Hunnigan blew out a long exasperated breath as she read the medical examiner's email which stated she needed Hunnigan and the agent in charge of the case to come see the situation for themselves because words would not accurately convey what was happening. This meant Hunnigan would be stuck with Skylark for the day, and while she knew she had every right to take time off and delegate rather than get back to work only a week after having surgery on her humerus, she couldn't. This was her case and she wanted to see it through, injured arm or not. Frankly, it had more to do with her distrust of Skylark's ability to handle herself than Hunnigan's own compulsion to keep all the strings at her own fingertips.

Hunnigan undressed in the locker room (missing Helena's helping hands as she struggled to shake the sleeve of her jacket loose —she hadn't worn a button up shirt but rather a loose T-shirt and her jacket over it, but it was proving complicated to manage the sleeve to slip over her hand without tugging on it with her other hand) and changed into the disposable HazMat coverall. She then used her teeth to pull on the glove over her uninjured left hand and grabbed the respirator.

"Oh, for God's sake," she muttered agitatedly as she fought to get the mask in place with only one hand. She was almost willing to break protocol and just risk getting an infection if the damn thing slipped one more damn time.

Fortunately, it didn't and she secured it before moving to the sterilization room which separated the morgue, quarantine, and the R&D department from the rest of the building.

"Thanks for coming," Doctor Lara Cassia said through her mask as she took a moment to shake gloved hands with Hunnigan and Skylark before directing them to the morgue. When she removed the cloth covering Mr. Patel's body, Hunnigan felt her jaw drop.

"What the fff—" Skylark muttered.
"My thoughts exactly. I've been working for the DSO for a decade now but this is the weirdest shit I've seen so far," Cassia said.

The body had deformed and turned into a gray mass, fingers replaced by claws, the head looking like it was growing another head on top of it, only the new one had more teeth and less facial features. The earthy and stale smell of mold was easily detectable even through the respirator which meant it had to be extremely pungent.

"What is this?" Hunnigan asked as she stared at the body, unsure what to make of it all, she'd never seen anything like it.
"The body is changing physically post-mortem, what looks like necrotic tissue is actually...mold," Cassia said, took out a small flashlight and used her gloved hand to tilt the creature's head back to expose its mouth.

"In the back you can see regular molars like you would on any human...and an eye," she said as she shone the light down the creature's throat where the part that normally would've had one's uvula was now replaced by an eyeball, undoubtedly residue of the human victim the creature was growing out of.

"The brain matter is gone as are most of the internal organs aside from the intestine, it seems the mold is using the bacteria there as a growth platform. The skeletal matter is being re-purposed to form teeth and claws, so the limbs themselves are rather fragile."

"How contagious is this?" Hunnigan asked, feeling an uncomfortable knot tightening in her gut when she thought of how Hawke had been exposed to the vomit.

She showed no signs of infection but that was only a two-week period, it's taken closer to a month for this to happen, she swallowed hard.

"Based on my analysis, you'd have to ingest it or have it enter your bloodstream to get infected," Cassia said, causing Hunnigan and Skylark to exchange a knowing glance. Hunnigan felt her heart sink when she remembered what Helena had told her this morning about her plan to go visit Hawke who'd been sent home from quarantine the previous week; Helena had said they planned to watch a baseball game together and discuss the possibility of introducing Charlie to Hawke's dog Grunt when he'd be brought home from Hawke's uncle's house.

Not good, I have to call her and tell her to be careful.

"So, is this...dead? What is happening here?" Skylark frowned.
"Well, yes and no. I mean, it's alive like a petri dish full of bacteria would be, there's active cells but it's not alive as in it'll get up and attack."

"And you're sure of this?"
"I mean, there's no brain, it's just mold, this thing isn't any more dangerous than an expired cup of yogurt would be."

"None of this makes any sense," Hunnigan muttered.

Why would anyone bother making something like this? It didn't seem like a very effective bio-weapon compared to what she'd seen before. Unless this was just some stage in the creature's evolution which would eventually render it more dangerous, perhaps it would emit spores or something equally difficult to contain if given the chance. Even then it seemed an ineffective weapon since clearly the incubation time was very long, people using bio-organic weapons weren't known for their patience and willingness to sit and wait for results.

Maybe if you leave an infected body in an air duct or something but honestly, who does that? Hunnigan mused, mentally knocking wood, deciding it would be best not to give the enemy tactical advice, not even in her mind.

"Let's not wait around to see what will become of this, dispose of it, please," she told Cassia instead and the doctor nodded.
"All right. I'll take a few more samples and deliver the body to be incinerated."

