I sit on a chair in the library, idly flipping through a magazine.

'What do you think about these?' I sign with my free hand, and Phineas shrugs halfheartedly at the picture of the flowers.

"They're okay, I guess," He says. He has a book in his hand, but he has yet to open it. He has a hard time finding books he likes here, which is a shame since he says reading makes him almost feel as if he can hear.

"Looking at these, I can almost imagine what it's like to hear her."

Sam's words from a few days ago ring in my head, and I shudder. Things have been tense... since we found out about Moonchild, about her being real inside my head. Of course, we all know it's not the real Moonchild. She's dead. I saw her die. This Moonchild in my head is, in a weird way, a separate personality of Moonchild that I created, although this Moonchild personality can think on its own, can come up with new ideas in a way I never could because she isn't me.

There's someone in my head that isn't me.

I've been trying to push past it, to keep moving forward. She was real before I knew she was real. Me finding out didn't really change anything. She was always real, apparently, and so far things haven't changed. She's been quiet and I try to keep it at that, but everyone else seems to be walking on eggshells around me, telling me it's okay to be upset or scared or whatever.

And I am. I am scared. I've always been scared of the fact that I'm not normal. I am upset that there's another personality in my brain. But I can't dwell on this right now. As far as we know, we can't cure me and we don't know why I'm different, why I am this 'chosen one' Sigrid wants. So instead I'm focusing on other things, like the wedding.

That's what this magazine is about-wedding décor. In here I can get privacy and quiet and I can look up stuff to inspire how things look for the wedding. I haven't picked out a dress yet, since I have to have an operator that isn't Sam watch over me and I doubt that's going to happen for a few weeks now that we know Moonchild is real. I have been looking at decorations though. This magazine is a bit old, since it was made before the apocalypse, but I don't care about that. Fashion and style have long since gone out the window these days, so it's not like anyone would complain about how this style is 2013.

I like the silver tablecloths with blue flowers, and I have wanted to talk to Sam about us making those the main colors for the wedding, but I'm hesitant. It's not that I think he won't want the colors for the wedding, but instead I'm worried he won't want a wedding at all.

With recent revelations, I wouldn't be surprised if he wanted to postpone the wedding or cancel it. Deep down I know Sam wouldn't do that, not really, but there's always that part of me that fears it. It's one of the reasons I've been avoiding talking about what happened three days ago. I know some things have changed. People-the people that were with me on that mission-see me differently now that they know she's real. Paula has tried to psychoanalyze me twice already and Jody has casually mentioned that maybe I should take a break from being Head of Runners, and maybe I should possibly take a break from running altogether, just for a little while.

I scoff and continue flipping through the pages. As if I'd ever do that.

"Five," Phineas says, grabbing my attention. He points to one of the boys grabbing candy from one of the tables the magazine is featuring. "I'm not going to dress like that for your wedding, am I?"

The boy is wearing a suit, and judging by his age, I'm guessing he was a ring bearer.

"No," I say, signing as I do so, "not unless you're actually in the wedding ceremony."

"Am I going to be?"

"Do you want to be?"

He doesn't answer. I'm actually surprised he didn't outright say no. Phineas has made it very clear that he does not see me as his parent. He's never directly said it, but seeing that he still calls me 'Five' or 'Callista' is more than enough evidence. He sees me more as a personal caretaker, so I wouldn't be surprised if he'd rather just attend and not be a part of the wedding itself.

"Is Milo going to be in it?" He asks finally.

"Of course," I answer quickly.

"Then no, I don't."

"You don't want to be a part of the wedding... because Milo's going to be in it?" My brows furrow together at that.

"I don't like being around him. It was more fun with Penelope. She wanted to set things on fire. All Milo wants to do anymore is work in the lab, and I'm not allowed in there."

"Well, there's some pretty dangerous stuff in there," I say, deciding not to mention that he's eleven, since Veronica's not even seventeen yet.

"Yeah, I know. Veronica says it's because I'm deaf so I wouldn't hear her yelling at me not to touch something." He rolls his eyes. "Because I just love to touch anything that might blow me up."

His sarcasm makes me smile. "You just said you and Penelope wanted to set things on fire."

"Only after we planned it through though! We knew how it would work. That's why I nearly shot you when we first met. I knew how to use a gun."

I hum. "That makes me feel better, I guess. Well, I'm sorry you and Milo aren't on the best of terms right now. And like I said, if you don't want to be in the wedding, you don't have to be. And if you're just attending, then as long as you wear your nicest shirt, you'll be fine."

