Yve began descending the stairs leading to the rooftop of the medical building. When she reached the second floor, she spotted Dylan coming up, taking them one step at a time. They both stopped when they reached each other.
Yve smiled when she saw him, but her expression quickly faded when she got a closer look.
Dylan gave her a tired smile. "Hey..."
"What happened to you? You look pale."
"Probably the rain," Dylan replied. "It's just cold. It'll pass."
Yve reached up and touched his face. His skin was cold, but sweat covered his forehead. She wiped it away with her hand, studying him for a moment. Dylan leaned against her.
"Come on. Sit down."
"Nah. I'm fine."
Before Yve could argue, Dylan started leading her up the stairs again.
"Where are you going?"
"Wanna see the big black thing for myself."
Yve paused, then smiled faintly. "Ahh... the ARC. Alright." She moved closer and slipped an arm around him. "Lean into me. You might fall."
Dylan gave a small nod and let some of his weight rest against her as they continued toward the rooftop.
"How was the run? Find anything good?" Yve asked.
Dylan took a moment before answering. "Don't remember."
Yve glanced at him. "You don't remember? That's... odd."
Dylan looked past her toward the rooftop. "Didn't know you guys had spaceships."
Yve chuckled. "It's not a spaceship. It's a research vessel. We use it for research, sometimes here on Earth, sometimes on a different planet. It's pretty cool."
Dylan nodded and shifted his weight against her. After another few steps, he looked at her. "You good?"
Yve adjusted her grip around him. "I'm fine. You're not." She helped him up the final steps. "Come on. Two more."
Dylan gave a tired nod.
They finally reached the rooftop. The ARC hovered above the medical building, its dark exterior standing out against the sky. As Yve approached, the vessel recognized her and responded. A staircase extended from its underside, forming a path down toward the rooftop.
Yve guided Dylan toward it, keeping an arm around him as they climbed. "Come on. Just a little more."
They entered the bridge, where Ethan was still standing near the control table, staring at the interface.
"You're welcome," Nine said.
Yve looked toward him. "Ethan?"
Her voice pulled Ethan out of his thoughts. He turned around and immediately noticed Dylan.
"Here." He quickly walked over and took Dylan's other shoulder, helping Yve support him.
"I said I'm fine," Dylan muttered.
"Quit being stubborn, Pierce."
That shut Dylan up.
Yve guided him toward one of the chairs and helped him sit. Dylan leaned back, taking a moment to catch his breath as his eyes wandered across the bridge before settling on Nine's holographic projection.
"Who you?"
Nine turned toward him. "I am MatrIX."
"It's an AI," Yve added.
Dylan stared at Nine for a moment before Yve waved her hand through the hologram, her fingers passing through the projection without resistance.
Dylan said nothing.
Yve turned her attention to Ethan. "What happened to him? He's not usually like that."
"I know..." Ethan replied. "Found it weird too. Caught him a few times staring at nothing, then he'd look around like he didn't know what happened." He glanced toward Dylan. "I think he's just tired."
"No. That's not it." Yve shook her head. "I've seen him tired before. This is new."
"Well, he's not exactly a superhuman." Ethan shrugged. "He might just really be tired. Don't worry too much."
Yve looked toward Dylan again. After a moment, she nodded. "You should go check on Ava."
Ethan's expression changed. "Why? What happened to her?"
"Just... go check on her."
Ethan hesitated before nodding. "That was what I was about to do next... I'll be out of your noses, then."
He turned and headed toward the exit.
Yve turned toward Dylan. "Can you stand up?"
Dylan nodded but didn't move.
Yve waited a moment. "There's a shower here. You should freshen up. I'll lay out some clean clothes for you."
Dylan nodded again, keeping his eyes closed as he remained in the chair.
Yve watched him for a moment before Nine spoke. "Yve. Jenkins has asked for you in Room C."
"I'll be there."
Dylan opened his eyes. "He's here?"
Yve looked at him. "Yes. There are some side effects he's dealing with right now. I'll be back." She placed a hand on his shoulder. "You go shower."
Yve turned toward Nine. "Nine, guide Dylan to the shower room."
"Understood."
Yve gave Dylan one last look before leaving. Dylan remained seated for another moment, his eyes closing again.
Nine's holographic projection turned toward him. "Dylan, I will guide you to the shower room when you are ready."
