"Well, we're here now," Ephraim shrugged. "Might as well see what's in these files; could still be useful." He started picking up the sheets of paper littered across the floor. "Are you going to help or just stand there?" He said to Vasiliy, who was still standing glaring at Mia with his arms crossed in front of him. Reluctantly, he peeled his glare from her and walked over to help Ephraim collect the scattered documents.

"It's karma if you ask me," Vasiliy spoke his mind out loud. "Killed by his own experiments…"

Mia lowered her head and grimaced.

"The lesson here is," he continued, "don't kidnap people and infect 'em, then decide to keep 'em as pets."

Mia clenched her fists and swallowed her emotions. With her head still lowered, not wanting to look up, she made her way over to the office on the other side of the lab. She did not want to be in the same room as that callous man, nor listen to what he had to say. The office was a familiar place to her. Although it was where Doctor Price had kept those creatures, and the broken objects and scratches on the walls were evidence of the horrors that had occurred in there, Mia could not see any of that. As she stood in the doorway gazing in, she pictured the neatly stacked book shelf to her right, the framed awards and certificates hanging on the walls, the window on the far wall that overlooked the golf course, and the desk beneath it where Doctor Price was always sitting with his head buried in his work. He would never notice her standing in the doorway behind him, and would only look up when she called, "Graeme. Go home, it's late." And the doctor would look up with tired eyes, and smile, "I'll be done in just a minute. You go on home."

Mia walked over to the desk and sat upon it. Her thoughts were distant, as were her emotions. For some reason, she could not cry. She heard footsteps enter the room – gentle footsteps that approached carefully. The sound made her memories of the room fade like a dream as she woke up in the cold, dark reality. She recognized these footsteps. She did not want company, but if it was anyone, she preferred it to be him.

"I guess you want an apology," she said, unable to look up and face him. She was disappointed in herself that she was not able to be honest with him.

"Apology?" he asked as if it was unwarranted. "Unlike Mr. Fet and Doctor Goodweather, I had no preconceived expectations of the purpose of this visit."

She was grateful that his response was neither scolding, nor judgmental or questioning. And his tone was the calm that she needed at that moment.

Quinlan walked towards the desk where she was sitting, and noticed a broken picture frame on the floor with a photo in it. He picked it up, brushing away the broken glass of the frame, and studied it. It was a photo of Mia – she was young and dressed in her graduation gown. On one side of her stood an older man with grey hair, and to her other side was an older woman of similar age as the man. They both had their arms around Mia, and they shared a sort of closeness that would make you think they were family – father, mother and daughter. Except Mia did not share any of their features; they both had fair hair and prominent anglo saxon features, while Mia was dark-haired, with soft and feminine features that sometimes appeared almost oriental. Everyone in the photo was smiling; they were smiles of genuine happiness that glowed with an untainted vibrancy that you would no longer see in this world. Quinlan was suddenly overcome by a feeling of bereavement. He looked up at the broken girl sitting before him and wondered what the girl in the picture was like. But then he felt as if by looking at the photo he was stealing a moment that she did not consensually share with him.

"I didn't know about the experiments," she said once again. It weighed heavily on her mind.

"I know," Quinlan replied.

"The others... they don't believe me."

"Does it matter what they believe?"

His question made her pause for a moment. "I guess not," she answered. She looked up and brushed the hair off her face, tucking it behind her ears. "You know, I'm not very good at making new friends."

Quinlan smiled. "You and I both. But it seems like the friends you have, you care deeply about. That is why you came here, is it not?"

"I didn't come here to find... this," said Mia, shaking her head. "It should never have happened. What he did to those people..."

"Yes, it was cruel," Quinlan agreed matter-of-factly.

"Do you think he just went mad in this place? Is that what happened?"

"I think Doctor Price did what he thought was necessary."

She lowered her head, her brows furrowed in an anguished expression. "He was a good man…" her voice trembled.

Quinlan slowly approached her with an expression that was rarely seen on his face - a soft and gentle expression, unlike the savage predator that he was seen to be.

"Fear and desperation can make good men do unthinkable things," his deep voice murmured softly. Once again, the calm in his voice brought her back from the edge of breaking.

"No," she shook her head. "That should never be an excuse. Graeme was the one who taught me that. He always said, 'we must never lose our humanity; it's the only thing in this world worth fighting for'. The day we give up our humanity is the day we truly die."

Those words cut through Quinlan's heart like a blade. For a moment his mind retreated into a world of his own, filled with pain and memories – memories he had almost forgotten over the long years. And at times, he felt as though he was beginning to forget who he was and everything he had fought for… and everything he had lost. And in the process, it was perhaps his humanity that he had let go of.

His eyes lowered and fell upon the picture he was still holding in his hand; it pulled him back from his thoughts. He took one last look at it, at Mia's smile, and then walked up to her, closer than he would normally dare, and placed the photo in her hand. Mia traced the outline of the photo with her fingers, and realized what it was. It was the only photo Doctor Price kept on his desk; the photo that used to remind her, every time she looked at it, that she was not alone in this world. Her jaw clenched and her body tensed as she fought back the tears. Quinlan stood close to her, listening to her quivering breaths and her beating heart. Although she would not cry, Quinlan could see her every pain. His silence comforted her. She could feel from him a certain understanding, and it was because of this understanding that he did not need to say a single thing.

We must never lose our humanity, her words echoed in his mind.

They shared a long moment of silence that spoke more than words ever could.