Tris stood under the spray from the shower, feeling like she was in a carwash from the sound of the water as it hit the suit. After a minute she began the process of stripping; first the gloves so she'd have better use of her hands, then the boots. Any other time she might've been amused by how much water she dumped out of each one – without her hood water had poured into the suit and collected in her shoes. But in that moment it was all she could do to keep from shaking.

Once undressed she grabbed the soap and tried wash away the feeling of being contaminated. No matter how much soap she lathered on her body, no matter how sterile she became, there was no shower for the mind. She could still feel the warmth of Peter's breath as he stood only inches from her face his eyes wide, his growl feral. He'd been an animal.

"She's taking a decontamination shower?" Alan asked standing in the observation room staring at the hood on the floor; he didn't need to be told it was Tristen's, he already knew. Panic twisted in his gut when Julia said yes, the thought that he might lose both his brother and his daughter now weighing on him. "Did Peter touch her?"

Julia could hear the desperation in his voice, begging to be told no because she might end up okay. "She didn't say," she answered, watching his eyes close disheartened.

Somehow, beneath his fear, he realized this was why she said they couldn't work together - he was too involved, too emotional when it came to her and it clouded his judgment. "My daughter wouldn't have gone in alone; she at least would've made sure someone was standing here. So why did this happen?" His accusation immediately turned on Daniel, the only person he didn't know.

It may have helped if Daniel didn't blame himself for leaving her alone, he might have thought of something better to say than, "I was called away."

"You were called away?" Alan demanded,. "My daughter could be infected and you couldn't bother making sure someone was here with her?"

"Alan," Julia said quieting him. "He told me she was alone, I came immediately. It was no more than five minutes," she said trying to calm him down.

Sarah, who stood quietly behind them, finally spoke up. "He did that in five minutes?" she asked pointing at the vent Peter had sawed into. It was impossible: a terminally ill man being able to cut his way through the metal, let alone doing it in such a short amount of time. It didn't make sense.

"He didn't touch her," Alan said suddenly, sparing Peter little thought as he worried for Tristen. He shook his head to Julia and Sarah's, 'you don't know that,' and 'how can you be sure'. "If Tris thought, if she really thought she'd contracted the illness she wouldn't have left that room. She wouldn't chance infecting anyone else, she would've waited for me to tell her what to do."

No one else was as sure as he sounded, as he suddenly felt. "Okay, we'll find Peter then deal with Tristen," Julia told him, seeing the refusal on Alan's face. "Alan you know how she gets when she's scared, this will give her time to calm down. She may not be contagious but Peter is," Julia reminded him. "First things first, we need to tell Dr. Hatake."

"Daniel already did."

They all turned at Hatake's distinctly accented voice to see him standing in the doorway, his face void of the pleasantness he'd once had and now his irritation showed through.

Once Tristen put on her scrubs and sat on the bench she was swallowed by thoughts of Peter. Nothing about what happened made sense no matter which way she turned it in her mind. And she sat there staring numbly at the white floor with her hair dripping down her back, losing all track of time.

The sound of the door opening had her looking up for the first time in several minutes. "How are you," Julia asked. She stepped far enough into the room that the door closed behind her but not farther than she had to. "Stupid question, I know," she said trying for humor but she just sounded uncomfortable.

It made Tris smile though, a quaint curl of her mouth as she nodded. "I'm more confused than anything, but I'm fine." It was amazing that she could say that considering how close she'd come to not being fine.

Julia looked at her closely not seeing any sign of worry. "Peter didn't touch you then?"

"No." Her answer was more a breath than it was a sound but Julia read it from her lips and sighed in relief. "I think he recognized me," Tris said looking up at the other woman, who'd taken a few steps closer now that she'd confirmed there'd been no contact. "Where's Alan?"

"Looking for Peter in the air ducts," Julia said shaking her head. "Why he felt the need to go himself,"

"because emotions make him stupid," Tristen answered for her, making them both laugh at how right she was. "I guess I'll stay in the room with my notes, make my own isolation until I'm sure I'm not exhibiting symptoms."

Julia watched her stand knowing she was numb from the fear and worry she should be feeling – she was either extremely fortunate to be able to shove her emotions aside, or she was at a disadvantage in not knowing how to let herself be emotional. "You sure you're alright?" she asked knowing deep down Tristen wasn't, but unless it was Alan it was never easy getting a straight answer out of her when it came to her emotional state.