"Thank you," Hunnigan said before turning to hurry back toward the locker room, hoping that Helena was procrastinating or stuck in traffic rather than already at Hawke's apartment.

"Duuude!" a young man drawled happily and loudly from across the street and for a while Helena thought it was because he'd recognized her as the "DSO's problem child" who'd recently been indicted of a very public murder, or then he also was a fan of Pittsburgh Pirates and recognized the team's logo on Helena's baseball cap, but then she realized that wasn't it. He was still smiling at her widely and giving two thumbs up when she finally reacted, smiled back and held her thumb up as well. He was wearing the same hoodie Helena was. She'd gotten hers from Hunnigan who'd brought it to her when she'd stayed at the psychiatric hospital and Hunnigan had been advised that bringing patients comfortable clothes was always a good idea.

The hoodie was decorated with the Del Rey family crest and the band's name, Grandma Murder&her wayward scoundrels, circled the design. As popular and loved as the band was among the niche following it had, they weren't a household name, Helena supposed the young man had never randomly met another person dressed in the same band apparel. Helena didn't know why the band's name was Grandma Murder&her wayward scoundrels but she assumed it had something to do with the pirate ancestor who dueled with her breasts exposed to let everyone know her opponents were bested by a woman. She'd have to ask Hunnigan about it later.

Right now, she was finishing off a cigarette before heading into the apartment building where Hawke lived. She'd been a bit distracted on the phone and Helena was admittedly growing concerned for her. Hawke had shrugged it off as a side-effect of being isolated for weeks, and Helena couldn't deny it might be just that. She certainly hoped it was just that.

"Hawke?" Helena called out after receiving no answer to her knocks. She waited a while longer and was just about to phone her when Hawke finally opened the door.
"Hey! Sorry, I was just in the shower," she said, her short black hair still dripping water and messy after being hastily toweled.

"Yes, I, uh, I can see that," Helena cleared her throat awkwardly and only then Hawke seemed to realize she'd forgotten to wear a towel, or anything.
"Oh, damn," she laughed, "I've been by myself for so long I seem to have forgotten that clothes aren't generally optional."

She excused herself and disappeared into another room for a while, instructing Helena and Charlie to come on in. Charlie sniffed the air and looked around the new surroundings, seeming a bit perplexed. Helena figured it was probably because he knew he was in another dog's home —surely he could smell it— but there was no other dog to be seen.

"Hey, uh, what day is it?" Hawke called out from the bedroom and Helena frowned at the odd question.
"Friday, September 26th. Why?"

"Already?" Hawke questioned as she emerged from the bedroom, dressed in a black T-shirt and shorts.
"Why?" Helena repeated.

"No reason, apparently I've just completely lost track of time, like, it's all blurred into one long day. Either that or I've blacked out for a week," Hawke laughed, knelt down and reached to pet Charlie, who happily let her coo over him.

"Aw, I miss my boy," she smiled wryly as she gave Charlie a good scratch.
"Where is Grunt?"

"He's still at my uncle's," Hawke said, got up and gestured toward the living room, and Helena followed her.
"I hope he and Charlie will get along, it'd be fun to take them to the park together. Most people I've met there tend to steer clear from me," Helena said.

"Why?" Hawke asked as she returned from the kitchen with two cold bottles of beer and sat next to Helena.
"Oh, you know, the whole murder thing. Jane tried to clear my name but apparently people had stopped caring at that point and didn't get the memo," Helena said.

"Oooh, right, right. Well, that blows."

"Yeah, and not just for me, but for the dogs too, Charlie would have so many dog friends if their owners didn't decide their dogs can't play with him because of me. Good thing I don't have any kids, their lives would be ruined," Helena laughed mirthlessly.

Oh, God, she then thought as she saw the band's logo on her shirt and realized Hunnigan was more or less a public figure and infamously had been photographed with Helena the day she'd bailed Helena out.

What if being associated with me has ruined her reputation? she wondered.

You mean ruined her reputation outside the DSO, too. Everyone questions her integrity because of you. You're a menace, you ruin everything around you, Frances's voice echoed through Helena's mind and she sighed deeply. Even after months of therapy, the voice remained. Helena didn't think she could ever scrub it off her brain completely.

And what do you think happens now that you quit the DSO and your sessions with Wilkes aren't covered by their insurance, hmm? You didn't think that through, did you.

No, she hadn't, and she realized there would be no way she could afford the sessions in the future.

I'm so screwed, she thought numbly.

"Yeah well, their loss because you and Charlie are awesome," Hawke's voice returned her to the moment from her thoughts.
"Thanks," she chuckled.

"So, who are we rooting for?" Hawke asked and Helena quirked an eyebrow.
"You don't know who's playing?"

