Jamie awoke.

"Hey, sleepyhead." She recognised Mitch's voice, turned her head to see him. He was slumped in a chair beside the bed. "Who'd have thought you'd pass out from the tranq gas and not me?"

"What?" She passed a hand over her eyes and into her hair, trying to piece together what had happened. Her memories were fragmentary. "Your leg!" she gasped, trying to sit up. Pain rippled through her head, then her ankle. She winced. She could feel the pressure from a bandage.

"Easy there," Mitch smirked. "You're gonna be woozy for a while yet. And my leg… well, about the best I can say is that it's still there."

She leaned sideways and peeked over the edge of the bed, careful not to jostle her aching brain. From toes to knee, Mitch's leg was in a white cast.

"Wolf bite, not-so-lucky number three," he told her. "Crushed fibula, fractured tibia. Guess I'll have to give up my secret job as a motorcycle stuntman."

"Ouch," she murmured. "And what do you mean, you didn't pass out?"

"The animals got one over on us, yet again." His humour faded. "They're smart. Too smart. They cut the power and trampled the gates, can you believe that?"

Jamie remembered the way the rats at the hotel on that island off Massachusetts had kept the power out. "Oh yeah," she said. "I can believe it."

"They're into guerrilla warfare now. None of the weapons worked."

"So long as we're not attacked by actual guerrillas."

Mitch smiled. "Sage let off their backup weapon, an untested gas the Army cooked up in some lab. Worked real well on the animals… and a couple of people."

"It just knocked them out?" Jamie felt anxiety trickle through her.

"It knocked out all the animals." Mitch was solemn. "Sage has had them trucked out and dumped somewhere. They're just gonna have a sore head in the morning." He scrubbed a hand over his chin. "Couple people died. Went to sleep, never woke up."

"Oh my God. Are the others OK? Chloe? Jackson?"

"'OK'" is kind of a… sliding scale right now."

A door at the end of the room slammed open. Jackson – looking badly in need of a shave – stormed through. He didn't look at either of them, but left through the main Infirmary doors.

"What the hell was that?" Jamie demanded.

"The sliding scale."

Mitch had brought her fresh clothes. She dressed, with his help, then left him to totter into the next room. Her head was clearer but her limbs still felt like jelly. Given that her ankle was only in a bandage and not a cast, she figured she'd only suffered a sprain.

"Chloe?" she said, sinking gratefully into the chair beside the French woman's bed. Chloe was curled into a foetal position, turned away from her. A nurse hovered in the background, discreet.

"Please go away." Her voice was rough. Jamie could tell she'd been crying.

"Wanna talk about it?"

"No. I want only to die."

Tears pricked Jamie's eyes. She swiped them away, glad Chloe couldn't see.

"That doesn't sound like the tough Secret Service chick I know," she said. "Look, we've been through some crazy times together. You can tell me anything."

"I have done terrible things."

"Bet you didn't shoot an FBI agent, though."

That startled a laugh out of Chloe. She turned over and sat up. Jamie almost flinched – her friend looked awful.

"What happened?" Jamie asked.

"I slept with my ex-fiancé. Jackson and Natalie found out. Nat left the base, Jean-Michel followed, and they were killed by wild animals."

"Oh my God," Jamie breathed, covering her mouth.

"I tried to commit suicide but as you can see," Chloe gestured bitterly toward herself, "I failed at that, too. When I regained consciousness I found that Jackson had protected me through the attack. He asked me to marry him." Tears, barely restrained, dripped onto the sheet.

"From the way Jackson just left, I'm guessing you didn't say 'yes'."

"He told me he forgave me, Jamie! How could he forgive me?" She said a word in French. "I cannot forgive myself. I cannot marry him."

"What are you, nuts? You love him, right?"

"Yes." Chloe wiped a hand over her damp, strained face.

"And he must love you, or he wouldn't have asked you to marry him."

"Yes."

"Then what's the problem?" Jamie raised her hands. "Take the ring already!"

"If only it was that simple –"

"It is that simple! You have a heart-to-heart, you spill all your deepest darkest secrets, and you have great make-up sex!"

Chloe regarded her with curiosity, despite her obvious misery. "What did you and Mitch get up to during the attack?"

Jamie smiled. "Never mind us. Go get married."

