoke a cigarette that was stale, would you?"

"I wouldn't want to smoke at all."

"I suppose that's a good thing, considering we wouldn't want anything jeopardizing your health. Just because you can't get sick doesn't mean we'd want to risk it. You're much too valuable for us to lose."

"Ha! Valuable," I say as we start towards the mess halls. "I'm about as valuable as a hundred dollar bill in an apocalypse. Come on. Let's just go eat."

•

I look at the mirror on the wall, scissors in hand. I don't like cutting my hair, but I don't need to go bother someone else to do it. It's not like there's many people who could cut my hair right anyway. I only like the way Kefilwe and Jody does it, and Kefilwe is in Ministry territory and Jody...

Jody doesn't need a single thing more on her plate. The poor girl's stressed out enough as it is. Tom's been trying to help her ease the burden of leading Abel, but it's still really hard for her. She tries to be Janine, or what Janine would want her to be. It's taking a toll on her both physically and emotionally. She hides the emotional part, but the physical... not so much. Her skin has lost much of its color, dark circles under her eyes... I think if her hair wasn't still black from when she dyed it, she'd have gray streaks like Sam.

So this measly task is something I have to do on my own. I've already brushed it out and got it slightly wet, so I grab a chunk and start cutting. The sound of my hair being cut isn't appealing, neither is the sound of my damp hair hitting the coms shack floor. But if it bothers Sam he doesn't say anything. He's busy wiping down the coms desk, something Jody's been telling him to do for awhile because "Janine would not stand for this, and if she came back today she'd be very disappointed in how the desk looks. More so than usual."

I roll my eyes at the memory before continuing to snip away. I've found that I like my hair just below my shoulders. I can't exactly pin it back, but every time I've let it grow out something has happened to where I had to cut it off anyway.

It's a bit difficult to make sure I don't cut the back too short, but by the time I reach the front ends of my hair that frame my face I find that I like the the length and, even though it's obvious that this wasn't done by a stylist, it looks nice-well, nice for an apocalypse.

Then I grab a piece of hair that frames my face, and place it in between the blades, but before I can make the cut there's a loud thud and an "Oops" from Sam. I flinch, and then feel my chest tighten at the snip sound I hear a second later.

I close my eyes, wincing, knowing that I've probably just done something terrible and now I'm going to have to deal with it for a long while.

I open my eyes, and let out a curse so loud Sam jumps before rushing over to see if I'm alright.

"Did you cut yourself?" He asks, and then stops, stiffening as if he's trying to stifle a laugh. "Oh."

I cut that piece way too high, instead of it being the same length as the rest of my hair, it's level with my cheekbone. I send Sam a glare, and he cracks, laughter spilling from his lips.

"I blame you for this," I growl, before sighing. "Now I'm going to have to give myself bangs."

"Oh, no. Bangs. The horror," He says dramatically, still laughing at how dumb my hair looks at the moment.

"You're lucky I love you or I would have stabbed you with these," I say, gesturing to the scissors. He rolls his eyes at me, before leaning against the wall and smiling.

"Yeah, I'm lucky alright."

I grit my teeth. It's hard to stay mad at him when he says that in such a flirty way, not to mention how he's looking at me right now. I feel my face heat up as I try to fix my mistake. "If I look bad for our wedding, I'm never going to forgive you for it."

Again I get another eye roll. "You never look bad."

I stop and raise a brow at him, and he shifts slightly.

"Well, okay. There have been a few times you didn't look super great, but that was only because you were sick or you'd been beaten within an inch of your life. And I mean, have you ever seen someone who actually looked good sick or beaten within an inch of their life?"

I open my mouth to reply, but he cuts me off.

"Don't say Iron Man."

I snicker. "I was going to say you."

"Oh, really?" His eyes flash with both amusement and curiosity.

"The first time I kissed you was after I'd dragged you out of a dumpster you'd been in for two days, not to mention you'd been bitten several times. Plus the first time we... attempted to have sex was after Ian had beat the shit out of you, so... I mean, you must've looked somewhat attractive."

"So what you're saying is I need to get hurt in order to get your affection," Sam jokes.

"You're so dramatic," I laugh, snipping away.

"Yeah, sure. I'm the dramatic one in this relationship."

"It seems that you've also become the sarcastic one." I pause and set down the scissors, taking  a look at my hair. "I haven't had straight-across bangs since I was six."

Sam hums, wrapping his arms around my waist as he looks at the final product. He pulls one hand up to trace where the bangs end, which is right at my eyebrows. "They look good, but there's only one problem with them."

"What's that?"

"How am I supposed to give you forehead kisses without getting a mouthful of hair?"

I giggle. "I guess that's your punishment for dropping something and causing me to mess up my hair. What'd you drop anyway?"

"My glasses."

"You mean the glasses you probably should be wearing right now?" I deadpan, and he laughs a bit nervously.

"My glasses are mostly for reading."

"You were reading before you started cleaning the coms desk." I smirk when he buries his face in my hair to avoid confrontation. "That's what I thought."

