Wash stares unseeing at Silver's face, Nick's words still ringing in his mind. Genetic degradation; a collapsing of her genetic structure. Literally, her DNA is falling apart, just like when she was a kid. He can't even comprehend it.

"How long have you known?" he asks.

"She started feeling symptoms just after the attacks," Nick says. "So, about a year. At first she thought it was just exhaustion. She'd been working like crazy to get us all back together and find a decent place to hide. Then one day she just… collapsed. Right in the middle of planning a supply run with Tinu and I. Rhodi ran some tests and figured out what was wrong. That's when she started her whole campaign to find Dr. Han. Silver wants to make sure we're all fully pardoned and well on our way to having normal lives before she dies."

"Don't say that," Wash snaps. "She isn't going to die. We'll figure something out."

Nick sighs. The sound, along with his expression, is so weary it actually fits his physical age. "There's nothing to figure out," he explains. "We've had a year to work on this. Rhodi's a genius. If there was a way, he'd have found it."

"So you're just giving up?" Wash asks scornfully.

"She's my sister," Nick reminds him. "If there was anything I could do, you can be damn sure I'd do it. But there's nothing. She is going to die and-" he cuts off suddenly, the words catching in his throat.

The two men fall silent again, leaving the beeping machinery to fill the void. Wash follows the line of an IV from Silver's arm to the pouch filled with saline and various medications. Rhodi said most of them are painkillers, while a few might be able to slow the progression of symptoms. He also said it won't be enough. Wash wishes he could think the boy is wrong.

"Who else knows?" the distraught agent finally asks.

"Just Tinu, Yttri, Rhodi, and I," he answers. "Although, we'll probably have to tell everyone else now. They'll want to have the chance to say goodbye."

"You seem oddly… calm about all of this," Wash observes.

"I've known this will happen for a long time," Nick shrugs. "I'm not okay with it, but… I guess I was ready for it." He looks at the man who hasn't left his sister's side since hearing the news. "I tried to warn you away," he remembers absentmindedly.

"Yeah, you did," Wash agrees.

"I knew I'd fail," Nick continues. "You aren't the type to give up on anything. Still, I had to try. I knew it's what Silver would want." Wash nods silently, and Nick sighs. "Say your goodbyes, then leave her in peace, Agent Washington," he instructs. "It's all we can do for her now."

Wash nods again, shoulders drooping. Nick places a hand on his shoulder for a moment before leaving. He has to figure out how he'll explain this to the kids.

I open my eyes and see Washington staring down at me. I want to pretend I'm still asleep, just close my eyes and ignore what's in front of me, but I know it's useless. He's already seen that I'm awake. Besides, after everything we've been through together, Wash deserves an explanation. The least I can do is talk to him.

"Hey," I whisper. I'd intended to say the words at a more normal volume, but my voice is much weaker than I'd expected. I can feel a pressure on my ribs and realize there's some sort of machine wrapped around me, steadying my breathing. I also feel an artificial sort of floaty drowsiness that I know comes from heavy pain medication. It must not be enough, though, if the dull ache in my head is any indication.

It's a while before I realize that Wash hasn't spoken at all. "Wash…" I start slowly, unsure of what to say.

"You knew," he says, tone slightly accusing. "You knew the whole time."

"Nick already told you," I guess. Part of me is upset that Nick gave away the secret without asking me first, but I'm mostly just happy that I don't have to explain it myself. It saves time, and that's not something I have a lot of right now.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he demands, sounding hurt. "Why didn't I hear about this before I found you passed out in the hall?"

"You didn't need to know," I whisper feebly.

The words barely leave my mouth before Wash speaks. "That's bullshit, Si!"

"I didn't want you to know," I amend, forcing my voice to be a little stronger. "I didn't want anyone to know."

"Why not?" he asks in exasperation. "We could have done something. I- I could have handled more missions, tried to make it easier on you."

"That's exactly why," I answer. "I didn't want everyone to treat me like some fragile dying thing. I needed you to think I was strong so you wouldn't try to stop me from doing what I needed to."

Wash's eyes widen suddenly. "That's why you're doing all of this," he says in realization. "This is why you've been so reckless, why you've taken so many risks. You knew-"

"I know I'm going to die," I explain. "Either here in a hospital bed or out there on a mission, I will die. Nothing can change that. I'd rather push ahead and try to give my family a chance to be safe than sit around and wait for it."

Wash looks down at his hands and shakes his head, face growing more pained every time I mention my death. "There has to be something we can do," he insists.