He nods, but doesn't say anything after that. He opens his book and starts reading while continue to flip through the magazine. Most of the stuff in here won't be available. There are, of course, wedding shops in the abandoned towns a few miles from Abel, and I'm sure there's a wedding shop in the city that used to be swarming with zoms, but they've been there for years, and while I know most people care more about getting tin food than wedding décor, I doubt those shops have been left completely untouched.

We'll make the best of what we can get. That's what we've always done, and that's what we'll continue to do. I know how to sew, so I can make adjustments to dress and suit sizes. Once Sam and I agree on a color scheme, I and possibly a few can go out and get the decorations, and possibly the suits and such on the same mission. Then on another mission, with Sam not being the operator, my bridesmaids and I can go out and choose a dress and the bridesmaids' dresses.

First though, I need to choose the bridesmaids.

I've already asked a few people-Jody, Summer, and Nicole. I felt that even though our relationship isn't great, that she's the only family that will actually be here for my wedding so she should be in it. Maxine and Paula will be helping Adora and Sarah since they'll be the flower girls, and even though they can walk, they can't do so extremely well yet, and I doubt they'd remember what they were doing, so the two said they'd be willing to carry them.

There's a lot of things about the wedding I haven't thought about yet, like who I'll have walk me down the isle. Sam's parents are both dead, I doubt my father is alive (even if he was he's an ocean away and I have no clue how to reach him) and I'm not even sure if the letter I sent to my mom announcing my engagement has even reached her yet. Amelia said that it would take a few weeks, if not longer to reach her, and that's if she didn't move to another settlement.

I haven't chosen who would be the Maid of Honor yet either, and I haven't even asked Sam about the groomsmen. The only person I know is one of the groomsmen is Milo and that's because he knows I wanted my son to be a part of the wedding, plus after what happened when the two of them had been taken by Ian, Milo and Sam both see each other as family.

I hear the door to the library open, followed by soft footsteps on the worn carpet. I ignore it. It's not unusual for people to come in here when we get new books in. We only have so many movies and you can only watch The Avengers so many times, and this is coming from someone who loves Tony Stark with a passion. Books are one of the few ways anyone can find entertainment, and since today has been, unlike the last few days, uneventful, people are coming in to find something of interest.

I set down the magazine and stand, stretching out my legs a bit. Soreness comes and goes. I've long since gotten used to it. I head around the bookshelves to offer help to whoever came in. I've learned which books go where pretty easily now, since I and other runners are the ones who bring the books in. To my surprise, I see Milo's old friends, Polly and Zach.

"Hey, you two," I say, and the two jump, before their eyes grow wide with recognition. I haven't seen them much since Milo stopped hanging around them three years ago, and I honestly forgot about them until now. They've grown. I think they're almost adults now.

"Oh, Runner Fi-er, Callista," Zach says, clearing his throat. "We're not going to break anything."

I shrug. "Didn't think you were. I just came to see if you were looking for any specific books. You're probably here to check out the new books we brought in, right?"

"Uh, yeah. R-right."

"Why are you here?" Polly asks, and I chuckle. She still has that snarky attitude from three years ago.

"I like to read. Believe it or not, I have other hobbies besides running."

"But why are you here alone?"

"I'm not alone." I jab my finger behind me. "Phineas is here with me."

"Oh, yeah. He's one of your new kids."

I frown. "I wouldn't say new, but... why are you asking if I'm here alone anyway? You said you weren't planning on doing anything unsavory, but your form of questioning is making me feel as though you're not telling the truth."

Polly shrugs. "I was just wondering since I didn't think you were allowed to be alone or something, since everyone's been trailing behind you since that last mission you went on. What happened there?"

Zach jabs Polly in the arm with his elbow, and she winces and glares at him.

"You know I'm not allowed to tell you that," I reply.

"Yeah, but like, did you kill somebody?"

"I told you, I can't-"

"No, she's killed people before," Zach interrupts with an eyeroll. "She didn't defeat Van Ark by singing 'Let's Be Friends' to him."

"True," She hums. "Did you have like, a mental breakdown or something?"

I sigh, starting to regret having gotten up in the first place. "Polly, you know I can't-"

"Was it because of your Moonchild Syndrome?"

I falter, but then clear my throat. "No, it wasn't. That mission was just... stressful, for everyone."

"But I thought it was supposed to help with Moonchild Syndrome."

"That was the mission's objective, yes, but... well, you know, zombies happened. Close calls. That sort of thing."