"I know who is playing but I don't care enough to have a favorite team, I just like watching them play."
"The Buccos of course," Helena said and pointed at her cap to draw Hawke's attention to the team's logo on it.

"Of course, and I totally should've known that," Hawke drawled and Helena laughed.

"I'm from Pittsburgh and one of the very few good childhood memories I have is from when I was twelve. My younger sister was at a sleepover with her friend so my grandmother dumped me on her neighbor Tommy so she could get drunk in peace. The PNC Park had just opened and Tommy took me to the game. The Buccos lost of course, to these fuckers nonetheless," Helena said and pointed at the player from Cincinnati Reds shown on the television screen.

"But it was a good day regardless. I wasn't being yelled at or beaten, I got to eat a ton of junk food, and Tommy bought me this hat. Best day ever."
"How is your life so sad!" Hawke asked and Helena chuckled, offering a shrug that silently said she had no idea.

They then focused on watching the game, and as time went on, Helena noticed Hawke excused herself rather often and for rather long periods of time. At first she assumed Hawke was just one of those people who can't drink beer without needing to use the bathroom every five minutes, but when she went to knock on the bathroom door after waiting for several minutes for Hawke to return, she realized that wasn't where she'd gone; the door was open and the bathroom empty.

What is she doing? Helena thought, certain she'd heard a faint thud from the other side of the wall that bordered the bedroom.

Is she talking to someone? she frowned. Probably on the phone, Helena mused, exiting the bathroom after washing her hands.

When she returned to the living room she saw Hawke's phone was on the coffee table.

What the hell is going on? she thought and turned the television's volume down a little. She could've sworn she heard Hawke talk to someone.

"This is ridiculous," she muttered and stood up. "Hawke?" she called out and marched to the bedroom door. She knocked on it before slowly beginning to push it open.

"Hey, are you okay?" Helena asked as she stepped in. "Oh, my God..." she breathed when she saw the state of the room. The random piles of clothes thrown carelessly on the floor didn't faze her, but what Hawke had done to the walls was enough to strike her silent.

The majority of the cream-colored wallpaper was covered in text of varying sizes, written in a feverish handwriting, some of the larger letters looking squiggly like Hawke had been fighting her own hand while writing it.

accept her giFT YOU MOTHERFUCKER GET OUT OF MY HEAD there is only ROT and ruin LEAVE ME ALONE ACCEPT HER GIFT you bring only DEATH ACCEPT HER GIFT the darkness must not be breached

".. .what...is this?" Helena asked, but Hawke didn't answer. She stood still in the middle of the room, her shoulders twitching like she was silently laughing but she wasn't laughing, she was struggling. With what, Helena couldn't tell.

"Hawke? What's wrong?" Helena tried once more and put her hand on Hawke's shoulder only to pull it back almost immediately after when she saw the faint dark lines rippling underneath the pale skin.

"What the fu—"
"Why do you pursue me?" Hawke asked as she swiveled around and grabbed Helena's arms, leaning into her and gripping her firmly.

"What—"
"Oh God it hurts, please make it stop! Listen to me Harper, promise me, promise me you'll kill me!"

" I'm not gonna—"
"No! No you don't! Stay away from me!" Hawke shouted, pushed Helena back and before Helena even knew what was happening, Hawke turned around, leaned forward and ran head first into the wall, leaving behind a bloody stain on the wallpapered concrete.

"Hawke!" Helena exclaimed and went to her as she collapsed onto the floor with a loud thud. Helena dug out her phone and just as she was about to call for help, it rang.
"Hunnigan!"

"...Helena, what's wrong?" the other woman asked immediately after hearing the urgency in her voice.
"I don't know, something's wrong with Hawke, I need a medical team at her place right now, I don't know what happened, I don't... she's... I don't know if she's..." Helena sucked in shuddering shallow breaths.

"Helena...listen to me...listen, I'm on my way, everything's gonna be okay, I promise, just hold on a few minutes, okay?"
"Hurry."

Hunnigan handed Helena a laminated card that had a large red "V" on it, identifying her as a visitor at the DSO. It felt somewhat silly that she had to wear one considering this had been her office too until rather recently, but rules were rules. Hunnigan had needed to bend quite a few to get her even visitor access to the labs, and she was certain she'd get reprimanded for it by Shepard who was probably hearing about Hunnigan's gross indiscretion right at the moment from Skylark who was only happy to tattle on her every chance she got. Hunnigan didn't care, she wasn't going to exclude Helena from this, Hawke was her friend and Helena deserved to know what was happening.

"Well, the good news is there's no damage to her skull or her neck...but that's the extent of the good news," Doctor Cassia said as she zoomed around in the 3D scan of Hawke's head and neck displayed on her computer monitor.

