Disclaimer: The Among Us universe belongs to InnerSloth LLC and PlayEveryWare. This is a work of fanfiction and is not intended for profit or copyright infringement. I do not own the rights to Among Us or its setting/universe.

Inevitably, the lightness doesn't last long. Everything that's happened this morning - the kiss, the hummingbird, the laughter - all vanishes in a puff of black smoke. Fear and sadness hang heavy in the air as we beat the familiar path to Storage. It's almost become ritualistic, with all of us in our colorful uniforms and somber expressions and shuffling movements. No one speaks as we obediently gather around the trash chute and I find myself wondering why the trash chute? Dr. Barnett deserves better than that. I recognize that it's our only easily-accessible option. I suppose we could go to the docking bay and send him off in a escape pod, but at this rate we would run out of pods.

Here we all are: Osiris, unsmiling, wide stance, arms crossed over his toned chest; Kenzo next to Ebba, hand on her shoulder; Ebba, small and frail and beautiful, eyes shining with grief; Lenna, head bent and eyes closed, tears clinging to her eyelashes; Quill, tall and comforting next to me, arm around my shoulder; Del, hand firmly and obstinately intertwined with mine; Zale a twitching ball of nerves, twisting his hands together, not looking anyone in the eye.

Minka is not here.

The eight of us stand in a half circle around Dr. Barnett's body and it all becomes too real. He really is gone. I stare sadly at his body. It's thicker than normal and somewhat bloated, but then I realize it's because of all the layers of bandaging wrapped around his torso. With Osiris's limited first aid knowledge it seems he was able to staunch the worst of the bleeding from most of the stab wounds, but here and there I notice small pockets of red staining the orange uniform. I stare at his broken, lifeless body, feeling broken and lifeless myself.

Hollow.

Empty.

Useless.

"I want to start, as usual, by thanking everyone for coming," Zale says, his voice clogged with emotion. "I know there is a lot of fear and uncertainty on this ship and I don't want to invalidate anything that you all may be feeling, but I want to also remind you that we are a team - we are in this together and we can draw strength from each other. I know we've had our moments of weakness. Our moments of torment and despair. But if Dr. Barnett were still here, he would want us to cling to the moments of kinship and trust. So if anyone has anything they would like to say about the doctor, please don't hesitate to share."

To my surprise, Osiris is the first one to speak.

"He was the best damn doctor around," he grunts. "More than that - he was a friend. A friend to everyone and everything. He was always willing to lend an ear and offer advice. He didn't deserve to go out like this. He died a hero."

Nods and murmurs of agreement. A very pregnant pause follows this and I feel my heart beat faster as, one by one, eyes flick towards me. I refuse to meet them, shifting uncomfortably beneath the weight of expectation. Del squeezes my hand. Quill tightens his grip on my shoulder. I close my eyes and exhale, steadying my breath. I open my mouth to speak and when I do my voice comes out quiet and distant. Regardless, I now hold the attention of everyone in the room.

"Dr. Anthony Barnett has been my hero for as long as I can remember," I tell the room, ignoring the way my voice falls flat in the dark space. "I grew up listening to stories of his achievements and I swore that someday I would grow up to help people like he did. Not many people know this, but he was a good friend of my grandfather, George Korbel." I instinctively glance at Ebba and find her smiling sadly at me. "They, um...they were partners on the first research mission to Polus until...well." I clear my throat. "Dr. Barnett used to tell me he felt guilty that he survived while my grandfather didn't. The explosion wasn't his fault - the ship's reactor core failed - but he took the blame anyway.

"He always wanted to do right by everyone. He was a fiercely loyal man and incredibly talented doctor He was the one who recommended me to my first residency in New Mexico, volunteering himself to be my supervising doctor. WE got to know each other really well and I learned a lot from him - almost everything I know. I owe him everything." I look back at Dr. Barnett, his still body, quiet face, and bright orange uniform stretched over layers of bandaging. "If my grandfather were still here I'm sure he would agree that Dr. Barnett didn't deserve such a fate. He never liked to talk about my grandfather - I guess it was just too painful - but now I regret not pushing harder for information. I also regret not speaking up with information of my own."

