Hey, guys. I figured it was time I gave you a chapter update for the story because we're 19/20 chapters in and a lot has happened so far and not to worry, there will be more.

So the way I see it there's a huge possibility of being ten chapters left? And then a shortish-long epilogue? Yeah, that sounds about right. And then like I did in between FL and LL I'll take a three-week to a month hiatus to just tie loose ends and focus on other stuff for a little before picking up where I left off on the series.

(PS: Rough/estimated publish date for Begin Again—final story in the trilogy—is middle of August/early September.)

November 7th 2013

Chase's Pov

"Bree, are you sure you're okay?"

"God, Chase, for the millionth time I'm fine." She snapped, pushing herself away from me.

Bree's never been much of a morning person; Davenport had us up since six in the morning training for this mission. Naturally we were all a little grumpy after three hours of training before having to ride high-speed motorcycles to an abandoned warehouse cell on the outskirts of Massachusetts. (Davenport didn't want to risk Bree using her bionics more than necessary and let her ride on, too.)

The warehouse itself wasn't the major part of the mission. For the most part the only thing to be done was to disable all security checks around the perimeter and inside the area. The database was a dinosaur—very slow and sputtering every time I cracked a code. Like it hadn't been touched in decades. Whoever was doing the operation there had gotten cocky and slacked off, much to our advantage.

"This place is disgusting," Bree wrinkled her nose in disgust, eying the stair entrance to the basement cellar. "Why would anyone want to work on a place so far from where the alerts went off anyway?"

"Probably to avoid dragging suspicion to themselves and their co-workers," I said thoughtfully, shining my flashlight down the stairwell. The stairs themselves looked ancient and crumbling, moist and slippery with condensation from the walls.

Adam groaned from somewhere behind me. "Blah blah blah," he said in a bored tone. "When do I get to start wrecking stuff?"

I ignored this like usual, leaning forward and shining my flashlight more into the darkness. The stairs seemed to go one forever.

"The safest bet is all the information we're looking for is down there," I cocked my head downward. "The ground level would be too risky—for both privacy wise and for the sake of keeping them in great condition."

"Eww…" Bree said in a moan, clutching her nose as she followed me down. Adam clomped behind us, his steps echoing. "I don't care how safe they thought this place was; haven't they ever heard of a little thing called air freshener?"

My shoes made a thud as they went off the last step. The ground was solid concrete, like the rest of the tiny room. It look sparsely cut out from the ground itself, with hard, moist walls sweaty with condensation and scarcely furnished with two large filing cabinets and an organized metal table in the middle of it all.

"This place smells funny!" Adam reported from where he'd wandered off in a corner of the room.

I naturally shrugged off my siblings complaints; just because we went on a mission didn't mean they had to like it. I made my way to filing cabinets, examining the shelved carefully. They looked to be the normal ones with the shallow metal handle that slid open like any other. But these didn't have locks. This immediately perked my interest. It would seem someone so worried about staying low key would have at least secured the information aforementioned location held if ever found. Must be a sign of over-confidence, I assumed, pulling it open and idly beginning to flip through the tabs in hopes of finding something eye-catching.

There weren't many files—this is the first thing to alert me. Only five heavily stashed files. They were alphabetized backwards, starting with the last letter of the lineup—D, all the way to the beginning letter, A. Suspicious, I grabbed them and disposed of them on the center metal table, rallying in the rest of my team.

"Look at these," I muttered, spreading them out in front of us. Now I could see the grainy black and white photos clipped to the front of each file, each featuring a different person. I squinted leaning closer—

Bree looked sick to her stomach. "Oh God..." she said, clutching at the table's edge. Adam worriedly threw an arm around her to keep her steady while I skimmed the pages.

"They have files on all of us," I murmured, eyeing the papers in disgust.

