Chapter One Hundred and Thirty Seven

...

Victor couldn't feel his legs, but it was in a good way, and he didn't actually care about anything other than Connor's body on top of his right then. His blue shirt was somewhere on the floor, along with Connor's sweats and shirt, and he had no idea what had happened to his trousers after Connor had eaten his ass. Victor didn't actually care, his mind still caught up in the memory of Connor's broad hands on his body, inside him, the way the sex had been beyond anything he'd ever experienced before. He was still tingling from the memories minutes later, or maybe he could feel his legs again. He was fine with either, honestly.

"You're thinking, darling."

"Mmm."

"You shouldn't be able to do that after what we just did."

Victor snorted. "I just had the best sex of my life - "

"So far," Connor promised, his lips curling into a smile against Victor's shoulder.

"So far," Victor agreed breathlessly, "And you think I don't have lots of thoughts about that?"

"Good thoughts?" Connor asked, wondering if he was thinking about his ex-wife and if he could handle that if Victor was.

"Definitely. Mostly about an encore."

Relief washed through Connor and he groaned playfully. "Would that I could, darling. If I try to move, I'm going to ruin these lovely sheets even more."

"I don't care about the sheets, Connor. And besides, I think I've worked out the logistics enough by now."

"What logistics? Darling, that's far too vague for my mind right now. Also, far too many syllables."

Victor grinned and moved so he was straddling Connor's waist. "Better?"

Connor's hands slipped to hold Victor's hips, squeezing his lover gently. "Perfect, darling."

...

Magenta landed in the Hive's parking lot carefully, not wanting to be hit by an incoming car. It would ruin her outfit. With Terrence's jetpack in hand, she headed down the walkway towards the Hive's entrance, smiling briefly at the citizens that were leaving with brown paper bags of goods and flowers. One woman passed with a hydrangea in a glass vase, an intense look of concentration on her face so she wouldn't drop the precious cargo or the vase.

Layla was going to be late. She had promised to meet Warren at eight at Maxville Super Penitentiary to meet his father - the final mandatory visit Warren would ever have to attend - and it was almost seven thirty. The Hive was already open and people were overflowing inside and out to Eden. Ry and Craig were due to turn up with Honey soon, who would be taking her to the prison where Warren was waiting impatiently if her tattoo was any indication.

"Layla, I can help. I've helped Dr. Arthur at the pharmacy before, I know how to work a cash register," Alex said.

Lexie was recovering after another round of chemotherapy and Lex had left Alex at the Hive that morning, claiming he needed to be with people his own age for at least one day. Alex was trying not to feel resentful nor hoping that Ryuu would be around soon. Learning that Ryuu had a shift starting soon wasn't helping.

Layla had been pacing back and forth, getting updates on traffic from Honey - who was driving and should really know better, Alex thought - and trying not to lose her cool.

Justina and Terrence had both been here to help out, then Geir and Malik had arrived, three of the four people blushing for no reason that Alex could discern. Then, about three minutes ago, their phones had gone off with what seemed to be a warning of some sort. They'd all disappeared from the room as fast as possible, Justina pulling Geir out to Eden, and Terrence contemplating the fridge for a second before guiding Malik to Adam's room, knocking in quick succession.

Layla: you said seven fifteen, Honey! It's almost quarter to eight!

Honey: I know, my bad. The traffic is shitty

Adam: Cee, stop typing your own translations and write what Honey's saying properly

Honey: nope. Shitty traffic is shitty

Adam: she said there's a three car pileup in Westville that wasn't meant to happen until eight thirty but the truck driver's dash clock hasn't been updated since daylight savings started... or ended, whichever

Layla tried not to feel too annoyed at the mistake, but she was going to be late.

Adam: also, can someone tell us when Magenta leaves? It's going to be uncomfortable in here sooner rather than later

Adam: Terrence is basically on my lap

Honey: XD

Honey: we'll be there in about five minutes

"Do you mind, Alex? I'm sorry, but I really have to get ready to go, and - "

"I wouldn't offer if I don't mind. Wendy's dealing with... something, I don't actually know what; Justina and Geir are hiding in Eden, and Malik's hiding with Terrence in Adam's room. Your customers will be pissed if someone doesn't start serving them soon," Alex said, looking through the kitchen-store door to the line that was starting to grow longer.

"Okay, thank you so much. There's a button there. If you need help or they get out of hand, press it and I'll deal with them, okay?"