"There's nothing," I say gently, like I'm explaining it to one of the kids. "This isn't some disease humans have been studying for centuries. It's a condition; a side effect of mom's genetic tampering. On my deepest, most basic lever I am unstable, imbalanced. There is no cure. There's nothing anyone can do."

I realize my voice has risen as I spoke, leaving me nearly shouting by the end. I take a deep breath and try to calm down. "You can't fix this, Wash. You can't save me."

Wash remains silent for a long time, eyes fixed on his hands and deep in thought. "What about Dr. Han?" he finally asks.

"No," I say instantly.

"But she fixed this once," he argues. "You said this happened when you were a kid, and she fixed it. She can help."

"Maybe," I admit, stressing the word to show my disbelief. "She might have some sort of treatment or cure, though it obviously wasn't permanent so I wouldn't put much value in it. But even if she can do that, she won't. Not unless we give her something in exchange."

"Then give it to her," he says. "Whatever deal she wants to make, we'll do it."

"No," I snap again. "The only thing we have that she wants is her freedom, and I refuse to give her that. We can't just let her go."

"So this is about revenge?" Wash asks incredulously. "You're willing to die just so you can know she'll go down with you?" I can hear the anger in his voice, the frustration that I might throw my life away for something so trivial.

I shake my head wearily. "That's not what this is about," I say. Wash gives me a look so disbelieving I nearly laugh. "I'll admit, I- I do want her to pay for what she's done," I begin to explain. "But there's more to it than that. The Covenant and the UNSC won't stop hunting us. Eventually they will find us, and when that happens we will all die. They won't care what story we tell, they just want someone to blame. If we don't have someone we can give them, someone who is truly responsible, we won't stand a chance. They will kill us all."

"So you'll die instead?" he whispers.

I smile sadly. "It's either me, or my entire family. That isn't a difficult decision."

"Yes, it is," Wash says. "Dammit, Silver, I don't want to lose you."

"You don't have a choice," I say simply. We fall into a weighty silence once again. "I'm sorry," I finally whisper. "I- I wanted to… to spare you all of this. I'd hoped you and your people would be gone by the time I reached this point."

"That's why you pushed me away," Wash says, voice filled with realization and a painful amount of hope.

I can hear the emotion in his words, the underlying question he doesn't dare ask. He still wants me to return his feelings. Part of me still believes it would be best for him to think I don't, for me to deny my feelings so maybe he'll feel less anchored to this. But another, more honest part knows the truth, and that he deserves to know as well. I decide to finally listen to this latter part and stop holding back.

"I didn't want to hurt you," I admit. "I thought it'd be easier for you to move on if…" I trail off, out of breath. I can feel the machine kick in, seamlessly taking over for my tired lungs.

Wash's hand finds mine and he grabs it gently, brushing a calloused thumb over my knuckles. It's an intimate gesture, like nothing I've ever felt before, and I find myself wishing I'd let it be like this sooner.

"That's not your call," he says, a sad smile gracing his lips. "I knew the risk of loving a soldier, and I decided you're worth it."

I close my eyes. I can't think about what he just said; the way he used the word love. I can't handle it. I can't think about what I wish this could be. I only have to deny it a little longer, anyway. Soon enough, none of this will matter.

"You should rest," Wash says, apparently interpreting my closed eyes as a sign of exhaustion rather than hiding. My eyes snap open when I hear him rise to his feet, reluctantly releasing my hand. He stands over me for a moment, a pained and saddened expression on his face, before leaning forward.

I spend half a second in confusion before realizing he's kissed my forehead. I know this isn't what either of us wants. This isn't how either of us thought our first kiss would go. Still, it's all we can allow ourselves, so I resolve to cherish it.

I feel Wash pulling away, preparing to leave, and I reach out and grab his hand frantically. The same old fear from my childhood comes back in full force, and even though I know I should let him go, I can't bear the thought of being alone. I don't want to die here alone.

"Stay?" I whisper the request, looking up into his eyes. I know he can see the fear in me. I don't have the strength to hide it anymore. He drops back into the chair in a heartbeat, scooting closer to my side.

"Of course," he promises. The hand not holding mine reaches out and brushes some hair away from my eyes, tucking the white strands behind my ear. "I won't leave. I'll stay right here."

I nod, not trusting myself to speak my gratitude. Instead I tighten my hand around his briefly, and receive an answering squeeze. The action brings a smile to my face.

"Get some sleep," he instructs again. "I'll be here when you wake up."

I stop myself from correcting that to 'if I wake up'. We both know it's a possibility. Neither of us needs to hear it. Instead I close my eyes again, focusing on the steady beep of machinery and the even steadier warmth of Wash's hand over mine.