Bree looked down at hers in disdain. "I never liked that," she told us faintly, pointing to where SUBJECT B was stamped on top of the paper in bold ink. "I hated being called a subject; like a person could take me and dissect me into pieces. See how I worked, tear me apart into different piles, deciding what to do next." Her eyes looked water as she adverted her gaze from her file.

I scrunched my face up, feeling uncomfortable at her description. I never gave much thought to it, similar to the way people didn't think much about death even though they knew it was there. At least Davenport had been thoughtful enough to give us actual names, no matter how plain they were. At least he referred to us as he and she-not it. He wasn't bad, Davenport, a little carried away at times but a lot better than the treatment we would receive at a government facility.

"This doesn't make any sense," I said to myself, flipping through several papers at a time. There were pages and pages on all of us-including Christine. But, why? Hadn't Tina hinted that their goal was to breach Davenport's main system and override it for themselves? Grant had been mentioned in distaste, and now he was lying around in a hospital, unable to offer anything that Davenport didn't already have. What could they possible want from him?

But they wasn't what irked me most. What got to me was that a handful of pages from the stack enlisting information on my girlfriend consisted her reaction to something called Floraxide. I stored away the name for later, figuring it could help lead me deeper into my research.

"Oh my God," Bree said again. Startled, I looked to my sister. Her face had gone sickly pale, sweating and panting as she shook under Adam's arm. Her eyes darted side to side, taking over the room wildly.

I rushed to her side, turning her head to face me. Bree's eyes were starting to dangerously slip closed, her body threatening to shut down like it did when we were in a physical danger bigger than we were equipped to handle.

"Bree? What is it? Bree, try to stay with me-can you hear my voice?" I asked.

My sister was beginning to slip under, her knees buckling. Adam and I exchanged worried looks. Swiftly he swung her into a bridal hold. She was taking unnecessarily fast breaths on the verge of hyperventilating.

"Man we gotta get her outta here," Adam tightened his grip on her shaking frame, sliding the mission bad off his shoulder to give to me. "Get the files for Davenport-he'll want to see this."

Adam ran to the steps with a grim expression, leaving me to quickly slide in the riles holding our information on my way to the door, thought, I stopped to lock the iamge of what could have been a family crest into my memory.

Once I joined my siblings, Bree looked much worse than when I'd last seen her seconds ago. She looked like she was trying to scream, her attempts coming out in ragged hoarse whimpers, shaking and lashing in Adam's arms. He was bent over her, kneeling next to her on the gorund, his attempts to console her continually failing.

The mission was meant to be continued on for at least two hours longer than when we signaled or Davenport's chopper to pick us up at the drop-off location, but didn't mean he shouldn't have had it ready yet. What was taking him so long?

Instead of worrying with that, I switched my focus to my sister. Bree didn't seem to looked any better, but her dry screams had finally ceased. Whn I kneeled next to her I smoothed her hair back. Dear god, please don't take away my sister again, I begged in my head, stubbornly holding back tears. It would do no good for the rest of my team to see their mission leader break down.

Fianlly after my anger peaked my impatience higher, I heard the releiving slice of the chopper cutting through the air.

"Chase?" Bree asked dimly as the ladder was lowered. I looked to Adam, who was cradling her again. He caught my look and handed her off to me. She felt light in my arms, all skin and bones.

"Yeah?"

Bree's eyes flitted, struggling to close, but she fought to keep them open long enough to say her sentence to me. That our girl-always the fighter. "The black man wants you."

I choked on air as she fell unconscious in my arms.

"Where is she?" Christine asked loudly, skidding to a stop as she flew into the lab. She must've been on her way over here before I sent the text; it'd been only minutes since I had received her hurried answer to the update I'd given her on Bree's condition.

I grimly sat on the stool next to the counter Bree was positioned on. Despite my fears she came to long after we brought her from the chopper and into the lab. But as a pre-cautious measure Davenport laced an oxygen mask around her face and attached a few wires to where they had been only weeks ago.

"She's been going in and out for about two hours now," I informed my girlfriend as she went to stand by Bree. She looked at her with a pained expression.

