Quinlan heard Ephraim approach and he quickly backed away from her. However, as Ephraim walked into the room, he could sense that he was interrupting some sort of private conversation, and for a brief moment he wondered what she could possibly share with him that was even remotely delicate or personal. As well as that, she seemed unflinching of his close proximity. Ephraim wondered if she knew what he was.

"Hey," he called for their attention. "Fet just left. He got a call from a friend with some sort of emergency. You guys got a ride home? I'm gonna stay here tonight and sort through some of this work."

"Alright, I'll arrange for Malaika to take us back to the city." Quinlan's tone was suddenly different now talking to Ephraim, and his mood was far less delicate than before. He walked past Ephraim and snatched the phone from his hand before exiting the room.

Ephraim glanced over his shoulder and watched Quinlan walk away, and then turned to Mia. He walked up to her and put his hand on her shoulder. "You ok?"

She nodded.

"Look, don't worry about Fet; he tends to overreact to things. Probably comes from ten years of being a mercenary in the Ukraine."

Mia didn't respond.

He sat down on the table beside her. "You know, if you'd told me the truth, I would've helped you. All you had to do was ask."

"I'm not good at asking for help," she replied without looking up. "Besides, would you have come here if you knew something was wrong?"

"Yes," Ephraim exclaimed without a second of thought. "I mean, what we might find here could change everything. I had a look through some of Graeme's notes; the detail is incredible!" Ephraim leaned in closer. "Mia," he whispered with strong conviction, "I can work with this information!"

Mia showed no response. Ephraim looked at her, his face close to hers. He could tell she was deeply despondent, but he didn't know for which reason – she had lost a friend, but the world lost a chance; now the brilliant doctor's work may never be complete. He wondered which of those things weighed more on Mia's despair.

"Doctor Price… was he a close friend?" Ephraim asked.

"I guess you could say that," she replied, slipping the photo in her hand into her jacket pocket without him noticing.

"I'm really sorry for your loss," he said softly. He feared that those words did not sound sincere; after all, it would have been the standard response. He thought, if only she knew that he was no stranger to loss himself, and that he understood her pain. He wanted desperately to comfort her, but she would not let him; she was distant and impenetrable.

Quinlan returned after almost an hour, walking into the lab to find Ephraim compiling Doctor Price's notes, his eyes darting across the pages as he commented out loud his every thought, which were mostly exclamations of excitement and amazement at the contents of those pages. Mia stood leaning against the bench, pretending to be listening, but really her mind was in a distant place.

"It's time to go," Quinlan said to Mia. "Doctor Goodweather, are you certain you will be staying here?"

"What?" Ephraim looked up from the notes. "Oh… yeah," he answered dismissively, before immediately returning to the notes. He only looked up again when he realized it was time for Mia to leave. He turned to her, clutching the papers fervently in his hand. "Mia, I can do this." He looked into her eyes and wished that she could see his, and see the determination and conviction within them. "It's all here in the notes. I can work this out."

She nodded, forcing a smile. "I'll do whatever I can to help." She started to leave with Quinlan, but then stopped and turned to Ephraim. She reached out and touched his arm. "Thank you," she whispered.

Those two words were all the recognition Ephraim ever wanted for his efforts. All the times in the past when his work went unnoticed and unappreciated; all the years he had put in and then for someone else's name to be on the paper - it destroyed him as a man. He did not need the world to know what he had done; he just needed one person to say, 'Thank you, Ephraim. Thank you, because I know what you did'. Now, those two words from Mia, in all their sincerity, were all it took to spark the beginning of an intense dedication – no, obsession – within Ephraim to complete Doctor Price's work.

Outside, a black Chevrolet with dark tinted windows was parked where Vasiliy's van had been. In the driver's seat was a dark-skinned girl with a stern face, boyish features, and short wiry black hair. She watched as Quinlan and Mia walked out of the building and towards the car. Immediately, her eyes fell on Mia; she noticed, first, the way Mia looked, which was the opposite to herself in almost every way. Then she noticed Quinlan's hand softly gripping her arm at the elbow as he appeared to be escorting her. Although there was nothing specific to note about this sight, she felt it was unusual enough that it was of some significance. She grimaced.

