None of this makes any sense.

I clench my fists, grunting as I land another hit onto the punching bag. My knuckles are red and raw, the skin sore. Droplets of blood well up from the cracks in my skin before they're smeared against the gray leather of the bag. There's a constant burn from healing, but also just a constant burn under my skin.

It's been a week since my dream, and nothing new has come up. No new vision. No new dream, no new revelation. I don't get it! This can't be it. Every dream I've had about my doppelgangers, every meetup, every time I was there as them, it was for an event in their lives that was important-to me and them.

How is earning a ticket to go on a train important to Catherine? What impact could that have possibly had?

I told Sam about the dream. I didn't really mention Halima, since when I told him there was a woman on Oban Heads he laughed and said he was a part of that, but he can't really remember who all was on there, or else he'd had tried to contact them to Rofflenet to see if any of them were still alive. I don't see the point in bringing her up if he won't know her, and she was really just someone who called me Cat.

Although her and Catherine must have really bonded for her to have written her a letter. Too bad that wasn't what I saw in my dreams, and that my brain can't seem to get it together and give me the information I actually need.

There's a sharp, wet sound of flesh hitting leather, sweat and blood mixing with each punch. The bag swings back from a more forceful hit, and I start to take a step back to brace for the force my fist will make. My foot hits the ground the wrong way, and before I can register what's happening, my leg folds, my knee buckling and my other leg unprepared to take on my full weight alone. A wordless shriek leaves my lips as I fall to the floor, followed by a thud as I hit the ground.

I lay there for a small moment, sweating and bleeding and breathless as my brain tries to catch up to the events of my body. The tight soreness and blunt pain of the fall is already fading, but my arms still shake weakly as I turn and try to push myself up. How long have I been doing this, exactly?

I only push myself up to sit on my knees, too scared to try to stand lest I fall on my face again. Even though there is no one in here to see me, I doubt my pride would be able to take it if I fell again. I lick my lips, tasting the salt of my sweat as my heartrate continues to steadily decline, the burning under my skin cooling to a simmer.

This helps, in a way. Pushing myself to my limit, going until I can't anymore-it clears my head, gets out all the incoming thoughts and questions I can't explain or find the answers to. It's all a waiting game-these dreams, my cure for immortality, a way to stop the V-Types, stopping the Last Riders.

Patience. I've never been good with being patient. I wasn't good at it when I came to Abel, and I'm not good at it now.

I finally push myself up off the floor, ignoring the sweat stain that's left there. I walk out on shaky legs, sweaty and exhausted, not really at peace of mind, but more so than I was earlier. Stepping out of the gym, I look over the fence that separates the roads from the track, my hand wrapping around cool metal as I watch those on it run. My lips quirk up into a smile when I see Milo running around the track, talking to Everton. He's running at a nice pace, able to talk, laugh. It's so good to see him smiling again. It's good to see him moving on, making friends, being happy.

It means Veronica is no longer eating away at his thoughts.

He loved her. I know he did. I know what it's like to lose the person you love, the person you cared for so much. I'm glad he's not as bitter as I was, so determined to hold onto my grief because I didn't know what I was without it. That's why I tried to keep him from running away, because I didn't want him to be like me and waste years mourning over someone who was gone and destroying present relationships because of it.

So seeing him with a friend, even if it's to train, is good.

"Not going to join them for a run?"

I flinch at the sound of another voice, my shoulders sagging with relief when I realize who it is. "Hey."

Peter gives a closed-lip smile. "Hey."

"Are you about to run?" I gesture to the track, but he just shrugs.

"I was thinking on it. Looks like you've already given yourself quite the workout."

"Have to let my frustration out some way."

He quirks a brow before speaking with exaggerated patience. "And pray tell, what's got you frustrated this time? So frustrated that you've bruised your knuckles. Have you not been wrapping your hands?"

I try to ignore the slight condescending tone his voice holds. "It'll heal."

He doesn't seem pleased with that answer. "Why put yourself through the pain when it's avoidable?"

"I could ask you the same thing," I reply, before letting out a breath. "It's just the same old stuff, along with some less than same old stuff."

He deadpans. "Well, that tells me absolutely nothing."

I hesitate, looking around to make sure no one is watching, or listening. I spoke so carelessly when talking about Pro. Feive with Sam, which is how Nicole came to know about her. While she knows the truth, or part of it, I doubt she'd understand just how connected I am with my clones, as she called them.

"I... had a dream a week ago," I say, internally cringing when Peter straightens in interest.