Surprised, curious looks. I ignore them all and look directly at Ebba. I step forward, extricating myself from Del and Quill's grips, and pull the small black journal out of my pocket. I debated for hours whether or not I wanted to reveal it during the funeral. I know now that I have no other choice.

"I should have done this a long time ago, when I still had the chance to save him." My voice is stronger now, filled with resolve as I lift the journal for everyone to see. "I was recently gifted this by a friend. It once belonged to my grandfather, George Korbel. Within its pages is a day-by-day documentation of his time on The Skeld during the first Polus mission. It gives a lot of insight into the daily life of the crew, and I saw a lot of us reflected in the old crew members. He mentions Dr. Anthony Barnett many times, detailing their adventures in space. It also..." The lump forming in my throat suddenly makes it extremely difficult to talk, but if people weren't listening before they certainly are now. The nerves kick in, making my palms sweat and my knees weak. Ebba gives me an encouraging nod and I bite my lip, gathering the courage to speak once more.

"It also contains information about a very real, very dangerous threat that spelled out the demise of the entire crew." I sniff and address Dr. Barnett's body, not caring how silly it might appear to be talking to a dead man. "I'm sorry I didn't come to you sooner. You should have been the first person I told. But I was scared. You see -" I look back at the crew, all of whom have instinctually shuffled closer, cocking their heads so they don't miss a single thing, "-they were not alone on that cursed mission. They had each other, sure, but they were also facing something that had its own agenda. I can't even begin to describe how awful things were, and I'm sure Dr. Barnet and Ebba can attest to the horror that was unleashed."

Ebba grips Kenzo's arm, nodding. Tears shine in her eyes. People are caught between watching me and gaping at Ebba, who is now an integral part of this puzzle. "I know we're here to honor the memory of Dr. Barnett, and this may not be the best time to bring this up, but we've already lost three people to a force greater than ourselves. If we don't face the facts soon, history is doomed to repeat itself. After reading this journal, I'm convinced that this thing we're up against is the same thing that haunted the crew of Polus I. I think we owe it to my grandfather, Dr. Barnett, and all the others to get to the bottom of this evil and stop it before it wipes us all out."

"Sage." Zale's voice is strained and his expression is caught between curiosity and horror. "If there's something you need to share about what you know, please do so. We're all ready to hear it."

I nod. Hands shaking, I open the journal to the page that contains detailed drawings and documentations of the shapeshifting alien creature. Watching his expression carefully, I slowly hand the journal to Zale, who takes it with as much hesitation as a child receiving candy from a stranger.

"I don't know what this thing is called. My grandfather calls it a Polusian - clearly referring to to the planet of Polus. Whatever it is and wherever it's from, I know it's dangerous. These deaths are mysterious and unnatural, and the Polusians have to be the ones behind it. I'm convinced of it. They're shapeshifters. Look at everything they can do," I hold up my fingers and begin counting, "Superhuman speed, darkvision, incredible strength, poisonous tongue barbs and wicked teeth. Just read what he's recorded - it's all there."

I hold my breath as I wait for Zale's response, terrified that I've made a horrible mistake. For the first time in his life Zale is inscrutable. There's no trace of tense shoulders, frown lines, or a wrinkled forehead. It's more than possible that people will laugh at me, but I've made my peace with that. This is no longer a game. This is bigger than all of us, and if I'm right then it's time people know about the Polusians.

"How sure are you, Sage?" Zale looks up from the journal, paler than normal but otherwise fine. "With all due respect, how do you know these aren't just the mad illusions of a desperate man watching his friends die?"

"My grandfather was no more mad than you or I," I reply calmly, ignoring the sting of indignity a his jab at my grandfather. "You don't have to believe me if you don't want to, but this is the only thing that makes any sense - the only thing that could possibly kill in so many horrifying ways."

"Mother of MIRA, Sage...are you telling us one of these things is freeloading on this ship?" Osiris sidled up next to Zale to read the journal over his shoulder. Osiris has seen a lot of shit. He's a tough guy and it takes a lot to crack him. When I look at him now he's no longer the hardened, battle-worn security guard I had come to know. He looks very small indeed, and terrified, glancing into the shifting shadows of the Storage room like he might see this thing lurking behind the boxes of medical supplies.

