When the world's unkind

Summary

In which a lot more backstories are revealed, and Jonas can't seem to catch a break.

"When the world's unkind

I will make you smile

I will stay right by your side until the end"

— From "World Falls Apart", by Dash Berlin (feat. Jonathan Mendelsohn) (S1E1)

A/N:

I'm happy you're all enjoying this post-canon fic but here's a reminder to FIGHT FOR SEASON THREE! We've done it before and gotten us a special, WE CAN DO IT AGAIN. And I sure as hell know I'd like to see Lana's take on Season 3 since she'd already WRITTEN IT.

If you have a Netflix account you can keep spamming the "request TV shows or movies" page with "Sense8 Season 3", or call them, or talk to a representative on live chat and tell them why you want this show to be revived :)

Plus, you can check out accounts like sense8dailys on twitter. They've organized ways to make our voices heard, and you can find the email address of all the Netflix decision makers and their mailing address.

I heard we're sending post cards that say "HAPPY FUCKING NEW YEAR" to them before New Year's Day. That should be fun!

(Or just tweet directly netflix and annoy the hell out of them. That worked last time, heh!)

July 30, 2017

When Lito woke up at five in the morning for the last watch with Henrik, he didn't expect to see Damien charging down the stairs from the second floor with a plastic sword, hollering "no more lies". Leon had warned him they'd watched his movies too many times on quiet evenings. Lito had assumed Leon meant only the five of them. Not a nine-year-old.

Then again, knowing Damien, he wouldn't be surprised if the boy had persuaded Leon, who'd helped him pester the rest of the hosts until they'd all relented.

"Damien!" Henrik hissed. He rushed up and snatched the sword away before the kid could take out someone's eye. "You're gonna wake Amélie up!"

"Oops." Damien stuck out his tongue. "No more lies," he whispered instead, shaking a fist. "No more lies. No more lies!"

"Sorry about that." Henrik hauled Damien down the rest of the stairs by the underarms. "Don't know why he's even up so early."

"It's no problem." Lito smirked. Damien reminded him of himself as a boy, battling the days away against villains from his imagination. Though he and María had kept each other company. He supposed Leon did, too, with Damien, but it wasn't the same.

"I'm hungry. You got food? I want food." Damien dashed to the kitchen before either men could respond. Exchanging sighs, they followed suit.

By the time the reached the kitchen, Damien was already seated at the kitchen island, biting into a frozen waffle. Henrik took it from him before he could break his teeth, and put a few more waffles into the toaster. Lito brought out two mugs and started the coffee machine.

"Lito, how'd you get the blood in that scene in Our Father Art in Hell?" Damien asked a few minutes later, piling syrup and whipped cream on his now properly-heated breakfast. "Like - pshhhh -" he wiggled his fingers, imitating the blood gushing out from his neck. "No more liessss," he said, clutching his chest dramatically.

Next to Damien, Henrik snorted into his mug.

From across the kitchen island, Lito took a long gulp of his own coffee before clearing his throat. "It wasn't real blood," he explained. "Just red ink. And prosthetics."

"Aww."

"What, did you tell him it was real blood?" Lito asked Henrik.

The younger man scratched his head, his cheeks flushing pink. "I said I didn't know. Said he had to ask the man himself. None of us expected you to show up."

"Everyone's surprised when they see me," Lito said. He remembered the look on Pelzer's face when he'd removed the mask of his Hazmat suit, gray eyes expanding to the size of golf balls upon the revelation. That image was almost worth being on Blockers for the rest of the battle. Almost.

"Yeah. Because you're famous," Damien pointed out.

Lito put on a mock look of indignation. "Hey, famous people can be sensates."

Henrik shrugged in a Damien-has-a-point sort of way. "I guess no one expects it. We've had other public figures in the Archipelago. Retired ones, mostly, but not like you."

"And you weren't hiding," Damien added. "Not like us. Or my mom."

Lito turned to Henrik with a frown. Henrik shook his head before Damien could catch either of them in the communication. Lito and his family had stumbled upon the portraits on the stairs not long after Riley did. That night, after the kids had gone to bed, Miki had quietly brought everyone up to speed in the basement lab. They'd agreed to avoid the mention of mothers whenever the boy was around.

"That's true," Lito said quickly, hoping to change the conversation. "I'm everywhere."

"Mm." Damien prodded at his last waffle, jabbing holes into the surface with his fork. "Wish my mom's everywhere. I'd know where she is."

"Hey." Henrik patted the boy on the shoulder and lowered himself to meet him in the eye. "She'll get in touch, alright? She just has to lay low because -"

"Cannibal's hunting," Damien drawled, crossing his arms. "Yeah yeah. I know. You've told me. He's always hunting."

Henrik looked Lito in the eye and mouthed help.

Lito opened his mouth, but for the first time in ages he didn't know what to say. What could he say? He usually would've come up with a lie by now, but he'd never lied to children. And he couldn't bring Damien's hopes up in case -

No. No. That couldn't have been true. She was hiding. On quarantine. She must have been.

Not that Lito could believe his own words anymore.

"Maybe she's taking too many Blockers," Damien said again, sparing Lito for the moment. "I haven't seen her in months."

"I miss her too, dear," said Henrik.

"No, I mean I haven't seen her. She used to visit. She visited a month ago."

Henrik startled. "What do you mean a month ago? Damien, she left Paris two years -"

"Two years ago. I know. I mean like - like when one of you go poof and show up in front of me when you're actually in the garden, or downstairs, or somewhere."

"Visiting?" Lito perked up. Sara Patrell had done it with Will. He could still see her ghost years after she'd died. Of course a sensate parent would be able to visit their children, born or unborn. "She came to see you?" Lito tried to keep his tone neutral, like he was asking a normal question. "Did she - did she say anything?"

"She said she loved me." Damien frowned. "And sorry. I said it's okay but she kept saying sorry before she said goodbye."

Henrik's face blanched. Lito felt his hands go cold.

"Damien," said Henrik, slowly. Lito could tell he was trying to keep his voice from shaking. "Why didn't you tell us?"

"I thought she wanted to talk alone."

"Right. Yeah." Henrik shrugged. "Never mind, I was, erm, I was curious."

"She missed you," Lito added, diverting Damien's attention when it looked like Henrik couldn't keep his smile up for much longer. "They have to keep her on Blockers, all the time, like me, see?" He showed Damien the emergency bottle he kept in his own pocket. "But she slipped in a few seconds to see you, before she had to take another one."

"Right. Yeah," said Damien, his voice slightly higher than normal. "I know that, it's just… I miss her too." Damien pushed the last waffle around his plate with the fork. "And dad."

