"Do the words 'take it easy' just go into your ears and die before they reach your brain?" Peter asks, snatching the flask from my hand and ignoring the glare I send him.

"Oh, be quiet. I haven't drank that much," I reply. "I'm still talking normally, ain't I?"

"Yeah, but you've only been out here for ten minutes," He replies, earning a quiet chuckle from Tom before he responds.

"Bit of a late start, aye, Five?"

"Sorry that I was able to catch a hint of sleep," I roll my eyes. "After getting my ass handed to me-"

"Again," Tom interrupts, smirking.

"Again," I grumble, "I conked out pretty hard."

"Well, in your defense, your arm's still healing from two weeks ago because you decided to be an idiot," Peter says, and I scoff.

"You say that as if me being an idiot isn't a normal occurrence."

He grunts, looking annoyed but not really disagreeing. ""How is your arm, by the way?"

I look down at my arm, still covered in bandages. It was hard to fool Maxine when it came time for the stitches to come out. I had to basically cut into my arm before she came by because it had completely healed, without leaving a scar.

She would know something was up if I just let her see me like that, so it painfully had to be done. She's already been making comments about how the scars on my back and the one on my side is fading. She hasn't noticed that the cartilage on my ears are growing back, slowly but surely.

Thank God I have long hair.

"It's fine. Hurts sometimes, but I'll live." The lie comes out so smoothly I wonder if I should feel proud of myself. Nicole has commented more than once how Abel has taken away my ability to be deceitful around close friends, which could end up hurting me in the longer run.

I love proving her wrong, even if I can't rub it in her face.

I wrap my arms around myself, my long sleeves not really doing much to keep out the cold. As this month goes on and it gets colder and colder, these meetups will have much more complaining from my end. It's already pretty cold, but since I was late to the party, I don't exactly want start whining right off the bat. Who knows how long these two have been sitting out here smoking their cigarettes and trying to convince themselves that this behavior is acceptable?

I already know it isn't, but I do it anyway because I can. Because it helps and gives just the smallest bit of agonizing comfort none of us truly think we deserve. We all have happy times outside of this, but coming here is easier than waking up our partners and making them suffer from the sleeplessness that plagues our minds, whether it be from bad dreams or just restlessness that itches under our skin on certain nights, forcing us up even as our eyes burn.

"Oh, 'M gonna get so much heat today when I try to teach volleyball to the Blackmoore folks today," I groan as I remember. "Seems people my age are great at detecting when I haven't gotten enough sleep."

"It's because they do the same thing," Peter replies. "Do you know how many times we've seen them sneaking around just tonight?"

"One girl actually screamed when I asked her why she was sneaking around at two AM," Tom chuckles. "You'll be lucky if any of them are even up to play."

"You know you could help. You're really good and it'd be fun to watch you school them," I suggest, but he shakes his head.

"As entertaining as I'm sure that would be, I've got other things that need my attention in the morning."

I nod. I'm not the only runner with jobs outside of running. I'm sure Tom's been busy creating plans on how to push out our fences and keep the workers safe while they do so. We should be starting on that soon, along with construction on new dorms and another shower area.

I bite back a smile. When I first came to Abel we didn't even have dorms, and when we built them, we all slept on mats on the floor until we could build bunk beds.

"You've got that look on your face," Peter says flatly. "You're reminiscing."

"Yeah, but it's not about bad things so..." I shrug. "I just remember when I first arrived in Abel, how few people were here, how I slept in a tent."

"Ah, yes, I remember. Everyone was shocked to see little baby Five run through the gates."

"I was fifteen."

"Exactly. I mean, we thought Mullins was professional, but they sent us a child."

I scoff. "I still could have snapped your neck if I wanted."

"You couldn't even reach my neck," He replies, and I know the words 'still can't' rest on the tip of his tongue. "And it's not like we knew you were dangerous. There was a lot we didn't know about you."

"A lot I didn't know about myself either. But after I came along, things did get a lot more interesting."

"In a way, but we all had our own ways of creating chaos." He grins, and I almost want to ask him what he's remembering, but I understand that that may lead down a rabbit hole, so it'd be best to keep myself the center of attention for the moment.

