I really hope this chapter isn't disappointing. I hope I captured mental angst and confusion well enough.

Happy reading!

Crazy by Gnarls Barkley

Kill the Noise by Papa Roach

One Step Closer by Linkin Park

Impend by Martin O'Donnell & Michael Salvatori

2020

Psych Ward

Reset 130

Rita's brain was firing on all cylinders as she rode in the back of the truck with soldiers all around her. She was calculating how to get out of this, but it wasn't looking too good.

She also didn't like the way the one male soldier was looking at her. It was like he thought he could do anything and get away with it because she was deemed insane.

When the truck came to a stop, she made one last ditch effort to break free, but there were too many men holding her, and she was losing strength. Two men half carried, half dragged her towards the building. Rita felt her skin prickle and a sense of heaviness hit her as soon as they approached. She could almost hear the screams of residents even though it was quiet enough to hear a pin drop. It was like their ghosts were still there, making sure everyone remembered how tortured they were.

She decided then she had to stop fighting back because she didn't want to be sedated. She couldn't afford that. She couldn't lose time, and she needed her wits about her. She was being brought to the person in charge, and they would decide what they were going to do to her next.

Maniacal laughter to her left made her jump a little and whip her head to see. It came from a man in what appeared to be a type of common room. Down the hall to her right, there was a scuffle going on with orderlies and a patient, who was a woman. She was screaming, and Rita bit down her emotions as she watched them restrain her and inject something into her arm. The woman jerked and flopped a bit before growing still, a zombie like expression on her face.

"Corporal Rita Vrataski," one soldier was saying now to the person in the white lab coat, making her look away from the woman on the floor. "Appears to have some psychosis/delusions occurring. General Brigham feels she's best treated here for now."

"What a shame," the lab coat man said, clicking his tongue. "I guess it happens."

"She's calm right now, but she was putting up a fight earlier," the soldier went on. The lab coat man looked at Rita, and she was surprised to see his gaze was warm and empathetic and not cold and inferior. She gathered he saw a lot here and felt sorry for these people. She did too. They didn't ask to lose their minds; it just happened.

"We'll process her, and she'll have a visit with the psychiatrist first thing tomorrow morning. Then we'll assess and plan what we're going to do next," the lab coat man said now. "But please, remove her bindings. We don't want to induce more fear than there already is."

"Alright, but it's at your own risk," the soldier said, flicking open his knife and cutting her legs free. Rita resisted kicking him in the face. She had to play it cool. Her arms were freed next, and she stood there wondering if she could run fast enough to get out of there before anyone caught up to her. She casually glanced to the exit where they'd come in, and she saw it was a clear path.

Worth a shot.

"Hey!" the soldier yelled when she ran for it. Just as her hand reached the doorknob, she was tackled.

"No!" she cried.

"I told you!" the soldier yelled at the lab coat man. "She's a flight risk!"

"Alright. Well, we gave her a chance," the man replied.

"Stop it!" Rita shouted. "I am NOT insane! This is real!"

"I believe that you believe it's real, dear," the lab coat man said with a sadness to his tone. "We'll get you sorted out and feeling better soon. Come along."

"NO!"

She got a punch in and was immediately struck back hard by the ignorant soldier. There went her plan of trying to get the knife off him to stab herself. The blow stunned her slightly, and he didn't wait to throw her against the wall and put a fist around her throat. Suddenly, all she could see was Simon.

"Soldier! Release her!" a voice shouted.

The soldier gave her an angry look, but he let go, and she gasped in air. She kneed him in the stomach next, and he grabbed her hair and threw her to the floor. She cried out but still tried to get back up, but soldiers held her down, and orderlies showed up with a straitjacket. She remembered what Luke had taught her and fought hard. The more you struggled, the more chances they couldn't tie you up properly. It didn't work so well here since there were too many people involved. She did remember to take a deep breath, though, to make her chest bigger so when she relaxed, it would be looser. Then, she saw the needle coming.

