Arknights | Hand in Unlovable Hand, Chapter 24

[veryroundbird]

Rating: Spicy
Chapter: 24/28
Characters: Doctor (F), Kal'tsit, Amiya, various others
Relationships: Doctor/Kal'tsit, Kal'tsit/Theresa, Theresa/Doctor
Summary: Dr. Lau returns to Rhodes Island a stranger in a strange land, in a labyrinth of things that feel like they should be familiar but aren't—and at the center is Dr. Kal'tsit and all the things she's not saying. Even if amnesia's changed her, though, the Doctor wouldn't be the Doctor if she didn't have an impulse to solve for the missing variable.
Notes: while this fic is marked as "spicy" the only actual sexual content is in chapters 8, 9, 17, 23 and 27, and there's cliff notes for the scenes at the bottom of the chapter. sexual content is noted in the start of chapters where it appears.

---

You should, theoretically, feel safer now that the rest of the insertion team has joined you. But a lot of your recent weeks have been a study in learning the difference between what should theoretically happen and what happens to you, anyway.

And, in any case, this place is eerie as hell, in the even deeper bowels under the city of Chernobog. You can't shut out the clanks and groans and drips of water, jerking your head in the direction of every which one.¹ But even so, wait—

"Kal'tsit," you say, narrowing your eyes in the direction of the sound; your eyes are still adjusting to the low light, but there's something there.² "Hang on. Do you see that?"

"Nguh..." The sound again—this time, now that you've pinned down the source... it's obviously a voice. Whether it's a human voice—

...well, that's the question.

She clicks her tongue, from just ahead of you. "I see it," she says. "Nobody with even normal eyesight could ignore this sort of phenomenon..."³

You adjust your glasses, a little self-consciously,⁴ and she goes on. "You remember the special Infected you came across, back in Lungmen."

Wordlessly, you nod. You couldn't forget that.⁵

"Right. The creation of the Reunion boy, who could induce mutation within other Infected's organs..." There's a hard, distant expression on her face, and you follow her gaze. There—

"No... come near," you hear the murmur, ahead, but you realize, it's not directed at you—

There's a skid of boots on tile, like people running and abruptly stopping—a flash of orange in the dark ahead.⁶ "Mephisto's herd—?"

Someone else swears, although you can't make them out. "Even the devils?"

There's a shuffling, quiet; it somehow lacks the menace that you'd expect from this tableau. They're not... quite the same. There's something different, here,⁷ something that still unsettles you even more.

"Don't," one of the slow, gravelly voices calls, in a way that echoes down the hall.

"Don't what? What are you—the Rebels are almost here! We need to lay our defenses forward—"

"Don't," says the voice again—and this time, more voices join. "Don't, forward, any more, inside."

"Goddamnit, Mephisto. What are you thinking—" The voice, a woman's, probably, rises in pitch, irritated, and Kal'tsit holds her arm up, to signal a stop.⁸ You glance at her, sideways, and then at the hallway ahead, wary.

With your most recent conversation, you're hesitant to speak up, but—"Should we backtrack?" you say, lowering your voice just above nothing.

She just shakes her head. "Not yet. One moment, to confirm—"

There's a patter of feet on the hard floor, a crunch of bone splintering,⁹ and a scream. You raise your eyebrows at her, teeth biting into your lower lip.

You can see her suck in a hard, sharp breath. And she nods. "All units," she says, "we're moving back. Keep cover. We'll change entranceways after that..." There's a long pause, before she speaks again.¹⁰ "Something bad's happened already."

The journey settles into an uneasy silence as the lot of you pick your way back along the dark, barely-lit hallways with careful footsteps.¹¹

Kal'tsit's steps are brisk as always, striding ahead at the forefront of the group. After watching the backs of her heels for a long few minutes, you lengthen your own stride to catch up to her.¹²

"Dr. Kal'tsit," you say, quietly. "How are you so certain that Amiya's group will reach the command tower?"

After all, you both must have had the thought—if there's something so unexpected down here...

She shakes her head, though. "This is the problem with conspirators," she says.¹³ "Take a warlord, or a tyrant of a devious king. Their strongholds are always easy to defend, hard to attack." Her boots click on against the floor, the barest tap-tap-tap. "They know their own deeds will invite furious retribution without fail.¹⁴ They'll use superior strength and advanced armaments to deploy unyielding defense."