"Erm, if I might cut in?" I turn my head at Kenzo's voice and find him watching Ebba very carefully, who's signing something feverishly at him. "It's just that Ebba would like to say that Sage is right - these Polusian creatures exist and have stalked this ship before. She's seen one with her own eyes."

"You have?" My heart thrums in my ears. "They're real, then? They actually look like what my grandfather depicted?"

"'They're certainly real,'" Kenzo continues to interpret. "'I saw one of them murder my friend in front of me.'"

"How in the name of MIRA did you survive?" Osiris asks, incredulous.

"'I was hiding in a closet at the time. My friend and I both heard it coming through the vents and we panicked, hiding ourselves the best we could. I was able to get away without detection but my friend wasn't so lucky. After dragging itself out of the vent it grew taller - nearly to the height of the ceiling - and bit her clean in half.'"

"Shit!" Osiris barks. Shivers and stifled cries shudder throughout the group and I feel my heart drop into my stomach. "Why didn't you say something before?" Osiris's tone is unkind and accusing but Ebba takes it with grace, smiling pityingly at him.

"'Would you have believed me if I did?'" Kenzo translates. No one has anything to say to this. It's true that Ebba has long been considered a little crazy - fragile, as Lenna likes to put it - and it's not unlike the crew to dismiss her outrageous claims. Many of them believe she's touched in the head and the reason she doesn't speak anymore is because she survived Polus I while everyone else died.

But now we have more than just Ebba's word - we have the journal of someone who didn't survive. Someone who was close friends with the only other survivor. Not for the first time, I feel a pang of guilt at not disclosing the information to Dr. Barnett sooner. His word would have trumped everyone else's. If Ebba had seen such horrifying things, surely he had too and could have backed her up.

I look at Ebba and see the gratefulness in her face. "'He was proud of you, Sage. He thought very highly of you.'" Kenzo's voice is gruff and I can tell that the news has affected him significantly. He's staring death in the face. He has a family back home. What must he be thinking?

"Yes," I breathe, feeling my voice catch in my throat. "Yes, I know he did. I will never forget that."

"No one believed you when you brought up aliens, Ebba," Lenna sniffs, tears dripping from her wet eyelashes. "We all thought you were crazy. We see now that we're wrong. We're so sorry."

"If this is true, we're sitting ducks," Zale says in a thin, hollow voice. "It's only a matter of time before the ship claims us all."

"That's not necessarily true," Del says, his deep voice the only one that has remained calm throughout the whole ordeal. "Thanks to the journal we have some idea of what these creatures are like - their capabilities and weapons, as well as their weaknesses."

"Weaknesses?" I look at him quizzically. "The journal doesn't mention any weaknesses."

"Everyone has a weakness," Del says . "Clearly these things are ancient and unnatural and damn near unbeatable. But we can use the information in the journal to infer about this thing. For example, any creature with darkvision tends to have normal or below-normal seeing in the daytime. It suggests they're weaker in the light - at least in their alien form. The journal also suggests they shapeshift and use the vents to move around undetected. SO we could block the vents and force it to use common avenues throughout the ship - that way it will be harder to for them to sneak up on people."

I slide back into place between Quill and Del, giving Del a grateful smile for backing me up. He laces his fingers with mine again and winks.

I watch as the journal is passed around so the crew can inspect the drawings and read the hurried notes my grandfather made.

"Urgh." Lenna pulls a gross expression, holding the journal out at arm's length like it might spit in her face. "What is that thing? What's that coming out of its back?"

"Looks like tentacled protrusions of some sort," Kenzo says slowly. He squints at the cramped handwriting next to the drawing. "'Prehensile ropelike extensions, used for grabbing, holding, strangling...' Good god." He grabs the journal right out of Lenna's hands. "Is that poison dripping off its tongue?"

"How does it keep all those pointy teeth in its mouth?" Lenna wonders, now standing on tiptoe in an effort to look over Kenzo's shoulder. "Mother of MIRA, this is so much worse than I imagined..."

