The timing couldn’t have possibly been worse. The following day, after a night of restless sleep filled with too graphic recollections of a memory that wasn’t hers, Miller called Rowan into her office for the third time since the electrocution.

She already knew why she was there, but her stomach filled with sick anticipation regardless as she sat across from Miller at her desk. Even while seated, the light-headedness and tunnel vision lingered, the room now associated with negativity and making Rowan feel suffocated.

Miller didn’t seem to notice Rowan’s discomfort, diving into things the moment she sat down. “It’s been a while now since our agreement about the subject. I wanted to thank you, for being so cooperative since then, Miss Platts.”

She had permanently dropped doctor for a while now, but it still stung every time Rowan heard her use Miss instead. It felt demeaning, downtalking.

It felt like disappointment.

“I wanted to speak with you because we have good news.” Miller pulled open the draw at her left and retrieved a manila folder, handing it across the desk. “We’re nearly done with the antiviral. We just need to work on dosage and should have it all ready for administration on Monday.”

Rowan let her eyes rove over the contents of the file, but they were unfocused, leaving the words unreadable. It didn’t matter. The details were unimportant. All that needed to be taken from it was that Lyall had one weekend left, before they’d steal away the last bit of who he was, and it was all her fault.

She didn’t even bother pretending to be happy. It didn’t matter. Miller didn’t seem to notice.

“So, how has your observation duties with the subject been? Is he ready to cooperate?”

Returning the folder to Miller, Rowan shook her head slightly. “He’s not as easily convinced as I’d hoped.” Not a lie, but also not completely the truth. She decided to stop trying to change his mind after learning why he was willing to die to keep the virus.

Miller hummed, giving a weak frown. “Well, I’m sure you tried your best. It’s no matter, we planned for such a situation.”

Despite her numbness, the statement pulled Rowan back for a moment, and she gave a questioning look. “I’m sorry, Dr. Miller. Planned?”

She certainly hadn’t been let in on any alternative plans. After all, convincing Lyall to take the antiviral had been her idea in the first place. She assumed the alternative would just be the original plan of letting him die.

Miller nodded. “Of course. You made a valid argument about needing to test an antiviral before starting human trials. It’s important we administer the antiviral, cooperatively or not. That’s what you wanted, after all, isn’t it? To help him get rid of the virus?”

“Yes. That’s…” Rowan swallowed down the regret threatening to rise up her throat. “What I wanted.”

“Good. Then you’ll help us. We’ll need you to go into the containment room on Monday to administer the antiviral. We’ll have an injection prepared, as well as a sample of blood with the antiviral infused, so he can have the option of how he’d like to take it. It can be... A last chance to convince him.”

Miller’s previous concern about letting Rowan in the containment room seemed to have disappeared now that she needed her to go back. Rowan might have been more angry about that fact if she wasn’t already doing everything just to hold herself together.

“He won’t agree to either. I’m already quite sure about it, doctor.” Rowan responded, as level as she could.

Another little frown, before Miller shrugged slightly. “No matter. Try what you can. If it doesn’t work, we’ll disable him again, and you can administer the injection before exiting the room.”

Rowan had to force herself from cringing at the thought of betraying Lyall a second time. She worried the sick in her stomach was given away by the color loss in her face, but if it was noticeable, Miller didn’t comment.

Giving a last try, Rowan noted an observation. “This seems dangerous. I’m worried, for my well being.”

Miller blinked with her comment, then offered a dismissive smile. “No more dangerous than any previous occasion. You’ll have the bracelet, so he won’t be able to touch you.” She seemed like she was going to leave it at that, but something crossed her mind and she added, “If you’re really concerned, we can give you an injection as well. If he’s so adamant about not receiving the antiviral, that should deter him enough from making a meal of you, shouldn’t it? See it as a little... Extra security, so you feel better.”

Sure that Miller did not miss the irony in her words at all, Rowan kept her eyes down as she nodded and rose to her feet. “I understand, doctor. If that’s all, I should really go. Maybe I can try again at convincing him,” She managed to wait just long enough for Miller to nod in dismissal, before hurrying out of the stifling office.