"Oh, Jamie, your enthusiasm and zest for life have lightened my heart. But the fact remains – for the faith I have betrayed, I cannot forgive myself."

That marked the end of what the media called the Beast Resurgence. The journalists wrote vicious opinion pieces attacking everyone involved in the 'vaccine', especially Jackson and his team.

That lasted about a week, until the newspapers stopped printing. And the TV channels stopped broadcasting.

That was the day before Christmas. No one felt much like celebrating.

"Mitch, man, I need to talk to you," Jackson said a few weeks after Christmas. He'd found the veterinary pathologist in the VIP lounge, sipping whisky with Jamie. Mitch thought Jackson looked awful – his stubble was now a beard, and his eyes were bloodshot.

"Sure. What do you need?"

"Uh, it's kind of private…"

"I can take a hint," Jamie said, uncoiling herself from her seat. "Catch you later." She dropped a kiss on top of Mitch's head as she left.

"I've been thinking," Jackson said as he dropped into the chair Jamie had just vacated. "You're pretty much the only person I can trust with this."

"Whoah, hold on there," Mitch said, taking a sip of whisky. "If I'm the only guy you can come to with this, what you're thinking is either really stupid, or really desperate. Or both."

Jackson rubbed the back of his neck. "Wow, you really know how to make people feel welcome."

"Have you talked to Amelia Sage? Any of the other scientists?"

"I already know what they're gonna say."

"And you think I'm going to give you a different answer because…?"

"Because you found the vaccine, cure."

"It wasn't a cure, Jackson. It was the illusion of a cure."

"It was more than that! It was a stepping stone to what we really need."

"You're not making any sense."

"Listen, I always thought Evan Lee Hartley held the key," Jackson explained, leaning forward, "and that the lock was somewhere in my father's research. I finally found that lock."

"You're still not making any sense."

"Look at this." Jackson reached into the back pocket of his jeans and withdrew a square of paper, much folded. Mitch took it, unfolded it, and read it.

"'By the defiant pupil shall we know them,'" he read aloud. "'ELH has shown me the way, has shown me what is possible. I never wanted to take our research that far but he was right to insist. Only through evolution can we achieve true unity.' Jackson, this sounds like a religious quote. Or something equally nuts."

"It does sound a bit out there," Jackson admitted. "But think about it. Hartley was able to control those wolves. Telepathy, pheromones, body language – maybe all those things rolled into one. My father was trying to end human warfare by making us all connected. Empathetic."

"But the question is, how?"

"The same way you made the cure, I guess. When Hartley went into the optometrist's, do you remember all the equipment that was left out?"

"God, don't. That needle. Still gives me nightmares."

"You're a vet, Mitch."

"Hey, it was a big needle."

Jackson chuckled. "I think Hartley extracted his own stem cells, mixed them with the mother cell, and then reinjected. I think that's the way he enhanced himself in the first place, and also the way he tried to cure himself. "

Mitch sucked air through his teeth. "That's a pretty big leap of logic."

"But it feels right. Will you help me?"

"Look, science doesn't work just because you think it feels right! Listen to yourself! When was the last time you got any sleep?"

"That's got nothing to do with this!" Jackson's nostrils flared. "I've been thinking about this for weeks!"

"Well gosh, so long as you didn't forget to eat and sleep. And, you know, try to patch things up with Chloe."

"That's none of your business."

"We're supposed to be a team. That means you share with the rest of the class."

"Right, just like you shared when you wanted to give the mother cell to Reiden Global."

"To save my daughter!"

"If this works, it's gonna save the world!"

"If, Jackson!"

"You know more about this than any of those scientists." Jackson waved a hand toward the door. "You've been on it since the beginning. You can make this happen."

Mitch studied his hands. "Give me some time to think about this."

"Rafiki!"

Jackson and Abe, meeting in the mess hall, exchanged a hard hug.

"I feel as if I have not seen you for days," Abe said, patting his back. "What have you been doing? You look terrible! I am sorry you and Chloe…"

"Good to see you too, buddy." Jackson clapped Abe on the arm. "Where's Kazuko?" he deflected.

Abe's face fell. "We are… we are 'taking a break', was how I believe she put it."

"Taking a break? That's harsh, man. Why?"