Lito raised an eyebrow. Henrik shook his head. Damien was still looking at his food, but Lito saw a slight twitch of his fingers, and he was frowning. Something told Lito the kid knew more than he was letting on.

Damien most likely realized Lito was scrutinizing him. He laid the fork on the plate and looked up at Lito across from him. "You don't have to feel bad for me," he said. With a jolt, Lito realized the kid had been observing him, too. "I know we're in danger. The Headhunters killed my dad."

"I'm sorry, Damien," said Lito. Henrik put an arm around Damien's shoulder.

"I mean, it's not your fault," said the boy. "And I was three. I don't really remember him. But I still miss him."

"I know." Lito's heart ached for the boy. He'd lost his father to cancer not long before he moved to Mexico City. Every Christmas, seeing the empty seat at the family table felt like reopening a fresh wound. He couldn't imagine growing up without papá.

"But it's okay," said Damien, putting on his own smile. "I still have mom. And I can see them both. Sometimes together."

Lito looked between Henrik and Damien, puzzled.

"They were in the same cluster," the boy explained.

Lito froze. The only sensorium child Lito had gotten close to knowing was Sara Patrell. It was always so shocking to learn a new aspect of their sensacity.

"And someday you'll have your own cluster." Henrik ruffled Damien's hair. He exchanged another look with Lito, one full of unspoken pain.

"I know." Damien leapt off the high stool, his syrup-soaked waffle forgotten. "Mavis said the earliest is at thirteen."

"Th-thirteen?" Lito croaked.

"She said it's rare," Damien explained. "But there was one cluster. Maybe I'll be reborn early too." He looked at Lito. "I hope I'll have nine cluster-mates."

Lito chuckled. "Maybe."

Damien stretched, exaggerating his groan. "I'm stuffed. Let's watch a movie. Oh! El Caído." He ran to the living room and dashed straight for the shelf where they kept DVDs.

Throughout the movie, Lito checked on the boy, but he seemed to be fully engrossed in the plot, even if, as Henrik pointed out, they had seen this movie "an embarrassing number of times". Damien insisted on Lito doing a live demonstration of the scene where Tino killed the Father, and he was happy to comply.

The movie was bittersweet in many ways, It was the last role he'd taken before he came out. It was the last time he pretended to be the hero, before he'd stepped up and done something heroic in real life. And it was during this scene that he felt the connection to his cluster for the first time.

Lito felt the corners of his lips quirk into a smile before he morphed his face into the solemn El Caído expression, and delivered the final punchline in front of the TV.

Damien cheered, a whispered cheer, as most of the house was still asleep. Henrik, too, gave a quiet round of applause. At the moment the boy seemed happy, but Lito exchanged a worried look with Henrik, knowing this distraction was temporary. The pain of losing a loved one comes and goes. Damien would ask questions about his mother again — maybe in a few hours, maybe a few weeks.

Lito hoped it was the latter. And he hoped, by then, his cluster would have taken down BPO and found the answer. One way or another.

Nomi had told Sun she'd send Detective Mun a new number to call everyday in case of new developments. Sun had been annoyed, but against all reason, she couldn't refuse. She'd even found herself hoping he'd call. What had gotten into her?

He called on the third day, at three in the morning in Paris' time.

"We've received hard evidence that your brother hired people to kill you in prison, Miss Bak. Courtesy of some of you hacker friend."

Sun raised an eyebrow at Nomi, who, coincidentally, was taking the guarding shift with her. Nomi shrugged. "Must be one of the Guys at Veracity."

"The court's moved the date of his trial forward in light of the new evidence. But we still need your testimony."

"I'm aware," said Sun. And she was. A part of her was rejoicing in her brother being brought to justice, but with BPO threatening to unleash hell on her kind, it would be unwise to travel. "But I can't."

"You're safe now," he said, full of conviction. "Please, come back."

She sighed. "It's not that simple, Mun."

"They're keeping a closer watch on him now in detention. His trial still can't go on without your testimony, but he can't hurt you."

"I know." Sun smiled, a sad smile. "But he's not -" she took a deep breath and looked around the safe house, and at Nomi, who was listening to something else using headphones, knowing Sun needed space - "he's not the only one."

"Are there others?" Mun's voice sounded closer, like he was leaning in to the receiver. She imagined him frowning. "Others working for him? Tell me."

"Not for him. Well -"

They did discover Veronika might be one of her father's old business contacts a while back. Really, by this point, nothing surprised her about her brother. "I don't know. Maybe," she said. "But it's a different problem. Not related to what Joong-Ki did."

"Oh." He paused. She heard the sound of pages flipping, before, "Does it have to do with a woman? London accent, kind of cold, scary sort of voice?"

She froze. "How did you -"

"She called me, Miss Bak." He sounded amused. Why did he sound amused? He could've been killed. Again. He was still in danger because of her.

"If you're joking -"

"I'm serious," he said. There was no hiding the smirk in his voice.

"What did she say?"

"She wanted me to let your brother go. Gave me all kinds of threats. You know, if you're telling the truth, and for the sake of this argument I'm gonna believe you are telling the truth about your other predicament being mostly unrelated -"

Sun slammed her fist on the couch cushion she was holding. Her voice was much louder when she interrupted, "What threats?"

He chuckled from the other end. "Don't worry. I get plenty of those. It's part of the job."

"You don't understand." Her voice was shaking. Slightly. Barely noticeable. But since when did her voice shake? "Ver -" she wanted to say the sapien's name, but stopped herself in time - "she's not like the others. She will carry through with her threat."

"Sounds like you know her. You can tell me all about her if you come down to the station. I can go escort you from where you're hiding, if you're concerned about your safety."

"No, I -" she ran a hand through her hair, frustrated. Nomi gave her a look of concern, but she shook her head. "I can't, Mun. I can't."

"Why not?"

"I don't know how to explain. But there's nothing you can do for this. It's not like my case with my brother. You have to believe me."

"I do." His voice was full of concern. She pictured his face, downturned corners of his lips coupled with sad eyes. Her fingers threatened to claw the couch cushion inside out. "But there's got to be something I can do to help -"

"There isn't," she cut in, sounding harsher than she'd intended. Unless you want to get yourself killed. Maybe you do. You're reckless. Stupidly reckless, I can't even begin to -

Fine. I don't want you to get yourself killed.

He was persistent. "Maybe if you try and explain the situation to me -"

"Why do you care so much?"

Her voice was full-on shaking now, but she'd stopped trying to hide it. He could attribute it to agitation. It wasn't like he'd suspect she cared. About him. And she did. But only because her brother had nearly taken his life, and she felt responsible. Only that.

"If you're worried I'm gonna be in danger, don't. My run-in with your brother? It wasn't the first time I nearly got myself killed, and it's not gonna be the last."