"Oh? Was it like, one of those visions you say you have?" A small scoff leaves his lips. "It's so weird to actually say that and know I'll believe you if you said yes."

"You're not the only one." The chuckle that leaves my mouth has the tinge of bitterness to it, although I don't think he notices. "But it wasn't... exactly that. I told you about my doppelgangers, about how I was supposed to be connected to them... and in a way, I am."

"Yes..." He drags out the word, lips pinching together as he waits for me to continue.

"Sometimes... well, I had a dream about one of my doppelgangers, something that happened in the past. I was her. I've had these dreams before, so in a way I knew what to expect, but it's been a long time since I had one and I just-well, I mean, usually they mean something. A lot of the time, they have at least some sort of significance, either to me or what happened was a big part in their lives."

"Okay. So what happened?"

"Well, that's the thing. All I did was help some guy get to a train station because the one we were one had a ruptured fuel line. He ended up being some big designer for trains and gave me and another woman some tickets to the New Oban Express."

His eyebrows shoot up. "The New Oban Express? You got to go on it?"

"Well, I didn't. I was in America. Catherine-that's who I was, the first clone of Project Feive-did. But I woke up right after he gave us the tickets. No idea what she does on the train. I was thinking I'd have more dreams about it, but so far... nothing."

"Do you know anything about the New Oban Express?"

"Not really. Sam told me a lot about it. He was a fan, just went on about how cool the train, all the stuff it had. Surprised I never heard about it on the news."

Peter raises a brow at me, and I assume he's just surprised I watched the news since I was probably younger than twelve by the time this happened. I never did learn what year it was in that dream.

"Anyway, it was just weird, because Catherine's the last person in the project alive besides me. The other three clones are dead, and Catherine seems to know about the project, which was something none of the others did. She blames me for it, I think."

"And how did you know that?" He asks, but he shakes his head before I can answer. "You know what? Don't bother explaining it to me. It's already weird enough as it is."

"I know, right? But I thought it would be something different than just seeing her help someone get to a train station. And I have no clue if I'll ever see what happens next."

"That's a shame," He says.

"Tell me about it."

"Well, at least you got something. It's all been a waiting game for our plans here," Peter says, and I nod.

"Exactly! I was just thinking about that! Veronica just seems to be taking her sweet time, not just with the V-Types, but with the-" I cut myself, paling significantly.

"With the what?" He asks. "You know she's not really doing anything to help us stop the Last Riders, right? That's why we have Nadia in their ranks, plus we have Colonel Sage and all his high and mightiness having meetings with Janine every bloody time you turn around." He rolls his eyes, and I understand why. Sage is a smart man, but he can come off as stiff and stuck-up sometimes.

"Yeah, yeah. Silly me. Wasn't thinking."

I silently curse myself for speaking so quickly, for not thinking before letting words spill from my lips, nearly telling secrets that would have burned Peter like fire. I can't tell him that I'm searching for a cure for immortality, not until I've actually found one, or until I find a way to make one and tell Maxine or Paula or another scientist here in Abel to make it for me.

It would be cruel to give him a hope for something that could very possibly not exist. No, it would be worse that cruel. He hates his body and the advanced cell regeneration it possesses more than anything. I will not give him false hope for normalcy, not when I can't promise it.

While I don't think I'm stronger than Peter, I certainly do think in this case I am more prepared to be let down if there is no way to reverse what's been done to the both of us. It will hurt, of course, if we find out I will continue to live forever. The pain would be agonizing, but I'd rather suffer that revelation alone and let Peter be oblivious than force him to share that pain with me because I was too eager to share my own research.

Like I learned long before, sometimes you bear the burden so others don't have to. While I don't use that motto like I used to, it's still something I hold to in situations like these.

"If you're going to go run, I'd go now," I say, changing the subject. I don't know why I'm trying to push Peter off. I really enjoy his company, but it's rude to hold someone up, and he did say he was thinking of going running. "I don't know how much longer they'll be going before they decide they're done."

"Who said I wanted to run with them? While Milo is a good kid, he doesn't necessarily like talking to me."

"He used to really look up to you, you know, when I first came to Abel. He and Willis both did."

"Well, I definitely tarnished my reputation as a hero in his eyes then, didn't I?"

"Only for a little while. Same as how it is with him being pissed at me for making him come back to Abel. It's been sucky lately, but he's slowly getting over it. But why do you want to run by yourself? Everything okay?"

"Yeah. Sometimes it's just nice to run alone, clear my head. Gives me a way to take out my frustration, like you with that unfortunate punching bag in the gym."