"What do you mean?" Hunnigan asked and Cassia glanced back and forth between her and Helena.
"I really don't think I'm at liberty to discuss Hawke's medical status in the presence of a visitor," she said uncomfortably and Hunnigan rolled her eyes.

"I'll vouch for—"
"I'll step outside," Helena said in a quiet defeated tone and did so before Hunnigan had a chance to argue for her presence further.

"I'm sorry, it's just—"
"Yes, I know, I know," Hunnigan sighed, "so what's the situation?" she asked and Cassia pulled up another scan of Hawke's head, this time detailing the woman's brain.

"These dark areas are mold growths."
"Fuck," Hunnigan spat.

"They would explain the behavior Helena described she witnessed, they would have caused hallucinations, nausea, altered behavior..."
"So, what do we do to get it out?"

"...that's the thing, I don't know. We've tried antibiotics, antifungal drugs, but she doesn't seem to be responding, I don't know what we can do. And if we do nothing, this thing is going to intertwine with her brain, there'll be no way to remove it without killing her or causing severe brain damage, we don't have a lot of time."

"How much time?" Hunnigan asked, dreading the answer.
"Days, no more than a week, possibly less."

"Fuck," Hunnigan cursed again. "All right...all right, you keep running tests and throw everything you've got at this thing, I'm going to reach out to the BSAA and the CDC so see if they've got anything that would help," she then said and exited the office without waiting for Cassia to say anything.

Helena stood in the hallway, leaning to the wall, Charlie sitting by her side, panting a little as Helena scratched him behind his ear.

"She's gonna die, isn't she," Helena spoke and it was more of a statement than a question.
"Not if I can help it," Hunnigan said but knew she didn't have much to back up her bravado with. Unfortunately, Helena seemed to know it too for she didn't seem comforted by Hunnigan's words in the slightest. Hunnigan couldn't blame her.

"Listen, I'm gonna reach out to my contacts and make some inquiries, why don't you head on home, and I'll catch up with you in a bit?" Hunnigan suggested quietly, reaching to take Helena's hand into her own.
"...yeah, okay," Helena muttered and nodded a little.

"Hey. It'll be all right," Hunnigan said and hugged Helena to herself.
"I wish I could believe you," Helena mumbled into Hunnigan's shoulder, held onto her a while and then headed out with Charlie.

After over two hours of emailing back and forth with her contacts, making several phone calls, and reaching out to everyone she knew and asking if they had any idea what it was she was dealing with, Hunnigan was left with nothing to show for her work. A few people hadn't returned her messages or answered their phones, but Hunnigan figured it was probably because it was getting late, she hoped they'd return her messages in the morning. It was almost midnight when she finally made it home.

When she got there, she found Helena lying awake in bed, her eyes and face red from all the crying. She sat up when she noticed Hunnigan, sniffled and exhaled deeply.

"I'm beginning to truly believe grandma was right," Helena muttered and Hunnigan frowned. She went to take a seat next to Helena and put her arm around her midsection.
"What do you mean?" she asked and pulled Helena closer.

"She always said that I'm...sick, that there's something wrong with me, and that I ruin everything, and I didn't know what she meant, but...everyone's dying. My parents, my squad...Deborah...Jane, and now Hawke...and I just...feel like it's somehow because of me, and I'm scared that something's gonna happen to you, I mean, first it was your heart and now your arm, and I just..." Helena babbled through tears and Hunnigan tightened her grip on her, encouraging Helena to lean into her, and she did.

"You do know there is no way you're responsible for any of those things?" Hunnigan said softly and rested her cheek against the top of Helena's head.
"I don't even know anymore, it's just so...I'm the common denominator in so many terrible things, I can't..."

"Helena, stop," Hunnigan ordered gently. "You haven't done anything wrong and none of this is your fault."

"Maybe it's bad enough that I'm nearby, maybe I should just k—"

"Stop," Hunnigan ordered again, this time more sternly. After all this time and after all the work Helena had done to recover, Hunnigan sure as hell wouldn't let her go back to endlessly thinking about suicide, not without a fight.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean it, not really, but I just...I can't handle this."
"You need some rest, it'll be clearer in the morning, and we'll figure it out," Hunnigan said and kissed Helena's forehead.

"Yeah...you're right," she agreed and sat up. She went to blow her nose and wash her face while Hunnigan got ready for bed, and a few minutes later they lay down and Hunnigan put her uninjured arm around Helena's shoulders.

"I'll fix this, I promise," Hunnigan whispered in the dark and Helena nuzzled into the side of her neck, her arm over Hunnigan's midsection as she held onto her tight.
"I believe you."