AN: Thank you so much for the reviews and continuing interest in this story...Now we get to hear a little bit more about what the heck is going on...

Chapter 5

A sick, growing sense of wariness grew in the pit of Dave's stomach as he drew away from Erin and stood. He wanted to continue to hold her—Dear God, how he wanted to continue to hold her!—but he still had a good sense of self-preservation.

"Infected," he said dully, flatly, the word ringing in his head. He knew she didn't mean infected with the stomach flu, but he clarified it anyway, perhaps because he still held a modicum of hope. "Zombie infected?"

She didn't answer. She merely nodded the slightest bit, keeping her cool blue eyes closed.

With that nod—no, with that word—the hopes and dreams he'd had for them started to turn to dust and float away in the maelstrom of his mind. Despair roared through his entire being, and he wanted to howl like an injured wolf at the injustice of it all. He was angry, too. Not at her, never at her, but at God, at the world, and at his own moment of hopeful naivety he'd had.

He knew better: Dreams didn't come true...not for nearly sixty-year-old men.

Dave ran his fingers through his thick salt-and-pepper hair and shook his head. He'd had a roller coaster of emotions the last few hours; it was hard to keep his feelings straight. He'd gotten Erin back from the dead, he'd held and touched her, only to lose her again.

She was infected, and in an indefinite amount of time, she would be a zombie. There was nothing he could do about it...

Or could he?

She wasn't like other zombies he'd seen. He'd seen the bite; it was instantaneous death followed by a rising. It wasn't logical, a long goodbye like Erin was having. She could speak. She was showing reason by trying to keep him away from her. Zombies didn't show reason; they grunted and asked for brains.

And she'd been shot. Why had she been shot? Had she attacked someone?

So many things didn't make sense to him. He needed answers. He didn't know if she could give them to him, but he had to make her try. Because no matter what happened—if she was healed or if she became a monster—he was going to be there for her.

He crouched down by Erin. Her eyes were closed, and she appeared to be sleeping restlessly again. He brushed her silvery blonde hair away from her face. Her skin was so pale, nearly luminous in the lamplight in his room.

"Erin," he said softly.

She startled, and the look of wary concern came to her face. "David...no..."

"Shhh," he whispered, coaxing her. "I'm not coming too close. I need some answers, Erin."

She looked up at him with cloudy, ice-blue eyes. "So tired."

A lump formed in his throat as he looked at her struggling to stay awake. "I know, cara. I know. You're so brave."

"I...tried."

He couldn't keep the moisture from forming in his eyes when he smiled back at her. "Keep trying, Erin. You can do it." After she nodded again, he started his questions. "With Hotch on the street...did you die that day?"

"No," she answered, shaking her head the slightest. "Drinking...Poison."

"He gave you a drug," he reiterated. The Replicator. He could've given her a drug that slowed her system down to unintelligible levels, making it appear that she'd died, and then taken her body, replacing her with a look-alike. It was far-fetched—science fiction, even—but so was everything else that had happened in the last few months of Dave's life...and the Replicator had been crafty enough to pull this off. He had motive, too: he'd known Erin and Blake from early days at the FBI, and he'd hated them both.

Replicating Erin—it could've been that Unsub's magnum opus...if the world hadn't fallen down around them.

That still didn't explain why she was a zombie, or how'd she'd gotten shot. "Erin. What happened after?"

She swallowed hard and whispered, "Sold..."

Dave paled at the word, thinking of all the bruises and marks on her body. Sweet Jesus, she'd been sold into some sort of seedy underworld. Her wrists and ankles had been torn up the most; they'd kept her captive with chains, like an animal. Red rage filled his belly, but he swallowed it back. He had work to do now, but he vowed he'd find the real animal she'd been sold to, and may God have mercy on his soul when he did.

"They...were...attacked," she continued, and then she tried to muster more strength. "I...was thrown out. I walked...home."

"You walked from where they were keeping you?"

"No." She shook her head. "They drove me blind."

Dave pieced together that her captors—more than one—were attacked by the zombies and then hastily deposited her away. These people must've been close to the Quantico area to have been able to drive. In the early days of the infestation, traveling had not been an easy task.

"I was bitten at home," she continued.

"How did you get away?" Dave asked. There were very few ways to deal with zombies.

"I...shot him," Erin replied and then added, "and myself."

His stomach rolled at the implications of her words. Holy God. "Did you try to kill yourself?"

Erin nodded, tears filling her eyes. "I...tried."

Dave pulled her into his arms in a fierce embrace. "I'm glad you didn't succeed!"

"No, David..."

"Screw that, Erin!" he snapped, holding her even tighter. "I'm going to hold you until I can't anymore."

"No...no..." she whispered, but she melted closer to him. "I...need your help."

"You have it," he answered, all the emotion he had in his soul bubbling to the surface.

"I...tried. I..couldn't," she began, and then her voice trailed off. She looked up at him with tears in her eyes. "I'm...sorry."

"Oh, God, no," he replied swiftly, more to himself than to Erin, as her words sank home. He'd had to hold Caroline as she died an unnatural death. He couldn't do it again with another woman he cared for.

"I'm so sorry."

Dave swallowed and glanced at the fragile woman in his arms. "Is that why you came here, Erin? So I would kill you?"

"No...I love you." Her lips quivered as she tried to smile. "See you...one last..."

"Stop," he said, holding his fingers to her lips. He couldn't do this. He couldn't, but he couldn't let her suffer, either. He had to figure this out.

But how?

She struggled, unsuccessfully fighting tears that rolled down her face. "I...can't be...a monster."

"You won't be," he said quickly. "Not if I have anything to do with it."

She looked at him, unasked questions in her pale eyes...and at that moment, an answer came to him.

"Sweetheart," he replied, stroking her cheek with the back of his fingers. "I can't figure this out...but I know about five other people who can help me put this puzzle together."

Erin smiled. "B.A.U."

He nodded. "I'm going to go find our team."