"Wait, no!" she yelped, but it went into her neck, and she eventually began to feel droopy and weird.

No, no, no, no...

She wasn't sure if she was saying it out loud or in her head. Then she rested her cheek against the cold, tile floor and closed her eyes.

...

She was in a dark room; she couldn't find the light switch to save her life. She ran her hands along the walls, searching. Then she realized there was probably a chain in the middle of the room, so she held her hand up as she walked along. Her fingers bumped into it a moment later, and she pulled it.

Then she promptly shrieked.

Her father was tied to a chair right in front of her, blood trickling down his face from the bullet wound in his temple. His empty eyes stared into hers.

She started to scream and cry, moving to get out of the room. She couldn't stay here. She couldn't look at him like that.

"Where do you think you're going?" a voice asked. She whipped around to see Simon coming towards her, and she felt her heart race and panic try to choke her. She did her best to evade him, but he eventually caught her and threw her to the floor.

"No!" she cried. "NO!"

His fist went around her throat, and she couldn't breathe. Her vision grew fuzzy as he laughed cruelly.

"I killed him," he said, his voice growing more and more muffled. "I killed him just like I'm killing you."

She tried to scratch and fight back, but she was growing too weak. No air was getting in. She could only see through little pinholes now, and then they were gone.

She was gone.

...

She was in a glass box full of water. She desperately searched for a way out, but there was none. She could feel her lungs screaming at her for air.

A bang on the glass made her turn to see Luke trying to break the glass with an axe. He was shouting, but she couldn't hear him. His efforts were futile...not even a crack was made with each swing. She pressed her hand against the glass, knowing she couldn't hold her breath any longer. Luke put his hand against hers on the other side, tears on his face.

Then she had to breathe.

...

She was in the woods alone. She turned around and around, trying to find a way out. She was lost, and she knew it.

A twig snapping made her spin to see a woman standing there looking back at her.

"Mum?!" she exclaimed, recognizing her from the photos. The woman smiled and then turned to walk away. "Wait! Mum!"

She ran after her, branches slapping her in the face and arms as she went. She could see the outline of her mother getting farther and farther away. She felt herself crying as she realized she couldn't get to her. She reached a clearing and stopped, breathing hard. Her mother appeared again, and she stood up straight, heart pounding.

"Mum," she said again, sounding weak and small. "Please stay."

"I can't," she answered. Then she pulled out a gun and shot herself in the head, and Rita screamed and screamed.

...

She was in a room and Luke burst into it, bleeding from a gunshot wound to his gut.

"Luke!" she exclaimed, going to grab his arms. He toppled down to the floor, and she put him onto his back. "Hang on, Luke. I got you."

"Don't," he said, gripping her wrists. "Just let me go."

"No," she argued. "We can fix this. I know how. I watched you do it!"

"It's not worth it," he said to her. "I'm not worth it."

"Yes, you are," she said, crying. She kept trying to work on his wound, but he kept stopping her.

"No, I'm not," he told her. "You made that very clear when you left."

Rita looked at him, feeling anguish inside. He thought he wasn't worth it. She'd made him feel that way.

"Luke, I'm sorry," she said raggedly. He didn't say anything, just closed his eyes and turned his head. She heard him take his last breath a moment later.

She screamed.

...

She was on the field with Travis and Mimics. They were everywhere. She caught sight of someone in the distance, and her heart clenched.

"BRENDAN!" she screamed. Her son yanked around at her voice, and he began to run to her. She left Travis behind, running to meet her son. When they were less than ten feet from each other, a Mimic appeared from nowhere and pummeled her son to death right in front of her.

"NOOOOOOO!"

...

She heard crying, and she knew he needed her, that he was scared. She ran down the hall to his bedroom and found her young son in Simon's arms. She stopped in the doorway, frozen. Simon smiled cruelly at her, bouncing Brendan lightly to soothe him.

"Did you really think I'd never find out about him?" he asked.

"Simon, don't," she started.

"I'm not gonna kill him," Simon promised. "I'm gonna make him the next best assassin. He'll be a stone cold killer, just like me."