Her head turns just slightly toward you. "Yet, seeing as Talulah's despotic behavior is confirmed to be some kind of act,¹⁵ she would not do things this way."

You frown, and watch her face, trying to calculate what kind of reaction she's expecting from you.¹⁶ After a moment, you nod. "I'd like to hear your reasoning, if you don't mind, Dr. Kal'tsit."

She raises an eyebrow at you, and doesn't break her stride whatsoever.¹⁷ "If my thought process was one that won your approval," she says, "do you think I'd be happy?"

"Ah—" You look away, abruptly, feeling a little heat in your cheeks. "Not really," you mutter. "At this point, wouldn't it be the opposite?"

A light exhale of breath from her. "Well, then. If you value my point of view, and arrive at any useful conclusions, then I in turn will give your point of view serious consideration. So—"

It's not really surprising to you that you agree with her line of thought, as she lays it out. That most of Reunion's leaders don't seem to recognize Talulah's conduct—not even that they don't believe in it, but that it seems strange to them, on top of that¹⁸—paints a picture of something very concerning.

"The time she would need to enact this plan likely far exceeds the time Reunion has existed so far," says Kal'tsit, mouth drawn in a firm, thin line.

"If it's that long..." You frown, tapping your fingers against your opposite elbows. "She's not that old."

Kal'tsit shakes her head, brows knit together. "No, she isn't," she says.¹⁹ "Dr. Lau—I believe the Empire of Ursus's Third Army would not permit any Infected to act freely whatsoever. However, Reunion's current conduct is all within the bounds of their tolerance. Superficial violence, lacking discipline and organization. The Third Army must be happy to see it."

There's a deep bitter undertone to her words; she loathes the Third Army, you think.²⁰

"Perhaps, even this is one of the weights on Talulah's scales," she goes on, "used to swindle the Ursus military out of their power. Having them hibernate somewhere, waiting until the situation is just about to move on from her control. And then, in the truest sense..." Kal'tsit taps her fingers lightly against her chin. "She'll be able to use the power... she could never even touch.²¹ Just as she wishes. But that needs time."

The end of this hallway nears; Kal'tsit's gaze flicks side to side, and she chooses the right-hand path. You quicken your steps to keep up. "You say all that and you say she isn't a tyrant," you say, tipping your head to one side.²²

The way Patriot spoke of her, the way he was clearly ready to mourn her, if he'd been the victor and the one to stand against her.²³ The way FrostNova thought of her fondly, still, even through all her rage and all her anguish. There's something you're not seeing, you're sure. Something you don't know.²⁴

You take in a deep breath,²⁵, and let it out. "I hope this isn't all for nothing."

She rolls her shoulders back, slightly, stretching. "If it was, we'd hardly be taking Rhodes Island's operators to hell and back.²⁶ The only thing naturally useless is killing her. So, in every part and every place, we must break down her plot, antagonize her instructions, and lead her scheme to failure."

Her stare fixes at a point down the hallway, always ahead—although some part of you thinks she's looking at something long ago, instead.²⁷ "If we cannot halt a landship's forward march, then we will tear it to pieces, and make it arrive at its destination no more than an empty carapace."

A pause—and then she glances back at you. "...Ah, maybe I shouldn't have put it to you like that. Don't get me wrong, we still need to stop this Chernobog core city."

And, absurdly, you burst out with a brief bark of a laugh before you clap a hand over your mouth. "Duly noted," you murmur, after you've gotten a hold of yourself.

There's a odd twist at the corner of her mouth, like she doesn't know if she should reprimand you or not; she just shakes her head, though, in a kind of bemused disbelief, and motions with one hand to beckon you onwards. You follow.

[1] Ready for yet some other avenger or figure from your past to drop upon you screaming and murderous. The spice of life.

[2] A group of roughly humanoid figures, maybe a little taller than you, in the shadows—maybe six or eight of them. Not in a posture that indicates they're on guard or that they're alert to your presence... milling around, quietly.
More survivors or refugees from the aboveground...? No, you don't think so. There'd be more tension in the posture, which you could probably make out from here. Even if they were Reunion soldiers, you'd expect them to be at attention. So then... what?

[3] Her eyes shine in the dark, luminous; somehow you suspect she has far better eyesight than average, but all right.