Alex saw a red button on the edge of the counter - he was sure it hadn't been there a second ago! - but nodded and slipped out to the shop. "Hi, how can I help you?" he asked the first customer.

Magenta went into the shop, surprised at how busy it was. A table had been set up in the room on the right, various kinds of cookies and various jars of sample honey available. Baguette pieces were strewn across the table, though they were disappearing fast as more people sampled more honey. Tempted by the cookies - there was a carrot cookie with cream cheese icing that she would pay her hard earned money for - Magenta forced herself to move away. Heading to the left side of the shop where a line of people waited to buy their goods, Magenta saw a sign for bags of blood and bone fertiliser available in Eden. Wrinkling her nose at the thought of handling that, Magenta bypassed the line of people with the jetpack in her hands. Making it to the front counter and ignoring several people whispering and muttering behind her, Magenta saw a boy with a mohawk at the counter.

Recognising him from the barbecue, Magenta smiled broadly and held the jetpack up. "Hi, I was wondering - "

"All vehicles need to be left outside. Parking slots are available for jetpacks in the parking lot's corner bays," the boy said, turning his attention to the next customer. "Welcome to the Hive, how can I help you?"

"I'd like to buy these," the woman said, putting down a basket of soaps and honey and candles.

Alex nodded, scanning each item and looking at the total. "That'll be twenty-five dollars and fifty cents."

"Is there any way I can get it cheaper? I only brought ten dollars with me," a woman added, a hopeful expression on her face.

"There are payment plans available. We will hold it for you for a week."

"Um, sorry to interrupt. I was wondering if Layla was here?" Magenta asked, about to say I'm her best friend when the mohawk kid glowered at her.

"She's not available to talk right now. Ma'am, either pay the full amount, agree to the payment plan, or leave. There are at least twenty other customers waiting."

The woman didn't look perturbed. "What's an extra fifteen dollars? Look, I can do fifteen instead... "

"Next!" Alex said, moving the basket off the bench.

A woman shouldered her way between Magenta and the other woman. "Do you have any more of those salted caramel cookies?"

"There's a pack in the previous woman's basket; that would give you the cookies and take your total down to fifteen dollars," Alex suggested.

"Look, if I could just see Layla," Magenta said.

She was going to see her friend and give her the jetpack and ask what sort of things Lorcan liked so she could "be a better friend," no matter if it was the last thing she did.

"I want those cookies! Give them back!"

"You weren't going to pay for them; stop being a selfish cow!"

Alex pressed the button when one of the women took off her gloves and looked ready to throw down. The bench transformed, capturing the two customers and Magenta in long trunks, all three women screaming.

"Already, Alex? The button... Magenta? Oh, dear. I do apologise, everyone. Let's see what I can do here," Layla said with a laugh and a pretty smile, the tree trunks reducing to set the three women on the ground carefully.

The rest of the people in line watched curiously; they obviously knew someone was a super since they hadn't run away in fear. Or perhaps they were stubborn and really wanted their goods, Alex mused.

"I wanted my cookies! He was taking them away from me!" the first woman burst out.

"Ladies, please be quiet as I ask Alex what happened," Layla said firmly, turning to Alex with a smile. "Go on."

"This woman didn't want to pay full price or agree to a payment plan, so I took the basket away when she offered fifteen dollars for a twenty-five dollar basket. She had originally offered ten. The second woman wanted salted caramel cookies, which were in the first woman's basket. Taking those out of the basket meant the first woman would have a total of fifteen dollars and the second would have her cookies. That one brought a jetpack inside, walked to the front of the line, and demanded to see you," Alex added, nodding at Magenta, who turned bright red.

Layla considered his words and nodded. "Thank you, Alex."

"Aren't you going to ask me what happened?" the first woman demanded.

"No. Alex is my employee, why would I take your word over his?"

"I am the customer! That means I am always right!"

"No, it means you feel a sense of entitlement and/or superiority over someone who you believe is subservient, when in fact, they are doing an excellent job. Especially when it comes to handling rude and entitled customers. Now, you can either pay the full amount for all of the goods, the fifteen dollars for the goods you wanted minus the cookies, or leave. It is your choice."

"If my employer believed me, I might've been a manager," one person muttered further back in the line.

The first woman turned red at the other customers' comments. Taking money out of her purse, she thrust it at Alex. "Here, the twenty five for the whole basket."

"And the fifty cents?" Alex asked, mostly to prove a point.

The woman's cheeks reddened further, but she handed the coins over as well.

"Thank you."

