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Four.

A dense fog of eerie silence loomed over the house during the early hours of the following morning. Donald and Tasha, both of whom were remarkably sleepless, moved around the house with a stealth that they unconsciously adapted to in hopes of not waking their children. Yet it was a hope that was, in fact, held out in vain. Despite their father's attempts to complete the tedious work of putting the puzzle pieces together at another room farther away from the lab, thoughts of what they were missing on, as well as overwhelming anxiety over the state of their sister, disquieted Adam and Chase.

It didn't help that they couldn't watch over her. The poison had weakened Bree's system so much that she couldn't even stand in her capsule on her own. After Donald made sure for the ninth time that all traces of the toxic chemical had been pumped out, he transported his daughter to a guest room upstairs, where she would be floors away from them.

They made several attempts to visit her, but Tasha had long forbidden them. She had warmly explained that to get better, Bree needed to rest. They did, too.

Adam and Chase both succeeded to get only partial rest, for they woke up every half an hour.

Leo purposefully isolated himself, meanwhile. Guilt permanently anchored his heart into the pit of his stomach, and the weight of it all kept him awake. His mother had coaxed him to at least try to sleep after she and his stepfather stopped by his room to ask him everything that happened, and he did comply. Yet, he found out soon after that it was a mistake.

For the short period of time he was asleep, he dreamed a frightful dream. He saw his room, exactly the way it was before unconsciousness claimed him: dark, with only a sliver of light coming in from his partially ajar door. But the illumination only led directly to the corpse on the floor. Her skin was the color of his father's tombstone—a sickeningly pale marble. Her hair was splayed around her head, like a dull wave of light emitting from a once bright star. Her lips were much bluer, and her unseeing eyes were focused only ahead.

Only on him.

Leo wanted to scream. He wanted to wake up, but his body couldn't move. He called to his parents, to his brothers, and then to his sister who stared morosely at his misery, but no one answered.

He willed himself to wake up. He convinced himself that he could do it. Then, he counted.

One. One. Two.

After he finally gained mobility and his mind stopped tricking him into seeing non-existent things in his room, he never went back to sleep again. Instead, he sat up, his back against the wall, his knees folded up, his forearms protectively crossed atop. He stared at the wall opposite him and imagined the red numbers that embedded themselves into even the most basic of habits such as counting.

One, one, two.

Eleven, nine.

Four, seven, five.

Ten, nine.

Leo contemplated upon it for hours to make sense of it. It wasn't a phone number. If it was really the Blue Swan (a moniker he chose for the blue-eyed girl in white), she wouldn't be easy on him. She seemed to regard him as a respectful opponent, so the answer to the riddle on the mirror must be something more complex.

Like coordinates or an IP address.

He checked, of course. They weren't. There were too many figures for it to be a clue to a specific location no matter how hard he tried to rearrange them.

He knew he couldn't give up. Someone had to be held accountable for what happened to Bree. Yet he couldn't afford to think about it anymore. The lack of answers frustrated him. Not only that, it also burdened him with much remorse whenever he recalled that moment when his sister took the poison that was supposed to be for him.

He knew well that they were past the critical period of the ordeal, but he couldn't shake the horrifying image his nightmare burned into his brain.

He had to see her.

Leo crawled out of his bed stealthily, careful not to make any noises that could alert their parents of movement. Momentarily, he felt anxious over the possibility that Eddy would tattle on him, but after making it out the door with no disturbance from the home system, he concluded that he didn't have to worry about any interference. Even a crucial situation such as one of the family members almost losing her life had not seemed to interest Eddy, as evident by his lack of effort in showing up anytime throughout the night. It made sense that the program would only view getting involved at that moment as a break in his consistent record of inconsiderateness.

Once he made a clear trek across the deserted hallway, he headed straight into the spare room where he knew Bree would be. He checked for their parents' presence one last time before going in.

It surprised him to find Bree awake. She was lethargically reclining upon the mountain of pillows behind her, her hands resting on top of the yellow comforter that covered her from the waist down. More colors, though not much, added some vibrancy to her features, which made the blank gaze affixed in her eyes more noticeable.

His gut churned, in the same way it always does whenever he saw them at that state.

"Bree?" Leo spoke to snap his sister out of it.

Bree blinked, as if awakened from a deep sleep, and then lifted her eyes up at him. She offered a weak smile, and it sufficed to allay his worries. "Hey," she said.

Leo cautiously took a few steps forward, smiling back. "You look haggard," he joked.

Bree chuckled, but it was notably labored. "Thanks," she said. "Those words really make a girl feel beautiful in the morning."

Leo took a seat at the foot of the bed, unsure whether a grin would be inappropriate or not. He turned to her uneasily. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

Bree sighed. "Like being run over by a thousand fire trucks while a branding iron is stuck in my stomach," she said.

Leo nodded. Soon, he found himself more interested by the stray thread hanging onto his house shoes. "I'm sorry," he said, his tone only slightly above a whisper.

"For what?" Bree asked.

"For what happened," Leo replied.

Bree shook her head. "It's food poisoning, Leo. It was the caterers' fault."

"No. It wasn't." Leo looked at her remorsefully. "My drink. Big D found traces of poison. Not enough to permanently, um, you know… But it could have caused serious damage. Your immune system counteracted it immediately. Thankfully."

Bree took a few minutes to take the information in. At the same time, she watched his saddened expression keenly. "So what would have happened to you if you'd gotten to it first?"

Leo's eyes communicated the answer. With the absence of bionics, he didn't stand a chance.

It would have instantly killed him.

"Then don't be sorry," Bree said as firmly as she could. "I did my job. You're safe. It's all I wanted."

Leo silently acceded, but he was still remarkably troubled.

With an encouraging smile, Bree spoke, "You know, if you're really feeling bad about it, you can do something for me."

Leo sat up. "Sure. Anything."

"Stop flipping out about this," Bree said.

Leo visibly deflated, but he understood. "I'll try," he said.

"And do you mind telling Owen that I'm sorry I couldn't answer his call on time? My phone was being weird, and when I tried to call him back, he wasn't answering."

Leo nodded. "I'd be honored," he said. He discerned afterwards how his prolonged stay wore Bree out. He stood up after giving her a genuine smile. "Well, I gotta run. If Mom finds me here, she'll never let me hear the end of it."

"Okay."

Leo walked away, his feet heavy with unsaid words. When he was halfway out of the door, he finally stopped. "Hey, Bree?" he turned.

"Hm?"

"Thank you. For saving me."

Bree smiled. "It was my honor."

Leo grinned. Then, he left the room, his burden much lighter.


to be continued.