Quinlan opened the back door and helped Mia into the car, then took the front passenger seat himself. He didn't introduce the driver; in fact, they both said nothing at all. But Mia didn't even notice as there was much else on her mind. It wasn't until they approached the border heading into the safe zone that the driver muttered something in a foreign language. It caught Mia's attention as she did not expect to hear a woman's voice, nor foreign words. Then, to Mia's surprise, Quinlan replied in the same language. The tones of this language were unique – it sounded like an African language, she thought. But before she could listen for more, the brief exchange of words was over.

The car stopped in front of Mia's apartment building, and Quinlan got out and opened the door for her. She wearily stepped out of the car and he escorted her to the gate at the entrance of the building. She took her keys out of her pocket and fumbled them in her trembling hands, her fingers weak and disobedient to her will as if they were not a part of her body. Quinlan watched as she struggled, and he could hear her pained breaths, with every effort to mask their shuddering sound. Inevitably, the keys slipped out of her hands and fell to the ground. Quinlan stared at her, unsure of what it made him feel, if anything at all. But as she slowly lowered herself to pick up her keys, he found himself picking them up before she could reach them. He stood to his feet and paused for a moment as he glanced at her again, and then proceeded to unlock the gate and pull the heavy metal frame open for her. Without thinking, she went to walk in.

"Your keys..." Quinlan reminded.

"Oh," she turned to him and held out her hand. He placed the keys into her hand, and as he did, his fingers softly brushed against hers. The unexpected nature of the touch heightened the sensation of it, surprising him with a tingling feeling on his skin where it touched hers. Then suddenly, to his surprise, she closed her hand around his. Her petite fingers wrapped tightly around his large hand, and when she felt him pull away ever so slightly, she squeezed as if she did not want to let go.

"Thank you," she whispered, clutching his hand for a moment longer before reluctantly easing her grip and letting his hand slip out of hers. She turned her head away.

Quinlan did not understand the meaning of this gesture, nor did he think he should try. Nothing good could come from allowing his thoughts to lead him astray. But the longer he looked at her, the more conflicted he became. He forced himself to look away.

"Good night, Mia," he whispered. He turned and began to walk back towards the car.

"Quinlan," she called, just as he was about to enter the car. He stopped and turned to her. "I need to go back there. I need to go back to the lab."

Quinlan nodded with a slight smile, as if he already knew she was going to ask. "I'll have Malaika take you there tomorrow night."

She nodded, then, without saying another word, turned around and walked inside, shutting the gate behind her. Quinlan watched her for only a moment before getting into the car. However, that moment was long enough for the dark-skinned girl to notice.

"[Who is she?]" She asked in her language. Her tone was harsh and abrupt.

"[Someone who could help our cause.]" Quinlan replied in the same language.

"[A blind girl? Help our cause?]"

Quinlan shot her a subtle look. "[Just drive.]"

And with that, Malaika knew to stay quiet.

Mia felt an intense emptiness as she walked into her apartment; an emptiness that she had not felt for a long time. As soon as she closed the door behind her, she felt as though she had shut out the world. In here, no one could see her vulnerability. As soon as the door closed, her mask fell, and the numbness made way for all her emotions to come flooding in. Clutching the handle of the door, she gasped for air, but she could not breathe. She leaned her back against the door, but her legs gave way and she slid to the floor. Her heart felt as though it was being torn apart. Her trembling hand reached into her pocket and found the photo she had placed in there. She took it out and held it to her chest. Then the tears fell. At first they were silent, but then the realization hit her like a ton of bricks and she wailed uncontrollably. She had lost the only man she ever loved; the only man she ever wanted to call 'father'; her only light in this dark world - it was the realization that she was now completely and utterly alone.

She cried until her body had spent its last energy, and her eyes began to close; her cries began to quieten. She lay in the dark, curled up on the floor in front of the door. Her breaths were short and abrupt, occasionally hiccupping softly. With her eyes closed and her mind drifting into unconsciousness, the last tear rolled down her cheek. Her companion, Caesar, sat beside her, whimpering as he watched her cry herself to sleep. He licked the tears on her cheek; she was motionless. He curled up against her and stayed through the night, his warmth keeping the cold from taking its dreadful toll.