"What was your first?"

"It was a long time ago." He tried to shrug it off. But she'd heard it. She'd heard the way his voice thickened, burdened with a guilt she couldn't place. "It's been three years. Three and a half now, I think."

"Tell me."

He sighed. "It's all in the past. I mean, either way, I said I'd help you with the case and I -"

"Mun," she insisted, "I want to know."

"Telling you won't change your mind about coming back, will it?"

She knew he was joking. Or, trying to.

"I can't." It pained her to say it again. "But I want to know why this is so important."

There was pause on the other end of the line. After ten, twenty seconds, she thought he was going to hang up. But then he mumbled, "Okay."

"Okay." She was relieved he'd relented. Why did she care so much?

Mun took a deep breath. "Her name was Chun Hei."

Sun frowned. "Was she your first?"

"My first case? No. But it's one I'll never forget."

She waited for him to continue.

"Maybe it's for the best. Reminds me why I became a cop."

"I'm sure." After Will, Sun wondered how many cops became cops because they wanted to be heroes, and how many stayed that way. She wanted to know where Mun stood.

"Chun Hei's mother died when she was young, and her father was involved in dangerous things. Drug dealings, illegal embezzlements, all that. Dragged her into it, too. Said she was part of the family. My Lieutenant caught one of their cronies in the act. Eventually it was traced back to her family. But her father didn't go to jail. She did."

Sun wanted to punch a wall. "She took the fall for them," she said. A bitter tear rolled off her cheek. Nomi came over and put her arm around her shoulder, dabbing at her cheek with a tissue. She leaned in to Nomi's touch.

"All of us at the station knew it couldn't have been her. But we didn't have evidence pointing to all of her family, and in her testimony she said it was all her, and her dad had nothing to do with it. She wasn't that kind of person, you know? She was a music teacher. She told me once, she got the job because she wanted to help children, to see if anyone needed someone to listen when their families couldn't."

Of course Chun Hei wasn't the type. She was forced. Trapped.

Sun scoffed, a tearful scoff. Nomi whispered something in her ear, but she didn't pay attention. She muttered she was fine, and, after giving her a hug, Nomi backed away, back to her couch to give her space. Talk later, Nomi mouthed. Sun nodded.

"I didn't want an innocent person to go to jail. So I investigated her father's business, hoping to find a lead, anything that might incriminate him."

"Did you find anything?"

"I did." He sounded pained. She clutched her fist. "And I told her I did. I visited her in prison, and I told her I could keep her safe until the trial. I told her I could collect her new testimony down at the station, prove she was threatened to take the fall. We could put her father where he belonged and set her free."

She pursed her lips. That sounded like the sort of reckless thing he'd do, the kind that'd get him killed. But knowing at least one cop out there wanted to help felt kind of nice. Warm, almost. Not that she'd tell him. He was smug enough as he was.

"But one day before I'd arranged to escort her to the station, I walked home late after work, and some of her father's men were there. They said if I didn't let the case go, I'd pay. So I fought them. And there were… Seven, maybe eight of them?"

"You were outnumbered."

"I was. One of them stabbed me."

Her heart dropped.

"I was fine," he said. "I think he didn't aim for the kill. Just wanted to scare me."

But still -

"I got out of the hospital a week later, and I went to the prison to talk to her. And they said she -" his voice broke. He paused. There were shuffling sounds from his end, before she heard a thud. Maybe he'd kicked his desk. Or punched something, too.

Mun took a deep breath. "She killed herself. She killed herself in prison."

"I'm sorry."

"Me too." She heard him sniffle, before clearing his throat. "She left a note. My Lieutenant showed it to me. She said she didn't care if she suffered alone, but she didn't want someone to die for her."

I don't want anyone to die for me, either. I don't want you to die for me.

"I wanted to be a cop to help people. I knew what I'd signed up for. But I'm not going to quit doing what I have to do because I fear for my life."

"I know." He'd made that clear, time and again.

"I failed her. I'm not going to fail you too."

"It's out of your control, Mun."

"It's my job to defend people the system failed to protect. People like you, Miss Bak. What kind of officer would I be if knew you were in danger and did nothing?"

A safe one? One who knew their limits? One who acted like all the other officers in charge of her case, who'd believed what they'd heard and moved on?

But she didn't tell him any of this. She knew, from the days she spent inside Will's head, that telling him now wouldn't change his mind. It'd make him more determined to help.

"Sun," she said instead. "You can call me Sun."

"Sun." There was a smile in his voice.

"It's out of your control."

"I understand there are things you can't tell me. I won't pry, if you think telling me's going to put you in more danger. But if you ever need an intervention, if it ever gets too bad and you need my help -"

"I'll call you," she said. And, surprisingly, she meant it.

"I'll be waiting." He sounded like he meant it, too. "Stay safe, Sun."

When would the August 8 cluster to make the next move?

Maitake had known the meeting with Wolfgang's cluster was a trap, and loosened himself from the jacket deliberately, hoping the added information could give their ex-enemies enough of a lead to take down Veronika. Much like the way Marcela decided to avoid aiming for the kill during her struggle with Mrs Rasal — grudges aside, taking the chemist down would mean one less leverage against Veronika. But Veronika had taken more precautions now that she knew some information was compromised. And Maitake, along with the rest of his cluster, had found themselves growing impatient.

"There's no use staying here," he pointed out. Across the living room, his three remaining cluster-mates turned to him. "She's going to find us. We should give ourselves up."

Lila looked incredulous. "What, and let her butcher our brains?"

"We might be able to negotiate -"

"With Veronika? Maitake, I know people like her. I've dealt with people like her. She's going to have us executed."

Ragnar spoke up from where he sat cross-legged on the couch, shuffling the deck of cards he always carried with an expert hand. His stark white hair glinted underneath the lamp light, the bluntly-chopped tips grazing the sides of his chin. "Then we play smart. Like she does."

"What are you suggesting?" asked Marcela.

They watched their Estonian cluster-mate take out the Queen of Hearts and flip it in the air with the tip of his fingers before stuffing it back into the deck. Ragnar's sleight-of-hand was always mesmerizing to watch. There was a hidden deadliness to the way his performance caught people's eyes, rendering them unaware of the truth behind the dazzles of his magic tricks. "Say we have something to offer, in exchange for Sylvie and Quyền's freedom."

Lila shook her head. "We won't hold up under the Traceworks for long. She'll know it's a lie."

But it wasn't about beating the Russian to the next move. It hasn't been since the assassination of Sebastian Fuchs had backfired, and costed them what little reason Veronika had to keep them alive. "We need to know her next plan of attack," said Ragnar. "That's all."

"Wolfgang's not going to cave," said Lila. "And he won't believe what we say."

