Maura woke suddenly, early sunlight streaming in the window. She reached over for Carrie, but the bed was empty.

"Carrie?" she called, a note of panic in her voice. She pushed herself awkwardly off the bed, pulling on her trousers, not bothering with her boots. "Carrie?" she called again, opening the door to the hall.

"What?" Carrie said, looking up at her from where she was sitting on her sleeping mat, playing with a broken stethoscope.

"Nothing," Maura said, trying to steady her voice. "Good morning."

"Good morning," Carrie said indifferently, looking back down at her stethoscope.

Maura went back into her room, closed the door. She looked at the small pile of bags and supplies she was taking with her and felt a sudden rush of anguish so powerful she had to sit down.

I could stay here. With them. I don't know how to do this, I don't know if this new world is one I am ready for.

She hadn't thought about anything other than what she had to do, but she still hadn't come up with any answers. The prospect was too overwhelming. The idea that this was the way life was now, would be from now on, filled her with a despair so great she wasn't sure she even wanted to keep going. The crawlers couldn't scare her into envisioning her own death, but the loss of her humanity, the sense that her humanity had been stolen from her by necessity, by reality, was rushing in to claim that territory.

I don't think I could keep going if you weren't with me, Jane had said. But what was there to go toward?

She felt hopeless, she realized; abjectly and utterly, for the first time in her life.

She sighed and started putting on her boots. When thinking got her nowhere, there was always action.

"Dr. Isles?"

She looked up as Diana peeked almost shyly into the room.

"Come in," she said, her voice flat. She couldn't play at positivity any longer, was grateful it was Diana standing at her door so that she didn't have to.

"So," Diana said, standing just inside the room. "Today?"

"Yes."

"Do you . . . have a plan?"

"No," she said, looking into Diana's eyes. "I don't."

"You should tell them right before you leave. The ones you think could make it, I mean," Diana said.

"And the others?"

"Please, Maura—" her first name again—"please let me worry about that."

"I can't," she whispered. "I don't know if I can do this. I don't know if I want to-" she cut herself off.

"Maura," Diana said softly, moving toward her. "I have a plan."

Maura said nothing.

"I'm going to set up a fire wall around the perimeter. We'll need a little more gas than Jane might have been intending to leave. But I think—I don't know, but I think—the crawlers won't be able to get past it. Basically I'm putting all my eggs in this basket, that fire scares them. It might seem stupid, like out of a movie, but it's what I could think of and I have this feeling it will work. At least to keep us safe for a few more days, and maybe they'll move on and we can rebuild and keep going. Maybe we could last long enough to come and find you."

It didn't sound any more ridiculous than the dozens of scenarios Maura had entertained. It sounded like something, which was more than she could claim. She thought briefly of the comfort and hope it would bring to the people left behind, to know they were fighting, that they were trying. The way Diana talked about it, Maura found herself believing it could work. Wanting to believe it would work. Hoping.

"You're very brave," she whispered.

"I don't know if I can do this," Diana smiled wryly, "but if I can't, well, I'm not sure this is a world I want to live in, either."

"I didn't mean-"

"I know," Diana said. "But we've all thought it. This is what life is going to be like from now on, until the end of our lives. Everything is broken. Everything we knew is gone. I used to think I was strong enough, I used to think that because I'd seen combat I could see anything. But everything is combat now. When I was overseas I always knew I was going to come back home. If I didn't die over there, I mean," she shrugged. "But there's no home to come back to any more. And I'm not as strong as I thought."

"Diana," Maura breathed. Diana shook her head.

"I'm not, Maura, and I accept it. But you are. This is a terrible position for you to be in. I can't imagine what it must be like. For me it's easier, I think. I'm going to save these people or die trying." She held up her hand to stop Maura's protest. "But you have to go out there, you have to leave, you have to find something . . . more. You have to find hope, and that's what's giving me strength right now. Knowing someone is at least trying."

Maura felt tears welling in her eyes again. She reached up to brush them away and Diana caught her hand.

"Please don't cry," she whispered. "I hate it when you cry."

"I'm sorry," she said, a tear slipping down her cheek.

Diana took a deep breath. She leaned forward and kissed Maura suddenly, gently, sweetly.

Maura gasped but didn't pull away.

Intimacy is a balm.

Diana broke the kiss, looking away, blushing deeply. "I'm sorry," she mumbled.

"Please don't be sorry," Maura said quickly. "Please."

"Consider it the last request of a dying soldier," Diana said, a sad smile playing at the corners of her mouth. She gave Maura a long look and turned to leave.