The stark hallways felt pressing and heavy, her throat tightened, the anxiety choking her. She barely made it to the observation room before it all hit her like a tidal wave, and she collapsed against one of the tables, shoving a hand over her mouth to stifle the sobs wracking her body.

When she was finally able to open her welded shut eyes, Lyall was at the glass, his expression twisted in a distinct look of concern that only made Rowan crumble more.

“They finished it. The antiviral.” How she got the words out so evenly was beyond her. Her breath shook after.

He tried to hide his reaction, but she had learned his body language so well she was practically bilingual. He’d turned to the side, and his chest expanded with a single, sharp inhale. He had thought he was ready; he spent the last few weeks trying to prepare himself, but was anyone ever really ready to face death?

Had she only made it worse, by making promises she obviously couldn’t keep?

Rowan stood and hurried over to the glass, stumbling on her weak limbs and dizziness until she admitted defeat and collapsed to the floor. Tears stained her face, but she somehow managed to stifle her sobs. She didn’t want him to know how bad it was.

It was already too much knowing he could hear her heart breaking.

“I thought I wanted this, I really did. I thought I would be helping you. But I don’t. I don’t want this.” Her words were a mess of sensical and nonsensical thoughts, a jumble of emotions. “I don’t want this.” Was the only tangible thought that she could hold onto, and each time it circled her head, it beat her further and further to the ground until her whole body felt sore and weak and broken.

On the other side of the glass, Lyall folded himself up on the floor in front of her, an arm around his knee and his forehead to the glass. He sat there, so close yet still so far away, and she sobbed until she couldn’t anymore.

When she was finally able the catch her breath, using her lab coat to wipe up the last of her tears, she leaned against the glass as well. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, because it was all she could think of saying that meant anything. Even though it meant nothing. His breath fogged the glass for a brief moment, disappearing as quickly as the condolences offered by her words.

He closed his eyes, his lips twitching into a sad smile. “Stupid mouse.”

They sat together for a long time, two lost souls surrounded by monsters, with no words to share. The silence was more profound, so Rowan let it sit, even though her nature compelled her to fill the gaps with meaningless rambling. What could she say that would change anything? The fate they knew was coming had arrived, and she could do nothing to change it.

She had promised him, and she had failed.

She watched him for a long time as he stared at nothing, lost in thoughts Rowan couldn’t even fathom. What was it like, to know your death was approaching? Was he cold and unaffected by the news, like his calculated exterior suggested, or was the lost boy behind his eyes as terrified as she was for him?

“You know my choice.” He spoke finally, ages later. So long that the silence became almost deafening, and Rowan was so surprised by the sound of him speaking she barely comprehended his words. Once she did, her throat tightened, and she was unable to reply, leaving him to continue on the somber note. “If you try to give me the antiviral, I’ll kill you.”

Rowan had become use to his threats. At one time they scared her, but his claims of making her his last meal or tearing her open were now ineffective from sheer repetitiveness. This threat was different though, and it was because she knew it was true. It was not said to scare her, and it was not said to bring the rapid pounding of her heart that often monetarily satisfied him. In fact, it didn’t even seem like he enjoyed saying it at all.

It was true though, and she knew it, and that’s what made her heart stop briefly.

After hours of motionlessness, he stood, and stalked over to his mattress. “Go home now, Rowan,” he said after laying down onto his back to stare up at the ceiling. Her name was a sigh on his lips, and Rowan held back a sob at the idea that it would be the last time she’d hear him say it like that.

She did as he told her because it was the least she could do, even though the dread of another lifetime-long weekend was more than she could bare. She only drove halfway home before she dialed Cameron’s number, the pain far worse than her shame that it’d once again been too long since contacting him.

He answered, although she distinctly noticed that he’d let her hang on the line for two extra rings. “What do you want, Row?” He wanted to sound sharp, but a note of concern leaked into his voice over the line.