Eventually the journal makes its way back to me and I stow it away in my pocket. Quill leans down and whispers in my ear, "You did the right thing. I'm proud of you."

"Thanks. But I'm not done yet." I look back over at Zale, who wears a pinched expression like he's deep in thought. "Za-, er...commander? I would like permission to show the journal to Minka."

Zale jumps. He blinks a couple times before the request registers in his brain. When it does, the pinched expression intensifies until his piercing blue eyes are nothing but slits. "Ah. I'm, um, not sure that's the best idea, Sage. She's still pretty unstable. And angry. And, well...Minka. I don't trust her not to try something."

"But you interrogated her already, right? She knows what happened to Dr. Barnett but she doesn't know how her knife got into the wrong hands - she doesn't even know who the wrong hands are. Right now she thinks she's the biggest suspect, but if I can share this with her it could help clear her name."

It's clear Zale isn't too keen on the idea of clearing Minka's name. I guess he feels like he's finally getting to the bottom of things after Del arrested her and threw her into solitary. A couple of days have gone by without a peep from her, and I wouldn't put it past Zale to blame the whole thing on Minka and call it a day. Allowing me to show her the journal could throw a spanner in the works and undo all of the work he did. He was so convinced it was her that admitting otherwise would be a poor show of leadership.

Poor Zale. Once again, I genuinely feel for him and his predicament.

"Yes, well, that's true, but all the same I don't feel -"

"Sage has a point," Quill butts in. "Besides, you were able to speak to her about Dr. Barnett's fate. If you really feel like the interrogation went that poorly then you should tell us. Otherwise, I don't see any reason Sage can't see her, under the supervision of either yourself or Del and Osiris or all three. Right?"

Sweat breaks out on Zale's tall forehead and he reaches into his hair, gripping the golden curls like he wants to rip them out. Before he can mar his beautiful visage, Lenna steps in to back me up.

"It's her birthday, you know, Zale. I think the least you can do is let her talk to whoever she wants."

"Fine!" Zale snaps, clearly ready to be done with this conversation. "Sage, if you really want to talk to Minka that badly then go for it, but on your own head be it if something goes wrong."

I nod but say nothing, feeling a surge of victory course through me. It wasn't exactly how I imagined the funeral going but I wouldn't change any of it. I said what was on my heart and I spoke with intention, and just like they said it would, what I truly wanted to saw followed shortly after. I was even able to alert the crew of the journal and the Polusians without suffering any ridicule in return. It seems like everyone is on my side for the most part.

Sending Dr. Barnett off is difficult but I find comfort in the fact that he's been reunited with my grandfather. Once he's gone we stand in a slightly awkward silence before Kenzo grunts, "Well, the timing couldn't be worse, but as Lenna said we do have a birthday on board today. I made a cake. Anyone who wants some can meet me in the Cafeteria in five minutes."

The crowd disperses. Osiris and Zale head off in their owns directions, out to do MIRA-knows-what. Everyone else slowly traipses back to the Cafeteria. On my way down the hall Ebba catches up with me, her deep green eyes robbed of their usual sparkling light. She grabs my arm gently and places her fingers to her chin, dropping her arm out in a simple gesture that I recognize. Thank you.

"You're welcome," I whisper, smiling at her. "I think we made George and Anthony proud back there."

She nods, reaching out to pat my cheek with her warm hand. Her somber expression lingers before she blows me a kiss and shuffles off in the opposite direction of the hallway, towards Oxygen. Ever since we found Dr. Barnett being dragged down the hallway between Oxygen and Navigation I've been avoiding walking through that area. The blood is gone and the floor is spotless but the phantom sting of iron lingers in my nostrils and I'm not sure I'll ever truly be rid of it.

Those of us seeking cake gather around a single plastic table in the Cafeteria (it seems silly to disperse since there's so few of us) and a few people offer small words of congratulations to me and my most recent journey around the sun.

"Thanks," is all I can say in response. When I think no one's listening I lean in to whisper to Lenna, "Why does it feel like this could be the last birthday I ever have?"