"It's kind of weird, though, remembering when I couldn't speak."

"You couldn't speak?" Tom asks, and I stare at him for a long moment before my eyes go wide.

"Holy shit, we've never really told you about that, have we?" I ask, and he shakes his head. No one really talks about it, about me and my voice and everything in between. It's been years since I got the treatments and spoke and those here in Abel know and those that don't have never really asked. Tom's been my friend for what feels like forever, even though it all actuality it's not even been two years.

"I had always wondered why everyone here just knew BSL," He says.

"I taught them. When I was thirteen, before came to England I was... hurt, badly. My throat-the damage was extensive, and I don't like to think about it, but I was never supposed to speak again. Didn't for about three years, until Kefilwe pulled some strings, helped me with a treatment for my voice. It took months, but I was slowly able to start speaking again, and now here we are." I shrug halfheartedly. "Seems like it's been forever since that happened. I forget that you weren't here."

"That just means he didn't have to see all of the stupid stuff we did," Peter says, looking at Tom. "I don't think you would have approved."

"There are some things I've seen you do that I don't approve of now," He replies. "But just because I don't approve of it doesn't mean I wouldn't find it funny, like the time you tried to throw Callista into the goat pen."

"That was not funny!" I snap, but my outburst only makes his lips quirk up into a smile. "One of the things that suck about you not having been in Abel at the time is that you weren't there when I became terrified of goats."

"I technically wasn't there either," Peter says. "That was when I was still living in Deadlock territory. I just come back and suddenly you hate the things."

I nod, feeling stupid for forgetting that as well. It's hard to remember who was where when everything happens so quickly. "Right. Um, after Nadia tried killing me, she was held and basically couldn't do much for a year afterward, so I had to go to New Canton to get permission for her to go with me on a mission-the one we ended up meeting Veronica on.

"One of the things I had to do was help get some goats out of a conference room, and..." I sigh, my face heating up in embarrassment. "I had my ass handed to me by a bunch of animals. One jumped off a table and slammed into my back, and when I got up another one kicked me in the stomach and another one kicked me in the back of the knees. I was lucky I was quick enough to shield my face."

Tom chuckles, hanging his head as his shoulders shake in his attempt to contain some of his laughter. Peter does no such thing, not caring who might hear him.

"Oh my God. That is so much better than anything I'd ever imagined. Was there anything else we weren't present for?" His eyes sparkle in the darkness, giggles still slipping past his lips.

"Oh, shut up." I punch him the shoulder a bit harder than necessary, smirking when he winces. "A kick to the face could have done some real damage."

"Could it though?" Tom asks, and I can't tell if he's genuinely asking or if he's baiting me.

"Yeah, actually, it could have."

"Yeah, how many concussions have you had over the years?" Peter asks. "I'm surprised one little slap to the back of the head doesn't put you in a coma."

I grin almost sheepishly. "I've got a thick skull."

"Oh, I know, Little Miss Stubborn."

I stick my tongue out at him, but then I turn and stare out into the darkness. The sun won't be up for another few hours, and the chilling wind that blows by enforces that. The soft sounds of the breeze feels so different from the biting cold that hits my cheek and chaps my lips. I try to stifle the yawn that creeps up my throat, but both men beside me notice.

"Tired already?" Tom teases, and I purse my lips.

"Well, Peter took away my only reason to come out here," I say dramatically, ignoring Peter's look of mock offense.

"Love you too," He scoffs. "Surprised you're tired. You got more sleep than any of us out here."

"It was restless sleep. Doesn't do much. Also, if you want to go to sleep quick, I'm sure Tom wouldn't mind knocking you out. He almost did it to me yesterday."

"Almost," Tom punctuates, and I send him a knowing look.

"You wanted to."

"If I had wanted to, I would have."

I simply huff, knowing he's right but not wanting to admit it.

"If you are tired, go back to bed," Peter says, changing the subject a bit, and I do my best to keep the relaxed pose I was in minutes ago.

"I could say the same to you. Drinking three cups of stale coffee isn't the equivalent to eight hours of sleep and we both know it. And for the record, it's not like I haven't tried. I just have weird dreams sometimes."