[4] It's not like it's your fault you're nearsighted.

[5] You're pretty sure the only reasons you haven't already had nightmares about it are lack of time and the fact that there were simply too many things that happened that day to have nightmares about. They're having to line up, or something.

[6] The bright Reunion color is hard to miss, at least—even harder to miss than the Rhodes Island cyan. (As Closure once told you, when you're dealing with landships and mobile cities, it's good to be visible at a distance.)

[7] They didn't hold themselves this way before, you realize. It's in the body language—or rather, lack thereof. They're relaxed, or rather—perhaps left to their own devices?
Actually—that's what alarms you. Normally, there's at least the hint of what a person intends to do next in how they hold themselves. You can't read them like that.

[8] Kal'tsit doesn't have the same skillset as you, not exactly, but she's clearly also sensed some kind of danger—above and beyond Reunion's presence, or the presence of the Sarkaz group.

[9] It's a sound you are now unfortunately familiar with for a number of reasons, about half of which are precious darling Rosmontis.

[10] There's a heaviness to her voice—maybe even a deep sorrow. Even with her sharp eyesight, you wouldn't expect that she would be able to identify any of them as individuals, but...
Maybe it's another piece in the puzzle of her, and Theresa, and her deep affinity for the Sarkaz. You wonder if it's something you'll ever entirely understand.

[11] It's not as if it was making a sound that did any of those unfortunate Reunion members in, but all the same, it seems like you've all reached a wordless agreement to try and make as little noise as possible.

[12] The effort somewhat obnoxiously leaves you winded; you're annoyed both at Kal'tsit (for being Like This) and at yourself (for being so hideously out of shape). But mostly Kal'tsit, since you expect she does this to you on purpose.

[13] Without further preamble, in the way she often does—starting from the middle and waiting for you to catch up. It always feels a little bit like a test.

[14] She says this like she has a lot of experience with tyrants and overlords. Which means that she probably does.

[15] You're still trying to figure out what kind of act. It doesn't make any sense, and it's hard to say without actually talking to her. (The five minutes of being personally menaced and almost set on fire don't really count, not least because you were too busy screaming internally to remember detail.)

[16] She looks like she's expecting questions, or protest.

[17] No mercy for you, but then again, you expected that. What was it that W said? No mercy for murderers? Hah.

[18] Almost like she's become a different person suddenly. Which would seem unrealistic, except, well—
Well, you're here, aren't you? The question of whether you're really a "different" person isn't quite yet settled—you don't even know what you'd answer right now—but as far as sudden changes... it's a lot of coincidence, but stranger things have happened, probably.

[19] She says the words slowly, like she's having to consider each one; Kal'tsit is certainly old enough to have a plan that long, and you wonder what ideas she might be forming of who else is out there, playing the long game.

[20] Possibly more than she loathes you. There's always been something cold about her, now that you think about it, whenever she speaks about Ursus; she knows that country well, perhaps in the same way she knew you well.

[21] There's a brief hesitation in her sentence—like she isn't quite sure who to attribute that to, or which pronoun to use. What is she thinking?
Why can't you have telepathic arts? Actually, scratch that, just having this much information from people's expressions and body language naturally is overwhelming. You'd rather not.

[22] It's not that you're protesting or questioning her; in fact, you're trying to work through it in your head yourself.

[23] Could he really have gone through with it? But it's a moot point, now, and it seems a little cruel to even think about the possibility.

[24] Probably something Kal'tsit knows, although as usual she isn't fucking telling you the details. Where does she hide all those secrets of hers when she's already carrying around Mon3tr?

[25] Or at least as deep as you can get while trying to keep pace with Kal'tsit's power-walking.

[26] There's a little calculation in the way she looks at you, there, like she's trying to gauge how you feel about that; you remember what Blaze said about hearing you valued efficiency. You pull together every little scrap of memory of trying to hold yourself together to do the one thing you're good at, and you frown.
She looks away.

[27] Like an ending that's inevitable.

---

Part of you hoped that you'd manage to avoid Mephisto's herd for the rest of your time down here; the rest of you knew that was unlikely and probably impossible.²⁸ You've been watching Kal'tsit's reactions very closely—when she stops, you stop, just tucked behind her.

Her eyes shine bright in the darkness. "Dr. Lau," she says, "you've worried about whether or not Amiya's group will run into any incidents..."