"Diana, wait." The woman paused but didn't turn around. Maura reached out and took her hand, physically turning her. She didn't speak for a moment, simply looked at her. "You'll come and find us," she said finally. "We'll be waiting for you in a safe place. All right?"

Diana smiled ruefully. She nodded. "All right" she said. "Maura-"

"Yes?"

"Take care of yourself. If you can't-" She paused. "If you can't, at least let Jane do it for you."

"I will," she whispered.

"Promise me, Maura."

"I promise."

Diana squeezed her hand briefly, smiled in the way that had always managed to lift Maura's spirits.

This time it filled her with so much sorrow she thought she would drown in it.


Jane had woken well before dawn. She'd spent the earliest hours quietly carting supplies to the two trucks she and Frost had managed to find, feeling a thin rush of self-hatred when she weighed the value of boxes of bullets against how many people they'd need to accommodate.

How many would it be convenient for you to take?

Maura's words had cut deeply, but Jane recognized the knife as her own. She couldn't help her frustration, couldn't make herself actually want to take strangers in place of supplies, but she knew Maura was right. Don't lose sight, Jane, she told herself. They want life as much as you do.

Still, she had sighed as she eyed the bed of the truck and set one of her gas cans aside.

When the sun rose she was nearly done. All that remained were Maura's things and the survivors they'd be taking with them. Jane glanced around the courtyard, still silent, blue shadows still settled over everything. It looked almost peaceful. If it hadn't been for the shattered concrete, the blasted tile, the crumbling walls, the three pistols she carried, she might have felt almost at peace in the total quiet of the early dawn.

The first sign of life she noticed was Diana, striding across the inner courtyard toward her.

Jane swallowed hard.

"Jane," Diana called. "Can I talk to you?"

"Yeah," she said uncertainly. "Sure, okay."

"I have a plan," Diana said without prelude. "I need gasoline."

"There's some surplus in the annex," Jane said. "What are you going to do?"

"Burn them."

"Diana!" Jane gasped, took a step back.

"The crawlers, Jane!" Diana cried. "Oh God, did you think I meant—"

"I'm sorry," Jane said hastily. "No. Please. God, don't think I'd-"

"It's okay," Diana cut her off. "In the annex?"

"Yeah. There should be enough to power the generators for a few days with careful rationing. And take this one," she said, picking up the can that wouldn't fit in the truck. "There should be forty or fifty gallons, all told."

"That should do it." Diana hefted the five-gallon can. "When do you think you'll go?"

"As soon as we can, I guess," Jane said, suddenly deeply uncomfortable. She hadn't given much real thought to the choice Diana was making, had shied away from contemplating that kind of sacrifice. She felt selfish, childish, unworthy next to her. She kicked at the dirt, rubbed the back of her neck. "As soon as we get everyone."

"I told Dr. Isles to wait until the last moment before rounding people up," Diana said. "So their choice is easier, even though it's less fair."

"Thanks," Jane muttered. Even here, even now, hearing Diana say Maura's name made something sharp and ugly twist in her, even though she recognized the knife as her own.

"Take care of her," Diana said after a pause, giving her a strange look. "Please."

"I will," Jane replied automatically.

"I know you will. But . . ." she drifted off.

"What?"

"Nothing." Diana shook her head, lifted the gas can. "Good luck, Jane."

"You too, Diana."

There was nothing more to say.

Jane watched Diana haul the gas can across the courtyard toward the annex, pausing just slightly as Maura emerged from the hospital doors, her arms full of boxes, her pack and rifle slung around her shoulders. She looked down, walked faster. Maura glanced only fleetingly at Diana's retreating form, then cast her eyes toward the ground as well. Jane frowned.

Maura didn't acknowledge Jane until she was nearly to the truck. "This is all I've got," she said, handing over her armload of boxes. "Bandages, alcohol, a few painkillers, some antibiotics. It's not much."

"It's great, Maura," Jane said softly. "It will be enough."

Maura still didn't look at her, instead threw her pack inside the cab of the truck. "I'm riding with you?" Her tone half a question.

"Yeah, of course," Jane said. "I mean," she went on, "if you want to."

She finally glanced up at Jane and Jane could see she'd been crying. She thought briefly of Diana crossing the courtyard, looking away when she saw Maura.

"Yes," Maura answered quietly. "I want to."

Jane couldn't suppress her awkward grin. "Frost will drive the other truck. He decided on Bruce Springsteen," she grimaced. "So we get The Eagles. At least it's a best-of."

Maura offered a watery smile and Jane felt the faintest breath of relief pass through her.