Tris shrugged having always hated the question, are you okay, when the only answer the person doing the asking wanted was yes. "I'm always alright," she said before stepping around Julia, taking more precaution than necessary in not getting too close as she left the room to find her notes.

It took her a moment of staring at the unfamiliar handwriting before she remembered Daniel had transcribed her findings – looking at her watch she could hardly believe that'd been less than an hour ago. She sat for some time thinking about what she saw before she wrote it down; asking herself over and over again if she was absolutely sure what she saw was actually what happened. The word 'impossible' playing on a loop through her mind, before she finally sighed and began taking note.

She couldn't bring herself to even write 'accelerated speed,' the thought of it alone made her shake her head at how stupid it sounded. And yet she'd stood and watched as Peter suddenly began moving faster than she was able to see – one second he'd been in front of her and the next he had the bone saw and was on the bed. She couldn't even say she'd blinked and missed it because her eyes had been so wide with shock and fear she knew she didn't blink, she just hadn't been able to follow his movements fast enough. And then he began pulling the metal of the vent away so he could climb through. Then he was just gone. All of that on top of Ventricular Tachycardia.

It ended with her face in her hands as she tried to clear her thoughts. "No more impossible," she told herself. "What's the craziest thing you can think of?" With a steadying breath she lowered her hands and turned to a new sheet of paper.
The virus reprogrammed his heart to meet the higher demand of his muscles, which would explain his tachycardia and why he was able to move at an accelerated rate. Which would mean the function of his nervous system was probably accelerated as well his brain activity. What she wouldn't have given to have him hooked up to every monitor they had just to see how his body had responded to the pathogen.

She was broken from her musings by a knock on the glass, a sound that made her jump from how sudden it broke the otherwise peaceful quiet. "Is everything alright?" she asked the security officer who stood outside.

"Dr. Farragut requested your presence and that I escort you on the condition that Peter did not in fact touch you."

"He didn't," she told him, watching him nod as he began walking down the hall. "Why did Alan ask for me?" she asked, not happy to be following a stranger without a reason why.

He looked at the young woman out of the corner of his eye before relaying the news. "A body was found in the air ducts."

Her eyes widened as she turned to him, briefly considering the idea it was Peter until she realized if it was she wouldn't need an escort – which meant Peter had killed someone. She didn't know what she'd expected when she reached Alan, maybe a body in a body bag, but not an almost naked man laying on a gurney.

"You're fine?" Alan asked placing a hand on her shoulder, not sure if he was reassuring her or himself.

With irritably knitted brows she stepped out of his grasp. "Yeah but a little precaution wouldn't hurt," she told him. "I've been checking my blood every twenty minutes for the past hour and a half, still red." She pulled on a pair gloves before moving beside the body. "Who was he?" she asked looking him over.

"Joseph Kneizeh," Daniel answered, his eyes on her face. "How are you?" he asked, seeing her surprise when she looked up at him. It wasn't until then, seeing her standing beside Joe's body that he realized it wasn't just being infected – Peter could've killed her too. And Daniel had just left her alone with him.

Tris hadn't expected him to ask and it took her a moment to nod. "I'm fine," she told him, her shoulder giving a twitch of a shrug. She turned back to the body before she could see in his eyes he didn't believe her; she didn't believe her either.

The deceased man was young maybe thirty, in good health, handsome. She looked for a wedding ring and instead inspected an arm that'd been sawed off near the elbow. His skin wasn't discolored, which is what she'd expect from someone who bled out – but that would take time, enough for him to scream.

Alan, Daniel, and Hatake all watched her hands move to the man's neck, her fingers pressing beneath his chin and around the back of his head where she stilled. Hatake watched her look up at Alan, as though she'd known he was about to ask what was wrong, and saw the small shake of her head before she stepped back and pulled off the gloves.

"I've seen enough to know what happened, I assume you're my escort this time?" she asked looking up at Alan.

He nodded, knowing she'd found something she didn't like. "I need to check in with Jules and Sarah, see if they've found anything." He gave a curt nod to Dr. Hatake, finding something unsettling in the man, before he and Tris began walking. "What is it?" he asked when they'd rounded the corner.

She shook her head not liking what she was about to say, because it only added to her impossible theory. "His neck was broken." She looked over her shoulder suddenly paranoid someone had followed after to hear what she was saying, the hair on her arms standing on end, but no one was there. It didn't cross her mind to look up at the vents.