"Better the bag than Tom." I grin.

"You probably wouldn't be able to land a hit on Tom."

My face scrunches up into a scowl. "I have before! And I'm getting better. He's been training me a lot harder since the whole revelation with you guys. I think he's wanting to make sure I'm prepared for whatever Nicole might try to do next."

"What? You think she might hurt you?" He asks, and I give him a knowing look.

"She's tried to kill me before."

He nods. "True. But didn't that have to do with the A.M.T.B. and all that?"

"Yeah. Still, she's unpredictable, and even with only one functioning hand, she's dangerous."

"Good thing she's on our side... sort of. I'd hate to see what would happen if she joined the Last Riders."

I snort at the thought before shaking my head. "Nah, she wouldn't do that. She's not a big fan of chaos, not unless it's controlled. Even then she's a bit reluctant. Plus, while she is willing to kill, she doesn't really enjoy causing unnecessary death like the Riders do."

"Speaking of death, heard you faked yours... again. Have you tried on your Runner Ninety-three T-shirt yet?"

The almost teasing grin he wears makes me scrunch up my nose. "No, and please don't tell me you're going to call me by that number when we go running together."

Peter shakes his head, his tone holding a bit of a dramatic flare. "Of course not. You'll always be Five-o to me, but I may call you Callista. You're getting less annoyed when we call you that on runs."

"No, you're just getting more comfortable," I correct, "but I suppose it will be fine if you want to do that. So far no Torrencer agent has been sent to kill me, so I'm not too worried." I look around, blinking slowly when I realize the track's empty. "Looks like the boys have left. I'll leave you to it then."

I start to turn, but a hand grabs my wrist. I stare at it for a moment before my gaze slide's back up to Peter's face and the questioning expression it holds.

"Yes?" I ask expectantly.

"Do you want to run with me?" He asks.

"I thought you wanted to clear your head."

"I can easily talk to you and run to clear my head at the same time. It's called multi-tasking."

A giggle leaves my lips, which causes a smile to grace his. "Fine. But just so you know I'm going to talk to my heart's content, so you're going to have to clear your head when I pause to take a breath."

His grin sharpens. "Wouldn't have it any other way, darling."

•

I guess I should have seen this coming. I talked about it-her-earlier, so I suppose bringing up the subject of my sister brought her here. I guess I could say me talking about her did this, so I brought it on myself.

Still, I don't feel any less surprised or tense when I see her leaning against the wall with her arms crossed when I step out of one of the changing stalls. My head whips around, water droplets flinging from my freshly washed hair as I try to spot anyone else who might be in here, but there's no one.

"Don't bother. No one's in here and since it's almost time for dinner, no one is probably coming," Nicole says, confirming what I already knew. Curses fly through my head, but my lips remain tightly shut, the muscles in my face tight as I try to refrain from showing any emotion.

"It probably wasn't a good idea to come here alone, since I know you've been avoiding me, but that time in the gym and that run with Peter probably left you smelling disgusting, so you had no choice but to shower before going to one of the cafeterias, right?" She continues, and I frown, eyebrows knitting together.

"Were you spying on me?" Panic hits me like a truck. "Where-"

"From afar. The armory has some really nice binoculars I could use, and the coms tower is a great vantage point, something you showed me when I climbed up there after you after your little meltdown in which everyone thought you were having a Moonchild attack. Remember that?"

"Unfortunately. How did you manage to get access to the armory?"

"Just because you don't trust me doesn't mean Janine doesn't. I've done pretty well in proving my worth at least to Abel. And it's not like I can do much damage with binoculars, can I?"

I bristle, not answering for a moment. "No, I suppose not."

"And before you ask, I didn't hear whatever it was you and Peter were talking about. Seeing how terrified you looked, I assume it had something to do with your many secrets."

My face darkens. "Don't use that judgmental tone with me. You have more secrets than I do."

"Yes, but unlike your dumb ass, I don't go talking about them to others in public. I'd have thought you'd learn from your mistakes since you speaking so openly is what lead me to find out about you being..." She trails off, as if she doesn't want to say it. I can't imagine why, not when she must know how saying it and letting the word hang into the open air would feel like a knife to my skin. Maybe she's being merciful and sparing me the momentary agony. But then she shakes her head.

"It doesn't surprise me that you never learn. Abel has made you soft, but you still are so much like you were. You have a temper and you speak too openly and you try to keep secrets only to give hints little by little, and then you're surprised when we finally figure out what's going on. Or sometimes, when your thoughts get the better of you, you tell us yourself."