There was a hint of bitterness in her voice. She glared at nothing in particular as her fingers curled, nails scratching the fabric of her borrowed jeans. Her silent rage over the German's rejection hasn't faltered. If anything, it festered after she'd spent a few days trapped underneath the August 8 cluster's basement.

Maitake sighed. "It's a risk we'll have to take."

At that, Marcela quirked an eyebrow, brown eyes piercing. Maitake knew what she was thinking, even if her mind was inaccessible at the moment. Risk-taking was hardly the way he'd chose to go. He had frowned upon Lila's reckless since their rebirth, when BPO had traced down their identities through their Mother and offered a deal for collaboration. For their cooperation in BPO's research, Veronika had promised the cluster immunity from sapiens, should information about their existence be released to the world. As part of the deal, the knowledge the organization gained would be made accessible to them too.

Maitake had been skeptical of the Russian's intentions. Really, all eight of them had been. But Lila had wanted to test the limits of their powers and understand the leverage they had against sapiens at large. In the end they compromised for the sake of safety: instead of trying to hide from BPO's prying eyes after they had already been found once, they had, in Jonas' words, made a deal with the devil. Thought when Headhunters became distracted with the August 8 cluster, they saw an opportunity, a window of time to try and free themselves.

To say they'd failed would have been an understatement.

"We can't surrender," Lila insisted. "We can find another way."

Maitake glared. "There is no other way."

"Mm," Ragnar spoke up again, adjusting the collars of his black leather jacket, the one he'd never parted with since BPO had flown him to London. "That's not entirely true."

"This is no time for theatrics," said Marcela.

His pale lips curled up into a thin smile. "The simplest solution. Tried-and-true."

"What solution?" Lila snapped. She'd grown impatient, too. Normally Maitake would've frowned at her temper, but in this instance, he'd grown equally agitated. None of their cluster were the type to sit indoors brooding over theoretical battle plans. Cabin fever had driven them to the brink of madness.

"We join the resistance. We know the August 8 cluster has a high chance of succeeding in their conquest for the throne."

"Wolfgang's not going to -"

"I don't mean we sign a peace treaty," Ragnar explained, his voice airy and calm as ever. "We can find a way to ensure the collaboration without the potential backstabbing. Some form of forced alliance, one they can't find it in their right minds to refuse."

Maitake frowned. After the predictable betrayal the August 8 cluster had pulled both times, trustworthiness was hardly their finest quality. "There's always room for deception. They'll say it's for the sake of a good cause."

"Double-crossing is a tried-and-true tactic," admitted the magician. "Which is why, as I always say at the beginning of my show, the answer -" he pulled out the Queen of Hearts from behind the collar of his jacket, one corner of his mouth ticking at the way the three of them suppressed their looks of surprise - "is right in front of you. You," he turned to Lila.

"Me?" She looked puzzled.

"Well, the man you were with before you made your way back."

She rolled her eyes. "Jonas. Of course."

"Why Jonas?" asked Marcela.

Ragnar leaned back, propping his feet up on the coffee stand as he shuffled his deck again. "He'd betrayed them, almost as many times as he'd turned his back on us."

Lila raised an eyebrow. "You want me to turn Jonas in?"

"A small lead would do. Veronika has resources to track him down from there."

Indeed, thought Maitake. Offering a viable piece of information. That ought to keep Veronika from straight-up executing them.

Marcela nodded. "Jonas knows where they are."

"Where they were," Lila pointed out. "They would have relocated after I got out."

"Either way," Maitake spoke up, "his interrogations would buy us some time, and it's a lead Veronika would follow. Meanwhile, we can find a way to track them down for real."

"That wouldn't help us," said Lila. "Wolfgang would -"

Ragnar turned to her, smirking.

"Oh." She caught on. "We add another leverage. Make the deal hard to refuse."

"This is where my plan for surrender comes in," Maitake realized. "We find out Veronika's next plan — date, location, anything else — and we offer it to them."

"Seems they have their own way to gather intel," Marcela pointed out.

Lila perked up. "We have a third leverage, too," she said. "You've said you've given them the names? And Veronika's address?"

"Four of her homes," Maitake recalled.

"But Veronika's staged attacks never happen during the night. She always plans to see them through -" Marcela smirked - "in her office."

It was typical of Veronika to revel in the fear of her fellow sapiens. Having linked minds made sensates a force, but Veronika was playing a numbers game. And since there were no neighborhoods like the sensorium-run Rione in Berlin they'd planned to build, sensates would be vulnerable against their newfound fear-driven enemies.

"Exactly." Lila perked up. "When the time comes, we can take them to her."

Jonas had spent a long time wondering under what circumstances he would be reunited with Kareem. They hadn't spent much time together since he'd joined Veracity before Angelica's death, save for the brief exchanges before they went their separate ways: Kareem to Athens to assist with the Blocker trade, and Jonas to Chicago.

It felt odd to be back in Chicago under a circumstance that was debatably worst than before. The fact that one of his oldest friend was lying on a makeshift bed of moth-eaten mattress and patched blankets, an IV drip feeding into his veins, didn't help. But the retired doctor at the safe house had done the best he could with the equipments available, and so far, the Egyptian's life signs are stable. Weak, but stable.

"You look like I'm dying, Jo," he cracked a joke, the corners of his bloodied lips quirking.

"We're all dying. Slowly, but surely."

Kareem snorted. With his weak lungs, the sound came out more like a huff, but Jonas knew what he'd meant. "You haven't changed."

Jonas sighed. "I've gone too far down the path to change."

"Let me guess." Kareem groaned and shuffled slightly in the mattress, nudging against the pillow, which was slipping away from under his head. Jonas pulled it down so part of it could support his neck. "You haven't told them?"

"Lila dropped by for a few seconds before I took my last dose. She said they'd found out."

The Egyptian raised an eyebrow, impressed, though his black eye throbbed in protest. "Was it Wolfgang? I knew he'd be good at this invasion thing."

"Riley Blue, actually."

"The DJ?"

"Yes. The DJ."

"Why you wanted to keep them away from Lila's cluster at all, I'll never understand. They'd have made good allies."

At that, Jonas chuckled. "It would appear Miss Facchini made Wolfgang's acquaintance before I could reveal that part of Angelica's past. And you know Lila; she's never been the forgiving type."

If it weren't for his lungs, Jonas was sure Kareem would have chortled. "Right. I suppose you should've broken it to Will and the others sooner. Could've avoided all this drama."

Jonas looked annoyed. "I thought Lila's cluster were lost to the Headhunters. Lila didn't inform me of the change in plans. They got it in their heads that they could go rogue and build their own sensorium neighborhood."