It's already bad enough Jody wants to put me on rest leave. I don't want to cause a panic in Abel, because Lord knows if residents here know that the Moonchild in my head is real, then they'll be demanding I be thrown out because I'm possessed or something.

I clear my throat once more. "Listen, uh, the new books have been placed on the bottom shelf three rows down. I think there's some young adult fiction, if you're into that. I'm just gonna go."

I awkwardly turn around and head back, and my shoulders tense as I hear them whispering behind me. Once I make it back to Phineas, I lightly tap the top of his book to get his attention. He looks at me slightly annoyed, but waits patiently to see why I'm interrupting him. I give him an apologetic smile before speaking.

"I'm going to head out. You can stay here if you want, just make sure you put your book back unless you plan on borrowing it. Don't just leave it on the table."

"Like you did with that magazine?" He replies, and I gape at his reply. I pick up the magazine and put in on the little magazine display holder and hold my arms out.

"Happy?"

He grins smugly. "Yeah. But I was just pointing out that hypocrisy doesn't suit you."

I roll my eyes. "Just don't leave your book lying around."

"I won't."

"And..." I pause, looking down at my hands. Phineas still watches with interest.

'Don't talk to those two teenagers here in the library. They have nothing to say that's of value.'

He looks confused, but then nods and goes back to his book. I don't want them asking him anything and putting any thoughts in his head that there's something wrong with me. Everyone in Abel knows about Moonchild Syndrome and that I have it, but I don't want them asking him about it. He knows just the basics, since he's eleven and I don't want to traumatize him by telling him what's going on in my head.

So I leave, heading for the track to clear my head.

•

I'm sweaty, tired and hungry by the time I finish running.

I don't know how long I've been here. We do have a small clocktower in Abel, but it's not visible from here. Maybe an hour or so? Somewhere around that. I head towards the showers, desperate to wash off the sweat that's starting to cool on my skin. I cringe at my smell, and I pray I put in an extra change of clothes in my locker because I really don't want to walk back to the coms shack to get clothes.

Speaking of coms shack, sort of, I spot Sam walking towards the mess hall. His hands are in his pockets, hair wild, a small smile on his face. I open my mouth to call out to him, but then stop, not wanting to disrupt that content smile he holds. He's talking to Summer, who also seems to be headed towards the mess hall. I smile softly as I watch them, a warm feeling in my chest at the sight of him happy, before turning an keeping on towards my destination towards the showers.

Once I get there, I head to the lockers and look inside mine, relieved to see a shirt and a pair of sweatpants. They're not the most flattering pieces of clothing, and they don't match, but I'm much too tired to worry about fashion today. That effort is going towards the wedding.

I grab the clothes and leave the locker area to hang my clothes and towel up by one of the stalls. No one is in here, everyone too busy heading towards the mess hall, so I take this moment to turn the water on to let it get warm and strip outside the stall while I wait. I keep an ear out just in case someone comes in, but it only takes a minute for the water to warm so I soon step inside, leaving my smelly clothes on the floor for now.

I start my regular routine of washing my body and shampooing and conditioning my hair. The smells from the body wash are a bit strong, but it gets rid of the smell of sweat, and it'll die down after I put on my clean clothes. I lean against the tiles, hissing through my teeth as sharp cold hits my back. I don't have much time in here, so I want to make the most of what little relaxation time I have. I close my eyes, sigh, and just exist for a few moments.

But the moment can only last for so long before my legs start to wobble from being forced to be straightened as I lean against the stall walls. I know my knees will buckle and I'll have a less than dignified crash, and knowing my luck someone will come in and find me.

I've already had my pride destroyed by slipping and hitting my head in the shower area a few years ago. I'd rather not do that again, but instead of straightening and stepping out of the shower, I slide down into a sitting position, pulling my knees into my chest and let the water hit the top of my head. Water droplets spray everywhere, getting into my eyes and sometimes in my nose, but I don't move. As much as I know I need to go eat and such, I don't want to move. I just want to stay here under the warm water, close my eyes and rest.

I hum softly to myself, the sound barely audible over the sound of water hitting the tile floor. It's to the tune of a hymnal I used to sing in church, mostly during Junior Church. I always tried so hard to sing the prettiest, since those who sang and didn't scream got candy.

How great is our God?
How great is His name?
He's the Greatest One.
Forever the same.

Well, he rolled back the waters
Of the mighty Red Sea.
And He said 'I'll lead you.
Put your trust in Me.'