"Leave him alone," she cried. Brendan reached for her, still crying. She wanted to scream. Her heart was twisted in emotional pain from watching her son be scared.

"He's mine now," Simon said, aiming a gun at her. "And your time's up." She opened her mouth, and then she was shot.

...

She was on the floor. Mike was holding her down by the shoulders and neck while Vince sat on her legs. She could hear another voice talking, a familiar one. She struggled, but they held her firm. That's when she realized she was a teenager again.

"Let's see those rumors come true, bitch," Mike cackled, and Rita hated herself for starting to sob as the two of them set to work. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to dissociate, to leave the present moment and reside in a protective mental bubble to stop the pain.

"Save some for me," the third voice said, and Rita opened her eyes and saw him standing there above her.

"No," she cried. "Not you. Not again. NO!"

"No escaping this time, princess," he mocked. She went to scream, but Mike shoved his hand over her mouth and nose. She struggled to no avail as they laughed and kept hurting her. Then she started to black out from lack of oxygen, his leering face the last thing she saw.

...

She was the last person standing. All of her team members were dead. Brendan was nowhere to be found. She turned to see Luke and Simon fighting each other, and Luke was losing. Rita ran to help, but she couldn't get to them in time. She screamed when Simon shoved a knife into Luke's chest and twisted it. Luke went down hard, and she knew he was dead. Simon turned to look at her.

"I took everything away from you," he said, sneering. "All of them." He gestured to all the bodies on the field. She suddenly saw Brendan, her parents, Kenny, Lucy, Keira, and Carol among the bodies too. "I hope you know that you got what you deserved."

Rita had no weapons, but she was going to try and kill him anyway. They fought for a bit until he slugged her stomach and knocked the wind out of her. She stumbled, trying to stay upright. He aimed a gun at her head, smiling cruelly.

"This time," he said, "you don't get to come back."

He pulled the trigger.

...

Rita jerked awake and opened her eyes to find herself lying on her left side. Her heart was pounding, and she kept seeing the images of all her vivid nightmares in her head. Whatever they'd given her had really exacerbated all of her worst memories and fears and turned them into a mangled mess. She coughed, feeling drowsy and stupid in the head. She blinked a few times before things became clearer, and she saw she was in a locked, padded room.

"Shit," she said, her voice sounding groggy. She worked to get into a sitting position, and she assessed her situation. She had no idea what time it was. She had no idea what was happening. If she lost the ability to reset the day, she'd never be able to live with herself.

And Travis. What had happened to him? She felt sick.

She put her attention to the straitjacket next. There was some room to wiggle since she had made herself bigger than she was to the best of her ability when it was put on, but it wasn't much. She wondered if Luke had ever had to escape one of these before. She guessed probably not since he had never showed her how.

Then she realized her chain and wedding band were gone, and she felt slight panic. She couldn't lose those. They were her last link to Luke and what helped calm her down in times like this.

"Okay," she said to herself. "Focus, Rita. You got this."

She took some breaths, envisioned the feel of the chain and ring against her skin for comfort, and then struggled to free herself for a while until her door opened. She stopped immediately to avoid getting caught trying, and she surveyed the woman who entered. She was in a nice pant suit with long, dark hair. Her brown eyes were kind, and she carried a clipboard. She looked like she'd recently spent the day at a nice beach, her tan flawless.

"Hello," she said. She brought a stool in with her to sit on, and once she got settled, she clicked open her pen and rested the clipboard on her crossed legs. "My name is Dr. Gregorio, but you can call me Laura."

Rita put together that this was the psychiatrist they had referred to, so that meant it was now morning. She really hoped it was still morning.

"What time is it?" she asked hoarsely.

"Just after nine thirty in the morning," Laura replied. She flipped some papers on her board. "You were brought in last night for having delusions and believing a false reality where you could live the same day over and over again, is that correct?"

