Author's Note: Thanks for staying with me! I hope you enjoy this chapter! :)

Marina's point of view:

I hear footsteps cross the old motel room, and am too weak to even lift my head. All my energy has been sapped from me. I feel a hand on my shoulder and hear the sofa springs creak and moan as Six sinks onto the sofa next to me.

"Marina..." Six begins, and sighs. "I'm sorry," she decides to say, but I can't find it in my heart to respond. Another tear leaks out from beneath my eyelids and sinks into the old sofa. Our latest escape has been a blur, and I'm not even sure what I had done or seen. I feel like I'm in a daze, without consciously knowing what's going on, with just one clear picture in my mind - Five stabbing Eight. I can see Eight's deep green eyes, and the clean pierce that left a gaping hole in Eight's chest, and in my heart.

He's still on my mind constantly. Eight, who put others' lives before his. Eight, who tried so hard everyday just to make us laugh. Eight, who is now gone forever, killed by his own kind.

He didn't deserve this.

Nine appears in the doorway. Six glares at him, and I can feel the intensity of it even though I'm not the victim. Nine saunters in and sits in the chair nearest to the door while crossing his arms. I can tell that both Six and I are resisting the urge to whack him with the coffee table that separates us with our telekinesis.

"I-," Nine starts, lowering his arms to his sides. Six raises her eyebrows coldly and puts her arm across my shoulders, and I'm glad for the comfort. "I know it was my fault."

He should know, the jerk. If only he hadn't added that last comment that set Five off. Nine sighed. "And I'm sorry," he adds. I look up. Nine was apologizing? I'm shocked at what I see.

A look of anguish crosses Nine's face as we meet eyes, and I realize I had never seen him like this before. He had always been the calm and confident one, but now he was finally peeling off his cover to reveal the Nine that I hadn't really noticed before, the one who cared. I've almost forgotten that I'm not the only one who cared about Eight, that his death is not only my loss.

Nine sighs again. "I'm really sorry," he repeats. "I know I can be really stupid sometimes. Well, worse than that." He almost grins, but shakes his head instead. A silence ensues, until he clears his throat and starts again. "We can't stay here forever. We need to go back to Chicago and meet up with the others."

"Nine," Six sighs. "For once, why don't we rest and wait until morning first."

Nine hesitates, then nods. "This once." And I knew why - it was for Eight.

I spread out on the sofa, not expecting to fall asleep the second my head hits the sofa cushion, but I do.

I see the little island from a distance, and I know that it's the one. A block of ice glints, the centerpiece of a small frozen wasteland that I had created. As I near, I see a lone figure kneeling in front of the ice block which holds Eight. It's Five, still in his torn shirt from the battle that had just occurred. His palms are pressed up against the ice, desperately trying to melt it, his fingers beginning to turn blue at the tips. Even though it's below freezing, I barely even feel numb. When I finally stop zooming in, I find myself kneeling next to him, taking in the sight of Eight.

His eyes are closed, as if he's merely in a deep sleep. His curly hair swirls around him, and the strong arms that used to find their way around me back in Chicago are laid, unmoving, at his sides. I felt new tears brimming and spilling out, falling onto the transparent ice and freezing there. I think of the days he promised me after the war, and realize that's not possible anymore. Because... I force myself to say it. Because he's never coming back.

I focus on the features of his face, wishing I could talk to him one last time. Eight. I think. I miss you already. I clench my fists as my vision again gets blurry with tears. Why did this have to happen to him?

Oddly enough, I don't see any wounds on Eight. He looks perfectly healthy, like the time I first saw him in India. When I finally break my eyes away from him, I hear Five next to me mumbling something over and over, and resist the urge to stab him with something, with anything. I will an icicle to form in my hands, but my legacy doesn't cooperate.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this, Eight. I didn't mean to kill you. You weren't supposed to get hurt. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Eight," Five mumbles.

I feel a twinge of sympathy, but the rest of me shoves it to the back of my mind as I whisper harshly, "It was all your fault."

Startled, Five whips around his head to see me. The effect is immediate. His face morphs into one of terror and one of his hands, the one that usually holds the rubber and metal ball, starts fidgeting. I feel the tiniest bit of satisfaction upon seeing the eyepatch slanted across his face, but I'm still surprised at his reaction. I never thought that I could cause fear before.

Five bites his lip and doesn't meet my eyes. "I'm sorry, Marina. It wasn't supposed to be like this."

I narrow my eyes coldly. "It's already too late to be sorry, you traitor," I spat. The heat from my words leaves a fine, swirling puff of white in the air. His eyes widen further, and he seems to shrink into himself, speechless. I soften for a moment, seeing him as a child, with his Cepan ill and dying. As if realizing this, Five seizes the chance to revive his vocal cords.

"Save him, Marina!" Five cries desperately.

I shake my head. "I can't," I mumble. My frustration at my helplessness grows.

"Yes, you can. The Mogadorians did it to One before. You can do it for Eight."

I narrow my eyes. One was brought back to life? I can't tell if he's lying or not. "We aren't meant to revive the dead. It isn't possible!"

"It is," he replies. "One was brought back. Her body was taken to a laboratory and her memories were rescued. The scientist working there even claims that a part of her lived on inside a test subject."

I feel a wave of nausea and disgust at his suggestion. What kind of sick experiment was that? We should be honoring Eight, not experimenting on him, like the Mogs. "No," I choke out. There's no way I would do that to Eight.

"This is different," he says desperately, pleading with me now, because he can see the disgust imprinted on my face. "That's why the fourth scar on your ankle is so faint. You can save him." I glare at him until I realize he's sincere.

"I'll make sure no Mogadorians come by for a week. I promise," he adds meekly. I can't believe he's doing this. What is he doing this for?

It's a trap, my mind immediately answers. Don't trust him. But I've already moved on, thinking about how to get back to John, Ella, and Sam, and how I'll manage to save him. To save Eight. My mind can't really wrap around the idea just yet, though I've thought it hopelessly at least a thousand times since we lost him. I nod slowly towards Five, beginning to let my guard down.

"Oh, and my offer still stands. You still have time to join the winning side," Five adds tentatively. He knows immediately that this was a wrong move, and I can see it in his face. I straighten up and glare at him, and feel my anger begin to boil again.

Author's Note: Thanks for reading! Please please review! It would be great if any of you could point out my mistakes and weak points, since I'm still kind of new to this. :)