"Guess Veronika's revenge against them was a wake-up call, huh?"

"They were desperate," Jonas remembered. "Lila attempted to seek out Wolfgang for help."

Kareem wheezed, trying to hold back a laugh, brown eyes gleaming. His face turned red at the lack of oxygen. Jonas glared until he'd calmed himself down. When he could breathe again, he asked, "I'm assuming that's where everything went to Hell?"

"You could say. I was quite content in my new hideout until Maitake had demanded my assistance in breaking Lila out from the prison."

"You best not get yourself caught, then," said the Egyptian. "Pelzer and Milt, they'll pry it out of you. Locations and everything."

Jonas knew that despite Kareem's good-natured façade, he'd never gotten over the guilt of giving away crucial leads for the Blocker trades under Whispers' interrogation. But Jonas was hardly good at convincing his friend he wasn't at fault. There was no such thing as fault, not when the Headhunters had the advantage against uncooperative sensates.

Instead, Jonas shook his head and addressed the problem at hand. "I'm certain Will and the others would have found new places to hide. Stanley said Lito was spotted in Iceland?"

"You think they split up?"

"Perhaps. They do have several ways to communicate without being traced."

One of the older inhabitants in the safe house waved from the stove, asking Jonas to help him make breakfast.

"'Course. They can take care of themselves," Kareem agreed. "I'm glad Mavis is in safe company. Kiira, too."

Jonas made a move to stand up, and gave his friend a nod. "I don't doubt Will and the others will find their ways around the Headhunters. Pity I won't be there to see it."

Kareem made a hum of agreement. "Yeah. Would've been quite a story."

Miki approached Sun in the afternoon when most of the cluster retrieved into the basement lab. Nomi had, with Bug's help, pulled up more profiles on the sapiens in BPO, and Will and Henrik are updating the cork board to figure out the best way to approach the situation. Sun had stayed upstairs to help clean up after lunch, lost in thought as she scrubbed the plate with a sponge.

The Inuk took the plate from Sun's hand and smirked. Sun raised an eyebrow.

"Teach me how to fight," said Miki.

"Now?"

Miki nodded. "I wanna see how you do it. Like that day at the market — Mavis said you took down half the BPO guards."

Sun smirked. "They should know they need more guards by now."

"Well, it is hard to know your limit." Gina walked in smelling like shampoo, a towel wrapped around her hair like a turban. "I'm sure they'll send more, next time 'round."

I look forward to it.

"As do all of us," Gina replied.

Sun startled, backing against the sink. With most of her cluster on Blockers all the time save for Capheus and Riley, she'd forgotten her mind was exposed to prying.

"Why do you want to learn?" asked Sun.

Gina exchanged a look with Miki. "Henrik seems to find his way into trouble more often than I'd like. Thought I might try and help."

That, Sun supposed, was as good a reason as any. She'd seen the way Henrik faced his opponents at the market. He had a lot of brute strength, and could withstand punches, but he could use a few lessons on fighting tactics.

"You can teach us the tactics," Miki chipped in. "We can help him if we're sharing."

Even better."You've been thinking about this for a long time," Sun observed.

"I've gotten in my fair share of rumbles." Miki shrugged. Sun remembered what Leon had about Miki said the first day they'd met. Sensing her thought, Miki added, "I'd take his word for it. I win most of my fights."

"I don't doubt you do," said Sun, examining her muscles through the oversized T-shirt she wore, which was slipping off one of her shoulders.

"Let's not do this in the kitchen though," Gina reminded them.

They decided to use the living room as the practice area instead, an overenthusiastic Miki bounding ahead on their way over. With a grunt, she pushed one couch to the side by herself. Following her lead, Sun and Gina cleared the area of potential obstacles, leaving enough room to practice one-on-one combat.

First, Sun explained the defensive stance, using herself as an example. She adjusted the position of their feet and arms after they mimicked her position. The basics of where they should distribute tension in their bodies were fairly simple to explain, and after a few minutes Gina and Miki grasped how to defend themselves from anticipated attacks from the front.

Gina hadn't experienced fighting hand-to-hand, she'd told Sun. Miki, on the other hand, had gotten in her fair share of rumbles. A quick pat-down of told Sun the Inuk would not go down easily, though her size gave way to underestimation. And a glimpse inside her memory, of her braids whipping past her shoulders as she threw a deadly punch at a man twice her size, made Sun chuckle.

But Sun wasn't surprised. Compared to most, Miki's upbringing was demanding on physical strength. Miki had told her guests stories of the days she spent as a healer's apprentice in Noatak, hunting for rare herbs deep in the forests nearby in a heavy fur-lined cloak.

"She chopped her own firewood, too," Gina added, adjusting her fists. She punched the air experimentally, wondering how she could bring about maximum damage.

Sun held Gina's wrist and pulled her right arm directly forward, angling her fist for a straight right hand. She pulled out the thumb Gina had wrapped inside her fist, one of the most deadly beginner mistakes, and explained how she should expect her weight to shift from one foot to the other when she threw the punch.

"I'm handy with an axe," Miki announced proudly, imitating the punch.

"It's a good start," said Sun. After all, should they find themselves in another struggle with BPO, brandishing makeshift weapons would be a good additional skill. Cutting trees weren't so different from chopping down people.

"Exactly." Miki beamed, a sweet-dimpled smile on her face as she fantasized about knocking down BPO guards with a stolen baton. "And if I know it, we all know it."

After learning a few more simple but effective moves, the hosts asked about the sharing aspect of fighting with a cluster. After all the practice Sun had received with her cluster in the past year, she found it natural to slip inside someone else's body and guide their limbs like they were her own. But teaching it theoretically was another matter.

There were the basic tricks the fighter could pull to stop themselves from being knocked down too quickly. When Sun fought alongside her cluster in a large scale confrontation, they'd hold off their opponents with a steady position while Sun slipped into others' bodies to help one at a time. When they'd first arrived in London, Sun had taught to her less experienced cluster-mates the basics, the defensive stances as well as offensive moves.

It had saved their lives multiple times during their BPO invasion while Sun was on her way to kidnap Jonas. Thankfully, Sun wasn't the sole fighter. She may have infinite ways to deal with an enemy, but she only had one mind.

"It's like pressing a 'pause' button before you could take over, isn't it?" asked Gina.

A fitting metaphor. Sun nodded.

To demonstrate, she fought Gina. It was difficult to remember she was fighting a friend and not go all-out. But as soon as she moved too swiftly, Miki would step in via sharing and block Sun's attacks through Gina's body. The Inuk may be out of practice, but she had enough stamina and strength to hold her own.

Riley came upstairs to fetch drinks a few minutes later, and she was amused to find Sun practicing combat with their hosts. At Sun's request, Riley joined in. They broke off in pairs to practice sharing in combat — Sun lending to Riley, and Miki lending to Gina.