She glances back at you. "I think what's on show before us is the real incident, here."

You swallow. In front of you...

It's not quite right to call it a cluster of them. Here, as you draw closer, it feels like the dull-eyed Sarkaz studded with crystal growths are... more purposeful about their positioning. This seems like the core of the herd, here, around your destination, which implies any number of alarming things.²⁹

They don't take an aggressive stance, though—just like the ones you saw before. One shuffles closer, eyes focusing on Kal'tsit.

He fixes her with a steady, luminous gaze. "W, W," he says, in a slow, labored way. "Where W? W stronger."³⁰

On reflex, you and Kal'tsit both look at each other. Neither of you speaks for a long moment—and then you duck your head and lean in a little closer to her.³¹

"Can you talk to them...?"³²

She frowns. "Let me try..."

You don't understand what she says next; it doesn't even sound like the Sarkaz dialect you're used to hearing around Rhodes Island. But the man doesn't even seem to register what she says.

"Underground full of darkness..." He makes a sort of abortive motion, like intending to gesture in a direction. "Darkness create evil. Evil bring pain."³³ He shakes his head. "Too much, pain."

You look at Kal'tsit again, like—don't you have some some kind of insight here, or an opinion? But she just looks intensely disturbed by the whole thing. She frowns even more deeply, and then tries again—you can tell the accent's changed just a bit, like she's trying a different dialect,³⁴ but the man just repeats fragments of what he'd said previously...

"No luck," she says, shaking her head, and looking to you out of the corner of her eye. "Even if they weren't born in Kazdel,³⁵ they should still have some kind of reaction to a hint of their native language. Their ability to actively think has been damaged."³⁶

And furthermore... if the Sarkaz would call something evil, as a people who tend to react pretty strongly to being called devils, one way or another—

A downward twist of your mouth, thoughtful. "It's not a negative response to what you said, is it?"

She makes a slightly frustrated scoffing noise in the back of her throat.³⁷ "They were meant to respond in the first place. Just based on what facts we have... this isn't good."

You do a quick count, trying to see how many of them are out there, milling around in the darkness. "They don't seem like they'll attack us. Six groups, I think, maybe four or five each..."

She nods, crisply. "Rather, they're preventing us from entering." A pause. "Actually—" She presses the call button on her headset. "Recon—can you detect our straight-line distance to the Sarcophagus? Determine position via the waveform I provided."

There's a short wait, and then her eyebrows knit together,³⁸ as a muffled response comes in from the comms. "1.4 klicks—precise figure? 1453 meters. Thank you."

Kal'tsit switches off the line, and then she looks up at you. "If my calculations aren't wrong, the breakout of conflict between Reunion and Sarkaz special Infected happened to be roughly at distance 1.4km from the City Hall, too."

A raise of her eyebrows, as if waiting for you to make the same leap of logic—which you are, definitely, getting to.³⁹ You don't like it, but you're getting it.

"...right," you say, slowly. "Then their goal..."

"At the very least, it's not the same goal these Sarkaz originally had," she says, and there's an undertone of weary melancholy to her voice.⁴⁰ She shakes her head. "Poor Sarkaz, hailing from Kazdel. No matter where, they still become tools..."

You don't really know what she's talking about, but you don't have to—in a way, it feels a little bit like she's allowing you some ground, in talking about the things only she knows in front of you.⁴¹

For a moment, you think about putting your hand on her shoulder.⁴² Instead, you just clear your throat, gently. "How do you want to do this?" you say, quietly.⁴³

Kal'tsit doesn't respond to you directly; when she speaks,⁴⁴ it's with the voice of authority to the operators with you. "Operators—inspect your hazmat gear. What we're facing may be a Class II Emergency Infective situation."

Right—you've got that. The squad scrambles for their hazmat cases, and you go for yours, strapped to your back—unsealing it to check on the only passingly-familiar set of equipment inside. A nose-and-mouth mask, an airbag, a filtration system. Though, now that you actually look at it properly—

...this isn't typical Rhodes Island engineering manufacture, or at least definitely not all Closure's handiwork, which you know by now.⁴⁵ Strange.

Next to you, Kal'tsit pauses, equipment half-on; she must have seen the look on your face. "We haven't stepped in to resolve an Emergency Infective state for a while," she says, by way of explanation. "This outfit looks entirely like the equipment of Ursus's Infected Patrol Unit."