He raises a brow. "Weird dreams or bad dreams?"

"I..." I shrug. "Both? I just don't like the feeling I get when I wake up."

This seems to peak both their curiosities. They're too closed off about their own nightmares to let me know what darkness lies in their minds. The most I get from Peter is a self-depreciating joke before he yells at me for putting myself at risk when he is right there and immortal. I don't ask anything of Tom, mostly because I don't want to destroy the relaxed, almost content look he has out here. Just like how I don't want to destroy the happy smile he wears when we play Pepper together, or when he reads to me and some of the others, translating books to English for us.

They don't share their nightmares, and I won't force them to, but that doesn't mean they aren't curious as to what I might be hiding.

"What feeling?"

I sigh. "You know how I have doppelgangers? I dream about them sometimes, seeing people who have my face but not my eyes. I know about them, who they were, who one is. They always ask me why I'm still alive when they aren't. Chrysalis died years ago, but I still wonder why she died and not me. She was clearly the better Runner Five. If it wasn't for her, me and Maxine and Runner Eight would have been captured by Van Ark in Jeffro Complex when I was fifteen.

"I don't feel guilty. It wasn't my fault she died, and the same goes for Cameron and Chorus, but I still wonder why, you know?"

"Aren't you the person who believes says everything happens for a reason?" Tom asks, and I nod.

"Yeah, sure, but I'd like to know what exactly is that reason. Also knowing that three of the four people who look like me are now dead can sometimes be... disheartening."

"How do you know they're four? I'd read Jane's files. Chorus died before you even came to England if your story was correct."

"And I doubt she'd say anything to you anyway," Peter adds, which causes me to frown.

"Ouch, and it's... a long... story."

I tense, suddenly overwhelmed by a strange feeling-not of dread, but of fear, worry, panic. Like that feeling I get on runs sometimes, only duller, less intense.

That doesn't make me feel any more assured, though.

I need to get back to the coms shack.

"Uh, you okay, Callista?" He asks, and I look between the two of them, biting the inside of my cheek.

"I have to go," Is all I say, and then I'm rushing off, my brisk steps turning into a jog, then a run. I can hear footsteps behind me, but my heart is pounding and my blood is roaring in my ears and I don't know why.

I burst into the coms shack when I reach it, ignoring the fact that it's four in the morning and Sam's probably asleep.

Only he isn't.

He's sitting on the bed, looking terrifyingly angry. His lip is busted, and his anger is directed at the person sitting in his swivel chair.

"Hey, Singer," Nicole says, her voice calm despite the scratches on her left cheek and the bruise forming on her jaw. She has a folder in her hand. I stop breathing. "Who's Cassandra Feive?"

•

"Jesus, Callista, how are you able to sprint so fast this early in the-" Peter's words are cut short when he and Tom reach the door. I cast the smallest glance at the two of them over my shoulder, while they look from me to Sam to Nicole. "Uh, what's going on?"

"Hello, Peter, Tom," Nicole says casually. "I'm just here to ask Singer a few questions."

"At four in the morning?" Tom asks. It's obvious he doesn't believe her, and it's obvious Nicole knows he doesn't believe her. I can tell by the way she stares, smiling instead of coming up with a backhanded response that can leave even the toughest of people choking on words.

"One of the great things about siblings is it gives you a life-time pass to barge into their life unannounced." Her face twists. "Although I will admit, I've used that pass at some unfortunate times. You two really can't spend two seconds alone without locking lips."

I ignore her comment.

"How did you find out about this?" I ask, looking at the folder. Nicole's brown eyes glance down at it for one second before focusing on me.

"This? I'm surprised I didn't catch you stealing it while we were taking those floppy disks for Valmont. A mistake on my part that I will definitely work to fix. But I heard you two talking about it after I questioned you about whatever it is you're hiding."

"Five's always hiding something from everyone, join the club," Peter says, crossing his arms. "She vaguely hints at it because she wants to tell you even though she knows telling you wouldn't be a good idea. It's not fun. I'm sure we all hate it, but we get over it because she ends up telling us about it later anyway, because she's about as good at keeping secrets as I am. That doesn't give you an excuse to break in here and-and what, did you punch Sam in the face?"

