Summary: This is how it ends

Author's Notes: I've also got a playlist for the fic up on 8tracks that you should listen to. /thequietones/and-we-will-never-be-whole-again. YAY PLAYLIST!
Anyway, hope you like it.

Thanks to everyone who has been reviewing!

I have a rendezvous with Death

When Spring brings back blue days and fair.

It may be he shall take my hand

And lead me into his dark land

And close my eyes and quench my breath—

It may be I shall pass him still.

-Alan Seeger

Upstairs again, they do another thorough sweep. The offices, interrogation rooms, everywhere.

Dylan and Shawn tug a few of the cots, that were kept in one room for anyone that needed a quick nap, into the armory. The armory behind a bullet-proof, keycode locked door was agreed to be the best place to set up for sleeping. Lassiter roams the building, making sure the few, small windows are secure. Michael, Shawn, and Juliet barricade the front doors with desks. The station is built to keep the unwanted out though so it doesn't require much work to make them more safe than they've been in days.

Dylan's sitting on one the cots, eyes blinking heavily, fighting sleep, when Shawn returns to the armory. The others are still out in the station. Shawn crosses the room and sits beside the boy before his legs collapse beneath him. He truly can't believe they're all alive.

It feels like a lie.

"Go ahead. Go to sleep. Your dad'll be here in a minute," Shawn urges softly.

Fingers clumsy with exhaustion, Dylan signs, "Thank you. Goodnight."

He lays down in a small ball and is breathing deeply in no time at all. Shawn watches him hazily, everything out of focus, the fallout of all his panic, adrenaline, and sleep deprivation finally hitting him.

That's when he sees it, of course. A thin, barely there cut across Dylan's arm, a small dot of blood beading up from it. Heart pounding, stomach clenched, Shawn desperately wants to have never seen it.

Taking a breath, he leans forward to look closely at the cut.

Really, it could have come from anywhere. It didn't have to have come from one of the dead. But Shawn, Shawn and his stupid memory, can see now what he had just barely noticed then. They're at the bottom of the stairs, Shawn's trying to shoot one of the two dead but it's flailing fast, reaching, reaching for them, grabs at Dylan who screams and recoils even further behind Shawn.

That has to be it.

It's not deep at all though. Just a scratch. And Shawn has no idea how much it would take to become infected. And from what Juliet and Lassiter have told him about the outbreak in the station he knows it happens fast.

Plus if it was one of the dead wouldn't it have to be a bite, fluids exchanged, rather than a scratch of fingernails. Shawn doesn't know which zombie apocalypse book they're living in.

Conclusion, everything's fine. No sense in telling anyone.

Shawn leans back against the wall, exhausted, all over again. He arranges Dylan's feet across his lap and decides to rest his eyes for a moment.

Even if something does happen it's Shawn right here with Dylan. Lassiter and Juliet will be safe. They'll still have time to take action.