By the time Edwin carries Mouse to bed the facility is silent. She barely stirs when he picks her up, but when he tries to put her down she paws at his arm sleepily. With a shake of his head and a smile he lays down behind her, placing an arm loosely around her waist as she settles back into sleep.

He gazes at the faint outlines of the furniture in the dim light for hours but never quite manages to drift off. Still, when Mouse stirs awake rubbing at her eyes and stretching, he feels a bit rested. Laying in the quiet and listening to her breathe helps calm his restless mind. She needs him to reassure and comfort her. He can't bring her mother back, can't save the world, but he can make her time in it easier.

"Sleep well?" He asks, reaching up to pull a few tangled strands of hair from her face. She twists to look at him over her shoulder, presenting an early morning grimace.

"Come on." He pushes himself up and stretches. "Let's head down to the showers, alright? May as well wash up before breakfast."

She only has one outfit, but he washed her clothing the day before. He picks out one of his nicer button ups and a clean pair of slacks. They head down to the showers where they encounter Rick's wife, Lori, along with her son. She says hello, offering Mouse a smile. Edwin murmurs his own greeting, pausing long enough to tell her where she can find painkillers. Considering how much drinking the group was doing, they'll probably be necessary. Carl stares at Mouse curiously, but she hides up against Edwin's side.

Once they both finish, he patiently picks the tangles out of her thick hair, then towel dries her soaked curls to the best of his ability. Charlotte inherited his thin blonde hair, straight as an arrow, but Candace's hair had a natural wave to it. She'd said she never brushed her hair dry because, "It puffs up like you wouldn't believe."

When they walk into the dining room, nearly everyone is there. Several people greet him, and he says 'hello' back, guiding Mouse to sit in an empty chair beside the girl, Carol's daughter he thinks.

"I'll grab our plates," he promises, smiling down at Mouse when she twists her hands uneasily. "Come on, it'll be fine."

"Please sit?" The freckled girl gives Mouse a smile. "I'm Sophia, and this is Carl."

Mouse hesitates for only a moment longer before giving in, tentatively settling beside the taller blonde. Sophia grins, leaning back so Carl can offer his own greetings.

"The eggs are really good," the boy shares. "T-Dog made them."

"Bet you can't tell the difference," the large black man by the counter calls out, and chuckles spread around the table.

Edwin makes his way over to T-Dog, thanking him as he fills two plates. He's making his way back over to the table when the older man, Dale, speaks up.

"Doctor," Dale starts, leaning forward and fixing Edwin with an intense look. "I don't mean to interrogate you first thing in the morning—"

"How about we let the questions wait until after breakfast?" He snaps, acutely aware of how Mouse can barely keep herself still. She fidgets and twitches at every clink of glass or murmur of conversation, her eyes darting here and there like she's waiting to be attacked.

"We didn't come here for the eggs." Andrea scoffs, lifting red-rimmed eyes to glare at him.

Silence falls, leaving everyone to watch them uneasily. Edwin's expression hardens, and he sets the plates down at the table without replying, seating himself beside Mouse who has frozen in place, her eyes wide and welling with tears.

"Well, doc?" Shane pipes up, seated next to Andrea today.

"Shane," Rick chides. "I think we can wait until they're done eating."

Shane bristles, but Edwin ignores the man and focuses on Mouse. "Come on, just try a bite? It smells good, doesn't it?"

He can already tell it isn't going to work. Mouse shakes her head, her breath hitching in her chest. He squeezes his fork and tries to push the building anger away. Couldn't they have just kept their mouths shut? He wanted to give Mouse a nice breakfast, a quiet morning to sit around, maybe listen to some more of The Hobbit. He wanted them to do nothing of any consequence.

"It's really good," Sophia adds, looking at the smaller girl with concern. Mouse shakes harder, whimpering and turning to hide her face into Edwin's arm.

"It isn't your fault," Edwin assures Sophia when he sees the flicker of self-reprimand in her eyes. "Mouse just has a hard time with eating." He turns to look at Andrea and Shane as he adds, "When she gets stressed she usually can't eat at all."

Shane looks away, but Andrea continues to stare at him, her ice-blue gaze unyielding.