"Yes," Sam mutters, glaring at Nicole. "But I actually hit her back, which isn't something I thought I'd be able to do, honestly."

"Neither did I. I'm impressed," She replies. "I didn't think it would take as much effort to take you down as it did."

"That's why you came in when you did. You knew I'd be with Peter and Tom," I say, and she doesn't deny it.

"Yeah. While I know you're not as good at hand-to-hand as you used to be, Tall, Dark and Crazy over there has been teaching you and I'd rather not have everyone rushing in here because you threw me into a wall and woke most of the township up. And your routine is surprisingly consistent. You come out here about two or three times a week, usually on Mondays and Fridays, sometimes Thursdays. I just had to wait for you to leave.

"Then I broke in, although I'm not sure if you could even call it a break-in seeing that you left the door unlocked. And since you said you would lock the file away, I tried to find a key to the desk drawers. And then Sam woke up, which surprised me since he was a pretty deep sleeper when we all had to share a camper van together.

"Anyway, I wanted to know where the key was, he wanted me out, a small fight ensued and I won, obviously, and I ended up finding a key and finding this file here. This Feive must be pretty important for you to have stolen a file on her. I've been reading up on her, but I'm still having trouble connecting the dots to you and your little conspiracy theory to her failed genetic tests. Care to fill me in?"

"What is she talking about?" Tom asks, and I wince, especially when I notice Sam's eyes go wide as he looks at the two behind me to me.

"Look, Nicole, I don't know what you think you know, but you're confused. Please, just drop it. I-I mean, you said I was grasping at straws anyway, remember?"

She hums. "I did say that, didn't I? I believed it too, but you talking about hiding this from me piqued my interest." She looks behind me. "And by the look on your faces, it's now piqued yours. I'm surprised you never told them, Singer, seeing that you guys are weird trauma buddies or whatever it is you've convinced yourselves you are."

"Nicole-" I start, but she cuts me off.

"I already know you're not going to tell me, which is why I plan on using an incentive." She places the file in her lap, looking almost annoyed when she sees how tense I've become. "Oh, stop being so paranoid. I don't plan on hurting anyone. I do care about you as my sister, even though you being such an ass and such a shitty secret-keeper pisses me off. And I like my brother-in-law enough to not wish him to be dead. I can't exactly kill Utnapishtim over there and honestly, I think Janine's brother could snap my neck if I looked at him funny. Congratulations, Tom, you're the only person here I am too scared to fight."

"I will take that as a compliment," He replies, although his voice is tight, serious. "But what exactly do you plan on doing to get what you want?"

"I'm so glad you asked." She taps something on the computer. "Did you know Veronica sent some messages to Sam? I think it's files of some sort. One is less recent, with password protection, but the second came in early this morning. It's a coded message, probably something Sam or Singer knows. Guessing Veronica didn't want anyone else seeing this, or maybe she knew we wouldn't. Who knows? I can't access the files, nor can I read this message since I have yet to take the time to figure out the code, but since Sammy here hasn't put a password on it yet," She pauses and raises her finger, "I can always delete it."

"No!" Sam shouts, looking absolutely terrified. Her eyes light up at the reaction she was hoping for.

"So, this does mean something? Does it have to do with some of the other things your hiding?"

"Other things?" Peter repeats. "Jesus, Five, how many secrets do you have?"

"That's a good question," I reply shakily, not really looking back at him. "Nicole, please, don't."

"Then explain the deal with Pro. Feive, and all of this cloning and doppelgangers and everything else."

"I..." I choke, and her hand inches closer to the delete button. "No! Don't! I-I'll tell you. I'll explain it to all of you. Please, just-just don't delete that message."

"Callista-" Sam starts, but he stops when I meet his eye. Whatever's in that message of Veronica has to do with my immortality. She wouldn't have it coded otherwise.

"It's fine. They'll probably think I'm crazy anyway."

"Debatable," Tom says as he closes the door behind him, and I smile tightly. I'm unsure if he's saying it in a joking manner, but it's comforting nonetheless.

"I suppose you were right," I say as I look at Nicole, "everything comes out eventually, especially when you force it."

