"We've been on hundreds of rescues," Alan said softly. "But nowhere has ever felt more haunted than this place." They were walking silently, boots leaving prints in the dust and dirt that had accumulated on the stone ground. The atrium of the place had been massive, with crumbled fossils both on the ground and hanging precariously from the ceiling. The stairs were still standing, reaching up higher into the building, but they'd opted to stay on the ground floor, heading deeper inside, instead.

Now they were walking through what had to have been an old gift shop, shelves filled with mildew covered plushies, moss caked lunch boxes and dusty figurines. There were racks of clothes, rotting off the hangers, and cardboard boxes so decayed that they didn't know what they had once held.

It was a particularly sad sight, honestly, and both Tracys felt their hearts clench. Alan absently reached into a vine tangled basket, pulling free a Jurassic Park patch, the stylized T-Rex skeleton standing out from the red background. Two dollars and ninety-nine cents, the plastic sign said, hanging at an odd angle.

Blood dripped from his fingers, and he blinked, a little startled. He hadn't realized that his arm was bleeding, likely from torn stitches. The rainwater that had thoroughly soaked them, waterproof suits or not, had likely concealed that. His hand dropped, still holding the patch as he turned to study Virgil. He shoved it in his pocket without a thought.

His older brother was moving stiffly, but he was moving under his own power still. There was blood covering one side of his face, and his back was marred by three long grazes, sharp teeth having torn through his uniform top. Only the bottom portion of his baldric remained, the belt and thigh braces, but it was a loss they were more than willing to take.

It could have been so much worse.

"Virge?" Alan whispered. "You okay?"

Virgil shot him a tight-lipped smile. "Let's find that bunker. I can't help but feel like something's watching us."

Alan shuddered and nodded, stepping away from the crumbling merchandise. His ribs ached with the bone-deep achiness of nasty bruises and possible fractures, making breathing a chore. From the shallow breathing Virgil was doing, he was suffering from the same. But they were both mobile and conscious, so they moved on, weaving through the decay and out the door.

The gift shop led into a dining room, the tables still covered by once-white tablecloths. The walls were slick with rainwater from the leaking roof, green with moss and undergrowth, but still stunning to look at with their fantastic murals. Virgil's hand trailed over the fossil carved into one of the stone support pillars, his face grim in the low light coming into the building. "This place would have been amazing," he murmured, following Alan through the room.

"No expense spared," Alan quoted. They passed a room with heavy metal doors but shattered windows. Inside, old computers lay strewn across desks and the floor, something violent having tossed them aside. Ceiling tiles were hanging by a thread, just barely staying in place. "This park was never opened," the boy whispered. "It's trial run went catastrophic."

Something clattered further back in the building, and the two froze before continuing forward at a faster pace. "Why?" Virgil asked as they rounded a corner and found a small staircase descending into darkness. "From the looks of the remains, they had a good amount of security."

"Human greed," Alan shrugged, wincing a bit. He stepped carefully down the stairs, breaking a glow stick that he pulled from his baldric. The soft green light lit the room, showing a small space littered with metal equipment. Underground, the cloying humidity brought a chill with it, and he shivered. "They were sabotaged from the inside."

"And the guy who did it?" Virgil asked, examining the door. The lock was electronic, which was a shame considering this place hadn't had power in a long time. He shut the door and made sure it latched. It didn't make him feel much safer, but that door was solid metal, so they had at least a little warning, should something try to get through. And these ceiling tiles were just as removable as the ones they'd seen elsewhere, so they could always go up if needed.

Alan was looking haggard, covered in mud and muck and dripping with rainwater and blood. The blond shrugged again, blue eyes glowing in the light of the glow stick. "He didn't make it off the island."

Virgil grunted, lowering himself gingerly to the ground. He was aching all over, his arm most of all. The cast had probably—hopefully—kept the broken pieces aligned, but any new growth and healing had most likely been severely affected.

Alan dropped next to him in a boneless fashion that had Virgil wincing. The teenager gently removed his duffle bag from his shoulder, the baldric following shortly after. And then he turned to Virgil and helped his big brother slide the strap of his own bag over his head. The bags were both sopping, both from the rain and also from the broken water bottles that had been crushed when they'd taken their falls. Alan pushed them aside with a grimace after removing his first aid kit from his own. "You're bleeding," he whispered.

"So are you," Virgil replied, a little despondently. He gently took Alan's arm, carefully unclasping HEMERA and setting it aside. The bandages beneath were soaked through with blood and stained with the mud that had managed to get beneath the device.

"Tore my stitches," Alan said faintly. He wondered, just a bit, if shock was starting to set in now that the adrenaline was beginning to wear off. Their responses to each other were more in line with the people that they rescued than those of rescuers themselves. He was startled for a moment by another faint green glow lighting up the room and turned to see that two little lights on HEMERA were glowing softly.

Sucking in a breath, Alan grabbed some alcohol swabs and gauze and started to work on the large cut at Virgil's hairline, above his right eye.

Virgil flinched at the ministrations but continued to work on cleaning Alan's arm. He was also working with one hand, the other still held protectively to his chest. "Scott's probably going frantic over our bio-readouts," he whispered with a wince as Alan shakily taped a bandage in place.

"If they still have them up," Alan said with a half-hearted shrug. He watched Virgil put some butterfly bandages on his arm, unable to fix the stiches while down one hand. "We're thousands of worlds away at this point."

"Number three on the clockface," Virgil mumbled, falling back against the wall. "I'm never going to be able to look at clocks the same way." They were both shivering now, the thick musty air not helping to dry them off at all. And with their bags soaked from their drinking water—a problem they figured they would need to rectify later—there was nothing to change into. Even the single blanket that they each had was a loss at this point.

"I'm never going to be able to watch Jurassic Park again," Alan mumbled, rubbing at his face and grimacing at the mud there. "Once upon a time, the T-Rex was my favorite."

"Sorry this has ruined your favorite movie, Sprout," Virgil said, pulling Alan closer. Alan shrugged, carefully leaning against Virgil and digging through his bag for a couple ration bars. "That Rex didn't look anything like what I thought a Rex was supposed to look like." He sounded a bit faint, and Alan gave him a concerned glance. They'd already checked for concussion, but it had come up inconclusive. Which, considering their circumstances was par for the course.

"Old movie, remember," Alan mumbled around a mouthful of food that tasted like cardboard. He wasn't about to complain though. "Scientists have learned a lot since then. Did you never play the bone game in any of your art classes?"

"The what?" Virgil asked, fingering his own bar. His stomach was rolling, and he wasn't sure he wanted to chance food at the moment. But he also knew better than to waste the opportunity to eat.

"The bone game," Alan repeated. "Where you take weird looking skulls of animals and try to figure out what they'd look like alive." He patted Virgil's thigh, settling in closer and leaning his head on Virgil's chest, right above his heart. The steady thrum of that beat helped settle his nerves more than anything else. "It was big online for a while. But that's essentially what they did here. And they got some things wrong." He could feel the minute tremble wracking both their forms and brought his arms up to wrap around his brother's waist. "Virgil?"

"Yeah, Allie?" Virgil breathed, sounding just on the edge of sleep.

"I love you," Alan murmured. Because he'd nearly lost his big brother today. Again. And he'd realized that he didn't tell any of them that often enough.

Virgil's arm wrapped around his shoulder, tugging him closer. Lips pressed against his hair and Virgil whispered back, "I love you too, Alan."