"We're sorry," Lori offers, glancing between Mouse and Edwin. "We could cover it up? She can eat later."

"Here," Jacqui gets up, coming around the table and giving Mouse a soft smile. "I'll take care of these for you."

Edwin tries to say it's unnecessary, but he doesn't want to leave Mouse. Besides, his appetite is gone. He doesn't think he wants to eat now, or ever.

"Thanks," he finally allows, letting Jacqui take the plates as he continues to rub Mouse's back. She stays huddled against his side and he sighs, thinking through his options.

He tells them to meet him in the main room once they are done with breakfast, taking Mouse's hand and leading her away. Andrea gets up to follow, and he doesn't miss that Dale does as well. He ignores them, guiding Mouse to sit in one of the abandoned office chairs and preparing to play Candace's scans.

"I'm sorry," Dale says as he approaches, his expression contrite. "I didn't mean to upset her."

"It's… fine." Edwin grunts as he continues to type.

Andrea leans against a nearby counter, watching him with quiet indifference. He knows that look in her eyes; she's grieving. Hurting so much that the only way to stand is to not feel anything at all. He doesn't hate her, he's been her before, but he still resents how she ruined Mouse's meal.

"Do you know why she doesn't speak?" Dale smiles at Mouse and gives a small wave. Mouse looks down at her toes, biting her lip before she responds with a tiny wave back.

"I'm a virologist, not a psychologist," Edwin points out. "I'd have to do some digging. It could just be everything that's happened, but I'm guessing there's an underlying issue."

"Has she indicated anything?"

Edwin rubs the bridge between his eyes, sighing deeply. None of this matters, why won't he just drop it? What does it matter if Edwin noticed that all the tags had not just been cut from her clothing, but carefully picked out down to the last thread? What difference does it make if he saw that any scented shampoo makes her wrinkle her nose in disgust? None of it will matter in less than three hours.

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to be nosy," Dale apologizes. "I can't imagine how hard it would be, to find yourself parenting an orphaned girl without any prior experience."

Edwin's chest seizes, his fingers clenching into fists. He straightens up, breathing hard. Mouse looks up in alarm, her focus zeroed in. Before he can find the words to make Dale leave him alone, he hears the echo of footsteps coming from down the hall.

"You can sit down if you want," he says stiffly, grabbing the remote control and heading towards the front of the room. Mouse pops up from her chair, following after him and latching onto his side. He wraps his free arm around her, rubbing slow circles into her back.

"Everyone here?" He asks, glancing over his shoulder and doing a headcount. He doesn't think anyone is missing, and Rick nods, so Edwin turns back to the main screen. "VI, give me a playback of TS-19."

As VI starts the playback, he looks to Rick's group, taking in their curious and confused expressions. He isn't ready to do this. He watched it so many times, at first just to absorb the last moment's of his wife's life, recorded to be studied and dissected. He hadn't wanted to let her do this, had begged to hold her instead, had argued and screamed and cried. Candace was resolute. She would be scanned as the infection took hold, and he would finish what she started, what their friends in France had been trying to accomplish.

"I've written everything down," her hands shook as she tapped the pile of journals, filled at first with elegant handwriting, later with jagged shapes that became more and more difficult to decipher. "You'll finish this Edwin, I know you will. I know you can." He failed her, like he failed everyone else.

Edwin takes them through the relevant events and fields their questions. This is a brain. Those are the synapses. We're watching a vigil. Test Subject 19's. He shows them how the virus invades the brain, like meningitis, tells them how the resurrection times vary. He can recite from memory how long it took Candace's corpse to twitch back into motion. 'It restarts the brain?' No, just the brain stem. Despite all the evidence to the contrary some part of him had been convinced he shot his own wife until he saw the playback. She was dead and gone, the virus using her corpse like a macabre puppeteer.

"You have no idea what it is, do you?"

Andrea's voice is harsh in the silence that follows the viewing. Mouse trembles, hugging him as hard as she can. Edwin doesn't turn to face the blonde, too tired to deal with her judgement.