"When do we leave?" Maura asked, her voice a study in detachment.

"Uh, as soon as we can, I guess," Jane said. "I'm all ready here. I haven't seen Frost yet, but he never likes to wake up early."

Maura looked at her curiously.

"Stakeouts," Jane shrugged.

"Mm-hmm," she said, slipping her rifle off her shoulder and placing it on the dash.

Jane allowed herself to admire for a fleeting moment the way Maura handled her weapon. She hadn't imagined a woman like Maura would take so naturally to a gun, though she realized with an internal crooked grin that she really didn't know what a woman like Maura was really like. Let's live through this day she thought, shaking her head, then think about it.

"Jane!" Frost half-shouted from across the courtyard.

"Keep it down!" she hissed. Their plan was still a secret from everyone in the camp except Diana, and not even Frost knew that she was aware of what they were planning.

"What's that nurse doing in the annex?" Frost asked when he reached them. "Looked like she was checking out the gas cans."

"It's fine, don't worry about it." Jane deliberately avoided the look she knew Maura was giving her.

"Okay," Frost shrugged, "if you say so."

"I do. Did you get all your stuff together?"

"Yeah," Frost said, raising his pack. "Everything else is here already."

"Okay," Jane said, taking a steadying breath. "I guess it's time to start-"

She stopped.

"Jane?" Maura asked.

"Look," Jane whispered hoarsely, pointing to the sky.

Maura and Frost turned and looked in the direction Jane was pointing.

"What's that?" Frost asked, shielding his eyes.

"Planes," Jane said, an icy fear washing over her.

"What—I didn't think—oh Jane, do you think they're coming to rescue us?" Maura's eyes were wide as saucers.

"I don't think so," Jane said, slowly backing over to the drivers' side door of her truck. "Maura, get in. Frost, you too."

"Mine, or-"

"It doesn't matter, Frost, just get in something," Jane shouted, swinging herself into the cab. Maura didn't question, simply followed Jane's directive. Jane turned the key and said a silent prayer of thanks when the engine roared to life.

"Jane-"

"Change of plans," Jane said, squealing out of the courtyard, the tires leaving long black lines down the cracked tiles.

"Jane, what's-"

Maura didn't have time to finish her sentence before the first building exploded in a deafening roar behind them.

"Jane!" she cried, ducking down.

"It's okay, Maura," Jane said through gritted teeth, glancing in the rearview. "Don't watch."

"What's going on?" Maura whimpered. "Jane, what's going on?"

"I'm not sure," Jane said as another explosion caused the truck to pitch and heave. Jane was driving as fast as the road would allow, Frost on her tail.

"Jane," Maura said again, pleading.

"Maura, please," Jane swerved to avoid a fire hydrant blocking the right lane. "I'm not sure what's—"

A series of explosions behind them. Fire blooming in the rearview mirror.

"Oh God," Maura whispered.

Jane suddenly jerked the steering wheel and veered off the street, bringing the truck to a lurching halt next to a massive pile of rubble.

"What are you doing?" Maura gasped.

"I don't want them to see us."

"Who?"

Government, I guess.

"I think Donna was right," Jane muttered as the planes soared overhead. "I don't think anyone was supposed to survive."

"But Jane, all those people, all those children-" her voice choked off. Jane knew she was thinking of the little girl, Carrie. Of Diana.

"It was fast, Maura," she said. It was the only thing she could think to say. "They were asleep."

Maura didn't say anything. Her face was drawn, deathly pale, her eyes bright and huge. The planes of her cheeks stood out in sharp relief.

"Maura, we're going to make it."

Nothing.

"Maura, please."

Nothing.

"Maura-"

"I can't, Jane," she said, her voice emptier than Jane had ever heard it. "I can't."

They sat there in silence, separated by Maura's rifle and a small stockpile of cartridges, for what felt like hours, until Jane was sure the last of the planes had passed overhead. She wanted so badly to touch Maura, to take her hands, to hold her tightly, but the old fear clung to her, it followed at her heels even into the depths of hell. Something about getting too close.

Finally Jane put the key back in the ignition and started the truck. She heard the accompanying roar of Frost's rig, parked a dozen or so yards behind them. She glanced once more at Maura, whose face had not changed, who still stared straight ahead, her eyes shimmering and blank as diamonds.

Jane bit her lip and pulled back onto the road that would lead them out of Boston. She didn't spare a glance for the still-burning hospital, instead stared straight ahead, her eyes dark and deep as wells.


Okay well I hope this was all right, you guys. Oh man, this one made me nervous.