a/n: Quincy finally spits it out, and Hope almost spits it right back.

Short and underedited. Like me!

All the good things belong to Monolithsoft.

The image player in the case reset and the scene dimmed, restarting at the beginning with a child dancing in the garden and the reunion of Quincy's family. Quincy curled his hands around Hope's. "Will you ..."

"Yes?"

"Will you love them for me?"

Hope pressed her lips together, holding back her answer for a moment. If she spoke, she was worried that an argument would slip out instead. She might say that Quincy might, no, that he would recover, even though that was an obvious lie. She might say the truth: that she didn't understand families. Didn't understand the love frozen in this picture between Quincy and Marie, not any better than she understood the love in his eyes when he talked about the unknown woman in NLA. Hope had never known what it meant to be someone's special person, as Quincy put it. How could she give this little family the proper love?

"Yes," she said.

Quincy sagged in relief and guided her hands so that the case closed. "Yes," Hope repeated. "I'll remember them and look after them. I'll imagine them living on."

Quincy hung his head. "It can be nice. Just be happy that they were. You can let them know any good news, anything interesting you see. Any cool insects. Starr liked bugs."

Hope didn't think she made any particular gesture. She was too polite to ever recoil at the thought. "Oh," she said in a very neutral voice.

Quincy wasn't fooled. He smiled, then flicked his head back with a shaky laugh. "You and Davey. Marie didn't mind, but she'd prefer to hear about flowers. Or you could remember a joke instead. The dumber the better," he advised her.

Only as Quincy started to walk away did Hope notice how close they had been standing. She wasn't quite ready to be alone with the weight of this responsibility. She wanted to hold his hand or something, something to complete the transfer, but he was already starting up the steps to the entrance of the MMC. So instead she made a small fuss over putting the the case in a pocket, exaggerating how careful she was, checking the buttons to see that they were firmly fastened. The weight was unnoticeable, less that the usual bits of gear going along for the ride.

Quincy didn't notice. He was stopped, half-way up the handful of steps, staring at the double doors that slid open and closed, open and closed, accepting and releasing patients and doctors and visitors.

"Well," said Quincy.

"Well," echoed Hope. She joined him on the mid point.

He kept staring at the glass doors. "It's enough. Knowing someone cares even a little is enough."

Hope resisted the urge to press the case, snug in its pocket, to her heart.

"Honestly," Quincy said, "sometimes I just tell them the weather."

Hope hated this. She hated how he was trying to make the mood lighter. Did he really think he needed to make it easier for her? Did he think she was that bad at loving? But that was the thing about Quincy: he did this all the time. Made things easier for people, by lying about himself, by hiding. Maybe (and she had to be honest about how angry she felt), maybe if he had told this woman a little of the truth he wouldn't be facing this terrible future now. It was disloyal to think this, but also she was angry that now she'd lose her good friend because of that choice of his. If he had spoken up, maybe she wouldn't be losing him, although she wasn't stupid enough to think things wouldn't have changed. Ebbed. Someone else would be learning how to tell the twins apart.

"Well," said Quincy. "This is my stop. Thanks, Hope." He shrugged one shoulder and gave her his signature lopsided grin. He held out his hand.

He was going to shake her hand now, with a glove on. Hope was absolutely stunned at how angry she was. It was so alien a feeling that it was almost like a separate part of her brain was blazing. She could almost touch the edges of her rage, compact but fierce. A burning bush. How very strange, the more normal parts of her brain thought. This would be something to meditate on later.

She reached out with the wrong hand, not for a handshake, but to better walk beside him. "I'm coming in with you."

a/n: Caught up in spite of power outages. Next we'll plunge into the MMC. There will be OCs, oh goody.

Next up: Quincy on a gurney.