"I did not realise she was a career soldier when we first began dating." They sat at a vacant table. "She told me that a relationship with me would 'damage her prospects', considering our failures."

Jackson slumped in his chair, running his hands through his hair. "My fault."

"Not your fault!" Abe was adamant. "We are dealing with untried, untested science here, Jackson. None of the scientists have done any better. You and Mitch, you have made intuitive leaps with the information we have that could not be matched."

Jackson regarded him with narrow, shuttered eyes. "If I told you I had an idea that might save the world, but that Sage and her team wouldn't accept, what would you say to me?"

"I would say follow your heart, Rafiki. Be the man you were meant to be."

Mitch lay in bed, arms laced behind his bed. Jamie snuggled up against him.

"So what was that conversation with Jackson all about?" she asked, half-dozing.

"Hmm, what part of 'kind of private' didn't make sense to you?"

"I thought we weren't keeping secrets anymore."

"This isn't my secret to keep, Jamie."

She opened her eyes, gave him a shrewd look. "Jackson's asked you to do something, hasn't he? Probably something stupid, or dangerous. Something he couldn't ask the other scientists to do."

"You didn't hear it from my mouth."

"Something that involves his father's notes. He's been holed up in the Research Room for days. Chloe's slowly going mad, did you know that?"

"Hey, she's got issues, just like the rest of us. She needs to work 'em out."

"Right, because it's so easy to move on after what she did. They took her off suicide watch a couple weeks ago, but she still has sessions with a therapist."

"Listen, all we can do is be there for her. She needs you, not me, or Abe, she needs a woman friend. But none of us can make her forgive herself."

"She needs Jackson to get his head out of those boxes and go talk to her again!"

"Life was simpler before the Beast Rebellion," he sighed.

Jamie smacked his shoulder. "Talk to Jackson. He's the only one who can get her over this. Not some stupid therapist."

"I'd have thought he would be the last person."

"He needs to tell her he forgives her."

"He already tried that. Didn't work."
"Every day," Jamie added. "All day. Wherever she goes, he should follow."

"What, and trail her around like a puppy dog?"

"He's in love with her, Mitch!" Jamie was getting frustrated. "He asked her to marry him! She loves him too, I know she does, and they'd make such a goddamned beautiful couple!"

"Slow down there, sport. Think you're taking this a bit too personally."

"Call me 'sport' again and I'll break your nose."

Mitch grinned. "Guess I'm due to break something else, since the leg's healed up." He gathered Jamie more closely against his side. "I'll talk to him… sport."

Jamie squealed and covered his face with kisses. Mitch, laughing, let her.

"I'll do it," Mitch said the next morning.

He'd spotted Jackson in the mess hall, eating alone. Chloe sat with Jamie. Abe hadn't surfaced yet.

"You will?"

"Yeah. But it's gonna be hard. I'm allowed access to the mother cell, but everything has to be approved and logged out."

"You can't… I don't know… just steal some?"

Mitch looked at him, deadpan. "We're in the middle of a military base."

"Can't you hack a way through the security?"

"That's Jamie's bat, not mine. And since you told me this was a private issue…"
"Right… right." Jackson rubbed the side of his face, thinking. "What if you submitted a request to, I don't know, review the vaccine?"

"They won't give me access just to review."
"Tell them… maybe the efficiency of the vaccine is dependent on the freshness of the mother cell?"
"It's a mineral, Mitch. It's not getting any fresher."

"Work with me here!"

"Alright, alright… I'll think of something. So, uh… you and Chloe. How are things going with that?"

"Don't go there, man."
"Ah, come on… I promised Jamie I'd try. She's worried about you kids."

"Chloe hates herself." Jackson turned his pain-filled gaze on his friend. "She can't – won't – forgive herself."

"Have you tried talking to her again?"

"What, you're giving me relationship advice now?"

"The Mitch Morgan Recovery Plan, go figure." He held up his hands, palm out. "Jamie seems to think you should keep telling Chloe you forgive her, until she's able to forgive herself."

"Yeah?" Jackson jumped up, shoving his chair back. "Well maybe Jamie should just keep her damned nose out of other people's business." He stormed off.

Mitch met Jamie's eyes. He shrugged.

"You've done very little research since you've been here, Mr. Morgan," Amelia Sage said. "Forgive me if I seem surprised."

