Hey, thanks to everybody that has read and reviewed so far.

Song lyrics in this chapter are taken from the song Volcano by Damien Rice.

Hallways Part Seven

"But that's impossible. Otherwise I would have an apartment building full of dead people."

"That's just it, Stephen, it's at different levels in each of them. I don't understand it."

"Are their bodies producing antibodies?" His mind already racing. Find the person with the most resistance, sample the blood, stimulate the production of the antibodies. And, for the love of God, don't let the person get sick.

Natalie shattered that hope at birth. "Not that you'd notice, some of the levels are so low I almost missed them. It's proving resistance to whatever I've thrown at it as well." She shook her head, sitting down at the microscope, resting her forehead in the palm of her hand. "How can they be showing such different levels?"

Suddenly, the picture became clearer to Connor. "What if they've been exposed to it, here in the building, but it's responding to some other factor?"

"Like what?"

He thought for a second. "Like temperature. Could that effect it's spread, and it's speed?"

"There are some viruses that respond to temperature. I'll test it against temperature extremes, see if that makes any difference."

"Get back to me when you can, Natalie. Find me an antidote to this thing."

Eva settled back in Patrick's embrace, his fingers tracing patterns on her bare shoulder. Just for that second, for that instant, she allowed herself to feel…not loved. Loved was totally the wrong word. Wanted.

She tried to block out thoughts, images of Connor, Frank, Miles. She had told Connor that she would handle Patrick Washington. Well, she was handling him.

"You know I'm going to get this story eventually."

Eva felt professionalism slide between them like a wall, a shield crashing between them. "I know. Just hold back on it Patrick."

"How long?"

She allowed herself a smile. She'd won against him. Again. She tried to tell herself that it was worth the price to her heart. "Just a couple of days. I'll make sure you get an exclusive when it's all over."

"Okay, Eva. I'll give you two days."

"Thanks Patrick." Trying not to think about how cheap she felt. Hoping she had bought Connor enough time.

"What I am to you is not real

What I am to you you do not need

What I am to you is not what you mean to me

You give me miles and miles of mountains

And I'll ask for the sea"

"Doctor…"

Miles jerked as if scalded, looking around. "Mr Ashton." Dimly he realised that he still had his helmet under his arm and he hastily put it on. He hated it, hated how claustrophobic it made him feel. "Has something happened with Patricia?"

Michael shook his head, holding his hand out towards Miles. As he did, his body rumbled, trembling as a coughing fit rushed through him.

His palm was red with his own blood.

"Shit. We'd better get you into isolation." Miles took Michael by the arm, leading him back into his apartment. He contacted Connor. "Dr Connor, I have another confirmed case."

"Who?"

"Michael Ashton. Patricia's father."

"Shit."

Her phone rang as she was walked to her car. "Rossi."

"Eva, its Stephen. Did you speak with Washington."

"I spoke to him. He's going to hold fire for a couple of days."

"Good. That gives us a couple of days to get on top of this thing." He hesitated for a second. When he spoke again, his voice was soft, gentle. Almost a caress. "Was his price high?"

She squeezed her eyes shut, holding in her tears. "No more than I expected."

"Good." His voice resumed its normal, commanding tone. "Thanks Eva"

Connor broke the connection. She took another minute, keeping her eyes closed. Promising herself that when she opened them, she would be Eva Rossi again.

Miles McCabe walked through the hallways of the apartment building, checking with patients, spending a few minutes with each one. Trying to ease their mental anguish, as well as their physical suffering.

If he felt a little tickle at the back of his throat, a little tightness in his chest, he didn't think about it.