She doesn't say anything, not that I would expect her to.

I sigh, walking over to the bed and taking a seat. "Pro. Cassandra Feive was a scientist who worked in genetic testing and cloning. She tried to create life from a lab, and as that file states, she failed. She kept trying and kept failing. That file doesn't go much farther than that. It does mention that she was suspected to be working on something else, but there wasn't much info."

She nods. "Yes."

"Well, she was working on something called Project Feive."

"How original," Peter snorts, and I chuckle, using the small pause to grab Sam's hand. He immediately interlocks his fingers with mine.

"Well, that project was basically cloning, but instead of trying to create a fetus and let it grow in a test tube, like she'd been doing, Feive thought that if the baby grew and developed the normal way, then the chances of survival would be better."

"That... could be plausible," Tom says slowly.

"Of course you'd say that," Nicole says, that earns her a look from him, one that almost has her faltering. "Well, less than two years ago you stole a baby because you thought it was dead."

"It was! I just took the wrong baby!" He shouts and she shakes her head.

"Still. Keep goin', Singer."

"Anyway, that's what she did. Five eggs sent off at different times to different locations, inseminated into the women trying to have a baby. The parents were pre-chosen whose DNA was close enough to not raise suspicion unless someone looked extremely closely. Not even the parents knew."

"Wait, are you trying to say this is where your freaky doppelgangers and you all tie together?" Peter asks, and his eyes widen when I give a small nod. "Seriously?"

"Yeah. It sounds just as insane to me too."

"...Wouldn't have been the weirdest thing I've ever heard." He frowns. "But how would you know about this if it wasn't in the files?"

I suck in a breath, casting a glance at Sam, who looks equally uncomfortable. "That's the uh, less believable part. You already know about my uh, thing."

"Thing?"

"You know, with the nose bleeds and the headaches."

"Oh... Oh!"

"Yeah, that probably has something to do with it. Maybe. Not sure. Anyway, the project talked about a hive mind, which I don't understand too much, but basically we were supposed to be able to sort of be like, one in a super weird, not-quite-human-way. But the last one... me... I had to be at a certain age for it to sort of hook together. Brain development or something? I had to be fifteen, and by that time-"

"Chorus was already dead," Tom finishes, and I nod.

"And so was Cameron. And Chrysalis died later. The last ones to survive are me and the eldest, Catherine." I let out a whoosh of air. "When I turned fifteen, nothing happened. It wasn't as if the second I turned fifteen, I suddenly changed. It happened the first time when Sarah and I investigated that corner shop, the one Van Ark blew up. That night, while I was sleeping in the barn of those people that let us stay in their house, I met Chrysalis, or I was her. It was very confusing. I did things that she did that I couldn't have known about, and I was told when we finally became cool with New Canton about what happened and everything that I did was what she did...

"I think because Chorus and Cameron were dead, whatever link was supposed to happen tried to happen, but didn't work right. I mean, I know way more than I should about them, and I know way more stuff about this and-"

"How do we know this isn't stuff you've made up?" Nicole asks, and Peter speaks before I can answer.

"Why would she? No offense, but everyone here already sees Five as pretty different because of the whole Moonchild thing, along with the fact that she's saved the world like three times. And like I said, wouldn't be the weirdest thing we've ever heard of. We already know our friend Valmont was working with hybrids and people with 'special abilities,' whatever the hell that means."

"If it's what I think it means, then you would be correct," Tom says. "But Nicole still proves a point. This could just be a hallucination you believe is real. I know how real they can seem."

"I didn't imagine things. I... Sometimes I hear and see things, and it was before Moonchild or anything else. Two years before I got bitten, I heard Sigrid and Ian and I felt the fear of running for my life and I felt the pain of a zombie sinking its teeth into my calf, and I saw the bleeding wound on my skin. It's never enough to paint a full picture, but it was accurate to when I got bit a year ago. I later saw myself try to climb that electric fence and fall on my face, and I saw a lot of other horrible things that went on with that day.