"You're not a scientist, are you?" Mitch removed his glasses, cleaning them on the hem of his shirt.

"I'm a politician. We perform our own brand of science."

"Well, here's the thing. 'Real' science – that's the stuff you can actually touch, you know, rather than just thinking up new ways to manipulate people – doesn't happen like magic. It requires thought, preparation, research."

"And that's what you've been doing?" If she was annoyed at his sarcasm, she kept it under wraps.

"Robert Oz's notes are extensive but disorganised. They ramble. He was a brilliant scientist, but administration? Not so much."

"Alright." Sage regarded him with shrewd, hawk-like eyes. Mitch hoped he'd been just rude enough to deflect her interest. "What's your angle?"

"To make our vaccine, we mixed the mother cell with stem cells from the leopard cub, an animal that had already begun the evolution process without Reiden's influence. I want to see the effects of the mother cell on other types of organic matter. Tissue, blood, bone."

"To what end? It was the interaction between animals and the mother cell that put us in this predicament. And we don't have an inexhaustible supply, Mitch."

"Has anyone worked this side of the research yet?" He'd come prepared. "Has anyone studied this in detail? It's real short-sighted to discount something just because we think it won't have an effect. Truth is, we don't know enough about the mother cell to know what it'll do. And really, who thought up such a stupid name for a mineral?"

"Blame that one on our old friends at Reiden." Sage's smile was thin, though amused. "Your proposal is approved. Don't make me regret it."

"How, uh, how is this gonna work?" Jackson asked, nervous. Mitch had his own lab – small, granted, but it was all his – and all the equipment he'd requested. Jackson sat on a workbench.

"I need to take some of your stem cells. Now, this is the part you're gonna hate."
"Hit me, doc."

"Washed out of med school, Jackson."

"Not making me feel better…"

"Hey, you wanted me in on this. So this is how it's gonna happen. For your theory that Evan Lee Hartley was communicating with the wolves on a telepathic level, I would need stem cells from the nervous system. That theory's supported by the fact that Hartley went in through his eye to get stem cells – I think he took them from the optic nerve."

Jackson winced. "I was hoping you wouldn't say that."

"Look, I can carry on doing the research I told Amelia I was going to do. Or I can do what you asked. Your choice."

Jackson's face hardened. "I'm right about this. I know I'm right. Hartley was right. Do it, Mitch."

Jackson watched as Mitch prepared the equipment, a long, sharp needle that already had him in a cold sweat. But he let his friend fix him into the head restraint.

"Local anaesthetic," Mitch said apologetically, waving a small bottle at him. "Sorry. Little stronger than what Hartley had, but it's all I can give you."

"I understand."

"Last chance to back out. I don't – this is gonna hurt."

"Just do it!"

"Alright, alright…" Mitch picked up the needle. "Just, you know, if you're gonna cry like a little girl, give me some warning first."

Five minutes later it was over. Jackson sat and trembled, working through the pain, a bandage over his eye.

"This is going to take some time," Mitch said, peering into a microscope as he manipulated Jackson's stem cell sample. "Why don't you go and rest? Who knows, maybe you could patch things up with Chloe. Stranger things have happened."

"Chloe," Jackson murmured. He was sweating, and his uncovered eye had taken on a fixed look. "You're right. I should totally do that."

Jackson found Chloe in the gym. She'd recovered from her suicide attempt with no lasting ill effects, though it was clear to his eyes – to his eye – that she'd lost weight. She looked gaunt, hollow, though perhaps even more beautiful because of it. She appeared fragile… right up until he saw her spin-kicking the boxing target.

"Hey." He approached her with his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

"What happened to you?"

He searched her face. It was shut down tight. "I – uh – walked into a door."

"I don't need any special training to know that that is a lie. What do you want?"

"You to marry me."

"I told you. I cannot." She kicked the weight again.

"Can't, or won't? They're not the same thing, Chloe."

"If the end result is the same, what does it matter?"

"It matters because I love you! And I know you love me!"

"I cannot change what has happened." Another kick, followed by a punch that nearly ripped the weight from its moorings. Sweat flew from her face and body. "But I can punish myself for it."

"Damnit, I forgive you! I forgive you! Please!"

"I do not forgive myself. That is all there is to it."

"Then you don't care what happens to me?"

"I did not say that." She gave him a sharp look. "I care very much what happens to you."