"...ah." Yelena had mentioned them, hadn't she? Briefly. Enough to know that they're nothing good to speak of.⁴⁶

"There's something I can't deny—the hazmat equipment we've been provided with is emblematic of Ursus's cruel rule over the Infected. It shares the same prototypical design."⁴⁷ Her mouth is a thin line as she loops the mask over her head. "Though our approach is intrinsically distinct from the Infected Patrol Unit, I can only hope we're able to continue preserving that intrinsic difference⁴⁸—that outside forces don't force us to change beyond recognition."⁴⁹

She glances at you, studiously neutral: "The same hope we hold for so many things. Just like I told you about some time before.⁵⁰ I hope you'll hope so too."

A feeling swells in your chest, but not one you can name.⁵¹ And, in any case—it's not the time for that. You almost say something, but just—nod, and tug your sleeves down around your wrists. "Let's go."

[28] How you still have any optimism left in you is anyone's guess, although you'd hazard that you get it from Amiya.

[29] You start making some adjustments to your expectations for what you're about to deal with. Set expectations to "low" and "bad."

[30] W—then, these were her men, weren't they? The ones she said Talulah would squander. You never thought you'd feel sympathy for her. And yet.

[31] Which still feels a little bit like overstepping in some dangerous way, but you try and leave her some space. She at least doesn't recoil.

[32] Doesn't she know all the Sarkaz secret handshakes?

[33] Evil... you're not really used to talking about things described in terms like that. Good decisions and bad decisions, sure, but what people are always looking to you for is, well... efficiency. To win, and there's hardly room for good and evil on the battlefield, a lot of the time.

[34] Wouldn't entirely surprise you if she knew basically all of them, somehow.

[35] Kazdel... You're familiar with maps again, now (remember when you didn't even know where Yen was!) and the thing about Kazdel is that for all you hear about it—it doesn't exist on maps, not really. The Sarkaz homeland is hardly a home.
But if they're W's people, they seem like the type that would know their home language; as much as W seems to deflect seeming like she cares about anything, that's clearly a front she puts up. And if the old mission was what you think it was—then she cares about the Sarkaz, too.

[36] Something about this fills you with visceral alarm. Well—"something"—it's pretty easy to figure out. After all, your head has been fucked with enough, and that's a nightmare.

[37] She's irritated—not just at you, but that she can't seem to break through to them.

[38] Concentration, but also—there's a worried set of lines through her forehead. You've gotten to the point where you can tell the difference between mere consternation and actual cause for concern, at least, but this is definitely the latter and that makes you worried.

[39] Heck. You can't avoid this, can you? Both of you were hoping, for separate-if-adjacent reasons, but—no.

[40] She's... sorry for them, maybe. It's not unlike the tone in Patriot's voice, talking about how he would deal with Talulah.

[41] It's been increasingly clear that in spite of not being one of them, Kal'tsit cares about the Sarkaz in a way that's not just a passing fondness, or a whim. And, of course—you can guess why.

[42] For a brief, dangerous moment, you almost do it.

[43] Maybe she wants to see you form your own opinions, but something about this situation makes you feel like it should be her call.

[44] After a deep, exhausted inhale.

[45] Not least because she's usually given her handiwork a name and a personality and a few weird quirks, and this is pure bleak utility.

[46] It seems rare that the long arm of Ursus's enforcement ever is.

[47] So, either the same white-label manufacturer, smuggled, or stolen. Honestly, you wouldn't discount the third option; you could see Kal'tsit pulling a heist for that, as recompense for whatever this nation did to her.

[48] It's funny. When you first met Kal'tsit, you thought of her as cold, brisk, unkind—if having some people to bring out a softer side. But instead... no, you were wrong, for once.
If anything, she wants you to have the chance to be softer, doesn't she?

[49] You tap your fingers lightly against the case. What would change you beyond recognition...
Well, you shake your head and pull on the filter mask. You think you know what she's afraid of. You wonder if you should be more afraid of it, too, because—you can see, sometimes, the way you could be that person again. Sometimes it seems so easy.

[50] Was that at your first in-person reintroduction...? You'd almost forgotten. You'd let yourself believe that she didn't hope for anything, from you, but... but.