"It's not a delusion," Rita answered. "It's real. Look, Laura..." She shifted on her rear to get a bit closer to the woman. "...This is happening to me. We are at war with an alien race. You have to have an open mind that these aliens can do shit that is unheard of. I have to get out of here. I have to use this ability to win this war. Do not be the person who cost us the war."

"Can you tell me your name? And a little about yourself?"

Dear Lord. Rita wanted to scream, but she knew she had to play along. She answered all the questions asked, and she could see that even Laura looked like she was wavering a little in her belief about Rita being insane. Her answers to everything else were very, very sane.

"Thank you for your time," Laura said when she was finished, scribbling one last thing down.

"Like I had a choice," Rita retorted.

"I'll be helping to plan your treatment while you're here. They'll put you in a room soon, I promise," Laura said sympathetically.

"You don't believe me," Rita said. "I was really hoping you'd believe me."

"The thing with delusions and psychosis is that the person really, truly believes it is real," Laura explained. "I've had people tell me their parents are CIA agents and spying on them and others say their spouse is really an alien disguised as a human, and it's not their fault. Something triggers a psychotic episode, but treatment brings them back to regular functioning, and some carry on with life just fine and never have another episode. Others, unfortunately, continue to struggle with it off and on. I think you'll be just fine after this. I think the stress of the war triggered this, and we'll get you back on your feet in no time. It'll all be okay."

Rita said nothing else. By this point, an orderly was there to give her something to eat and drink. Laura said her goodbye and went out into the hall. Rita craned her ears to listen, and she could hear some whispering.

"...mostly delusions, but..."

"...if it's true, we should still do some sort of study..."

"...I agree. Probably nothing..."

"...I'll make a call. They'll get her and take some samples..."

Oh hell no. Rita swallowed hard and worked to stop from reacting to this. They were going to friggin dissect her. They didn't believe her, but just in case, they wanted to study her and see what could have happened if she were telling the truth.

Bloody hell...not on her watch.

"Thank you," she said to the orderly, who was done assisting her with eating now. He said nothing as he gathered everything and left. Rita heard him lock the door behind him, and she set to work on freeing herself again.

...

Rita had finally managed to free herself by the time someone came for her. She waited on the other side of the door to ambush them, calculating how long she had before someone caught her. When the door opened, she let them come in a bit before slamming the door and pouncing on them. The orderly yelped and fought back, but she soon overpowered them and knocked them out.

Panting, she took off their scrub shirt and put them into the straitjacket before taking their key card. She had no idea about the layout of this building, so she had to be very careful. She pulled the scrub shirt over hers, hoping that other orderlies wore a long sleeve shirt under theirs along with combat pants and boots. She scoffed at herself. She knew the latter was a long shot.

She peered around the corner of her room through a crack in the door. No one was in the hallway, so she dared to creep out. She made her way down the hall quietly, looking for a map on the wall or some direction to an exit. She didn't think they'd put up a map because then that would help others escape, and she got the feeling that nobody wanted anyone to escape this place.

She gasped as she almost flattened a man on her second corner. He was in jeans and a grey t-shirt with floppy blonde hair. He smiled at her.

"Hi," he said.

"Hello," she said back, her heart in her mouth.

"You don't look like an orderly," he commented, and she swallowed down her panic before trying to come up with a plan.

"Erm," she said, thinking hard.

"Are you escaping?" he asked, a shine in his eyes. "Can you take me with you?!"

So he was a patient. She felt a bit taken aback. He appeared completely normal.

"Sure," she said. "You know how to get out of this area?" She really just needed to find something to kill herself with, but he didn't need to know that. She figured once she got out of this locked down area, she'd find something to get the job done.

"There's a door down there, but you need a key card," he answered.

"Like this one?" She held up hers, and he grinned.

"Wicked! Yes, that'll work. Let's go," he said, leading the way. Rita followed, looking over her shoulder as she went. Where the hell was everyone anyway? Something felt off. Then she wondered if she was dreaming again.

"What landed you in here?" the man asked.

"A miscommunication," she answered.