Dylan stood and followed Nine's guidance through the ARC. After a short walk, he reached the shower room, stripped off his clothes, and stepped inside.
"The monitoring arrays have been turned off for maximum privacy," Nine said. "If you need any assistance, please let me know."
Dylan looked around the room. "Why's it foggy?"
"That is the sanitization mist."
"Turn it off. Can't see nothin'."
"My apologies. Turning sanitization mist off."
The mist began to dissipate, though a cloudy layer still lingered throughout the room.
Dylan looked around at the unfamiliar shower. "How do I work this thing?"
The wall in front of him lit up.
Dylan stared at it. "Wall's a huge screen... of course."
A list of options appeared across the display.
"What's this?"
"I have translated the language from Aelthivar to English," Nine explained. "There are several shower configurations designed for different skin types to accommodate different species."
Dylan scanned the options. "Where's one for humans?"
"My apologies. The system currently does not have an option for humans."
Dylan stared at the screen for a moment. "Just... just give me the one Yve uses."
Nine processed the request. "Understood."
The interface changed, and the sanitization mist began filling the room again. It grew thicker with each passing second, but Dylan expected it to make breathing difficult. It didn't.
He took a breath, then another.
Nothing.
He frowned. "Huh..."
Before he could think much of it, water began rising from the floor.
Dylan looked down. "Uh..." The water continued climbing. "Uh, Nine?"
"Please hold your breath for thirty seconds."
Dylan's eyes widened. "Wait, what the—"
The water rose over his chest, then his shoulders, until his head disappeared beneath the surface. He held his breath as the water completely submerged him.
"Vital Cleansing commencing," Nine announced.
Dylan expected the worst.
Instead, the tension in his body began to fade. His skin loosened, and the water moved across him, lifting away the dirt, grime, dried blood, toxins, and other impurities that had accumulated on his body. The exhaustion that had been weighing on him seemed to loosen with it.
Dylan remained still, holding his breath and letting the process happen.
Thirty seconds passed before the water began descending.
Dylan's eyes opened as his head emerged from the water. He gasped for air, taking several deep breaths before leaning his back against the wall.
His shoulders relaxed as he closed his eyes.
He hadn't realized how exhausted he had been until now. His mind was no longer racing, and for the first time in what felt like forever, there was nothing pressing against him.
He had almost forgotten what this feeling was like.
The Vital Cleansing left him with a strange sense of clarity, as though something inside him had finally been given room to breathe. For a moment, Dylan simply stood there with his eyes closed, enjoying it.
It was almost profound.
Almost life-changing.
But in the end...
It was just a shower.
~~~
Meanwhile, in Room C, Yve and Jenkins sat on the edge of the bed. Jenkins looked down at his hands, still in their predatory form, scales covering his skin and fins protruding from the sides of his arms.
"Is this... normal?"
Yve nodded. "It is. That's the form of your predatory instinct."
Jenkins studied his hands. "I-Is it... some kind of secondary consciousness? A separate cognitive process?"
"No. No, that's simply your instinct." Yve glanced at his hands. "For Sirens, our emotions can convey a lot. If you're scared, angry, frustrated, or you feel the need to protect someone, this can happen. But you have to learn how to control it. Don't let every emotion you feel drive you into your predatory form."
Jenkins swallowed. "But... I heard a voice. It wasn't just an impulse. It was like talking to me, and I couldn't make it stop."
"I get it. I've been through that." Yve turned toward him. "But you have to understand that it's your own voice. It's your subconscious mind fighting for control against you. You have to learn how to control that."
"How?" Jenkins lowered his gaze. "I'm... weak."
"From what happened earlier?" Yve shook her head. "I don't think so."
Jenkins looked back at her.
Yve placed a hand on his shoulder. "You stopped your own hand before you could hurt me. You did it once. You can do it again."
Jenkins exhaled heavily. "What can I do to stop myself from going violent again? To be honest, it's a miracle I didn't hurt anyone."
"Distract yourself." Yve gave his shoulder a firm pat. "When you feel that compulsive need to become violent, turn your attention away. Distract yourself. Focus on something else. If you keep doing that, one day you might just wake up and realize you don't hear those voices anymore."
Jenkins looked down at his hands again. "Sorry, Yve... if I hurt you."
Yve sighed. "I'm used to physical pain. Doesn't even bother me anymore..."