Those were simpler times. It's nice to remember the girl I used to be-young, innocent. It was nice to know my only concern at one point was singing the prettiest so I could get candy. I think of my friends I had back then, and I wonder where they are now. They're probably dead, but I try to think otherwise. They deserve to live. I'm sure that those kids I knew before still clung to morals and doing what's right far tighter than I did.

I miss them. I wonder if they miss me.

I hum the tune again, memories of cold metal chairs and frilly pink dresses with white flowers fill my mind. Toothy grins and bright eyes remind me of those I grew up with, some who I grew away from.

I wonder if anything would have changed if I stayed close to some of those people as I got older, before the apocalyspe.

Suddenly my thoughts are cut short when I hear a second voice humming along to the tune. It sounds unsure, a little off tune, as if still learning it. I scrunch up my nose.

"Maybe you haven't seen the movie Elf, but usually people don't like when you randomly make their shower solo into a duet."

"Well, then maybe you shouldn't be humming  in public shower areas."

I recognize the voice, and immediately stick my head out to glare at him. Sam holds a smug look on his face.

"What are you doing in here?"

"Hello to you too," He replies, his smirk still on his face even though his eyebrows rise in surprise.

I sigh. "Sorry. I just-I saw you heading towards the mess hall."

He shrugs. "Well, I was. I did, but then I ate and saw that you weren't there. Maxine told me she saw you on the track earlier, and after I checked and saw you weren't there, I headed towards the showers and here we are."

My eyes go wide. Have I really been in here that long? It only felt like a few minutes. I scramble to my feet, pulling my head back behind the curtain and turn the water off, cursing at myself for how much I must've wasted. I grab my towel from behind the curtain and dry myself off before wrapping it around me and exiting the stall. I nearly fall on my face as I do so, and Sam takes a concerned step forward.

"Hey, slow down. The food in the mess hall isn't that good," He says jokingly. I simply look at him with a blank face, hair still dripping wet as I grab my clean clothes and head for a changing station.

"I wasted so much water. I didn't think I was in here that long," I reply, my feet padding along the cold, hard floor. I only stop when Sam gently grabs my arm.

"It's okay. I don't think Jody is going to say anything."

"But she should. I shouldn't get special treatment just because..." I suck in a breath, "because of what happened on that mission. I'm fine, or as fine as I can be. By the way, did anyone see you come in here?"

Sam raises a brow. "No? Why?" A short laugh leaves his mouth. "Afraid someone's going to think we're doing something scandalous?"

"Like you could ever be scandalous." I grin, and he merely shrugs.

"I think I could be, if I really tried. Doesn't mean I'd be good at it, or that I could get you to be scandalous with me."

I smile in interest. "Oh? Why do you think that?"

"Because I would have to be convincing and... suave, and I've literally only been suave three times in my life and I don't think any of those times were with you."

"Well," I say, leaning up close, "I didn't fall for you over how suave you were."

"Obviously," He says as I head into one of the changing stalls and put on my clothes, adjusting the baggy shirt and off-color sweatpants. When I leave the stall I'm still pulling at my clothes.

"I was asking if someone saw you come in here because apparently people think something bad happened on that last mission and that's why everyone who knows about the mission won't let me be alone."

"Something bad did happen on this last mission." His brows furrow together and a frown pulls at his lips as he tries to meet my eyes. I sigh and look way in annoyance. "Several bad things happened on that mission."

"I know that, but I told you I'd rather we not tell the township know about it."

"Why though?"

"Because it's none of their business." My words come out a lot harsher than I intend them to, but Sam doesn't appear bothered by it. In fact, only a sad look crosses over his face. "I don't want everyone here to know every aspect of my life. Why do you think I didn't want to tell you my name, or about my family? I don't need people I barely even talk to knowing that I'm not the only person inside my head."

I sigh after a moment, running my hand through my damp hair. "Sorry. I'm sorry. I... shouldn't snap."

"It's alright," Sam replies, a small, almost forced smile on his lips. I shake my head.

"No, it isn't. You're just trying to help."

He shrugs, making a face. "Well, yeah, but I forgive you. And how do you know people think something happened on that mission anyway?"

"Because I've had people give me looks, and certain people seem to be more interested in talking to me all the sudden."

"Such as?"

"Polly and Zach."

"Milo's old friends?" Sam asks in surprise, and I nod.

"Yeah. Saw them in the library today. Kept asking about why you guys were acting so weird towards me all the sudden."

He hums. "Surprised they were in the library."