"Can we not focus on that and focus on my new problem?" Sam grumbles, and I roll my eyes.

"Your problem? You know you can kiss literally every other part of my face, right?"

He sighs. "I kn0w."

"You're such a dork." I pull away from and walk over to the desk, picking up Sam's glasses off the floor. Lord knows it would be a disaster if they were to get broken. It was extremely hard to find this pair. I don't think I'd be able to find whatever prescription this is again.

I yawn, glancing at the clock and realizing how late it has become. I head into the next room to grab a broom and dustpan and quickly start sweeping up all of my hair that's on the floor. I hadn't realized how much my hair had grown these past few months, although I guess it's kind of hard to tell when pictures aren't much of a thing anymore. That is one of the things that hurts... without pictures, you start to forget certain features of people.

My mother is still alive, but I can't remember if she was right handed or left handed. I can't remember the color of Caleb's eyes. I can't remember if Archie wore her hair up in a ponytail or pigtails.

But, there are things I remember, like how Archie loved her chickens, and how she had the prettiest blue eyes. I remember Caleb's love of science, and how he helped in the hospital every second he could because he wanted to help people more than anything. I remember the stories my mom used to read to Katelyn and me before bed, and how she put on as little makeup as possible. She didn't want us to think it was necessary to be pretty.

I forget a lot, but I remember a lot too.

After dumping all my swept up hair into the trashcan, I lie down next to Sam on our cot. His eyes are already trying to flutter closed, but he forces himself to stay awake long enough to pull me close.

"Big day tomorrow." His brows pinch together. "Long day tomorrow, probably."

"Most likely," I say. "You really think they'll be able to fix me?"

Sam's eyes open. "Fix you?"

"You know what I mean."

"You still shouldn't say it like that. Moonchild being in your head isn't your fault."

I bite my lip, having had this conversation far too many times. "I know. I know. But do you really think they'll be able to help me?"

"I hope so." He strokes my cheek. "I pray it will. One less thing for you to worry about is what I pray for everyday. Lord knows you need it."

I smile. "What did I ever do to deserve you?"

"Well, you have saved the world like, twice, so I'd say you've done enough to earn me."

Sam grins when I laugh. "Before we go to bed, I do have one small request regarding tomorrow."

"What do you need?"

"Milo's going to be going with us to the Manor House tomorrow," I say. "And I can't really tell him no because he's been on more complicated missions and he's sixteen now so I can't use that against him. Plus we need a lot of people with us just in case this mission goes... wrong."

"Where are you going with this?"

"I just want you to keep an extra eye on him, make sure he doesn't do anything stupid. He tends to get a little too excited on important missions, and while he's done well so far..."

"You're not talking about the run up there, are you?" By the look on his face, he already knows the answer. "You're talking about at the manor. You're afraid about what they might find out about-"

"About me, yes." I can't meet his eyes. "I fear his reaction if these people do whatever it is they plan to do to me and they find out something is really wrong. I just... need your help to keep him together."

"Callista, if something's really wrong with you, I think I'll need help just keeping myself together." He looks at me with anxious brown eyes. "I mean, how much have you been through? You're immortal now, there's a thing that's coming after you because it has your DNA, you can't get sick, and there's a crazy hippy residing in your head, which is bad enough, so I really don't think I could take it if there's something else wrong with you. It's just-that wouldn't be fair!"

"No, it wouldn't..." I sigh. "Sorry, I've really brought the mood down, huh?"

"No, you're just worried. It's normal." Sam pulls me closer, and I press my lips to his cheek as a silent thank you. "Let's just get some rest. I don't want you tired on your run, and I have like, four people to see over tomorrow, plus Veronica who's heading on a different route."

"Then I suggest you get some shut-eye," I say, giving him another short kiss on the cheek, and he grins dreamily. "Goodnight, sweetheart."

"Goodnight, love."

As we both start to drift off, I find myself questioning one more thing. Veronica is going on a different route, probably just to get there first since she has all the data and doesn't like being around Maxine because she's afraid she'll burn it. She's never really gotten over her burning Van Ark's notes all of those months ago. Still, that's a lot of trust that these people aren't bad guys. I'm surprised we have that kind of trust anymore, considering the history Abel has had with alliances.

But another thing-if these people really can help figure out what's going on in my head, why has the Ministry done nothing to try and stop them? I mean, as far as I know, they're in Abel territory, but that doesn't really mean anything. The Ministry only honors their sides of the deal when there's a chance of getting caught.

So either the Ministry doesn't know about this place, or it's not effective.

I hope it's the former. I really really hope it's the former.

Sam hums in his sleep, his dark hair already becoming tossed and messy as he shifts around a bit. I admire him for a few seconds, just long enough to where it isn't creepy before I shut my eyes, allowing sleep to overcome me.

All is quiet...

For now.

A/N: Here you go, guys! I really hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please be sure to vote and comment! I really do love hearing from you guys! Thank you and have a blessed day!