"Ma'am, there's no more salted caramel cookies, but we do have an order list available, if you'd like to place an order to pick up next week?" Layla offered her, the woman nodding enthusiastically.

"Thanks, Layla. You can go; I'll call Adam or someone else if I need help again," Alex said as the first woman left in a huff with her things bagged.

"All right, thanks. Magenta, I have somewhere to be soon; why don't we catch up tomorrow? Or next week," Layla said, heading to the door as she looked at her watch - seven fifty.

"Oh. Okay. That's... yeah, I'll just hang around here," Magenta said with a broad smile.

"Hey, Magenta. Lay, you've gotta go or you'll be late," Wendy said firmly. "C'mon, Maj; let's go out the back and you can tell me what's going on."

Magenta's eyes widened. "Nothing's going on! Why would you think something's going on?"

Wendy snickered, even as she felt Layla's gratitude as she practically ran from the Hive. "You're dolled up like it's prom, of course something's going on."

Magenta bit her lip and let Wendy lead her around the Hive to the backyard. She could trust Wendy; she was her friend, after all.

...

Warren held Layla's hand tightly as they stood in front of Maxville Super Penitentiary, wishing she hadn't come with him just as much as he was so glad that she was there beside him.

"We'll be all right, Warren. We can still feel our powers, okay? That's one positive, right?" Layla asked, her forearm aching with the feel of Warren's nerves and emotions.

"You're here, that's a better positive," Warren said, kissing her hand and forcing himself to walk into the Super Penitentiary with Layla by his side.

She looked around the foyer curiously, taking in the guard's station made of white brick, the white rafters overhead mixed with power suppressing beams, white walls and floor, white doors and furniture, white uniforms and cuffs, the stark colour pressing in on all sides with no escape.

"Super Jesus," Layla breathed.

No wonder Warren hated the colour. She was suddenly glad she'd decided to wear a lot of colour.

Warren squeezed Layla's hand and she squeezed his in return, heading to the guard's station together.

"Sign your names and who you're here to see. Get a locker key and put everything you're carrying inside it, including your phone and bangles. Get a cuff on your wrist and go through the metal detector."

Warren wrote his name and signed the ledger, Layla following suit. The guard handed them a key each, indicating to the white lockers across the room.

"Do I have to take off all of my bangles? One was my mother's," Layla added, smiling and hoping the guard might reconsider. She hadn't taken off her mother's bracelet since Warren had found it for her.

"All of them," the guard replied sternly.

Layla nodded and hurried after Warren to get to the lockers. Slipping off all her bangles, Layla put her phone and bag in the locker, and took out the ties and bobby pins in her hair, just in case.

"I feel naked without my bracelets," Layla said, frowning and rubbing her tattooed wrist.

"You've been naked and still wore those bangles, hippie," Warren said. He refrained from rolling his eyes at her pout, but only because he felt decidedly naked without his cuff on his wrist, too.

"Exactly; that's why I feel weird without them. Are you sure you're okay with me being here?" Layla asked suddenly, looking worried.

"More than okay, hippie. Come on; we don't want security to think we're hiding something in our clothes. The strip search is supposed to be rough," Warren said, kissing her and heading back to the guard's station, handing their keys back.

"Wrists out," the guard said, two cuffs sitting on the table.

Warren offered his arm, the guard snapping a cuff over his wrist. He inhaled and exhaled deeply at the warmth disappearing from his body.

Layla licked her lips nervously. What if the prison had stronger cuffs than the Sweet Spot? What if there were stronger power suppression beams here than in the detention room? Did they even come in different strengths?

"You don't have to come in with me, hippie," Warren murmured.

Shaking her head abruptly, Layla stuck her hand out. "I'm fine."

The guard's expression didn't change, but Layla was sure he put the cuff on her wrist more gently than he had with Warren. She smiled briefly in thanks.

"Metal detector," the guard said, nodding to the rectangle contraption.

Warren took his boots off and walked through. Layla waited until the light turned green and then walked through, holding her breath even though she didn't have any metal on her.

Beep, beep, beep!

"What?" Layla muttered, looking at the red light in confusion.

"It's a super sensitive detector, Miss. Do you have metal, aluminium, or stainless steel in your clothes?" the guard asked.

Layla frowned. "I'm wearing a wire bra?"

The guard nodded. "That would do it. Please use the bathroom to remove your bra."

"I have to see Baron Battle - my boyfriend's father - without a bra? Oh, that's going to be awkward."

"Sorry, Miss."

