I let out a small wince that echoes in the quiet room. This building usually is quiet, since it's the place most people in Abel come if they want to work on certain crafts or various things that require a more peaceful atmosphere.

My wince came from pricking my finger with my needle again. A few people asked me to sew up some clothing for them in exchange for various things-dry shampoo, perfume, candy, and other things. Many people in Abel know how to sew, but I've been trying to learn more advanced stitches since I can't knit to save my life, even with Jody's patient instructions. I'm hoping I'll become well versed in sewing soon enough to be able to actually make my own clothing. Of course, it will be a while before that happens, so no one will be getting a handmade shirt or blouse this Christmas.

I look over to Phineas and Adora off in the corner. Adora is working on one of those foam ABC boards while Phineas is making his origami animals. He doesn't seem too keen on showing them, so I can only guess he's making some to give as gifts for Christmas. Thankfully Adora isn't interested in taking them. I'm sure he'd get very upset if she messed up his hard work.

I only took Adora with me today because Sam is busy disassembling the crib and moving it to the other building that's finally built, so now people don't have to be worried about being cramped for space. It will be nice to have room back in the coms shack, since most of the time that crib was just empty space since Adora usually slept with Sarah. Maxine and Paula never seemed to mind, since the girls keep each other asleep during the night. But having that bit of extra space will be nice.

Of course, we're still keeping some of her toys-the ones she hasn't grown out of-since she'll still be spending a lot of time in there.

I hum to myself as I continue to sew. Adora pays no mind to it, and Phineas can't hear it in the first place. It's nice having the quiet, but usually when I sew, I have someone to talk to. Sam or Maxine or Jody always like to talk to me while I patch clothing up, and it helps pass the time since this can become tedious after a while.

But it's probably best that they're not here, not because they're busy, although that would be a good reason not to disturb them, but also because they may bring up my words from a few days ago.

Word travels fast around Abel, even when it comes to less important missions. Also Phil and Zoe have never been the best secret keepers. Of course, Sam doesn't really oppose my words. I don't think anyone in Abel thinks what I said was wrong, but they always try to talk about it, as if they're not sure if they need to dig deeper and find out why I said what I said.

I know my words towards Lizzie were harsh, and some may find it ironic that I say she deserves punishment considering that I've done worse than her when I was a Torrencer. Nicole actually brought that up yesterday, not to accuse, but to make a mockery of what I said. I quickly shut her down.

The difference between me and Lizzie is that I didn't willingly choose to be a Torrencer; she chose to be a Last Rider. I didn't know about the horrible things Torrencers did when I was forced to join; Lizzie knew what the Last Riders did and joined anyway. I knew what I was doing was wrong; Lizzie just thought her wrongdoings were chaos.

I believed I deserved to be punished for what I did. For a long time I thought everything was my fault in some way, that I was in need of punishment to make up for what I did. It wouldn't change my actions, but at least justice would have been served. I thought I deserved it, and any repercussions from bad actions I did I took because I deserved it. Lizzie didn't feel that. She didn't feel remorse. I don't even know if she feels it now. She decided she wanted to live instead of die.

I know people who have done bad things, but they got punished for it and accepted it. That's how life works. That's how justice works. That's why I said what I said.

I prick my finger again, hissing when blood droplets well up from the wound that heals itself a second later. I instinctively place my finger in my mouth to dull the pain, even though it is a pain that dulls rather quickly. I suppose certain habits stay with us, even when they're no longer needed.

I remember what Veronica said many months ago when I was trapped in the basement of that mannequin factory with all those spiders. Before she got all her new processors and all other stuff to help her function properly, she said in times of high stress her brain reverted back to familiar patterns. I suppose this situation applies to that, just on a lesser scale.

Familiar patterns... I hope that if... when I find my cure, the familiar patterns of healing directly after receiving injury won't cause me to put myself in unnecessary danger. The longer I'm immortal, the harder it will be to remember I'm not. Paula was the same way when she got her cure for the zombie virus. That is one thing Veronica sent in one of her messages, along with a small note of Van Ark's. The note itself had little value but her comment was something I held onto.