"Whatever this hive mind was supposed to be, it didn't happen. And I think it's one of the reasons Moonchild was able to get into my head so easily too." I pause and am hit with such a heavy silence that I can't stay quiet for long. "I understand if you don't believe me or if you think I'm crazy or if you are going to try to drag me to Paula or Maxine to get them to give me a psyche eval. But Nicole... Katelyn, please do not delete that message."

Nicole sits in her chair for one second, two, and my pulse quickens as I fear she may just delete it anyway because she thinks I'm lying. Not that I can say I'd blame her for thinking that. This does sound crazy, but so did the idea of a zombie apocalypse happening or the Prime Minister using babies to make anti-zombie serum, or immortality actually being achievable.

But instead she looks around and points to a small, empty glass cup on the desk. "This yours?"

"Uh," I falter, my brain buffering at her sudden, odd question. "Yes. I drank some water last night. Why?"

"Has you boy toy drunk from it?"

"Please don't call me that, and no," Sam replies with a scowl, and she grabs it and stands. Nicole walks over and hands it to me.

"Spit."

I make a face. "I'm sorry?"

"You should be. Spit. If I can get some DNA from this, I can compare it to mine. Siblings will have a partial match. If you're telling the truth, we won't have any match. Everything you've stated is circumstantial at best, and you could easily say you saw it happen now that it's already passed. The fact that you're claiming to not only be a prophet, but a weird experiment connected to lookalike versions of you is weird enough. We're gonna need some proof. Now spit."

I obey, feeling really gross as I do so.

"Thank you. I don't know whether I should hope that you're crazy and that you've wasted my time, or hope that you're not and completely in a sane state of mind. Although I suppose if you were right you never were human, or family..." She looks rather sad as she says that last part. "I think I'll hope you're wrong."

Then she leaves, practically pushing Peter and Tom out of the way as she opens the door. It shuts with a click behind her.

A minute of silence passes.

"So... I was not expecting to share this much when I went out to get a drink with you guys," I say awkwardly. "Peter, I may need you to give me that flask back."

He scoffs and shakes his head. "Hell no. After that rollercoaster I'm going to drink it. And I'm going to see if Tom can help me find some whisky while we're thinking about it."

"After this I think that would help quite a bit," Tom replies.

"Again, I get if you don't believe me-"

Peter shrugs. "You've talked about this before. I just-I know you hide things, Five-o, but I always think it's something that's well, not this! Even the big things it could possibly be, like how I had cancer and that's why I betrayed Abel because I saw Van Ark as my only way out-"

"Wait, you had cancer?" Sam asks, and Peter scoffs.

"She didn't tell you? Glad to know you would keep a secret for me, sweetheart. Too bad you suck at keeping your own. But really, I never know what to expect from you. I knew you weren't exactly normal when came through those gates for the first time but bloody hell. Is that what you said you'd tell me eventually?"

I sigh and hang my head. "No. That's something different."

"Bloody hell!"

"But not something we plan on talking about tonight," Sam cuts in. "I think there's been enough sharing. I just-please just go so I can go back to bed. God, this is why we're all sleep deprived. If you want, we can talk about this in the morning, and I can guarantee you feel just as weird about it then as now."

"Before we do, I have one more question," Tom says, and while Sam looks annoyed as hell, he stays silent. Tom turns to me. "Whatever project it was, whatever the main goal was, to study or use this hive mind, it failed because two of the subjects died before you became the right age to finish this hive mind, correct?"

I nod. "Yeah. I was a failure before I even got the chance to try to succeed."

From the corner of my eye I see just how little Sam appreciates that sentence, but my main focus stays on Tom.

"And why are you looking into this now?"

"Well, for one I didn't know too much about it until recently, and even if I can't fix this, I'd like to make these memories of them stop, along with the dreams and the questions of why I'm alive and not them. I'll never be completely human, but if I can stop this, then maybe-

"You can at least pretend to be," Peter finishes, his face telling me he knows the feeling. Oh, if only I could tell him about that now.

"Yeah," I reply. "Sometimes pretending is what gets you through the day."

He smiles sadly. "I think in our case, it's what gets us through every day."

A/N: Here you go, guys! After I gave you a happy non-mission chapter, I had to give a less happy one. Haha! Still I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please be sure to vote and comment! Thank you and have a blessed day!