"Oh, I don't know," she replies airily, waving a hand. "Something about people being brutally and unexpectedly murdered left and right. Oh look - cake."

Kenzo has outdone himself with a three-tiered red velvet cake with chocolate buttercream frosting swirling around the outside. I smile to myself. It's beautiful and I even managed to talk him into using actual sugar and flour instead of the healthier keto substitutes. "It's a special occasion," he said to me. "I doubt we're going to have very many more of these on this accursed ship."

There's no singing and no candles. I'm grateful for this. No one gives me any gifts but I don't expect them. I don't like being the center of attention under normal circumstances and with the tension and fear spreading like bad mold, the idea of people paying unnecessary attention to me leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

What does taste good, however, is the cake. I haven't had anything like this in a while and it's a definite step up from the usual food we get. Something about good food brings people together in even the most dire of circumstances. After a few bites, quiet side conversations start up and soon people are cracking tentative jokes and exchanging small smiles. Quill helps himself to another slice of cake. Lenna entertains herself by trying to balance her fork on the tip of her nose. When I turn to talk to Del he points to the corner of my mouth and says, "You've got some chocolate there." I swipe at my mouth with my sleeve, feeling myself blush. "Other side." His thumb brushes the corner of my mouth and I feel Lenna's eyes boring a hole into my head. I look determinedly away from her.

"Will you let Minka come out, if she's handcuffed and you're sitting next to her?"

Del quirks an eyebrow. "I don't see why not. I'll grab Osiris and we'll sit down with you. Are you sure you want to?"

"I'm not afraid of her," I say hotly, even though that's not completely true. "She keeps lashing out because she's afraid, just like the rest of us. She just has a tendency to display her emotions a little more...aggressively."

"I'm going to keep her on a tight leash. If she makes even the slightest movement towards you I'm hauling her ass back to her cabin."

"Fair enough. I just want her to know that we have information that could prove her innocence."

Del's hardened expressions softens. "I don't deserve you."

My cheeks flare with heat. I hear Lenna gasp softly. "Shut up," I mutter, ducking my head to inspect my cuticles. "You know that's not true."

"Minka doesn't deserve your kindness, either. I hope she recognizes how generous you're being."

Ten minutes later I'm sitting at a table by myself, a generous slice of cake and my grandfather's journal sitting next to each other on the table in front of me. The sound of voices and footsteps announces the arrival of Del and Osiris as they push Minka in front of them, each gripping tightly to an arm. Her hands are cuffed in front of her and her dark eyes immediately dart to where I'm sitting. I expect her to be angry, or even irritated, but she looks calm - complacent, almost - and perhaps a little curious. I swallow the fear burning my throat and sit up a little taller as Minka is escorted to my table and sits down heavily across from me, flanked by the security guards.

She considers me lazily for a few silent seconds. Then, "I've been told you want to talk to me. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Er, hi, Minka." My palms are annoyingly sweaty and I wipe them hurriedly on my trousers. "Yeah, I wanted to see you. I have some information that I think you'll be interested in. Before that, though, would you um...like some cake?"

She doesn't look at the slice of cake. Without breaking eye-contact she says suspiciously, "Why are you trying to bribe me, Little Red?"

"Bribe? No, you've got the wrong idea." I frown. I suppose I should have seen this coming. She's probably not used to people being nice to her. "It's just, I thought maybe you wanted something nice to eat since...everyone else did."

She tilts her head at me, her many piercings sparkling under the light. "Thanks but no thanks. I don't need your pity or your dessert. And I don't like chocolate."

Of course you don't. I try not to feel too disappointed. I wasn't banking on her accepting the cake, and her refusal certainly doesn't ruin my plan, but it's considerably more awkward now.

"Alright, then. Forget the cake." I push it to the side and slide the journal into its place.

"What's now?" she asks curtly. "Are you going to read me a story?"

She's trying to get a reaction out of me but it's not going to work. Del's grip on her arm tightens to the point of discomfort. She gives him the side-eye but says nothing. I'm surprisingly calm. I expected lip from her and I'm not going to let that deter me.