Layla figured it was the first time the guard had ever apologised to anyone at the Super Penitentiary and meant it. She just nodded and went into the bathroom to remove her bra. "Can I put it in my locker?"

"Take your time, hippie," Warren said, tying his boots on now that the guard had checked every inch of them. "Hell, take all day for all I care."

"Warren, I'm here to meet your father, we're doing this," Layla said firmly. "Thank you," she said to the guard with another smile as she took her key and put her bra in her locker, stuffing it into her bag.

Locking the locker and returning the key, Layla walked through the metal detector once more. This time, there was no beeping and the light turned green. Relieved, Layla took Warren's hand and walked with him to the meeting room where Barron was waiting. Warren walked in first, his body broad and tall enough to hide Layla behind him.

"It's about time, son. What took you so long? Were you crying in the bathroom again?" Barron sneered.

"Hello to you too, Dad."

Barron looked ready to say something else, but he saw colour at the door: red hair, bright blue shirt covered in sunflowers, green skirt with vines embroidered onto the material. It was more colour than he'd seen since entering the Super Penitentiary, and it took Barron longer than he'd like to stop staring, and then a moment longer still to realise that the woman was here with his son.

"You're bringing your girlfriend to see me? Well, I have to say that's fucking stupid of you. Why would you - "

"Hi, Mr. Battle. I'm Layla; it's nice to meet you," she said firmly, walking into the room and offering her hand.

Barron rolled his eyes and ignored her offered hand. "Of course it is. Let me guess, journalism major? Or you're hoping for a TV interview? How many of those vultures are out there waiting?"

There were twenty cameras, each one moving with Barron to track his every movement. All twenty cameras caught his look of disgust and derision.

"I'm still at Sky High, Mr. Battle. I'm planning on studying environmental science at the University of Maxville when I graduate. There aren't any journalists outside," Layla said.

Barron didn't look as though he believed her, but then he saw Warren going to sit down and narrowed his eyes. "You're sitting down without greeting me properly, son?"

Warren sighed. "I tried, Dad. You were more interested in verbally abusing my girlfriend."

"Don't use that tone with me. Now, greet me properly, like a real man would."

Warren clenched his jaw and held out his hand to shake. "Good morning, Mr. Battle."

Barron grinned and shook his hand in return. "Good morning, Mr. Battle."

"It's Peace, and you know it," Warren snapped.

"It was Battle when you were born and it will be Battle when you die."

Warren rolled his eyes and flicked his father's wrist, making him let go of his hand and pull away. "Don't touch me, and don't even think about going near Layla."

Barron leered. "It's been a long time since I've felt the touch of a woman."

"Good. It's going to stay that way," Layla said with a sweet smile.

The red spot from Warren flicking his father's hand hid a tiny puncture, smaller than a needle, where a seed had slipped into his body. Layla started counting down: forty-five, forty-four, forty-three...

Warren pulled out a chair out for Layla so she could sit down, squeezing her shoulder gently before moving to sit on his own seat across from Barron.

"Where did we end last time, son?"

"If I remember correctly, you were bitching about how the Commander would never have caught you if you hadn't had me."

Barron smiled broadly. "Excellent, you remembered. Now, if the Commander didn't have Jetstream... "

Layla ignored his words and continued counting: eighteen, seventeen, sixteen...

"The earplugs were my downfall, of course, and if I hadn't had you, then - " Barron stopped abruptly, coughing. He thumped his chest once, cleared his throat, and drank some water from his paper cup. Swallowing hard, Barron looked between Layla and Warren, then smiled and continued to talk.

Layla prepared herself for a very long - and by the sounds of it, a very boring - day.

...

"We're ready to conduct the newer tests. They can even be adapted to the subjects due to arrive this week," a scientist confirmed.

"Excellent news. I want to see the results for the newest one myself. You saw the fight, I presume?"

"They used their power to destroy the inner steel structure of Maxville's newest skyscraper; I believe the news went global," the scientist confirmed with a wry smile.

"It is worrying that there are supers out there with that sort of power. Imagine if we had control of that power for ourselves?"

The tone was tinged with excitement, practically unheard of with most they dealt with, but the scientist hadn't made it this far by pointing out things that resulted in their death, and they simply smiled genially in return. "It will be an honour to ensure that happens as soon as possible," they said.

"Excellent. Report your findings to me daily. Brief bullet points; I don't need an essay."

"Of course."

The video conference ended abruptly and the gathered scientists looked at each other. Twelve of the thirteen were excited about the prospect of getting their hands on a steel manipulator and immediately started to discuss the implications and tests about the types of steel and metal and other materials.

