Late nights, after Adam and Chase have already climbed into their capsules and fallen asleep, Donald stays in the atrium of the lab at one of his workbenches, working until his fingers grow numb. He tries creating something to block the Triton App signal. He tries to build something that will work like the Override App but that Krane hasn't blocked. And, sometimes, he just tries to invent something for the heck of it, to keep his head from spinning out of control.

"Hey, Big D," Leo says suddenly from beside him. If he weren't so exhausted, he would jump in surprise. As it is, he just kind of lurches upward.

"Hey," he says, running a tired hand across his tired face. "What are you doing up?"

"Couldn't sleep." He lifts a gear from the desk and fiddles with it for a moment. "I keep worrying about Bree. It's been four months… and having her gone is starting to feel normal." He can't meet Donald's eyes, and he sounds guilty.

"I know what you mean," Donald says, and Leo feels a burst of affection for his stepdad. He might be the only person who also understands that feeling of helplessness coupled with responsibility. It's their job to keep an eye on Adam, Bree and Chase, but there's also nothing on earth they can do. Douglas is kind of in the same boat, but kind of not. He doesn't know Bree like they do. He doesn't love Bree like they do. "You should know— Adam and Chase are really, really glad you're around. I am too, but that goes without saying. And if we get Bree back… when we get Bree back, she'll be glad, too. She'll be glad you kept everything running smoothly when we felt like we were falling apart."

Douglas ends up tagging along to Leo's trip to the hospital. When they get to Donald's room, he takes one look at his big brother, pales, and then turns to look at Tasha. "Look, I know I just got here, but uh, I think I'm gonna go outside for a cigarette."

Tasha's eyes flash. "Yeah, me too."

Leo stares at his mother. He hasn't heard her say that since long before she met Donald. "I thought you quit smoking."

Tasha leans over her husband and gives him a light kiss on the forehead that he can't feel. Her eyes and shoulders look horribly weighted down. "So did I," she tells Leo, and then heads outside with Douglas, leaving Leo alone in the room with his stepdad.

Which is just perfect for his plan.

"Big D," he says, feeling oddly guilty despite the fact that he's here to make things right. "We need you. Bree especially. So… if this doesn't work, I'm really sorry."

Standing beside his stepfather's too-still body, Leo takes his right hand to his chest and pulls, watching the energy drain from himself to his hand, an amorphous starburst of life. He holds it in his hand for a moment, staring at it.

And then he plunges the energy directly into Donald Davenport.

"You're right," Donald says to his brother, shaking his head even as the words come out of his mouth. He hates it when Douglas is right. And he hates it even more when it means putting Leo in danger. "His days of being 'mission specialist' are behind us. I should've put him in the field a long time ago. It's just…"

"I get it," Douglas tells him. "You're worried about the kid." Bree's been gone almost nine months now. Too long. Donald's terrified of losing someone else. "You remember when we were kids? And you kept trying to stop me from climbing the tree with the tire swing?"

"Yeah, and you should've listened to me," Donald replies, sounding irritated. "You broke your arm."

"So did Leo," Douglas points out. "And he was doin' everything right. Staying in the shadows, hiding behind pillars, hiding under pillars…" Donald shoots him a stern look. "Point is, the kid knows what he's doing. I want to make sure what he's doing packs a punch."

"I said you were right," Donald says. "The energy transference ability gives him an edge. I'm just worried that it also makes him a target."

Douglas pats him on the shoulder. "We're all targets now, Donnie," he reminds him. "Bionics or not."

Donald's awash in a sea of light and shadows and old memories, good and bad. Sometimes he feels like he's floating, other times he feels like he's drowning. Every now and then he hears a familiar voice, usually his wife's. And no matter how hard he tries, he can't swim upward to meet her, to tell her it's okay and she can stop crying, he's fine, really. He can't get the words out.

And then suddenly he crashes abruptly through the surface and it's invigorating. Everything bright and clear and loud, everything suddenly back in reach, tangible, real.

Absurdly, he feels like dancing.

That's when his gaze lands on his stepson, who's supporting himself on the rails of the hospital cot. "Leo! Are you okay?"

Leo snorts, unable to hold in the laugh. "Uh, you're the one who was in the coma."

"Coma," he says, trying to catch himself up. "Coma, right. Jeez, how long was I out?"

He doesn't miss the spark of mischief that lights up Leo's eyes. "Twenty years," he says. "Davenport Industries merged with a cosmetics company and now solely makes make-up. Also we're ruled by giant bugs."

Still groggy from the coma, Donald has to do a double take before he remembers that Leo hasn't aged at all and is obviously lying. "How long really?"

"Almost a week."

"Almost a week," he repeats. The next thought to pop into his head is— "Bree?"

"She's fine," Leo says immediately. "I mean, she's pretty messed up emotionally and psychologically, but like, so would you if you spent nine months being marionetted around by an evil bionic maniac." Suddenly, he looks uncomfortable. "She, uh. She did take out her chip, though. And she won't put it back in."

Eyes wide, Donald nods, and then he starts throwing off the sheets and trying to stand. "I have to get home. Get— get the nurses, I have to go see her. Everyone."

"Okay, take it easy," Leo says, beginning to move toward the door.

"Hey," Donald says, reaching out like he's close enough to grab Leo by the shoulder. "How'd I come back? Did the doctors do something? I mean, granted, I know God wouldn't let someone as awesome as me die, but what else happened?"

Leo looks at him for a long moment and then says, "Uh, I don't know."

Donald's about to call him out for lying when Leo suddenly collapses to the floor.

She's back at Mission Creek High, but she doesn't know why. Her boss tells her where to go, and her mind tells her what to do, and she does it. S-B moves in sync with S-3 through the halls of the high school, silent and speedy, seeking out their target.

He's standing with his back to them, rifling through his locker. Leo Dooley. Supposed to be smart, but he's stupid enough to show himself in public after Krane put a target on him.

S-B zips forward and slams the locker door in Dooley's face. "Shouldn't you be in class?"

"Shouldn't you be my sister?" he counters, but she can tell he's scared. He's always scared. S-B grabs his non-bionic arm while S-3 prowls forward, eyeing Dooley like a hyena. They work well together, she and S-3.

"We're supposed to take him to Krane," S-3 reminds her. "But I'm sure he wouldn't mind a few scratches on the special delivery."

"Bree," Dooley tries, but his heart's not in it. It's been too long. "I know this isn't you. I know you're in there."

The halls are empty. No one's coming to save him, and he knows it. S-B grins like a shark at S-3. "Go ahead," she says. "Have some fun."

S-3 gathers up a lightning ball in his hand, so similar to Dooley's, and launches it at the kid.

At the last second, S-B jerks sideways. Her super speed sends her and Dooley three feet to the left, and the projectile hits the lockers, leaving Dooley unharmed.

S-B shakes her head, looking at S-3. She looks incredibly confused. "Sorry," she says. "Must've been a glitch."