"Ah. I lost my mind in battle," he offered. "I was just a pilot, but still. It was too much for me."

A pilot?! A pilot! Rita reached to grab his shoulder, making him jump from being startled.

"You were a pilot?" she asked. "For the UDF?"

"Yes..." He looked afraid, so she let him go.

"Sorry. It's just...I think my son was a pilot too. He signed up underage, and I can't find him," she said. "I...I fear he's dead. I'm wondering if you knew him."

"What was his name?"

"Brendan Woods."

"Oh," the man said, his face falling. "I'm so sorry. I saw him die."

Rita couldn't breathe. She felt like she was going to die herself. Her son was gone. She'd never see him again.

"Y-You saw him die?" she repeated.

"Yes. Well, truthfully, I mentally snapped and thought he was going to kill me, so I killed him first." He gave a crazy-like laugh. "Did you know his neck snapped like a twig? I'd never seen anything like it."

Her breathing was getting more erratic, and then there was a sound of footsteps.

"Gotta go," the man said, disappearing just as a security guard appeared.

"Hey!" he shouted at her, and she bolted. She could barely see through her tears or think straight, but she was still hell bent on getting out of here. She ran and ran until someone launched themselves onto her and took her down. She screamed as more people held her down.

"I wanna do it! Let me do it! I haven't tortured someone in a very long time!" a man was yelling.

"No, I want to! I've been here longer!"

"Stop it!" Rita shouted. Someone stabbed her in the leg, making her cry out, and then someone else hit her hard on the head, and she blacked out.

...

Rita jerked awake, crying. She found herself in her padded room again back in her straitjacket. She felt despair until she noticed her head did not hurt from getting hit and she did not have a stab wound in her leg. She paused.

What the f*** was going on around here?

She sat up slowly. She could taste the remnants of the food she'd been given by the orderly, so she surmised that she'd fallen asleep again after he and the psychiatrist had left. The whole ordeal of escaping and finding out Brendan was dead had been another dream...probably remnants of the drug they'd given her was still in her system and had caused it.

The relief was immense. She even started to cry again from it. Her son was possibly still alive. That was the hope she needed right now. She eventually got her wits back about her and worked to free herself again. She was growing frustrated when her door opened and an orderly walked in.

"What do you want?" she asked coldly.

"Come along," the orderly said, picking her up and getting her on her feet.

"Where are we going?" Rita asked. She didn't get an answer, though. She was marched along hallways, and she felt so sad at the sound of people wailing, shouting, and moaning. They passed a woman in the hallway who was a patient, and the way she looked at Rita with the deadpan expression but pleading in her eyes made Rita want to be sick. It was like looking at a soul that was locked in and desperate to get out.

They passed by another man who was apparently trying to stab an orderly, who was using a lunch tray as a shield. Rita locked her legs up, jerking her orderly to a halt. If she could get close to that guy and let him stab her, she could end this...

"Don't worry about him," the orderly said. "He's in here for murder and sometimes escapes his cell. They've got him." More orderlies and a security guard were there now, subduing the man.

Rita was pushed forward again, his hand tight on her shoulder.

"Here we are," the orderly said, propelling her into a room with a bed on it. Rita tensed up at the sight of the restraints on the bed.

"What are you doing to me?" she demanded.

"Just some blood work," the orderly replied. "Routine stuff."

"I don't consent to this..." she tried, but she was cut off by the door opening and a whole team of people arriving now. Her heart clenched. This was the team who was going to dissect her. She just knew it. She caught words here and there that confirmed her suspicion as well as the sight of Dr. Gregorio speaking with one of them in the hallway before smiling and nodding and leaving. Five people undid her straitjacket and forced her towards the bed. She did her best to fight, landing a few blows and even making it out the door before getting tackled again. They dragged her back in by her legs, her fingers scrabbling at the floor and trying to find something, anything, that would help her escape or kill herself. If there weren't so many of them and she hadn't been drugged earlier, she'd have been able to succeed, she just knew it. They hauled her up, kicking and swinging, and forced her down onto the bed. She let out a scream then, suddenly knowing how everyone else trapped in this building felt. After a few of those, someone put tape over her mouth. Her ankles and wrists were strapped down, and they started preparing for the process of dissection.