Frustration burns in my chest, my lips twitching as I fight to keep a neutral face. "What do you want, Nicole?"

"To talk, of course. You've been avoiding me."

"I do that. We've already established we aren't friends, just siblings."

"According to the DNA results, we aren't even that."

A long, heavy moment of silence passes between us, and I don't know if it would be easier to keep her stony stare or to look away.

"So what are you going to do now that you know?"

"Is there really much I can do? We can't change it. We barely have a relationship, so it's not like that can be ruined. I can't exactly tell anyone. What good would that do? Who would even believe me?"

"So you're going to do nothing?" I ask, skeptical, becoming even more so when she shrugs, letting her arms drop down to her sides so she can take on a less defensive stance. Whether it's natural or her trying to appear less intimidating is beyond me.

"I'm curious. I want to know about this project, although seeing how the doppelganger you've met is dead, and the other two that your friends knew are dead, that leaves only one that you don't have a clue as to where she might be."

"Why would any of this matter?" I ask.

"It doesn't," She replies. "I'm just curious. I want to know what made you so special that you were created and shipped off and led to believe you were a part of a family until you were called to do... what was it you were meant to do again? Be some sort of super soldier?"

"I think so. There's not much I've found about it, you know?"

"I don't unfortunately, but I'd like to change that. This hive mind would have been very interesting to learn about, study."

I don't say anything, not for a long moment. Then my eyes grow wide as a creeping horror spreads from my chest to my limbs.

"Wait. You're not..." My voice trembles, "you're not going to tell anyone about this, are you?"

"No on in Abel," She answers.

"You're going to tell Rux, or-or-or whoever is in charge of the Torrencers, aren't you?"

Her lack of a reaction gives me an answer before her words do. "I don't see why I shouldn't. It's my job to report back to them. And if this was in the making, it could be useful."

"No!" I shout. "We-I don't even know what we were going to be used for. The plan failed before we got the chance, and we-I don't even know how she managed to do it."

"And that's what I want to find out. I'm not saying this project needs to be recreated, but we need to know what other countries are doing. The Prime Minister was quite literally the person who started the zombie apocalypse. Maybe if we'd known about some of the trials being conducted beforehand-"

"We both know the chance to make literal super soldiers whose minds are connected is not something the Torrencers will pass up," I argue, and she sighs.

"Look, Singer, right now I haven't said anything to them-"

"As you shouldn't," I interrupt, and she looks at me in annoyance.

"If we learn more about this, I will report back. I have to. You were created for a reason. To just be a team of connected super soldiers is too vague. There had to have been a specific task in mind, and I want to know what task it was so I can report it back."

"Why? The task didn't get completed! Sigrid didn't even know this project was happening, so it had nothing to do with her! From what I..." I pause, taking a moment to regain my composure. "From what I can understand, we were there for a defense system. I know what you might think we would have been, but this isn't Captain America: Civil War. I don't think my-my team was going to be like Bucky Barns and be strong enough to take out an entire country in a night."

That's a lie. I'm almost certain Prof. Feive and her assistant once talked about the same thing.

"I don't even know where this lab was or who Feive was working for or how she got the funding. And she sent us across the world. We grew up completely differently. I'm American, Catherine is French, Chorus was German, and Cameron and Chrysalis were English, but I remember their accents and they didn't sound alike in the slightest, so I'm guessing they didn't live near each other. We weren't created for world domination."

Nicole doesn't say anything, and after a few seconds of agonizing silence, I sigh.

"Katelyn-"

"Like I said before, it's my job to report these kinds of things back to the A.M.T.B."

I scowl. "You mean to the Torrencers."

"The A.M.T.B. knows I'm here. They have the same expectations as the Torrencers."

"Oh? And how do you plan to tell them that you know about this because of me, the girl who, on record, died in 2014 due to a run that went wrong?" I scoff when she doesn't reply. "You're not going to find anything, and if you plan on just running back to tell Rux, then anything new I find will be kept to myself."

The positively shocked look she gives me almost makes me laugh, but the rising anger burning in me pushes humor away for now. I push past her, my mind still buzzing. Suddenly I wonder if taking a shower was a good idea since I may just head back to the gym or track to get out my frustrations.

There are other ways I could clear my head, but Sam's probably in one of the cafeterias eating by now, and even though I know he wouldn't protest, I don't want to drag him off for an activity that would make me just as sweaty as running would.