"We'll need to test them against the weak link, just like we did with the others."

"Oh, definitely. Do you remember how test 521 ran with the weak link involved? It was so much better than tests 300 through to 400."

"Don't even mention tests 400 to 520; it'll set off another inter-department rant."

"They all do respond well to the weak link; we'll have to ensure whether this one does as well."

The thirteenth scientist hung back as the others returned to their labs, still bickering and talking without taking any notice of their absent colleague. Turning the thick bracelet on their wrist, the lone scientist pressed a button three times, then gathered their things and hurried after their colleagues before the best lab equipment was taken.

...

"Good afternoon, viewers, and welcome to Maxville's Morning News," Brian Anderson said with a broad smile. "This morning's headlines: a child is the only remaining family member to survive what are horrific events with their parents and older sibling dying; the child will become a ward of the state after extensive counselling. Viewers be cautioned: the images for this story are not for those with weak stomachs, so please take care.

"The search for Maxvillian local father of five, Xander Zane continues, with his wife and their children adamant about finding him whole and safe. His wife has set up a campaign to find not only her husband but also other people who have gone missing recently.

"One of those people is Kai Barros, owner of a tattoo parlour, and his wife, Jean, an aspiring artist. They are feared dead as there have been no new leads since their disappearance. Kai and Jean were last seen at Curry Hut at 9pm on the 25th of August last year. Police are requesting anyone with information or who was in the area at the time to come forward.

"In happier news, the local duck population has increased by five with the births of several fluffy and adorable duckies. Aren't they the cutest?"

The guard grinned at the sight of five adorable ducklings quacking and pecking at the camera, then realised the time and hurried to organise lunch for the prisoners.

"Lunch break," the guard called, knocking on the door abruptly, and startling Layla out of the meditative state she'd slipped into.

"Do you think we can get a recording of this? Honestly, your father's voice just drones on and on. I just meditated for three hours straight; I've never been able to do that!"

"I'm very proud," Warren said, grinning at her.

Layla grinned and kissed him as the guard placed down napkins with three pre-cut sandwiches on plain white bread, not a seed in sight.

"Super Jesus, you're pathetic, son. Look at you, you can't even hide your emotions around her. You're like an open fucking book! This is embarrassing," Barron sneered.

Suddenly, Layla remembered Warren telling Craig off for calling Zach pathetic. Well, she could guess why he hated the word now.

Layla was tempted to look at Barron's chest where the seed had settled in the arteries around his heart. Forcing herself not to, she took one of the sandwich squares, and focused on eating instead of getting ahead of their plan.

Barron took a bite and swallowed, coughing and thumping his chest a second later. He drank water to dislodge the food, and tried to continue to talk around his mouthful.

"Can you shut up already? If I have to watch you chew, then I want it to be silent," Warren muttered.

Barron took another bite and chewed loudly.

...

Warren heard the bell chime and realised he only had an hour left before this ended. It was the last time he'd be legally required to see his father and if he had his way, the last time he'd ever see him again for the rest of his life.

Barron heard the chime as well and must have realised the same thing because he started to do that thing Warren hated where he picked and picked at every little thing until he found a thread he could pull.

"Of course, the environment is going to shit. We know it, even those of us stuck in here, and there won't be any greenery around given another five years. It's the citizens' fault, you know that, don't you?" Barron asked, grinning when he saw Layla sit up straighter. "They're the ones to blame for all of these problems in the world: you'll learn that when you start working with citizens. They're so stupid and self destructive that they're destroying everything around them in the process, including us," he said emphatically.

"Ooh, you are good, Mr. Battle!" Layla said with a bright smile. "Unfortunately, you used an us vs. them argument to try to coerce me into believing whatever you were going to say next. There is no us and them; it's a socially constructed divide that doesn't actually mean anything. It's happened with both citizens and supers, and within the super world itself: we're stuck with the hero and hero support divide, then divide even further with heroes against villains. We are people, Mr. Battle, not labels that others assign to us."

Surprised by the cheerful tone at first, Barron could only watch as Layla - previously zoned out and staring at seemingly nothing, so she was exactly the kind of vapid airheaded bimbo he expected his son to date - became passionate and firm with her argument. When she stopped, Barron laughed so hard that the guard knocked on the door.

Warren stared at Barron in shock. He hadn't seen his father laugh in almost fifteen years.

"What's going on in here?" the guard asked firmly, looking between Barron, Warren, and Layla.