"It could be microbial, viral, parasitic, fungal." It could have been any of those, but it wasn't. He doesn't want to tell them. He's already bared his soul, his failures. This one isn't on him at least. Let the monstrous truth die with him.

They keep questioning, and all Edwin knows is that he wants it to stop. He doesn't have any answers, not ones he is willing to give. I didn't sleep enough. I destroyed all my samples. It should have been me. No one would have missed him, least of all Candace who hadn't been able to look him in the eyes for three years before the end. He knows she didn't blame him. He even knows why she couldn't look at him. Charlotte had his eyes.

"Dr. Jenner," Dale cuts in, observant as ever. "I know this has been taxing for you, and I hate to ask one more question, but… that clock— it's counting down. What happens at zero?"

He thinks about lying, tries to come up with something convincing. His head is fuzzy with exhaustion, his energy flagging from being awake so long. "The basement generators run out of fuel."

"And then?" Rick demands.

And then, nothing. Edwin turns away, pulling Mouse with him. He ignores the spreading whispers in their wake, heading for a room he has not entered since the day his wife died.

He steps into the office which overlooks the big room. The glass windows are clear from this side, opaque from the other. The air in here is stale, so he leaves the door open to help it circulate. Mouse wipes at her eyes, looking around curiously as he guides her to one of the chairs in front of Candace's desk.

"I'll only be a minute," he promises when she tries to pull him down beside her. She bites her lip, letting him go reluctantly. He keeps his word, just grabbing the picture of Candace he left face down on a shelf, unable to look at it for even one second.

He returns to Mouse's side, sitting beside her and holding the picture up. She leans close, looking at it with interest.

"This is… or was, my wife." Edwin is surprised by how steady his voice is. He reaches up, lightly stroking Mouse's damp curls.

She looks up at him, her expression pained. After a moment, she leans over and hugs him, sniffling into his shirt.

He rests his chin on her head, breathing slowly. She's made everything easier to bear. She's the only good thing that happened to him since long before the world ended. He wishes he'd saved her mother, wishes that he hadn't destroyed the only chance he had to save humanity. Wishes he had died, and Candace had lived.

"We always think there will be more time," he whispers.

He closes his eyes and allows the grief to wash through him. He wishes he could apologize to Candace. He wishes that she could tell him she's proud of him for trying. It hurts to know what she'd actually say, that she'd rage and accuse and blame him for wasting her sacrifice.

He lets Mouse go when she pulls back, rubbing her eyes and tensing up. She does this sometimes when she's trying to psyche herself up to do something. He smiles, the fondness that aches through his chest bringing more tears to his eyes. He's glad she's here with him, that he got to make her life a little easier before the end. She deserves so much more, but there's nothing out there for her but suffering.

Mouse breathes out abruptly, grimacing and shaking her head. She parts her lips, and then a flash of frustration crosses her face. She brings her hands up with another huff, but all she does is press them over her eyes. With a whine, she uncovers them to point towards herself, her teary eyes focused directly on him. Her hands come together, forming a shape that he distantly recognizes. Then she points at him.

Before he can react, she lunges forward, hugging him with all the strength in her skinny arms. For such a tiny thing, she can hold on tight. She trembles against him, quiet sobs muffled into his chest.

What does she mean? He knows exactly what she meant.

Anyone who wasn't a coward would recognize those gestures. Slowly Edwin brings up his arms. He wraps them around her and realizes he's shaking. He lowers his chin to rest on top of her head, his own breath hitching in his chest, coming out in desperate whimpers. You know what she meant.

There isn't any ambiguity in the shape of a heart.

"I do too," Edwin gasps, hiding his face into her hair. "So— So much… I…"

Is he just projecting, trying to replace Charlotte and Candace? She's nothing like them, not in appearance, not in personality. Charlotte had her mother's vivaciousness, her endless curiosity, her fierce independence. He'd been so glad that she was nothing like him, had none of his insecurities, his anxieties, his doubts.

The lights go out. He closes his eyes, shaking his head and sobbing harder. There's never enough time.