“Please come over.” She tried to keep her voice from cracking, but failed miserably. “I need to tell you. Everything.”

It took her most of the evening even with Cameron letting her speak without interruption, but as midnight creeped up on them, Rowan finally finished her retelling of the last few weeks. She told him about the first day in the underground labs, hearing Lyall speak for the first time, and what really happened to William after the “accident” he heard about. She told him about all the times she’d entered the containment room, the electrocution, and why she’d needed his help late that night when she couldn’t explain further. She told him about Lyall, and the virus, his past and his mother, and why she wanted to help him but couldn’t. Every relevant detail, she covered, up until that very afternoon, finally telling Lyall about the finished antiviral.

It took a while for Cameron to process everything, leaving her sitting in her thick anticipation. When he finally reacted, it was after a deep, heavy sigh. “Well… I guess now I know why you’ve been too busy to answer my calls.”

Rowan offered a weak smile with his teasing. “I’m sorry, Cameron. I really am.”

He shrugged away her apology. “Hey. I imagine I’d probably be a little flaky if I was tangled up in a government conspiracy.”

“It’s definitely not all it’s cracked up to be. Sometimes I just wish I’d listened to Phelps and gone with him when he left. Or… I dunno. Wish I hadn’t stayed working late that night and seen everything I did.” Rowan gave a huff as she slumped down onto the couch cushion she’d been hugging in her lap.

Across from her, Cameron snorted, which garnered a dirty look. He smirked, putting up a surrendering hand towards her offense. “It’s just… Hearing you pretend as if you’d done anything differently comes off as such a joke to me. Given the same opportunities, you would have made exactly the same choices, Row. You’re where you are because you’ve been true to yourself. I’m honestly not surprised in the slightest.”

She knew he meant it as a compliment, but the hopelessness of her situation felt stifling, and she was sad and bitter about it. “Maybe I need to learn how to take other people’s advice.” She responded, letting that sourness at herself leak out onto her tone.

Cameron chuckled. “Maybe. But then you wouldn’t be so special.” He let the air linger a little to allow her to accept the words reluctantly, before adding, “Speaking of, what makes alien boy so special?”

It was hard to miss the suggestion on his tone, and Rowan blushed. “It’s not… It’s not like that.”

He gave a playfully skeptical look her way. “Really? Because it seems a little... Like that.”

Rowan buried herself further into the pillow she hugged, unable to stop the mortification from showing on her face. He let up on his teasing and gave her a break though, allowing her to elaborate once the joking toned down and the flush on her face subsided.

“He doesn’t have anyone on his side. He doesn’t let anyone be on his side. He made me feel… special. Like he trusts me… and knowing I’ll be letting him down is unbearable.”

Cameron sighed on her behalf, a furrow coming to his brow. “I’m sorry, Row.”

She nodded, then huffed to try and shake off the heavy air, but it stuck, dragging the mood down into the defeated somberness Rowan had been sitting in all day. It made her feel better to pour her heart out to Cameron about everything, but she thought for a moment that telling him would somehow make things better. Like maybe revisiting everything that happened would make her see something she’d missed, an opportunity to change things, show it wasn’t too late.

Unfortunately, they’d gotten through the whole story, and now they were there, sitting together in silence, and nothing changed. Everything was still hopeless. Rowan was out of options, her and Cameron would be out of jobs, and Lyall would receive a death sentence of his own making come Monday morning.

Cameron tried to break the thick silence with a gentle offer. “Hey. How about I pick you up on Monday?”

Rowan lifted her eyes up from staring at the floor, pulled from her weighted thoughts and perking up a little with the offer. “Could you?”

“Sure. You owe me some of your time, anyway. We can pig out on comfort food. I assume you’ll need it.” He gave a timid smile, which spread a thankful one on Rowan’s face.

“That would be really nice.”

He nodded, dismissing her gratitude. “It’s a date, then. And hey, if you figure out an escape plan, alien boy can come too.”