My sister twitched, her eyelids floating open and closed.

"Hang in there, Sweetheart," Christine murmured softly, gently smoothing her hair back like I did earlier. "You'll be just fine."

Bree looked like she was trying to nod, but the only good it did was make her head loll awkwardly into her shoulder.

"This doesn't make any sense," Leo erupted from his spot at his mission's specialist desk, sitting in his chair with his pad clutched between his scrawny fists angrily. He looked down at the screen in disdain. "You're positive the warehouse and area had remained at its evacuated status it had when we sent you there?" At my nod, he groaned, flopping back in his chair slumped with defeat. "Then what man could Bree be talking about?"

Christine's head snapped up, her attention grabbed by our conversation.

"What guy? Can someone please tell me what's going on?" She demanded. She set us all with a stony look, not taking no for an answer.

Davenport looked up briefly with grave features, stationed at his cyber desk. "Before she went unconscious Bree said she saw a black man in the basement of the warehouse the mission was located."

"But wouldn't we have seen something too?" Adam interjected with a confused face.

Davenport ran a hand over his face. "I'm not sure, but from the sounds of it, Bree's relapse probably caused her to suffer from major hallucinations."

"Chase?" A raspy voice called out to me. "Where is he?"

I whipped my head to where my sister lied, struggling to pull herself up. I hurried over to her.

Bree looked a little better—irritated by the oxygen mask tied tight to her nose, but less pale and shaky than before. Although her voice was dry and she looked a bit pained to talk, she was making enormous amounts of progress since at the warehouse.

"Yeah, sis?"

Bree placed both of her slender hands on either side of my face. I took her thin wrists in my hands, staring into her brown eyes only a few shades lighter than my own. "They want you baby brother," she said sadly.

I frowned, gripping her small wrists in my hands tighter. "Bree," I tried to say as gently as possible, "what do you mean?"

She blinked, staring at me confused as she pulled away slightly. She kept blinking like something was hurting her eyes. "You guys weren't there," she said slowly. "I tried to scream but I couldn't, I tried to run but I couldn't. He was in a suit and he kept talking and yelling."

She gripped my face more, her fingers starting to shake. I pulled her hands away from my face, squeezing her fingers comfortingly.

"Bree, wait a minute." Bree froze, watching as Davenport came to her other side with his iPad-like scanner. He held it in front of her eyes. I peered closer, watching the digital screen run over her facial features, beeping over her eyes.

Christine crossed her arms, looking impatient as she snapped, "What is it saying?"

"Davenport? Is the illness back?" Adam stood worriedly from his seat, looking to our sister.

Davenport shook his head distractedly, muttering as he plugged his scanner into his cyber desk and began furiously tapping away. "Incredible…such a strong reaction…much stronger than before…"

"What is he going on about?" Christine asked impatiently. "Someone tell me before I explode!"

I took a look at the cyber-desk myself. I scanned over them, reading over the statistics and letting them scroll through my head.

"She has a new bionic ability?" I managed through my awe. "Are we sure that's what it is?"

Davenport looked to the dizzy Bree again and to his desk, nodding. "Pretty sure. Not only would it explain why she had such strong hallucinations and sudden dizziness, but it would explain why she had such a strong reaction to the room."

"So, what's the ability?" Christine crossed her arms, looking at Bree sadly. "Will it continue to hurt her like this?"

"It looks to me like once her mind and body learn how to handle the strong brain signals that go off, her mind should learn to easily switch between her ability and out again."

Leo made a noise. "Well? Don't keep us dangling, Big D. What's her ability?"

Davenport held his breath, dragging out the dramatic pause. "Bree has discovered her ability to tear through different layers of time."

I'm sorry but I had to leave it at a cliffhanger. I don't know why but I kinda love writing Bree so weak and vulnerable because it's so unlike her in the actual TV show, and just shows how people would react to the situations that involves her getting hurt around her.