"There's more," Alan said having already figured Peter had broken his neck – a conclusion he'd unwillingly come to.

With a nod she turned back to the hall in front of them, glad when they reached the room she'd been in. "It's the way his neck was broken," she said after the door closed behind her. "Usually there's still a connection to the base of the skull, but it was like Peter grabbed his head from above and jerked the body downward completely separating the vertebra from the skull. I could actually feel the spinal cord."

Alan watched as she began writing what she'd said hardly believing any of this real. "He's getting stronger," he said realizing she'd figured that out as well.

"Yeah," she said as she continued writing. "It explains how he broke out of the restraints, sawed his way into the vents, and how he got the guard into the vent with him let alone moved him around."

"That doesn't explain how any of it's happening," Alan told her, no closer to figuring this out than before.

She only shrugged. "That's what you scientists with your fancy PhD's are for."

He smiled at her teasing, knowing most scientists didn't think she even knew how to use a microscope let alone understood what they said. "Guess we should put those to good use," he said watching her smirk briefly before she pricked her finger. He hadn't realized how tense and upset she was until her shoulders slumped in relief at seeing her blood was still red. "Hey," he said wrapping an arm around her, feeling her shoulders draw together.

"I'm fine," she said not even convincing herself. She wanted it to be true, to be above the initial fear and now calm and collected. But she was just bouncing thought to thought, action to action, looking for anything to distract her from how close she'd come to being infected – and after what she'd seen from Peter, this pathogen was terrifying. She wanted to lie down and hide under the covers.

"You were attacked," he said knowing she was trying her hardest not to be emotional.

But she shook her head. "He didn't touch me," she said as a means of defense. "He tore my hood off and he was about to but I said 'Uncle Peter' and it was like this veil lifted behind his eyes – he looked so," she struggled to think of a word, not noticing the tears gathering in her eyes, "pained."

Alan stood wanting to reach for her, to fold her into his chest and tuck her head under his chin so she fit perfectly against him, but the years had made her independent – she didn't want to need him, no matter how much she did. And so he kept his arms at his side, no matter how much he needed her.

"And then he was gone. That was it," she said trying to convince herself everything was okay as much as she was trying to convince him. "I tell patients all the time it's nothing personal, they got the short end of the stick and we're doing everything we can. But he didn't touch me. So I'm fine."

He stood silently as she tried to give him a reassuring smile, one that always put him at ease enough to leave, but this was more of a grimace – her mouth was a quivering slash on her face and her eyes didn't even bother. And so her face fell, and she looked so much like the scared young girl she'd been when he first met her. "Tristen," he said though his voice was more a sigh. Every fiber of the father in him demanding his arms encase her, but she held a shaking hand up and turned away.

She refused the tears leave her eyes even though they threatened to spill. She wouldn't breathe until she was sure she wasn't gonna cry, he always made her cry. "You should check on the tissue samples," she told him when she'd composed herself.

That's what he should be doing, there were other lives now at stake not just his daughter – but her in danger had forced him to turn away from what was important, and now she was pushing him back. "If that's what you want," he said wishing she'd at least look at him. If he didn't know her as well as he did his eyes wouldn't have caught the small shake of her head, the hesitant 'no' though she gave nothing more. That 'no' meant everything; she didn't want him to leave, she wanted him there and she wanted him to hold her because she wasn't fine. That 'no', as barely perceptible as it'd been, was how he knew she loved him.

His leaving was almost as palpable as the sound of the door opening as closing, she felt it like a band-aid ripped from her skin. "I'm fine," she told herself before pricking her finger again.

Stationed on the wall behind her was a camera, and sitting at a desk in front of the monitor sat Daniel. There was an aching in him that had always been there, he hadn't thought it could get worse. He thought he was alone, his face was softened in that unguarded moment as his heavy gaze followed the movement of her hand as she rubbed her eyes.

A throat cleared behind him and he straightened hardening his eyes though the man behind couldn't see his expression. "She's getting closer to figuring it out," Daniel said by way of explanation.

"Yes," Hatake agreed having already known, having always known. Her cleverness in realizing how the neck was broken proved that. What he hadn't known was how quickly she was discovering it. "But that is not why you watch her." He didn't need to see Daniel to know the way he swallowed, the way his eyes shifted away from her as though he'd been caught.

He didn't respond to that, he refused. Instead he asked, "will she be a problem?"

"I hope so."