Rita hated that she started to cry. She couldn't escape. She couldn't make it stop. She wanted to leave, to go home. She wanted her father. She wanted her son.

She wanted Luke.

She saw blood leaving her body, and she panicked. She feared they were going to take the power away from her if they took too much. Just as someone else came towards her with a tool in their hand, the door blew open, and for one second, Rita thought that she'd conjured Luke himself until she realized who it was.

"Hands in the air!" Travis shouted, aiming his pistol at them all. He looked like shit, his face beaten and bruised. Dried blood was on his temple, and his knuckles were scraped. "Against the wall! Now!"

Everyone scurried to obey him, and he took the two steps forward to her and pulled the tape off her mouth before yanking out the thing taking blood from her.

"Travis," she said weakly, so happy to see him.

"You still good?" he asked, his meaning clear.

"What day is it?" she countered.

"You were taken about 18 hours ago."

"Then I'm still good."

"Thank God," Travis said, heaving a sigh of relief. "I would have gotten here sooner, but they were some tough bastards to beat. Alright, let's end this, shall we?"

"Please," Rita replied, hoping he wasn't paying too much attention to the tears on her face. She tried not to feel scared that they'd taken enough blood from her to remove the power. If she died, then she died. It was a risk she had to take. She also just wanted this mental torture to end. When he aimed his gun at her head, everyone in the room started to yell and freak out. She closed her eyes, and then it was dark.

Reset 131

Rita hit the floor of the training room hard, and she started to cry and shake uncontrollably. She had come way too close to losing this advantage, and just being in that place made her feel so bad for all the ones who couldn't leave. She cried and cried, letting everything out. It had been a long time since she'd done that, minus the crying she'd done in that damn place.

"Rita?"

"Shit!" she exclaimed, startled. She wiped at her face quickly and turned to see Travis standing there.

"Sorry," he said. "You were late, so I came to see if you were okay. Obviously, you're not."

"I'm fine," she replied curtly, getting to her feet.

"I wish you could see that it is okay to not be fine sometimes," Travis said gently. She swallowed down the fresh batch of tears. He had saved her, and he had no idea.

"I'm just tired," she said. "But that isn't new. Anyway, I need to explain what is going on."

"I'm all ears," he replied. So she told him, and he was surprised but then looked genuinely concerned for her wellbeing. He didn't say anything, though.

"We are on our own with this," she said to him now. "Brigham is not going to help. I can't risk the psych ward again or...or dissection. I have to do this on my own."

"Not on your own," he corrected. "I'm in this too."

Rita closed her eyes briefly and felt relief. She opened them again and saw him smiling. "You have no idea how glad I am to hear that."

"Well, I guess I'm just more open minded," Travis replied with a light shrug. "So what do we do today?"

"I think since it is easy enough to borrow a transport, we should take one and see if we can get to Notre Dame that way."

"Alright. What time?"

"Let's say 0100."

"I'll be there."

...

Rita had barely kept it together for the rest of the evening. She slipped away to go somewhere quiet and ended up at her favorite rock. She sat on it and hugged her knees tight to her chest. After a moment, the sobs emerged.

She let it all out again. Everything that had happened to her along with the feelings from all her resetting and what happened in that damn psych ward. It was too much. She couldn't keep it in any longer. She felt so angry at herself for not being able to fight her way out of that place, but there had been so many barriers. She'd been sluggish from the drugs and on edge from all the nightmares. They also knew she was a flight risk, and they'd made sure enough people were there to stop her. It still made her feel vulnerable and stupid, though. She knew how to fight. She knew how to help herself. She couldn't let that happen again.

Those nightmares haunted her. She knew which memories some of them had stemmed from, and it made her shiver and feel nauseous just thinking about them. The rest had been her irrational fears being given life. She didn't know if she'd ever sleep properly again for fear of them coming back. Seeing Brendan's scared, tearstained face made her gut twist so hard every time she imagined it.