Jenkins chuckled as he flexed his fingers, examining the claws and scales that still covered them. "Never in my life did I think I'd one day live like this."
Yve said nothing.
Jenkins continued staring at his hands. "I thought I'd accomplished a lot of things at my age. Getting my PhD, winning the Nobel in..." He paused, searching for the right words. "...pulling myself out of poverty."
He let out a heavy sigh. "Never imagined that would mean nothing compared to this." He gestured toward his hands, then around the room and finally toward Yve.
"Don't beat yourself up too much," Yve said.
Jenkins chuckled. "Thanks, Yve."
Yve turned toward him. "For what?"
Jenkins smiled. "For saving me." His expression grew more sincere. "Don't feel guilty anymore for what you did. I agreed to that anyway."
Yve sighed in relief, her shoulders loosening. "Thanks..." She nodded. "I needed that." She looked at him for a moment. "I don't know everything that will happen to you, Jenkins. Especially since your case is the first successful one. But whatever happens, I'll always hold that responsibility. And I want you to know you're not completely alone in this. You have my support."
Jenkins gave a small chuckle. "How long do Sirens usually live?"
Yve thought for a moment. "Umm...the oldest Siren to ever live died at the age of six thousand seven hundred and twenty-nine."
Jenkins' eyes widened. "Six thousand seven hundred and twenty-nine?! What about now?"
"A lot has happened and changed through the millennia." Yve shrugged slightly. "A Siren's lifespan has drastically decreased. A study I read said Sirens only live for around two thousand five hundred years. Three thousand if they're lucky."
Jenkins stared at her. "Two thousand five hundred..." He looked down at his hands again.
"That's if they die of old age," Yve added.
Jenkins nodded, still processing the number. "Still... that's a lot of years."
"I know." Yve looked at him. "And since you've got thousands of years ahead of you, why not let me help you finish your research regarding Dylan's blood?"
Jenkins looked at her. "You... you read my research?"
Yve nodded. "Help me, Doc. I have to know if whatever's inside him is a good thing or a bad thing."
Jenkins stared at her for a moment.
Then he stood. "Say no more."
The two of them left the room.
~~~
Back in the shower room, Dylan had finally composed himself.
He opened his eyes and glanced down at his legs.
Something caught his attention.
Dylan leaned forward and examined his leg more closely. There was a faint scratch across his skin. It wasn't deep, but it was noticeable enough to leave a thin mark.
He frowned.
It didn't look like something that had simply grazed him.
Dylan ran his fingers over the scratch, trying to remember when it had happened.
Then he remembered.
The warehouse.
His expression changed as the memory returned.
A Shrieker had grabbed hold of his leg.
The weight that had disappeared during the Vital Cleansing returned all at once.
Dylan stared at the scratch.
The implications came one after another, and he couldn't stop them. His body remained still, but his mind wouldn't let go of the thought.
Dylan scoffed and exhaled hard through his nose. A sad grin crossed his face.
It was such a cruel joke. Wasn't it?
After everything he'd survived, after everything he'd been through, this was how it could end. As if fate had been waiting for one last way to mock him.
He shook his head and stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his lower body before walking toward the mirror. He planted both hands against the sink and stared at his reflection.
One thought settled in his mind.
"I'm gonna die."
He stared at himself for another moment.
"It's fine."
Then Nine's voice came through the room. "Dylan, Yve has asked if you are done showering."
Yve.
Dylan's gaze dropped.
They had only just begun admitting what they felt for each other. After all this time.
And now...
Wasn't that cruel?
It wasn't fair.
It ain't fair.
His jaw tightened.
Dylan turned toward the mirror and drove his fist into it.
The impact echoed through the room. His knuckles split, blood running down his hand.
The mirror didn't even crack.
Dylan stared at it.
Of course.
Siren technology.
He kept his hand against the mirror as blood dripped from his knuckles and exhaled hard, no longer caring about the pain.
I want more time.
The thought came immediately.
His mind went back to Yve, followed by the thought of never seeing her again. That was enough to make him consider what he had been trying not to think about.
Unless he became a Siren.
The thought made him hesitate.
As a soldier, Dylan knew there had to be consequences to what Yve had done to Jenkins, consequences he didn't understand. He couldn't bear to just shamelessly ask her to turn him into a Siren because he was afraid of dying. Not after everything she'd already gone through. Not after what she had just endured with Jenkins.