I haven't heard from Veronica in a while, which is worrying.

But there's a lot of things I haven't done in a while, many people who I haven't spoken to or haven't heard from. My mother, for example. I sent out a letter to her ages ago, but still haven't received one in return. I suppose it makes sense that travel from the UK and US has been stalled. Nicole has, of course, warned the United States about the V-Types. They probably wouldn't want paper mail because all it takes is one V-Type on a plane to spread it to the entire continent.

But I mean, America does have a vast array of weapons. If V-Types did manage to make it to the US, they'd be prepared with something akin to burn cubes, or worse.

But there are even people in Abel I haven't spoken to in a bit. I've barely spoke to Milo at all, although I doubt he's still upset at me for making him come back home. I don't think he'd hold a grudge for that long. And he's made friends with the Blackmoore Valley people, so I don't think he's too hung up about Veronica anymore. It's good that he's moving on. He's doing so a lot faster than I did.

"Hey, Five," Phineas says, which snaps me out of my thoughts.

"Yes?"

"Does this look okay?" He holds up a small origami turtle. It looks rather different than the simple ones I saw him teaching Nicole before. This one is intricate. I didn't know people could make something like that from a folded piece of paper.

"It looks awesome," I reply, and I notice his eyes light up a bit.

This must be a Christmas present for someone. He's even using construction paper instead of old school notes. Using color paper is a rarity since we have a limit to how much people can use from the craft area. The only time people can use something as much as they want is if they go out and get it or a runner gets it and lets the bag checker know that it is to be given specifically to them and not to the township as a whole.

"I've been trying to do some harder ones since I've pretty much mastered the easy ones," He replies. "I have to use a bit of different colors to make them look better, but it's okay. I practice with my old notes so I don't waste anything."

"That's smart. Where'd you learn those though? Roufflenet?"

He shakes his head. "Nah. The computers in that little computer lab are too slow. Plus the pictures are usually grainy. Runner uh... whatever runner number your sister is-"

"Twenty-seven."

"Yeah. She brought it back for me a few weeks ago."

I purse my lips. While I know Nicole has been around Phineas a few times, and he offered to teach her origami once or twice, it doesn't seem like her to remember it or be considerate enough to bring a book about it to give to him.

"Uh, was anyone else with her on the mission that she got you that book?" I ask, and he nods slowly.

"Uh, yeah. I think so. It was that one lady who talks funny."

"Talks funny?"

"Her mouth moves differently. Not like yours, though, so she's not American. Her mouth moves like Dr. Meyers, so wherever she's from."

I blink. "Dr. Meyers is American too. She's just from a northern state and I'm from a southern state. Just like if you're from different places in England you can have different accents, same goes for the United States."

"Well, how was I supposed to know that?" He frowns. "But the lady talks like Dr. Meyers, and she likes history."

"Oh! You mean Ellie," I say in realization. That makes more sense. She probably didn't want Nicole to leave the book since, to her, all books are precious.

"Sure," He says. "Anyway, I've been practicing the more advanced ones from the books." He holds one over his head when he notices Adora reaching for it, seemingly having abandoned her puzzle. He gives me a pointed look and I sigh.

"Come over here, Adora," I say, and to my surprise she obeys, standing up and slowly walking over to me. My foot rests on a coloring book I set down earlier and I slide it to her, along with a few crayons. "Why don't you color a little bit? This book has a picture of flowers. You like flowers, don't you?"

She nods, opening the book to a random page. She mumbles something about colors and pretty flowers. Sam and I have been trying to teach her colors when we can, and I think some of them have in the nursery as well. She's learning some of the basic colors, like blue, green and red. She likes the color pink too, although I've never heard her say it, but rather just grab the pink crayon and color until the poor thing is worn down to nothing.