Rather than wait for Rick's people to come looking, Edwin heads to the big room. The only moment he takes for himself is to pull out that photo of Candace, and the one hidden behind it. He folds them up and slides them into his pocket before turning to face the end. This isn't what he wanted, not for Mouse, not for them, but it is what it is. The only side trip he takes is to the bathroom, to wash her face and his own. Then he hefts Mouse up into his arms, and carries her back downstairs, ignoring the yells of the confused men and women who call out his surname and title, things that never felt like they belonged to him at all.

He sits down at last, Mouse sprawled over his chest as the whole crew comes running up. Most of the lights are off, the clock counting down toward the final hour. He rubs Mouse's back, letting her hide her face into his neck to get away from all the shouting.

"Jenner!" Rick comes hurrying up. "What's going on?"

He sighs, staring out over these people who should already know. He shakes his head and shrugs. There's no point in holding back now, and they already suspect. If they wanted to leave, they should have done so earlier.

"The system is dropping all the non-essential uses of power. It's designed to keep the computers running to the last possible second. That started as we approached the one-hour mark." He gestures to the countdown which reads sixty-two minutes and forty-eight seconds. "Right on schedule."

They stare at him bewildered, and all at once his irritation crests. He snorts, stroking his hand down Mouse's back and shaking his head at the absurdity of it all. "It was the French." At their confused expressions he adds, "They were the last ones to hold out as far as I know. While our people were bolting out the doors and committing suicide in the hallways, they stayed in their labs till the end. They thought they were close to a solution."

"What happened?" It's Jacqui, her dark eyes widening with growing horror. He offers her a sad smile. She's kind; he owes her the truth.

"The same thing that's happening here. No power grid. Ran out of juice. The world runs on fossil fuel. I mean, how stupid is that?"

Candace wanted to install solar. She went before Congress, testified hour after hour, pleading with each subsequent president. They hemmed and hawed, arguing that surely everything would be fine. For every representative who saw the need, there were ten who could not care about the situation less. The money never materialized, and when the end came, they were not ready.

Shane starts yelling, but Rick cuts him off. He orders the others to gather their belongings so they can leave. Edwin watches him dully, Mouse huddled in his lap. The anger in him rises, disbelief at Rick's hypocrisy. He told him just last night that there was no hope, nothing out there but death.

The alarm triggers, echoing harshly throughout the facility's hallways as the final countdown begins. VI calls out the sixty-minute warning, her mechanical voice as indifferent as ever. Even he can't ask her to do much now; no one can, not unless they hooked up a barrel with more fuel to the generator.

They're terrified. Of course they are. He's scared, too. The human instinct for self-preservation is self-destructive in its intensity. Even when the end is inevitable, people struggle on, fighting for each agonizing breath rather than allowing a cleaner, easier death to take its natural course.

He twists in the chair, typing a code into the computer before him. A pop up appears, demanding a credential check. Candace made him the official head of the facility before her death, so he presses his thumb to the scanner and waits for it to register his identity. The blast door slides up, sealing everyone inside.

"Did he just lock us in?!" It's Glenn, the young man of Asian descent. "He just locked us in!"

Edwin closes his eyes, shutting out the world around him. He hugs Mouse close, kissing the top of her head. She shudders, pressing her face as against his neck as she can and bringing up her hands to cover her ears.

"Jenner!" It's Rick again, coming close. "Jenner, open that door right now."

"There's no point." Edwin mutters. "Everything topside is locked down. The emergency exits are sealed."

"Well, open the damn things," Dale calls out.

"That's not something I control. The computers do." Edwin shakes his head, exasperated. He wishes he'd never let them in, that he'd turned them away. Why can't they leave them in peace? "I told you once that front door closed, it wouldn't open again. You heard me say that. It's better this way."

"What is?" Rick demands. "What happens in an hour?" When Edwin fails to respond he rushes forward. "What happens in fifty-eight minutes?!"

Mouse whines, shaking in Edwin's arms. The rage is a relief after swimming so long in despair.

He shoots up to his feet, dropping Mouse onto the chair. She curls in on herself, gasping for breath and covering her ears. He turns to Rick, looming over the shorter man.

"Do you know what this place is?!"

Rick doesn't; if he had, he never would have come here.