He couldn't put that on her.
Dylan reached for the towel and wiped the blood from the mirror. As he did, a faint bluish glow caught his eye.
He stopped and his gaze dropped to his knuckles.
The glow was gone.
Dylan stared at his hand for a moment before scoffing and putting the thought aside.
He wiped the mirror again and turned away. Then he checked the inside of his lower eyelid, followed by his arms, chest, legs, and every other part of his body he could reach. He checked his temperature and examined his skin for any scratches he might have missed.
Nothing.
His attention returned to the wound on his leg.
It wasn't deep. Barely even a scratch.
Dylan stared at the thin mark and the faint redness around it.
Can you even get infected from somethin' like this?
He thought about it.
The skin was red around the scratch. Wasn't that normal? Wounds reddened. Sometimes they turned purple and left a bruise before eventually returning to normal.
Maybe he was fine.
Maybe he was just overthinking it.
Dylan stared at the scratch for another few seconds.
Then the other thought came back.
I'm infected.
He had been scratched. Faint or not, he'd been exposed.
His attempt to reassure himself collapsed almost immediately. His knees began to shake, and a tear slipped down his face as memories of his family came rushing back.
Clyne's eyes.
The desperation on his father's face.
The helplessness of watching everything fall apart.
He swallowed hard, trying to compose himself.
But what he dreaded most wasn't dying.
It was Yve.
He imagined the look on her face if she found out. The desperation in her eyes as she tries to save him. He couldn't bear the thought of putting her through that again. Not after Jenkins.
His breathing became uneven.
Fuck it!
Dylan grabbed the towel and tore it into a thin strip. His hands trembled as he wrapped it tightly around his leg, tying it just above the scratch in a desperate attempt to stop the virus from spreading.
He knew it probably wouldn't work.
But he had to do something.
Then a knock came through the door, followed by Yve's voice. "Dylan... are you finished?"
A beat of silence. "Comin' out," Dylan called back, his voice rougher than usual.
"I have clothes out here for you. They're from Jenkins, so I hope they fit."
Dylan pulled on his pants, his movements stiff as he opened the door.
Yve smiled when she saw him and gave him a playful whistle. "Well, hello there, handsome." She leaned closer. "You no longer reek of rot... heh."
Dylan didn't respond. He just stared at her.
Yve handed him the clean clothes. "Once you're finished, I need to take some blood samples." She stopped when she noticed the fresh blood on his knuckles. "What happened to your hand?"
Dylan remained silent, his gaze fixed only at her.
Yve reached for his hand, turning it over to examine the split skin. "Dylan?" She looked from his injured hand to his face. "Let's go see Ysa. We'll get that healed."
She turned toward the door, but his fingers closed around her wrist.
Yve glanced back.
Before she could speak, Dylan pulled her toward him. A single tear escaped and tracked down his cheek as his lips crashed against hers. Yve stiffened, surprised, then softened into the kiss. Dylan's arm locked around her waist, pulling her flush against him as his other hand fisted in her hair. He held her with an intensity that felt less like passion and more like desperation, as if he were trying to anchor himself to her.
Yve broke away to breathe, but Dylan followed, capturing her mouth again. Her hands flattened against his chest as the kiss deepened, but something about the way he held her made her chest ache with a nameless dread.
She finally pushed back just enough to see his face. More tears had joined the first. "Hey... what's wrong?"
Dylan shook his head, his voice rough. "Nothin'... just missed ya."
Yve stared at him for a moment. "A-are you sure?"
Dylan swiped at his cheeks with the back of his hand, a quick, angry gesture. He reached for her hand, holding it between his calloused fingers. He didn't say anything, just brought it closer to his face and inhaled deeply.
Yve watched him, perfectly still, as he breathed in her scent, almost as though he were trying to memorize it.
She knew something was terribly wrong. She could see it in his eyes, in the way he was holding onto her like she was his only tether to the world. But she also knew Dylan. The more she pushed when he wasn't ready to talk, the further he'd retreat.
So, for now, she let him have his silence.
Dylan pulled her into another hug, resting his head against her shoulder as he took another deep breath, lingering in her familiar scent.
Yve wrapped her arms around him in return. Her expression remained worried and confused, but she didn't ask again.
For the moment, she simply held him, feeling the silent tremor that ran through his body.