Emerson

I’ve always believed the saying that God doesn’t give you more than you can handle. But watching my wife as she processes the news Banks hands her, I wonder if she just might break under the weight of it.

Shit, just knowing the choice she has to make -- and it does have to be her decision -- almost breaks me.

“I... I need a minute,” she says, before walking out of the room.

I want to follow her, to tell her everything will be okay, but the fight that’s about to break out between the men stops me.

“Why the fuck would you even tell her that?” Fallon yells.

“Because she has a right to know.” Banks doesn’t back down. “What do you think she would do if I’d kept it from her, and she found out that she could have been the cure?”

“Banks is right,” I say, trying to wrap my mind around this information. “Are you certain the babies will die if you extract the fluid?” I ask Banks hoping I heard something wrong.

“Yes.” His single word is firm.

“Then she won’t do it,” I say, knowing my wife’s heart.

The others don’t look as convinced.

“If anyone finds out about this, other scientists, other families...” Banks shakes his head. “Fuck, I think people will be banging on the door of the compound, forcing Tia to undergo the procedures.”

Salinger nods. “Hell, I wouldn’t even trust my own mother’s reaction. As twisted as it sounds, we are talking about the lives of six babies in exchange for thousands, millions saved?” Salinger runs his hands through his hair, clearly stressed.

We all are.

“Her father is a fucking monster,” Fallon growls, and I couldn’t agree more. Who would do this to their own child? Knowing what it would cost?

“No wonder Tia’s father is so desperate to get her back,” Giles says. “He knows how valuable she is for the human race. She is the cure.”

“What’s going on?” Huxley asks coming into the compound, his brows knit with exhaustion. He has a messenger bag on his shoulder and is carrying a box with both hands.

“You should sit down. Let me help you with that,” I say taking the box from him, knowing he’s going to need a moment to collect himself once he hears the news.

He holds the box tightly though as I try to take it from his hands. Maybe he doesn’t intend to tug back so hard, but it causes him to lose his balance and the box topples to the floor.

“Sorry, man,” I say, kneeling down as papers flutter around us. “Just trying to help. You’ve been at work for hours.”

“It’s fine, I got this,” Hux says, his voice sharp, his hands flying out to push me back. “Don’t.”

“You alright, Hux?” Salinger asks, frowning as the man scrambles around for the papers.

“I’m fine.”

But it’s obvious he isn’t. His eyes are bloodshot and he looks like he hasn’t slept in days. I know he deals with some shady people in his line of work, but he looks like he’s been put through the wringer since I’ve seen him last.

He keeps grabbing at the papers, shoving them in the box, and when he finishes, we tell him to take a seat. As if it takes all his energy, he acquiesces and falls into a leather armchair. I exchange a look with Salinger who seems concerned.

“I have some information,” Banks tells him, either not noticing Huxley’s uncharacteristic attitude, or not caring. “It’s about our wife.”

“Lay it on me.”

Banks starts to explain everything to Huxley who listens halfheartedly, his foot tapping the entire time, practically wringing his hands.

“Can I get you something, man?” I ask. “You seem--”

“Upset?” he scoffs. “Yeah, I am. You’re telling me some pretty fucked up information.”

“Dude,” I say, raising my hands in defense. “I’m just trying to help. No one could get a hold of you for the last several hours and you come back not acting like yourself and --”

“And what?” he asks, cutting me off. “You think just because you’re some Golden Boy, you can fix everybody's problems, Emerson?”

“I don’t want to fix anyone. I was just trying to help.”

“Yeah?” he asks sourly. “Well, you can’t help me.” He stands and reaches for a bottle of whiskey on the bar cart. Uncorking it, he takes a swig and begins pacing the room.

“Why, exactly, are we talking about you right now?” Fallon asks, not interested in Huxley’s apparent breakdown. “Let’s talk about Tia. What should happen next? How we can keep her safe.”

“Safe,” Huxley scoffs shaking his head and taking a long pull on the bottle. “None of you can keep her safe. You’re all living in a fucking fantasy.”

“Hux, what’s wrong?” Tia asks, coming back into the room. It’s obvious she has been crying, but right now the look in her eyes is only worry for her husband

“Nothing,” Huxley mutters, dropping back into an armchair. “Everything.”

Tia’s face falls and she steps into the room, her eye catching on something as she comes closer. She leans down and picks up a stray piece of paper that floated under a table.

“What is this?” Her voice is deadly still, her eyes scanning the page.

“What?” Hux says, eyes widening when he sees the paper in her hand.

“What have you done?” she asks, her words tight with fear.

I take the sheet from her. It is a printed email. With today’s date.

Huxley,

Your information has once again, proven to be most valuable.

We will be picking up our asset in two days.

This wouldn’t be possible without your help in the matter of locating patient C65.

Please ensure our patient is at the specified coordinates as have been discussed.

As our contract agrees, you will receive payment upon pick-up.

-Warren Thorne

Tia is shaking, but not with sorrow, with anger.

“Tell me that isn’t what it looks like.” She moves toward him, grabbing the bottle from his hand, flinging it aside. “Tell me you haven’t betrayed me. Betrayed all of us!”

Huxley’s expression remains deadpan. “I can’t tell you that, Tia.”

I step closer to my wife, catching her as she collapses to the floor.

Tears fall down her face, her eyes wild with rage and she sobs in my arms. Looking up at Huxley she asks, “ Do you know what you’ve done? He’s a monster, Huxley. A monster.”

“I know,” he says as if detached from her entirely. “But I figured by now you’d realize that I’m a monster too.”