"I found a cure."

"We already had a cure. It did not work." She stopped kicking the weight and turned to face him, hands on hips.

"This one will work."
"How do you know that?"

"Because it worked for Evan Lee Hartley."

"Mon dieu… you are going to inject the mother cell…?" Sudden panic crossed her face, the first emotion she'd shown, as she realised his plan. "Your eye… no, Jackson! Tell me you are not going to do this!"

"I have to. I have to try. For humanity. For us. Even if there is no us."

"No, Jackson, no…" Tears made her eyes glisten. Her lips trembled and she reached for him, but stopped the movement. "It killed Hartley. I cannot let it kill you."

"It's not like I've got anything left to live for, is it?" he shot back. He threw his hands up in an 'I'm done' gesture, then turned to walk toward the door.

"You once told me you'd do anything for me!" Chloe shot after him. "Before we left for Paris, before… before." Her tears fell freely now. "Don't do this. Stay with me!"

"I only want one thing from you, Chloe." He'd reached the door, opened it. "I want you to forgive yourself."

"I… I cannot…"

He opened the door and stepped through. Chloe rushed toward him, but before she could reach him he'd slammed the door shut – and locked it.

"Jackson!" she hammered against it, fists raining down. "Jackson!"

"You talk to Chloe?" Mitch asked when Jackson came back to his lab.

"We talked."

"And?"

"And it's none of your business, Mitch."

"Well, at least I can tell Jamie I tried. If she ever forgives me for doing this, that is."
"She'll forgive you. She's crazy about you."
"Like Chloe is for you?"

"Shut up and shoot me up already."

The blaring alarm made them both freeze. "Those animals don't give up, do they?" Mitch said.

"More likely Chloe got out of a locked gym and ratted me out."

Mitch winced. "You really have a way with women." He picked up the needle, full this time with golden liquid. "Let's get this over with."

Chloe banged on the locked laboratory door. She had a contingent of half a dozen armed soldiers at her back.

"Mitchell Morgan! Jackson! Open this door!" she yelled, banging again. "Break it down," she ordered, and moved back.

Two soldiers stepped forward, carrying a heavy battering ram between them. Moving in tandem they set up a rhythmic pounding against the door.

A terrible scream ripped through the air. A man's scream.

"Jackson! For the love of God, open this door!"

The door splintered and cracked. The soldiers hit it again and it burst open. Chloe rushed through, then froze at the terrible tableau before her.

Mitch was on the floor, his face bloody. Jackson crouched over him. The bandage over his eye was gone. He looked… feral. There was no other word for it.

She stepped toward him and he snarled. A sob caught in her throat.

"What have you done to yourself?" she whispered.

A bullet zinged off the wall inches away from Jackson. He leapt away, his reflexes faster than she'd ever known.

"Don't shoot him!"

There was a window in the lab – high up and reinforced with wire mesh. Jackson grabbed a stainless steel chair and hurled it at the window.

The window smashed.

He leapt on the workbench and lunged for the newly made exit. The glass cut his fingers where he gripped the sill, but if he felt any pain he didn't show it. The soldiers pushed past Chloe and made a grab for him. He wriggled away with unusual grace and dived through the window.

He landed on the other side, rolling neatly to his feet. He struck out immediately for the fence. Several signs – in big black, red and yellow lettering – warned that it was electrified, but he paid it no attention.

Sparks exploded from the fence as he approached it; the power was down. He shot up like a monkey. Sporadic gunfire followed him, but he ignored it and kept on climbing. He flipped over the top and leapt to the bottom, landing light and firm.

He ran.

Jackson wandered through a forested area. His eyes burned in his face. He looked terrible – rough, unkempt, as if he'd been sleeping rough for days… or just barely sleeping.

As he entered a clearing he spotted a lone wolf, a lean animal with creamy white fur and intelligent black eyes. She sat on her haunches and watched him.

Jackson approached, slow and steady. The wolf's tail pounded the ground as it wagged. She got to her feet and trotted across to him, then ducked her head and licked his outstretched fingers. Then she sat at his feet.

A second wolf entered the clearing, licked his fingers, and sat. Then a third. A fourth. More. They entered from all directions until Jackson was completely surrounded.

He threw his head back and howled. His pack added their voices to his.