"We protected the public from very nasty stuff! Weaponized smallpox! Ebola strains that could wipe out half the country! Stuff you don't want getting out! Ever!"

Save for the whimpering, silence falls. Edwin takes a deep breath, turning back to Mouse and stroking her hair. He apologizes without words to the best of his ability, letting her lean against his hip.

"In the event of a catastrophic power failure— in a terrorist attack, for example— H. are deployed to prevent any organisms from getting out."

"What are those?" Rick asks, his voice low with fear.

"VI, Define."

As VI's voice rings out, describing the method of their death without passion or care, cries of despair spread through the group. They look at him like he's a monster, like he wanted this, like he begged them to come in here, rather than begged them to go away. When VI finally falls silent, Edwin allows himself to finish where the virtual intelligence has failed.

"It sets the air on fire. No pain. An end to sorrow, grief… regret. Everything."

The knowledge of their impending death rampages through the room like the very pandemic which has brought an end to their species. Shane and Daryl go for the door, taking up axes and hacking uselessly at feet thick steel, most of the others bursting into tears and clinging to their loved ones. Edwin sits back down to soothe Mouse as best he can. Her grip on him is as tight as she can manage, and he doesn't bother to acknowledge the looks of disgust that are thrown his way.

Shane returns from the door, out of breath and visibly trembling. "Can't make a dent," he pants, staring wide-eyed at the ground.

"Those doors were designed to withstand a rocket launcher," Edwin informs him irritably. Mouse is still covering her ears, flinching with each new clang of metal on metal.

"Your head ain't!"

Daryl sprints down the ramp, rage shining in his eyes. Edwin twists, shielding Mouse with his body. Blood rushes in his ears, the screams of men and women alike telling Daryl to stop, to back away. None of it matters. He sits there shaking, his mind empty of all thoughts.

It takes the others precious moments to calm the redneck, who throws the axe to the ground and storms away. Edwin looks up cautiously, straightening back out and shifting Mouse into a more comfortable position. He stares at Rick, who is pale and grim faced, and feels another burst of resentment.

"You do want this," He accuses, glaring at the slim sheriff. "Last night you said you knew it was just a matter of time before everybody you loved was dead." Shocked silence spreads amongst the group, their gazes now turned towards their leader.

"You really said that?" Shane demands, hurt stark in his face. "After all your big talk?"

"I had to keep hope alive, didn't I?" Rick grits out, glaring at his friend.

Edwin shakes his head, stroking Mouse's hair. "There is no hope. There never was."

"There's always hope," Rick snaps, whipping around to face him. "Maybe it won't be you, maybe not here, but somebody, somewhere—"

"What part of 'everything is gone' do you not understand?" Andrea speaks up at last, lifting her head from her knees. The grieving blonde glares at Rick, the same despair and resentment that Edwin has been drowning in spilling from her lips.

"Exactly," Edwin gestures to her, nodding in agreement. "Your— Your sister, what was her name?"

"Amy," Andrea answers after a heartrendingly long pause. Her blue eyes swim with fresh tears.

"Amy," Edwin nods, smiling sadly. "You've seen what this does, you know what's waiting out there. Rick, listen to your friend. She gets it. This is what takes us down. This is our extinction event."

"This isn't right," It's Carol who cries out now, lifting her face from where it was buried into her sobbing daughter's hair. "You can't just keep us here."

Exasperated, Edwin explains, "One tiny moment— a millisecond. No pain."

Carol shakes her head, crying even harder. "My daughter doesn't deserve to die like this!"

Edwin sighs, leaning back into his chair and rubbing a soothing hand in between Mouse's shoulders. She hasn't moved, hasn't made a sound all this time, nothing beyond those quiet gasps and whimpers. "This is kinder, more compassionate. Can't you see that?" Even as Dale comes over to help Carol and Sophia stand, guiding the pair away, Edwin continues. "What's out there, it's a torture worse than death. Here, all you have to do is just wait and let the clock—"

"You're lying!" Rick snarls, moving right up into Edwin's face. He grits his teeth, twisting and trying to look away but the sheriff grabs his shoulder, forcing him to stay still. "You're lying about there being no hope," Rick insists, forcing Edwin to meet his eyes. "If that were true, you'd have bolted with the rest or taken the easy way out. You sure as hell wouldn't have saved that little girl."