Barron wiped at the tears that had formed and shook his head. "Super Jesus, son, I'm glad you've got someone who'll stand up to me. Goddamn, I thought she was really blonde under all of that red hair."

"That's not funny, Mr. Battle," Layla said crossly.

"Oh, we've got an hour left, leave us alone. I was laughing, I understand it's a foreign concept," Barron said to the guard. "And what's wrong with blonde jokes?"

"It's insinuating someone is inferior or stupid because of the colour of their hair. If you have to joke about someone's appearance, then you're just grasping at straws," Layla said, rolling her eyes.

Behind them, the guard closed the door slowly, somewhat confused by whatever was going on. Deciding to watch the video recording later - they'd have to anyway as part of their job - the guard returned to their station.

"We don't exactly get the Comedy Channel in here; what's meant to be funny these days?" Barron asked curiously.

Whatever Warren had expected from today, it certainly wasn't his girlfriend giving his father tips on comedy. Deciding it was better than the alternative - crying and screaming, maybe revealing they could use their powers while cuffed and in a room built out of power repressing beams - Warren just sat back as the hour ticked by.

...

Layla was quiet as they caught the bus to the Hive. Warren hadn't wanted to drive to the Super Penitentiary and she couldn't blame him. Now that she could feel all of his emotions properly, Layla wouldn't have wanted him to drive them to the Hive, either. He was a mix of emotions, filled with sadness and relief and regret and pain and hatred and love. It was like a bubbling vat of toxic waste made up of every known chemical and deadly substance, and Layla didn't know what would make Warren explode like a volcano.

Too many analogies, she thought with a shake of her head.

She wasn't in the best place emotionally, either. Baron Battle's words had mostly washed over her, but the ones that had made it through her meditative state had made her so mad. She was upset at what he was saying, frustrated that she couldn't do anything about it, annoyed that the man forced his son to listen to this utter crap year after year, pissed off that he hadn't tried to be a better father instead of a dictator. Even at the end, he had still tried to pick and be cruel, and Layla felt exhausted after that single hour of dealing with Barron herself. She wanted to hug Warren and not let go until they both felt better.

Warren reached up and pressed the bus' stop button. He hadn't held her hand since they'd left the Super Penitentiary and Layla missed his warmth, but couldn't blame him for not wanting to touch her after their day.

"Thank you, Bob," Layla said as Warren passed without a word.

"No problem. Is... Is Warren all right?" the bus driver asked, seeing the young man walking towards the Hive without waiting for Layla for the first time ever.

"He'll be all right, just needed the bathroom," Layla lied. "Thank you again for driving. Say hello to Bertie for us," she said, taking a flower out of her bag to give to him.

While Bob was preoccupied with the flower, Layla hurried off the bus to catch up to Warren. Bob waited to ensure both teenagers made it over the hill to the Hive safely before continuing to drive along his route, a yellow rose sitting in his bag.

Wendy was waiting in the Hive, the shop closed and the money secured in the pantry, but she saw Warren's face and decided to let them know about Magenta's plans in the morning. She sent a group text to ensure no one would disturb Warren or Layla, then went into the forest to find Donny.

"Oasis or training arena?" Layla asked.

Warren shook his head. "Shower, then oasis. I'll meet you there."

"Okay. A shower sounds like a good idea," she said with a quick smile, wondering if she should bother suggesting to shower together.

Warren's expression was still closed off, so Layla let her smile fade and went to her own bathroom without a word.

She did feel better after her shower, the water washing away her tension and the smell from the prison. It was odd, since everything there was so sterile, but there was a definite smell or lack thereof. Her fruity shower gel was a much more pleasant scent, and Layla sighed in relief when the last of the prison's non-smell disappeared.

Drying and dressing, Layla headed through the lower Hive to get to the tree that would take her into Eden's forest. Heading to the oasis, she wondered if Warren was still showering or if he was already waiting in the oasis.

The weeping willow branches parted as she approached and Layla stepped inside, holding her breath and instantly feeling silly for the action. Warren was lying on the bed, watching her with dark eyes.

"Are you okay?" she asked, the world quiet around them and her soft voice feeling like it was louder than Sonic Boom's.

Warren shook his head the best he could while lying down. "No, I'm not. Could you hold me? Please?" he asked, his voice breaking.

Feeling like her heart was breaking, pure anguish numbing her wrist and forearm, Layla moved to join Warren on the bed. She faced him and murmured soothing nonsense words, wrapping her arms around Warren as he cried.

...

End of the hundred and thirty-seventh chapter.