"Rita?"

She spun her head to see Pete standing there, and he looked genuinely concerned.

"You okay?" he asked.

"What're you doing here?" she demanded, wiping at her eyes. Why was it that she couldn't have a damn good cry in peace?

"I was out for a walk and heard crying..."

"I'm fine," she said sharply, and he scoffed. Before she knew it, he was sitting down next to her and pulling her into a hug. She was tense at first, resisting, but then she couldn't hold it in. Having someone show some type of comfort was what she needed right now.

"I'm scared too," he said simply, and she burst into more tears. She'd known Pete to have a gentle side to him, and she was seeing it firsthand. After a bit, she felt him crying too, and that helped her to feel not so alone anymore.

...

Rita tossed and turned when she went to get some sleep that night. She couldn't stop dreaming about being trapped in hallways with no doors, or doors that were locked, with people in lab coats coming at her with needles in their hands. At one point, Luke was there, and he was helping her escape until he suddenly held her still to face them, keeping her from running away.

Rita woke with a start and felt so confused and angry. She knew it was her brain manifesting his betrayal that he'd done all those years ago, but it felt so raw. She pressed a hand to her face, wondering if she was going to be tormented by this for a long time. She knew she had to work hard to not let it affect her, but she wasn't sure how long she could keep a tough face on for.

She felt so bad for the people trapped there. Were there others who were perfectly sane but treated as though they were insane? Her stomach rolled, and she swallowed her bile rising. Being restrained had made her feel powerless and weak, and she hadn't felt like that in a long time. Her fingers reached for her chain then, sliding up and down it.

She couldn't fall back to sleep and was awake when Travis got up. They left together, and she stuffed down her feelings from the night and worked to feel some excitement instead about the fact they would be possibly ending this war.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Travis asked as they flew. She let him do it this time. She was saving her energy.

"Yea," she lied.

"You were in a psych ward, Rita. That can be a scary place to be."

"Is everyone in there insane?" she asked, deflecting. "Some of them looked...normal." Flashes of the people in the common room came to mind as she said it, the ones who weren't trying to stab orderlies.

"Some are in there for short term, some for long term," Travis answered. "It depends what's going on."

"How many are in there like me?" Rita asked. "With things that really are happening but no one will believe them?"

"I don't know," he replied softly. "It's hard to say."

"I can't believe they were going to dissect me to learn about something they refused to believe I had," Rita went on when he was quiet for a moment. "What good was that? Discover I was right and then have it be too late to use it? So stupid."

"People don't think rationally or logically sometimes, especially when something scares them."

"You were a sight," Rita added, chuckling now. "I'm sure they thought you were insane, too, the way you charged in there waving your gun around."

"My mother always said I could get a crazed look in my eyes," Travis chortled. "I'm glad it came in use for a good reason finally."

Rita let the comfortable silence around them settle, and she reached to slide her fingers up and down her chain. It was a relief to have it back. She'd never taken it off in all these years, and having it gone, even for a short time, had made her feel lost and alone.

"Someone special gave that to you then?" Travis asked, noticing. She looked at him.

"Yes," she answered honestly.

"Lucky guy," he said.

"How do you know it's a guy?"

"The look on your face," Travis answered, and Rita blinked in surprise. Did she have a look that came over her face when she thought about Luke? Maybe she did. Bridget had always said she was being "dreamy" whenever she caught Rita in the middle of thinking about Luke, and perhaps her former friend was right.

"That's making a big assumption," she said, raising a brow.

"Sorry, you're right. Lucky whoever it is that gets to call you their significant other."

"He was lucky," Rita said, a small smirk on her face now. Travis scoffed.

"You're a piece of work, you know that?"

"I know."

He was laughing a bit as they approached their destination, which made her finally smile properly since her escape. Rita had barely stepped out of the aircraft when the Mimic came and killed her.