[51] Or rather: if you name it, if you let yourself understand it—there will be no going back from it. You don't know if there's even a real future for any kind of feeling like that. So, for now—you think, later. If you live; if you both live through this.

---

You're very glad you're wearing a face mask when something damp sprays across your face in the middle of giving an order.⁵² "This is worse than what we saw in Lungmen," you mutter, scrubbing at your face with your sleeve and trying not to think about where that came from.⁵³

"The herd doesn't look like it's pushing up!" calls one of your snipers, ahead of you. At some point, a flash of green cut through the battlefield, Mon3tr returning to Kal'tsit; it's hardly difficult work, just—grueling and distressing. You're not sure whether your opponents could even be considered entirely alive anymore, and...

...just like the herd in Lungmen, there should be someone holding the puppet strings.⁵⁴

So when your group cuts through, slamming the doors of the sarcophagus chamber behind you, and sees what's taken up residence there—

That beautiful creature, white wings folded around itself protectively, head folded in against its back...

"Poor fellow," murmurs Kal'tsit, from beside you. "Even I've only seen a case like this just once." She shakes her head, and looks out at the creature—her gaze not quite focused on it.⁵⁵ "The caster and the victims were fused together. Their bodies and Originium formed a mountain, and from it bloomed a kind of really fragile flower. As it bloomed, the dust from it spread in the wind, and whoever that traveled through that cursed place found themselves infected—"⁵⁶

She pauses for a long moment. "—Not only that, but anyone who was unfortunate enough became new hosts and ended up spreading the suffering and death."

You run your tongue over your lips, which have suddenly gone dry. "It doesn't sound like you're just talking about the past."

"Hmph." She rolls her shoulders, idly, stretching her neck from side to side now that you're out of active combat.⁵⁷ "It's no rhetoric, if that's what you're implying. Everything that I say is the truth." She gets quieter as she talks—taking on that distant quality again.⁵⁸ "The source of the infection was... as lively as poison. At the time, I swore to myself that I would keep something like that from ever happening again..."

She looks down at her hands, mouth drawn into a thin, terse line. "Yet things rarely turn out the way you want them. I've come to notice that these things will just keep happening over and over right before my eyes."⁵⁹

There's a sound that's almost like a low, reverberating chime—at first, you wonder if there's a large bell in here, as incongruous as that would be. Then you realize that it's the great white bird, at the base of the sarcophagus; its beak yawning open, untucked from its rest for just a moment.

"It's sleeping..." Kal'tsit shakes her head, slightly, almost disbelievingly. "That Sarkaz herd was probably not under its control only because it wasn't trying to control them in the first place." She closes her eyes, exhaling lightly—almost a gentle movement, except there's that tension in the corners of her eyes that makes it a look more of remembered pain. "Freedom," she says. "It's ironic. To think that a herd could be free."

...was that—"freedom" rings a bell, but from where?⁶⁰

The creature breathes out, and this time, there's a light shimmer in the air around it—like glittery dust—that comes with the rising hum. It's almost like a melody, or a lullaby, but Kal'tsit stiffens.

"Is that...?" you start, and then stop abruptly.⁶¹

Kal'tsit glances at you, brows furrowed. "You know what that is?"

You can't quite tell if that's an edge of challenge or surprise or worry in her voice.⁶² It makes you question what you would have thought to say, though; you bite your lower lip just slightly. "...I'm not sure," you say, finally.

She crosses her arms, and looks down and away. "Dr. Lau—I don't know what's going on in your mind. But—" She exhales. "I'm a doctor, not a judge. Even if a disease is seen as untreatable, to us doctors, death is far from a foregone conclusion."

"Ah." You look out at the creature—its light, shallow breathing that belies how peaceful it looks in sleep.⁶³ "Then—this one..."

"I will never use my medical knowledge in any manner that can be concerned inhumane," she says, quietly. "From the moment all life is born, they all possess dignity. No matter how society at large sees them, treating patients with Oripathy will always be my calling."⁶⁴

You turn to look at her—in a moment like this, it seems important to be able to look her in the eye.⁶⁵ "Even if we stop the city's march," you counter, frowning tightly, "if this continues—"

Both of you, instinctively, glance back at the hallway from whence you came; even with the doors closed, you can still see in your mind's eye the mess left in your wake.⁶⁶

She keeps staring back that way, expression partially hidden behind her curtain of hair and the mask on her face.⁶⁷ "We as doctors will never deny that there are precautions that must be undertaken to prevent diseases from reaching even more people," she says, lower lip curling just slightly inwards.⁶⁸ "The Infected cannot become the tools of others. No one may control other lives."