Riley was happy to back in action, Sun could tell. Her cluster-mates' general stance on hand-to-hand had shifted, the more time they spent with Sun. Riley had been with Will and the others during the BPO raid, too. Sun had lent her expertise to everyone throughout the struggle, but Kala had singlehandedly punched a Hazsuit in the face and snatched the gun from their hands before Sun could get around to sharing.

Needless to say, it was one of Sun's proudest moments.

A while later, the others emerged from the basement to watch them practice, cheering on whichever side happened to be losing at the time. Gina and Miki fought Sun and Riley with hardened gazes, jaws clenched in a fierce determination not unlike the one Sun saw in her own cluster-mates. Riley successfully locked Miki in a position on the ground, and Will cheered before Riley let the younger woman go with a friendly nod. They sat down on the ground to take a break. Sun broke off from her spar with Gina, who ran off, jumped into Henrik's arms and peppered his cheeks with chaste kisses.

Sun watched in quiet adoration as the rest of her cluster and allies broke into chatter, discussing "battle tactics" (Lito's words) with anecdotes of Sun's apparent "mother-fucking badassery" (Felix's words). Maybe this protective instinct was present in some sapiens, and all sensates. All except the Headhunters. Why? She didn't know. She wasn't sure she wanted to.

After learning the history of the photographs by the back stairs of their safe house, Sun had come to realize why so many sensates and sapien allies had been determined to help out. Her cluster's fight against BPO wasn't personal anymore, not since Wolfgang had been rescued. They had gained countless allies. And now they had a lot more to lose.

That night, Capheus entered Kiira's room. Kiira was flipping through a copy of The Bungalow Mystery Nomi had lent her, smiling at something on the page.

"It's a good series," he said.

Once Nomi had begun reading Nancy Drew to everyone back in London, Capheus found himself drawn to the story. He knew Kiira started the first book not long after their meeting near UCL — Mavis told her about their story sessions, and she was intrigued. These days it was harder to find time to continue his cluster's newfound tradition, but once in a while, after dinner, they'd gather in the living room with the hosts — sometimes Damien, too — and take turns reading out loud.

"It is. I've been meaning to get into Nancy Drew since I was a girl. Now seemed as good a time as any," Kiira said before closing the book. She stood up and marked the page with the silver leaf on the nightstand. "Is it midnight already?"

He nodded yes. "They headed to bed early. Long day."

And it was. They had managed to procure enough information on the sapiens in BPO to find ways to reach them, though the actual phone calls may have to wait until Veronika was down, in case the Russian had backup helpers waiting to take over.

The two of them walked upstairs to take the first guarding shift in the living room. Since no one was there, the lights were off. At night the hosts had taken to drawing all the curtains shut in case anyone was peeking through the windows. The room was nearly pitch black, so dark Capheus couldn't locate where Kiira was standing.

Her voice suggested she wasn't far. "Living room's about fifteen steps away," she said, already walking forward.

After a moment's hesitation he followed, waving his arms around and in front of him to make sure he wasn't about to run into something. By the time he reached the glass screen door to the living room, Kiira had already turned on the lamp by the couch at the far end.

"How -" he started, before breaking into a grin - "ahh. Your cluster-mate?"

"We used to take turns sharing our vision with Gabriel."

He nodded, ever-so-impressed at Kiira's seemingly endless collection of skills. "Was it Mavis' idea?"

"Not entirely." Kiira sat down and put the book on her lap. "I thought it would be an interesting experiment. I was hoping once we maintain a regular sharing schedule for a few years, I can see if there's any change to our brain anatomy from the adaptation."

"It does seem to help." He gestured around the large room.

"It taught me to rely on my other senses more," she pondered. "Gabriel's had to adjust to this from birth. For us it was all new, but being a sensate means you can borrow experiences, too. In a manner of speaking."

"I know what you mean." Capheus remembered when he'd ask Sun to show him memories of her old fighting tournaments. Though he didn't remember winning medals herself, the pride and even the physical strain was very much present when he experienced the fights through her mind, like they had happened to him.

"All my sharing with Gabriel's also given me a new system for navigation. Even if I'm out of practice at the moment."

"Mm." He looked between them and the screen door. "You can remember how far it is."

"It's like a muscle memory. Knowing how many steps to take, how far to reach, all that."

"Sounds like a good skill to have."

"And darkness doesn't seem as frightening after all the experience-sharing we'd done."

"I'm sure," he said. He turned to her. "Has it ever scared you? The dark?"

"It used to," she admitted. "When I was small. Four, maybe five years old? I used to believe there were monsters under my bed. They'd come alive after the lights were turned off. They looked like these illustrated furry monsters in the books my parents used to buy me."

Capheus nodded. There were a few of these in Riley's memories, too. Illustrations in children's storybooks her parents used to read to her, brought to life by her imagination. "What made you let go of this fear?"

"Liam. I made him chase them away every night for years."

"Ahh." The image of the freckled man with the full-faced grin came to life in his mind's eye. He wondered what Liam sounded like.

"After he left, sometimes I'd worry they'd come back. So dad got fed up and bought me a night light." She blushed. "I had it until I started year four."

"It's nothing to be embarrassed about," he reassured. "I didn't like the dark, either."

"Really?" She tilted her head. "What changed for you?"

He smiled. "I met Jela. So the night became a symbol for something good."

For a second he tried to show her the memory, but his consciousness met a barrier in the shared space in their minds. With a sigh, he let his thoughts drift back into the living room. Kiira gave him a sad smile.

"Just tell me," she said. "Save the memory for when I'm off Blockers"

Capheus pictured himself roaming through the streets of Kibera after dark. The rundown houses all looked the same under the dim orange of the streetlights, and the twists and turns were disorienting. He didn't remember how far he'd gone after he'd left his house. His mother had gone out for a quick errand, but he'd waited for an hour, and when she still hadn't returned, he'd decided to go out looking for her.

"It was a month after mother and I settled in Kibera. I was ten, I think. We moved to Nairobi to start a new life. And we found this house in the neighborhood — it looked like all the other houses." Capheus chuckled. "I could never recognize it from the street. There wasn't even a door number."

"Yes, that would've helped."

"It would," he agreed. "At night the street lights didn't work so well. Sometimes the lightbulbs were broken, so you can barely see the road, let alone who's who."

It was the first time Capheus had gone out alone after dark, and after ten minutes he was lost. He'd remembered passing by a barbecue place, but he'd circled around the block and couldn't find it again. Instead he'd stumbled upon two older boys sitting on the front steps of a barbershop, smoking cigarettes. Before he could turn away — mama told him not to talk to strangers — one of the boys stood up and walked over, towering over Capheus.