"Why?" I ask with a scoff, leaning against the counter. "Didn't take them as avid readers?"

"Well, n-no. I know they read-a lot of people in Abel do, just not what's in the library." He looks embarrassed all of the sudden. "Turns out there's a group in Abel that likes to write their own stories-well, their own versions on stories using ideas that are already out there."

I raise a brow, slightly interested. "Like fanfiction?"

"Sort of. Sometimes. Maxine found out about it like, yesterday, I think? She saw some adults showing each other a bunch of papers in the hospital or something. But yeah, since none of those types of websites are on Roufflenet, people started writing their own stories, but like you guessed, it's mostly fanfiction. But apparently you can only write so many Marvel and DC and other fics before it becomes old or you run out of ideas because of nothing new being made as canon, so apparently, not too long after the group was started, people started writing about us."

I'm taken aback by this. "Us?"

"Yeah. Like, not just you and me 'us', but people in Abel, certain people in New Canton. I guess since things keep happening and we have tons of moments where we nearly die, people have more... canon stuff they can use in their stories."

"...I see," I say, conflicted. He smiles understandingly at my tone.

"Yeah, that's what I said after Maxine told me about it. You are a pretty hot topic. Lots of people wrote about what they thought your life was before the apocalypse. Apparently someone wrote that you were a clone since you were always so secretive about where you came from." A laugh leaves his mouth and I decide not to point out that that person, in a sense, wasn't really wrong. "But yeah, people write about the runners."

"Do they write about you?" I ask curiously, and he looks away.

"Uh, sometimes? Maxine did ask some questions, but apparently the group was meant to stay small since they were afraid we'd get offended by some of the stuff they wrote."

"Why would be get offended?"

"Well, some of their stories had us die, and then, when those people actually died in... real life, they still kept them. Plus, they seemed to like the idea of 'shipping' people and sometimes they wrote..." His cheeks tinge pink, "less than appropriate things."

"Oh," I saw, my eyes growing wide.

"Yeah. Apparently those are only shown to the adults. Doesn't make it any less weird. I heard a lot of teenagers were a part of that group, writing what they think goes on on the missions we don't talk about."

"I almost want to read some of these just to see how people see us," I say. "Maybe people actually do think we're scandalous."

That causes him to laugh, the sound making me want to melt. "Maybe... But you know, the mess hall will be shutting down soon, and you know how Jody hates when we sneak in because you didn't come by on time."

"Okay, okay," I say, throwing my dirty clothes in a hamper and putting on some slip-on shoes. "But before we do... I need to ask you something."

I reach for his hand, but then hesitate. He notices, and dark brown eyes search my face as concern fills them.

"What's wrong?"

"I know you guys are all concerned about how I feel about... this, but how are you taking it? You were there. You heard what Veronica said, you heard A.N.N.I.E. Did what happen that day-are you okay?"

He hesitates in answering. "Honestly? No, I'm not."

My heart sinks, but I simply wait for him to elaborate, hoping he doesn't want to postpone the wedding, or cancel it.

Please don't leave me.

"I'm tired of us constantly getting close to what we think is going be a solution for something only to be pushed back again and again. I'm tired of constantly thinking we can get something done to help our situation and then have it ripped away. I'm tired..." His voice cracks slightly, and he looks me in the eye. "I'm tired of seeing the light leave your eyes every time something like this happens. I'm tired of no progress."

"Sam-" I start, reaching out to comfort him, but he cuts me off, wiping his misty eyes.

"But, I know that we never give up, and I know that you aren't the type of person who dies." He forces out a laugh. "I'm not... happy with the Moonchild situation, but I'm not giving up, and I know no one else on the mission will either."

"So the wedding's still on?" I ask, and his eyes go wide, his posture straightening.

"What? Of course. What made you think it wouldn't be?"

"I just-because we found out Moonchild is real..." I pause but then shake my head. "You know what, it doesn't matter. I've just been thinking too much."

"Obviously. With how long it took me to ask you, you should know the last thing I'd want to do is not have it."

I laugh softly, the weight on my shoulders seeming to lessen slightly. Sam grabs my hand, rubbing my knuckles with his thumb.

"Let's go get you some food, okay?"

I nod, and as we leave, I say, "Oh, um, since the wedding is still happening, I wanted to ask you about the colors for our wedding. I found some I think you might like."

A/N: Here you go guys! Thank you so much for being patient with me! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please be sure to vote and comment! Also be safe because even though the zombie virus isn't real, the coronavirus is. Thank you and have a blessed day!