And doing Kytan's breathing exercises sounds about as appealing as strolling by the goat pens, so I simply head to the closet cafeteria building, which is the not-exactly-complete one. It's not a building, not yet. It's mostly just a cleared area and a few picnic tables surrounded by other tables that have servers giving out prepared plates for those who don't want to squeeze into the over-crowded cafeteria. I think we'll be using it for a few more days before a team of volunteers start to work on it. We're halfway through with the new dormitory, praise God. Hopefully it will allow the dorms to be less crowded and allow some of the older kids that are becoming teenagers to have rooms in the adult dorms.

Then if we do that, Adora can go back to the children's dorms. I still want to focus on finding her a bed soon, even if that bed will be given to the children's dorms. They need new beds anyway.

I get in line and get my plate of food, which unfortunately is just beans on toast tonight and some sort of pumpkin mash to go with it. I try not to question it, only know that people definitely know what nights I'm in the kitchen vs the nights I'm not vs the nights I'm in the kitchen and Janine gave me a recipe to follow.

Those nights are the best nights. Janine's time as a chef truly paid off. Too bad we can't get most of the ingredients she used in her recipes while working for Valmont.

I take my seat, absentmindedly taking a bite of the toast with beans. I'll never understand why this constitutes as a meal, but I suppose Brits feel the same way when we Americans talk about sweet iced tea. They don't see how that constitutes as a drink. Sam told me he'd rather die than try it, which I found pretty rude since I tried marmite, something that's tastes way worse than even the worst sweet tea.

And I know I wouldn't make bad sweet tea, because I lived in the South. I think maybe if Maxine made it, then it might not be as good, but she's from Indiana. Northerners never knew how to make good sweet tea. I can't fault her for that.

My thoughts are pulled away from the sugary drink that's making me slightly homesick when someone sits down at my table. Usually I wouldn't mind or say anything, since spacing isn't a luxury we can have right now, but my eyes stay on the person's face.

"Hey," I greet, although my tone is more of surprise than politeness. Milo gives me an absentminded nod, already digging into whatever this pumpkin goop is. I don't know if it's meant to be a dessert or not, but I know better than to waste food, so I take a bite, pleasantly surprised when I find it tastes like pumpkin pie filling.

"I have a question to ask you," Milo blurts. "Why were you watching us earlier why we were on the track?"

"I was timing you," I reply instantly. "Needed to make sure you hadn't gotten slower while you were at New Canton."

His eyes widen almost comically. "Had I?"

"No," I snort. "I'm joking. I wasn't timing you. I was just watching because I'm glad you have friends here. And then I started talking to Peter."

"About what?"

"Nosy today, aren't we?" I ask instead of answering.

He shrugs and takes a bite of his beans and toast. "Gossip is all we have going for us in Abel."

"Not true. We have tons of cool stuff, like the library, the park, and I think Jody has been trying to pester Janine into letting us have another movie night."

"Yeah, yeah, but you know what I mean. Gossip though is what runs this town-talk about the V-Types, talk about the Last Riders, talk about some weird fanfiction about the townsfolk-"

"Please don't tell me you've read those," I say, blanching slightly.

"Yeah, no. I'm not really into seeing my friends, family and myself put in a superhero AU where you or Peter or someone else who has narrowly escaped death in real life has to suffer a slow and painful death in this fictional one. I've imagined that kind of stuff enough times. No need to read someone's version of it where you do it because you're that world's version of Iron Man."

I snort. "We all know I'm not smart enough to be Iron Man. "

"Veronica was."

I want to say she's more like JARVIS now, although I suppose that would be insensitive, judging by the pain that crosses his features.

"Fine, fine, me and Peter were talking about who we had to bribe to get out of farming duty next week," I lie, eager to bring the conversation away from broken hearts and burning grief that leaves scars and the smell of smoke. "It's actually pretty easy. You just have to know who to sweet talk and who is most willing to change the schedule if you get them some extra sweets. I found a cookbook and looked up how to make black licorice because Joan likes it, and she said if I made her some, she'd have someone else tend to the animals."

"Really?" He asks, and I nod a bit too enthusiastically, glad I was able to get that off his mind, and glad that he's here actually speaking to me, that things are getting better.

"Yeah, totally! And Rene really likes sour candy, so I've been looking for a recipe..."

A/N: Here you go, guys! I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please be sure to vote and comment! And if you could, could you guys please pray for me and my family? We're going through some stuff right now and we could really use the prayer. Thank you. Have a blessed day.