"Of sorts," I say, giving her a half smile. "I wanted to tell you about this journal. It once belonged to my grandfather, George Korbel, who was the engineer on the first mission to Polus twenty years ago. I assume you remember how that mission ended?"

"Sure. Fire and death and millions of dollars in debt. Your grandfather is lucky to be alive."

My mouth twists wryly. "He's not. He died in that fiery explosion. But before he died he watched his crew members get picked off, one by one, by some mysterious and deadly force lurking on the ship. Sound familiar?"

"Given that I'm on trial for murdering the doctor, I'd say yeah - it sounds pretty familiar. If you dragged me out here just to accuse me, then I might as well leave."

Oops. Probably not the most tactful angle.

"No, that's not why I brought you out here. I already told you - I don't think you murdered anyone. I brought you out here because I wanted to show you this -" I open the journal to the drawings of the Polusians and push it across the table. She looks down her nose at it, unimpressed.

"I didn't know you could draw, Little Red."

"I can't," I say, slightly irritated now. Doesn't she recognize that I'm trying to help her? "My grandpa could, though. These are his drawings. But they're more than just drawings - they're depictions of real creatures that he and Ebba saw with their own eyes. He calls them Polusians. As you can see, they hide in plain sight and are essentially weapons of mass destruction."

"That's messed up." She looks back up at me. "So what does this have to do with me?"

"Hopefully nothing. After some reading and a little bit of inferring with the rest of the crew, I'm convinced that this is the creature that's killing us off. You may be good with weapons but there's no way you could crawl through the vents or shapeshift like this. This discovery essentially proves your innocence."

"It's an interesting theory but I'm afraid it doesn't prove anything. As far as anyone knows, I could be one of these creatures. Zale has made it perfectly clear that my word counts for nothing around here. The only way to prove it is to kill me and see if anyone else dies."

"We're not going to kill you," I blurt without thinking, eliciting a dry humorless laugh from her.

"Right. Okay, sure. So now it's my word and your word. I'm sure Zale will change his mind now!"

"Don't you see, this isn't about Zale!" I say angrily, slapping the drawing of the Polusian. "This is about you. You've been locked up for days now and everything about this creature suggests that it's the one behind the attacks, not you. The only evidence against you is that you get angry easily and your missing dagger was found on Dr. Barnett's body. That doesn't prove anything, either! If we can prove this thing is among us then you'll be off the hook."

"And how are you going to do that, Little Red? Are you suggesting you're going to go after it and try to catch it tentacle-handed?"

I hesitate. It's possible. Both Ebba and my grandfather saw it and didn't get killed. I'm about to point this out when Del cuts in sharply.

"Absolutely not. That's a death wish."

"Yeah, I'm going to have to agree with Del on this one," Osiris says gruffly. "No one is allowed to go looking for this thing unless they want to die."

"Well, we're all going to die, aren't we?" Minka's dark eyes glitter maliciously as she looks at me and I get the sense she's trying to egg me on. "If Sage wants to go after this thing, what's going to stop her?"

"I am," Del says as Osiris says, "She'll have to go through me first."

"And probably Quill, too," Del adds.

"A fearsome group indeed." Minka leans back slightly on the bench to appraise me carefully. "Okay, Little Red. I'll consider your theory, under one condition."

I hadn't expected her to make conditions. I glance between Del and Osiris, both of whom wear grave expressions. I look back at Minka. "Alright."

"Excellent." She steeples her fingers, handcuffs clacking, and the gleam in her eyes intensifies. "I'll take your theory into consideration if you let me have the journal so I can read it for myself."

An awful silence falls like a stone dropping through water. The words hang in the air between us, waiting for me to say something. Minka wants to read my grandfather's journal? The idea of parting with it at all is bad enough, without the thought of my grandfather's knowledge inside her head. I stare at the worn leather cover, loathe to entertain the idea of giving it away, even temporarily.

Then again, the reason I brought Minka here was to share the drawings with her in the hopes it might aid in proving her innocence. If she wants to read it for herself then I see no reason why I shouldn't honor her request.

"Alright, I guess."

"Don't worry - I'm not going to do anything to your precious book. It's boring in solitary. I'm just looking for something to do."