Neither of you wants to make this choice. Neither of you wants to be the one to say, "there is no hope here," or, conversely, look for hope where there lies only destruction and see the everything become ashes around you.⁶⁹

You look at her; she looks up at you. The creature whines in its sleep, head lolling away from being tucked beneath its pure white wings, stirring.⁷⁰ "We need to make a decision," she says.

What kind of hope are you choosing?⁷¹

The same hope we hold for so many things, Kal'tsit's voice echoes in your mind.

The great creature stretches to wakefulness, spreading its wings with great effort—too heavy for its sickly body.⁷² "This isn't right," you murmur.

"No," says Kal'tsit, closing her eyes, and exhaling slowly into her rebreather with a raspy sound.⁷³ "It isn't."

It (he) opens its (his) beak, and... this time, it's not a whimper that trickles from its long, thin throat. It's singing.⁷⁴

And you make your decision.

[52] You nearly exit your skin and perish.

[53] Unfortunately you have negative skill in not thinking. Someone save you from your own overactive brain.

[54] Which means—you think you have some kind of idea what's waiting for you, or rather, who. On the other hand, he's theatrical; surely if this was Mephisto, he would have pushed back more aggressively. Or rather, he would have, but—
Well. It's only natural for him to be afraid, with everything going on. He's a child, after all.

[55] Somewhere else, far away; mourning she still can't put down.

[56] Sometimes you wonder how someone like Kal'tsit—someone so careful and fastidious, so immutable, could find herself Infected. You wonder if she just told you.

[57] The light in here is stark, and eerie—something about it makes her look almost uncanny in her sharp contrasts. You can't afford to think about the way the highlights fall on her skin right now.
But you're still a little bit thinking about it.

[58] How much of that did she face more or less alone?

[59] How many times has it been, you wonder. How many lives has she lived, carrying all of this with her?

[60] No, rather—you know where, don't you?

[61] Then you realize that you hate all the possible answers to all the questions you could ask.

[62] Maybe she senses you hesitating. On the other hand, it's entirely possible that both of you are just generally on edge and going to wind each other up infinitely.

[63] The stillness says peace, but the shallowness of how its chest rises and falls says pain, and you've been reading your Blood's Anatomy recently enough to know it's the latter—the sluggishness coming from how hard and exhausting movement is.

[64] Is that it...? Has that always been it? No—you're sure there's still a lot going unsaid. But it's a piece of the puzzle of understanding her—because even if it's not the whole truth, you're sure it is true.
And somehow—you're sure it all goes back to the same source. Always Theresa.

[65] Though, it's a little bit funny; as often unkind to you as she is, she's a lot easier and more comfortable to face than a lot of others. Rather than a matter of liking someone, or how comfortable you are around them... maybe it's just that part of you feels like she knows you, and that you should know her, too.

[66] You're sure she can see it, too. She seems to remember as much as she can—about where she's been, about the lives that have come and gone around her.

[67] Even so—you can tell her jaw is set in a hard line, tense. Even if you can't see her face, it's in her posture.

[68] You think you know what she's getting at, even if it's taking her a while to outright state her thesis.

[69] Part of you wants to hope beyond hope, to try for the impossible. Part of you hates the thought of whose blood will be on your hands, here, after all Yelena told you. Part of you can't bear to invest yourself again and see it slip like sand through your fingers but—
Rather, instead of letting the world change you for the worse—maybe, there's still time for it to change you for the better. You hope.

[70] It's—
No. He's about to wake. You can't confront this without, first, confronting... that.

[71] You don't think, at least, that Kal'tsit would frown on doing your best to protect your operators, the civilians, everyone in this city. And yet...

[72] There's something that prickles in your chest, seeing that—a sort of sympathetic ache, a strange discomfort that echoes the fragments of your past self's feelings. About a body constantly betraying you, that for all it can do still makes you feel cornered.

[73] For a moment—for a long, torturous moment—there's a yearning in you that would be satisfied by reaching for her hand. But it's not the time.

[74] Of all things. It sounds like a lullaby.