That's why I made sure the little bag I brought today doesn't have it in there, since she starts crying when she can't color anything pink anymore.

She's no master artist. Coloring inside the lines isn't something she's learned yet, but she always tries to show off her creations and laughs when we praise her, so I don't mind. After watching for a few seconds to ensure she won't try to put the crayons in her mouth, I go back to sewing. Hopefully I'll be able to actually make some clothing for the next holiday or birthday, but for now if I want gifts to give to someone, I'll have to go raid the nearest clothing store or see if I can work out a trade from some of the nearer settlements.

I still need to ask some people what they want for Christmas, but since I'm running out of time, I'll probably just get them something and pray they'll like it. It's not like we throw any gifts away around here. We can always find some use for it.

"Hey, Callista," Phineas says, and I look up at him with a raised brow. "What's your favorite animal?"

I smile softly, since I already know what he's asking, even if he's trying to hide the reason. I don't know what he's been practicing, so I simply shrug.

"I don't know... I like turtles."

He blinks, a hint of a smile on his face. "Perfect."

"Why do you say that?"

"No reason."

•

Sam mutters under his breath, his brows knit in concentration as he tries to figure out his next move with the cards in front of him. I simply watch, eyes half lidded in admiration as he goes through his solitaire game, taking a small moment to push his glasses back up when they begin to slip. I'm surprised he's wearing them since he claims to hate them so much.

I don't understand why since he looks so damn good with them on.

"Are you enjoying staring at me?" He asks, not looking up from his game. My eyes widen slightly at being caught, but I recover, ignoring the heat creeping up the back of my neck.

"Very much so. The view is fantastic." I grin when he shifts slightly, trying not to smile that giddy type of smile he sometimes gives from a compliment. He looks up at me with a raised brow.

"You must be really bored if this is what you find entertaining."

I shrug. "Sometimes it's nice to just look at things I find attractive. I can always look elsewhere, if you'd like."

"I never said that," He says quickly, a small grin on his lips, to which I return. My eyes glance down at his cards for a small moment.

"You can move that three of hearts up to the top," I mention, and he glances down and nods.

"Oh, thanks." He moves said cards and continues to look about. "But seriously, you must be bored if this is your entertainment, considering how bad I am at this game."

"You are pretty bad. Showing off your magic tricks are always better."

"Maybe I'll practice some after this game," He replies, and I laugh.

"I'd like that, but I don't really care to do much right now. I've been spending the last few hours sewing and I'm done with keeping my hands occupied for the day."

He looks at me in interest. "Sewing?"

"Yeah. Some people needed some clothing patched up, so they asked me to do it."

"So you're Abel's cook and seamstress now along with our best runner. You're much too valuable to lose now."

I roll my eyes, although I wear a small smile. "Stop it."

"Stop complimenting my wife? Sad to say that's not going to happen," Sam says, seeming to utterly enjoy the flustered look I give him as I rack my brain for some kind of reply.

"Well... I could say the same about you, since you're our best operator, and you're everyone's favorite person in Abel."

Sam snickers. "You're exaggerating."

"Am not."

"Are so."

"Am not. I could ask anyone who their favorite person is, and I can almost guarantee it would be you."

"Then why don't you? Prove your words."

"Weren't you listening? I'm done for the day."

A laugh leaves his lips. It's a beautiful sound, really. "Ah, yes, because sewing makes your legs tired."

"Never said my body felt exhausted, just my mind." My fingers drum absentmindedly against my leg. "Although I suppose I'll have to not get too tired of it, since I want to learn how to actually make fabric into clothing and not just patch things up. It'll take me probably months of practice before I can make anything good."

"So, I suppose I shouldn't hope for any handmade shirts from you this Christmas?"

"Not this year, darling." I huff and run my hand through my hair. "Honestly, I'm not even sure I know what to get you."

"It's an apocalypse. Get me a new toothbrush and I'd be happy," He says, laying down a few more cards, not noticing my frown.