"There were these scary people. Teenagers, I think, I don't know. They asked me if I was lost. And they followed me when I walked away. So I ran."

She nodded for him to continue, eyes widening in apprehension.

"They chased me for a while. I don't know how long. I lost them after I turned a few corners, but I had to find somewhere to hide. And there was this trapdoor on the ground, and it was unlocked, so I climbed in."

It seemed like a good idea at the time. The perfect hiding spot. Capheus had climbed down the steps and squatted below, squinting to try and make out the view outside from the small slit of the trapdoor. The space was cramped, filled with abandoned furnitures and metal scraps, but it was safer than being out in the open.

"I thought I was safe. But someone grabbed me from behind by the collar of my shirt. They were poking at my back with something — I thought it was a gun." At Kiira's horrified look, he broke into a grin. "It was Jela. Holding a broken piece of pipe."

Kiira's expression changed into one between amusement and disbelief. He imagine she'd made her childhood friends under much different circumstances.

The fuck you doing here, shithead? Jela had asked. Capheus turned around and stared at the boy who spoke like one of the drunk men who'd fight outside the bar near in his old home in Kiambu County. Jela's hair was in cornrows, and he wore an oversized jacket with patches and frayed sleeves. It was long enough to cover most of his cargo shorts, though his knobby knees peeked out from underneath.

I'm Capheus, was his response.

Jela cackled, mouth open wide. Capheus could make out the two gaps in his mouth where his molars had ye to emerge emerged. Shithead, what are you doing in my secret lair?

Your secret lair? Capheus looked around the place, cringing at the moth-eaten couches, the three-legged, overturned desk, and — was that a toolbox?

"Jela found this place that no one was using, and he turned it into a workshop," Capheus explained. "There was a toolbox someone left there. Some metal wires… An old typewriter… He'd been trying to get that typewriter to work for months. I think he ended up making it worse. But he always did like fixing things."

"You said Jela's a mechanic?" she recalled from his election day photo.

"That's his hobby. His full time job's with the Van Damn."

You don't break in here and insult my collection. Jela held up the pipe again. You can get out. Out.

Sorry. Capheus raised his hands in surrender. Uhh, nice place.

Jela snorted. You're a shit liar, Capheus.

Capheus shrugged in defeat.

But you're funny. You can stay. He put the pipe aside and extended his hand. I'm Jela.

"How did you find your way home that day?" asked Kiira.

"My mother got home not long after I left. Then she went out looking for me. I heard her calling, and Jela got out and introduced himself."

"Sounds like Jela."

"She liked him from the start."

"I'm glad you met him."

"Me too."

Meeting Jela had made Kibera feel like home. They spent many afternoons roaming the streets, but never in the dark. His mother wouldn't let him out after dinner after what happened that night. One day, in their lair, Jela had drawn him a map of the neighborhood to help him get around the place.

For someone who had no art training, it was a surprisingly accurate and well-crafted sketch. Eventually Capheus learned to recognize his home and Jela's. They looked the same as everywhere else, but he cherished them like no other place. Still, he'd kept the scrap paper with the pencil drawing in an old drawer until the marks had faded into light gray against the yellowed page. If he were to search now, he might still find the paper at the bottom of the drawer underneath old journals and opened letters.

"Our houses weren't that far from each other's," said Capheus. "We would have met eventually, maybe in a more peaceful way, but it wouldn't have made a good story."

"I suppose not." Kiira looked at the book on her lap again, studying the back cover with the plot synopsis. "Isn't it odd that we find dangerous stories to be the most exciting?"

"It is. But it's also understandable."

"How come?"

Capheus thought about Jean Claude, about the protagonists Lito had played before the drastic change in his acting career. There was something about these heroes' invulnerability that gave Capheus hope, even if he knew the fights couldn't play out nearly as smoothly in real life. At least he could embody their spirit and make the best out of the fight at hand, and try not to make it his last.

"It's not about the danger itself," he concluded. It's about how people get out of the danger. That's what makes a story worth telling."

"It's late," said Wolfgang, murmuring against Kala's ear.

She giggled when his breath tickled her skin, but shook her head and inched closer to the beaker, stirring the ingredients with a careful hand. "Hang on."

His hands were on her shoulder now. "It's midnight, schatz."

"I'm not finished." She picked up some clear liquid from a sealed tube using a pipette and added three drops to the beaker, humming in content when the solution turned misty white.

"You can work on the anti-Blocker tomorrow. We've got time."

With a sigh, she set down the beaker and turned to him, hovering a protective hand on her side near her injury. "But how much time do we really have? Someone in the Archipelago is going to track down Veronika's most recent location and the date for the next attack she has planned any day now. And we know it's going to be soon, given how she staged her previous attacks. We could be expected to fight… Tomorrow. Or the day after. Or -"

He put a hand on her cheek and stroked her skin with his thumb, pausing her in the middle of the rant. "It's not going to be tomorrow, Kala. Even if the Archipelago contacts us, we'll need at least another two days to plan."

She pursed her lips, conceding. "Okay, so even if we have three days, who knows how many more tests I have to run? It took me weeks, weeks, to find the exact ingredients to replicate the Blockers Will got from Croome. It could take as long to find the anti-solution."

"It won't," he said. And he was fully convinced. His Kala had managed to do the impossible more times than he could count. When was the last time he was so optimistic?

"And based on what we know about how BPO operates when it comes to stopping sensates, they will administer Blockers the minute they find us so we can't communicate with each other," she continued, fiddling with her wedding ring, "which was also my fault because I was the one who came up with the injectable form! My fault!"

"It's not your fault." He ran a hand through her hair. She met his eyes.

Upon seeing his concern she smiled in reassurance. "I'm sorry. I'm rambling at you. You should sleep. You have a long day tomorrow."

Tomorrow, Wolfgang was going to try invading Whispers' mind instead of Will. A change in tactics could throw the Headhunter off.

Wolfgang returned the smile. He wished Kala would stop putting others' feelings above her own. "We both have a long day tomorrow."

She stopped fiddling with her ring. With a sigh, she pulled it off her finger, frowning at the slight tan line it left on her hand. But she put it back on, shaking her head at Wolfgang in apology. It would have to stay on for now.

"We do," she conceded. "I don't know how the meeting will go. But I know I have to tell Rajan. Nomi's right. There's no other way."

Nomi had booked her an early train to Lyon in the morning. Sun had volunteered as escort, which put Wolfgang slightly at ease. But he was much less sure about Rajan's reaction. He knew Rajan wouldn't hurt Kala, but there were so many ways this meeting could go, and right now they all seemed equally likely and unlikely.