"Wouldn't have…" Edwin glares at the other man, trembling from head to toe. "You think I wanted this?!" He demands. "I wasn't supposed to be here! It should have been me on that fucking table! I'm just Edwin Jenner! No one would have missed me! She could have saved the world! She could have stopped this!"

Edwin sits there, panting for breath. Exhaustion and pain burn behind his eyes. He's so tired, why can't they just let this happen? Why did they have to make it like this?

"Test Subject 19— Was she your wife?" Lori asks, her voice barely loud enough to be heard. There is horror in her blue eyes.

Edwin can't speak. He nods, tears running down his cheeks.

"Would she have wanted this?" Rick demands, his expression fierce. "Your wife, would she have wanted you to murder that little girl?"

Edwin looks down into teary green eyes. She blinks at him slowly, more tears dripping down her cheeks.

"No," Edwin says dully, stroking Mouse's cheek. "But she wouldn't have wanted to sentence her to dying the way she did either." He hides his nose in Mouse's hair, breathing slowly.

"We're just asking for a choice!" Lori cries out, clutching her son and shaking her head. "Please, that's all we—"

"Shane, no!"

Edwin registers the cocking of a gun, sees the man moving forward from the corner of his eye. He shoves Mouse to the side, hardly noticing her pained cry as she hits the floor. There is a gun in his face, but that's fine. He's going to die soon, he didn't want this, didn't want to suffer, but it's okay. Rick screams at the man, the others beg him, Shane stares him down, despair and loathing shimmering from every pore.

He doesn't know what makes Shane's target shift. He doesn't realize what the cop is planning fast enough to stop him. Edwin is on his feet, and everyone is screaming. Shane's heel grinds into Mouse's side, pinning the girl to the ground while his gun stays steady on her chest.

"I'll gut-shot her!" Shane bellows, his expression twisted with rage. Sophia and Carl cry and hide their faces into their mothers' chests. Edwin does not take his eyes off the shorter man, his fingers twitching at his sides. He wants to wrap them around Shane's throat, cut off the air and watch as his face turns blue. He wants to feel the bones crunch under his finger tips.

"Shane!" Rick snarls, eyes bulging with terror. "Brother, this isn't you! Brother, stop! Stop this! Let her go, goddamnit!"

"You want her to die in pain, man?" Shane snarls, hate shimmering in his black eyes. "That's what you want?! You want this little girl to die?!"

Mouse lays there motionless, her eyes glassy. Edwin can't breathe. His heart hammers in his chest, terror aching through his whole body.

"Don't—" He stammers, holding out a hand, his eyes so wide the skin feels like it's going to rip. "Don't—" He steps back, fumbling for the scanner as tears drip down his cheeks.

He has to look away to type in the code, his ears ringing as adrenaline surges in his veins. His hands tremble so hard he has to try twice. The door slides down, and when he looks back he whimpers, "Please…"

For a moment no one moves, then Shane shifts the gun away and steps back. Edwin lurches forward, sinking to his knees and dragging Mouse into his arms, gasping and sobbing into her hair.

"I'm here," he whimpers, cradling her against his chest and cupping her cheek. "I'm here Mousey. Hey— Hey, it's okay. I'm here, I'm here…"

He distantly registers Shane rallying the others to flee, wholly caught up in soothing the shivering child in his arms. She doesn't scream or cry, she doesn't reach for him. He didn't mean for this, he didn't mean for any of this…

"Hey, hey!" Rick crouches down, his eyes wide and shocky. "You— You don't want her to die. I know you don't." He reaches forward, placing a hand on Mouse's shoulder. "Please, I'll take care of her."

His fingers are limp as Rick takes Mouse from his arms. He watches her stir and blink, sluggish and confused. Rick hefts her onto his shoulder, but as he hurries towards the exit, Mouse's eyes remain fixed on Edwin.

He can't take his eyes off her. The fingers of one hand twitch, curling up like she's trying to make that symbol. His vision blurs, tears spilling down his cheeks as Rick passes her to the bulky man, T-Dog. Rick sprints ahead, and then the rest of them are gone, leaving him alone with the two who want to stay, and the one who refuses to give up.