"I want to get you something better than a toothbrush. I can get you one of those anytime. I want to get you a special gift."

"Any gift from you is special."

That response leads me to give him a deadpan expression, mostly because as sweet as that is, it's not what I want to hear.

"Is there anything in particular you would like?" I ask, standing from the bed and making my way to sit down beside him on the floor. I lean in close, just enough to him bristle slightly.

"I-uh, no, not really."

I tip my head to the slide, letting my fingers rest on his arm. I trail my hand up and down his arm, a slight frown on my face. "There's not a single thing you really, really want for Christmas this year? Really?"

He gives a small shake of his head. "No."

"Oh."

His lips pinch when my hand pauses, my touch just light enough to make him bristle again. "Don't act so disappointed. This just means you can get me anything and I'll be okay with it."

My eyes narrow into a glare. "That is not how I want my first gift to you as my husband to be."

Sam blinks, before his eyes widen in realization. I can practically see the gears turning in his head. "Oh! It is our first Christmas as a married couple, isn't it?"

"Yeah. Now do you see why I want to get you a good gift?" I rub my face. "I was thinking about getting you a new keyboard or something, since the one you have has sticky keys from all the marmite you've spilt on it over the years. Only problem is the nearest tech store in is the abandoned city near Abel and it's-"

"Full of zoms. I'd rather you not risk your life for a new keyboard."

I shrug. "I've risked my life for worse. I could always fill out a form to bring a vial of the cure with me, but I just don't want to accidentally lead a V-Type back to the township if there are any there."

"Yeah, that wouldn't be too good. You could always try to do a swap with another settlement," He suggests, and I nod, although I doubt any settlement would be willing to do a tech swap right now.

"I'm guessing you aren't too worried about my gift since you acted so calmly when I pointed out this was our first Christmas married," I say, changing the subject slightly, and the pride that shines in his eyes gives me my answer before he even speaks.

"Oh, I think you're really going to like your gift."

"What is it?"

He scoffs and crosses his arms. "I can't tell you. That would ruin it."

"No, it wouldn't. If you think I'll like it on Christmas, I'm sure I'll like it if I knew now."

"No." He shakes his head, ignoring my pout. "You just have to wait. It'll make it even better when you finally see it."

I cock a brow, rather interested. His confidence intrigues me, since normally he's nervous about my gifts, even though I end up really liking every gift he's ever gotten me for Christmas. "Oh, really?"

"Yep."

I twist around a bit, leaning even closer to him. "Can you give me a hint about what it is? Is it something I've asked for?"

He laughs and waves his finger at me. "Ah-ah-ah, no hints. No nothing."

I groan and rest my forehead on his shoulder. "Oh, come on. I need to know so I can try to make sure my gift to you is just as good."

"Darling, I'm not going to compare gifts, so I don't know why you're worried about that." He lifts my chin with his finger, tipping his head to the side that cute way he does. He looks even better with the glasses. "Plus it'll be useful to me too. You'll just like it more."

I take a moment to think about it, before gasping. "Is it a heater?"

"We already have a heater."

"Is it a bigger heater?"

"It's not a heater." He coughs and says something I can't really understand, but I don't question it.

"Darn," I sigh, shifting around a bit so I'm facing him. My foot accidentally slides some of the cards around, but Sam either doesn't notice or doesn't care, one of his hands sliding to interlock with mine and another settling on my waist as he waits to see what I'll do next. "Guess I'll just have to pile on the blankets and cuddle close to you so I don't freeze to death."

He rolls his eyes but smiles. "You won't freeze to death."

"I'll still be cold."

"When are you not cold?"

"Not often, which is why I have to use you to keep me warm." To emphasize my point, I practically flop onto him, wrapping my free arm around him into a slightly awkward hug.

"Is that all I am to you? Someone to keep you warm?" He jokes, and I shake my head slightly, my hand that was holding his pulling away so I can play with a strand of his hair.

"No, I enjoy kissing you too."