Wolfgang had never been so uncertain about anything since he'd watched Kala go through her second wedding. He'd resisted his urge to stop her like he did the first time. She's better off without me, he'd tried to tell himself. Let her be happy.

The rest of his cluster had heard him think, but didn't say a word. They knew it was a decision he and Kala had to make alone. And they did, right before his capture. They hadn't changed their minds since. So there was no other way.

"Doesn't matter." Kala seemed to have guessed what he was thinking. "I'll tell Rajan about everything tomorrow no matter how he'll react. I know he won't force me to stay in the marriage — he's not like that."

"He's not," Wolfgang agreed.

"I should go to bed," she decided. But before he made a move to scoop her up and carry her upstairs, she shook her head. "Let me run a final test, okay?"

He sat back down and watched her stir the contents in the beaker again. She typed out a few words on the open document on her laptop — a few names, most likely chemical compounds — before she pulled the stopper off another test tube and added two drops of a blue solution inside the misty liquid in the beaker.

When she was concentrating, her brows curved into that particular frown accompanied by a slight twitch of her nose. The sight made Wolfgang's heart beat with a new intensity. He could watch her work all day. Maybe he would. Given how much they relied on her for the final battle, she'd be in the lab a lot more once they entered the planning stage.

He'd have to make sure she got her rest. Maybe he'd end up whisking her away to bed, the sound of her protest muffled by his smug kisses. It took all of his self-control not to give in and try to enact the scene right this second.

He watched the blue solution sink slowly to the bottom of the beaker. A few seconds later it dissipated, fading into nonexistence amid the white. Kala smiled.

"Is it working?" he asked softly, in case she didn't want to be disturbed.

"All my ingredients so far seem to have the desired effect," she said. She poured the misty solution into a clean test tube, which she sealed with a stopper, and handed him the beaker. He washed it and put it away on the drying rack. "But there's another ingredient I haven't identified, a crucial one. I've narrowed it down to three possible, fortunately very accessible compounds. I'll have to ask Kiira to help me test all three tomorrow. Hopefully one of them will work. After that we'll have to test it on -"

He opened his mouth to volunteer -

"Gina's already volunteered. And Henrik. We need people who haven't made connections with Headhunters, in case Whispers or someone else slips through."

"That's smart."

"It was Kiira's suggestion."

"You two work well together."

"Mm." She turned off the laptop and wiped down the counter. He took the rack with the sealed test tubes and put it away in a cabinet. "She's very intelligent. And she has the most unexpected ideas — it already helped so many times."

"BPO should be afraid of both of you." He scooped her up and let her rest her head on his left shoulder, heading for the stairs. "You're unstoppable," he whispered before ducking his head to peck her on the forehead.

"We can't take all the credit," she said, but her smirk was unmistakably proud.

It was around midnight when Jonas crept out of the safe house, pulling the gray hood over his head. He made his way down the alley. With its water-sodden cement and fading graffiti, the hideout looked completely abandoned from the outside — the eroded metal doors were bolted shut, and most people would not think twice before passing by. But there was a trapdoor from which one could go in and out, and for the past few days the inhabitants of the hideout had been taking turns receiving Blocker supplies from the Archipelago traders.

Tonight was Jonas' turn. And, after all his run-ins with BPO, he couldn't help but feel paranoid that someone was watching. He swallowed hard before picking up his pace. The meeting place was a skate park twenty minutes' walk away. No BPO authority would linger there for too long. Those who were there at that time of night? Wayward teenagers, most likely. They'd hardly recognize him, despite the wanted posters BPO had made of him in every news program in the country.

By the time he reached the meeting spot, the contact was already waiting for him, leaning against a pillow, sipping a glass bottle of coke. He wore a baseball cap that hid most of his face in the shadows, and a sports jacket endorsing a team Jonas couldn't name — he hadn't stayed in Chicago long enough to recognize any.

At the sight of Jonas, he nodded curtly.

Jonas stepped forward. "There is no certainty*."

It was the new system the Archipelago had established after the Reciphorum contamination, a prompt-and-response system that changed every other day. The safe house refugee who'd come to the trade the night before had passed the new question to Jonas.

After a pause, the man responded with a frown, "Everything is up to chance?"

Fuck. That wasn't it.

Jonas felt strong hands on his shoulder before he could turn and make a run for it, and the next second something warm was injected into his neck. His knees buckled. The person behind him pushed him to the ground until he knelt.

Chuckling, the fake contact removed his baseball cap. Jonas didn't recognize his face, but the glint of malice in his eyes was enough to convince Jonas this man and his cronies weren't on the Archipelago's side. He should scream. He should, though he'd opened his mouth and discovered he couldn't get his vocal cords to work.

He should panic. But after all the running he'd done, he felt oddly at peace. Why was he at peace? A part of his brain was screaming at him to do something, anything. His limbs were numb. The ground didn't seem like such a bad place to settle, come to think of it.

Jonas felt his mind drifted off somewhere intangible. The voices swarming around sounded blissfully content. Not that he paid attention to what they were saying. All that mattered at the moment was -

Sleep. Sleep would be good. He was tired. Exhausted. All day he'd been — didn't matter what he did. He wanted to pass out. It was tempting to lie down on the ground, but someone was hauling him. His vision was blurry.

It was getting harder and harder to fight the pull of his eyelids, so he closed his eyes.

Before Jonas drifted off into a deep sleep, he felt a chill in his mind. The sharpness of it made his muscles twitch. He knew the person was searching for something. Or was it someone? A few images drifted by the wobbling black space that encompassed his consciousness, his own memories fading into the background. Jonas couldn't recognize anything he was seeing or hearing. It was like looking at the world through a monitor with no emotions attached.

License plates. An ID card or two. A few names. None of which were his.

Veronika sends her regards, said the voice of his mind-invader, crisp, callous, unforgiving in its calmness.

Whispers had found him at last.

*The prompt-and-response system was inspired by Harry Potter. The quote Jonas was testing came from V for Vendetta: "There is no certainty, only opportunity."

A/N:

BEFORE YOU GO! I spent part of my NaNoWriMo beta-ing an awesome Sense8 post-canon fic by my friend Sav (fiftyeightminutes on tumblr), which will be featured in the "A Candle for the Caribbean" Charity Fanfiction Collection to help the victims of Hurricane Maria.

THERE ARE FICS FROM MANY FANDOMS in the collection, which will be published ON DECEMBER 7th. Please consider making a donation. IT'S FOR A GOOD CAUSE!

All the info is on loveinpanem's blog on tumblr so I won't elaborate. But basically, you can donate to a number of charities and email the receipt of your donation and get an e-copy of the collection, which will have OVER THIRTY FICS. And then you can read your heart out!