Edwin collapses against his desk, sobbing harder than he has since the night he found out his daughter was dead. He flinches when a hand comes down on his back, rubbing the same soothing circles in that he was offering to Mouse just minutes ago.

"You did the right thing." It's Jacqui, kindness shining in her sad eyes.

He can't speak. There's a hole in his chest, an empty weight that drags everything down into it. You'd think that nothing wouldn't hurt, but it's the worst pain imaginable. There's something missing, and no matter where he looks, he can't find it.

Jacqui stays by his side, offering silent comfort as the clock ticks down. The only sounds are the arguing of Dale and Andrea and his own sobs. Then, the patter of small, running feet.

"Oh God," Jacqui's voice hitches, fear entering it for the first time since the door slammed shut.

"No!"

It's a high voice he's never heard, and somehow recognizes at once. His head snaps up, joy and dread slamming into his chest. She comes dashing down that ramp, ducking around chairs and desks and throwing herself into his arms without hesitation. "No, no, no!"

He clutches at her, pulling her up into his lap and gasping against her hair. She sobs into his neck, wrapping her arms around him. Her tears soak his skin, and all he wants to do is curl around her and soothe her back to sleep, make her breakfast in the morning, finish listening to The Hobbit—

"Fifteen minutes until decontamination."

"Go!" Jacqui pulls at his arm, helping him stand up. "Go! Take her! Get out of here!"

Edwin runs.

He's never run this hard before in his life. He hoists Mouse over his shoulder, and he sprints. He tears down that long hallway, making for the staircase at the side. He does not stop for breath, does not stop to think. He forces himself up each step as fast as the last, VI's voice repeating in his head.

A boom echoes through the stairwell, and for an irrational instant, he thinks he's too late. But he wouldn't have heard it or felt it if he were. He keeps going, panting as he comes up into the empty entryway of the CDC. One of the windows has exploded outward, glass shattered across the lawn. Rick's group is nowhere to be seen, but their cars are still parked outside.

He only sets Mouse down long enough to jump out, having her jump down to him. He hoists her back up, sprinting across the lawn, ignoring the infected he can see from the corners of his vision. He can make it, and if he can't, it's okay, so long as she does.

T-Dog comes spilling out of one of the cars, aiming his gun low and shooting for the legs of the infected that stumble towards them. Daryl comes around the edge of another vehicle, taking aim with his crossbow and taking out any who come too close. A moment later, Edwin jerks open the back door of an old sedan, shoving Mouse inside and scrambling in after her.

T-Dog ducks in behind the wheel, shoving his gun into the front passenger seat. They both sit there trembling, Edwin only shifting so that Mouse can huddle against his side, sprawled across the back seats with her cheek resting on his thigh.

They aren't moving. Why aren't they moving?

"We have to— have to go…" Edwin whispers, coughing hard and shaking his head. "The— The— The shock wave…"

"What?" T-Dog looks back at him dazedly.

"The shock wave… it will take out… everything nearby…"

T-Dog's cheeks turn gray. He scrambles out of the side of the car, screaming at Daryl. The archer darts past them, running up to the RV. T-Dog climbs back into the driver's seat, slamming the door shut and revving the engine. As they pull away from the CDC, Edwin sees the RV behind them, Daryl on his motorcycle pulling out in front.

"Nnn…" He looks down at Mouse, who watches him with hurt and fear in her eyes. "D-Don't… go…"

His chest tightens and he nods, petting her hair and whispering apologies. She slips her arms around his waist, hiding her face in his stomach. All he can do is clutch her back.

END NOTE: As always, any and all comments are greatly appreciated including politely worded critique. If you aren't sure what to write, here is some inspiration! Questions with Shy, take three!

How do you feel about Jenner's belief that humanity cannot recover from what has happened? Would you think something similar were you in his shoes?

What do you think of Shane's actions? Do you think he'd have ever actually shot a child, if Jenner hadn't complied? Do you think he was right or wrong to threaten an innocent child trying to save the entire group?