That gets a snort from him. "Thanks."

I frown and pull back slightly. "Are you not going to say it back?"

"Do I need to?"

"Well, it'd be appreciated."

"I think I have better ways to say it without saying it," He replies. I start to ask what he could mean by that, but before I can get a word out his lips are crashing into mine.

My eyelids flutter shut as his hand comes up to caress my face. His touch is gentle, and I instinctively lean into it.

"I suppose this is a better way," I mumble, and I feel Sam grin when he kisses me again.

"Told you."

I internally roll my eyes but kiss him again, and again, and again. My hand that was playing with his hair drops to his shoulder, and I try not to grip him too hard as I pull him even closer to me. He's warm against me, and the constant cold that grips my insides is reminding me how cold I really am and how I need to be closer, closer, closer. My hands start greedily grabbing as I desperately try to pull him as close as humanly possible, only letting him pull away slightly when the need for air becomes too strong.

He doesn't go far though. Sam's forehead rests against mine as we try to catch our breath, and I giggle when I see how messy his hair is, and how his glasses have become crooked.

"God, you're cute," I say, and the look he gives me is a mixture of amusement, adoration and just pure love. I swear I need him like I need air to breathe.

"Just cute, huh?" He asks.

"Well, I could say a few other things, but I think it'd take too long."

He tilts his head so his breath just fans over my lips. "We've got time."

"Are you sure talking is what you want me to be doing right now?"

Without answering, he leans forward and kisses me again, soft and sweet. There's no urgency in his touch or mine, although the wood floor is harsh and makes the position I'm sitting in borderline painful. I ignore it for the most part. It's easy since Sam's mouth is excellent at distracting me, and now both his hands are cupping my face to hold me close. His hands are dry from winter, but the slightly rough texture of his skin doesn't bother me. He's warm, so warm, and I lean closer to him, ignoring the cold, hard wood floor beneath me.

But it seems to be able to seep through my pants, the cold causing more discomfort from the pain of resting most of my weight on my right hip. Eventually I have to pull away, wincing as I shift around and grimacing when the cold hits skin that hadn't touched the floor because of my position.

"What's wrong?" Sam asks, eyes scanning my face for discomfort.

"Nothing. It's just a bit uncomfortable sitting on the floor," I reply.

"We can move up to the bed."

"If we do that, I'm going to end up falling asleep."

He tilts his head to the side questionably. "And that's a bad thing why?"

"Because I like what we're doing right now," I reply, wrapping my arms around his neck.

"So do I, but sleep doesn't sound too bad either."

"But-" I cut myself off when he stands and pulls me up with him. With a sigh I let him lead me to the bed, where I plop down unceremoniously. It's enough to get a laugh from him, although it turns to a sharp yelp when I grab his arm and pull him onto the bed with me.

"I have to pick up my cards," He says, but I don't loosen my grip, instead pressing my lips to his for a quick moment.

"Pick them up tomorrow. I'm cold."

"You won't be complaining about the cold when one of us slips on a card and hits our head."

"I'll make sure to cushion your fall."

"Oh, you'd be willing to do that for me?" He teases, and my lips pinch together.

"I've been willing to do a lot of things for you, dear. If you haven't figured that out by now, you're more oblivious than I thought."

He snickers as I press a kiss to his forehead, and I grab the blanket to throw over us. Sam wraps his arms around me, and I lay my head on his chest.

"I love you," I yawn.

"I love you too," He replies, his own voice edged with oncoming drowsiness. Minutes of silence tick by as we hold each other close, and before I know it, I'm falling into the blackness of sleep...

Only to open my eyes to find myself running for my life, with growls and groans behind me, and Ellie, Halima and Andreas running at my side.

Oh.

It's happening. It seems my mind has decided it's time.

I'm Catherine once again.

A/N: Happy New Year's Eve! This is the last chapter for 2020, but not the last chapter of this book lol. I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. Please be sure to vote and comment. Thank you and have a blessed day.