A R L O

We'd only been kept in the compound for a day and a half, but it felt like an eternity to me. After the action we'd gone through, after all we'd done, it felt wrong to simply be sitting here and letting our new director take things into her hands.

It was easier for me to think about our new problems with the ONNT than the most pressing of my issues: my slowly declining health. Oftentimes, I ignored it and pretended like I wasn't dying. It was easier to cope that way.

But I hadn't taken the pills the doctor had given me yet today. I could always feel the weight of the sickness deep inside my body if I waited too long to take them. Sometimes it slipped my mind that I needed them once every day. I still wasn't used to the idea of my bleak future.

After I swallowed both pills with a drink of water, I stood shirtless before the mirror. My eyes roved my own body, noting how my ribs still jutted out in awkward angles and how my grey eyes were smudged with dark circles underneath. I'd never taken much consideration into my physical appearance, but after seeing the half-dead look I was sporting now, maybe I should.

I stared at myself for a while, holding eye contact with myself. The veins spreading from my chest were visible and I tried not to think about the lab's poison coursing through them.

First, I made a mental list, I would eat more. That should not be a problem, as I tended to practically inhale food as it was. Second, I needed to sleep. At night, I would often lie awake, listening to the sounds of the compound. I'd always had too much energy; resting was not something I did well.

I sighed and gave myself an exaggerated frown in the mirror, a look so dark that Kane would be jealous. If I wasn't careful, I might actually start being responsible. At that thought, I held back a shudder.

Someone was walking up the hall towards the bathroom, I could hear the footsteps from very far away. One of my teammates was coming to annoy me.

"Arlo-" Finn knocked on the partially-closed door and it swung open all the way. His light eyes glanced down at my shirtless self, most likely wondering what the hell I was doing in there.

Even though I'd partially hoped it would be him—as he was fun to trifle with, I gave another frown when I took in his appearance. Contrasting my slightly insane, disheveled look, he wore neat clothes, as usual. Finn's eyes were a bright blue and his face held the youthful spirit of a healthy, young person. How dare he come around here looking attractive while I looked like a freshly-dead corpse?

"Is...everything okay?" He asked, giving me a doubtful look, like he didn't want to know the answer.

"Just peachy." I slipped the shirt back over my head. "I'm sick and dying. Literally."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

I scoffed. "What is there to talk about? I'll be dead in less than six months. Hopefully less, with the way things are going now-"

"Don't say that," he interrupted, waving his hands around to stop me. "The ONNT will find a cure for you."

"You know I don't think optimistically."

"Yes, you tend to be quite dramatic and pessimistic, I've noticed."

My expression changed from a frown to daring. I caught a glimpse of the familiar maniacal gleam in my eyes in the mirror. "So, why were you looking for me? Other than to see me half-naked, of course." I left the bathroom and leaned on the wall opposite him.

Finn scoffed and his lips pressed into a line. But I didn't miss how blossoms of faint pink bloomed on his cheeks. "I didn't come here...for that. I came here because I need to tell someone—anyone—something I've been holding in for a while."

"And you came to me first?" My grin didn't fade.

But Finn didn't return my mischievous smile. "Don't make me regret it."

"What is it, some dark, juicy secret?"

"No..." he trailed off. "Back at the Russian fortress, when I was in the thick of the battle, I was fighting off endless Imperium soldiers. There were so many. It was a blur of bodies moving, chaotic screaming and war. I thought I was doing the right thing, helping hold them off from the exit. But then...Then, I turned and saw a dark figure right behind me. I hardly had time to react. Flames burst out from my hands before I even knew what I was doing. But...as he died, I saw that it wasn't an Imperium soldier. It was one of our own men. I killed him."

Oh. I had no clue what to say to him now. I had thought he'd tell me some sort of harmful gossip he'd heard. Not this. Not that he—sweet, innocent Finn—had killed a man. And he'd started this conversation by asking me if I was alright.

"I can still feel it." He spoke as if he was in a haze, staring down at his hands. "As his body melted under my fingers. And I can hear him—hear him screaming. In his last moments."

Well, at least it was quick, because dying in a blazing fire seemed like a horrible way to go. At least I knew how I was dying and it wasn't in the flames. But I didn't tell Finn that.

I blinked twice in shock. "I...don't know what to say." For maybe the first time ever.

"I know it's bad, I just..." He tore a hand through his hair. "I just needed to tell someone."

"Well," I said, struggling for the words, "Do you want to know something?"

He was hesitant to say, "Sure."

"The real reason I've never killed any of our enemies is because...I'm afraid that if I do, I might go fully insane. I know I'm already a little crazy with everything in here," I tapped my head, alluding to the constant input into my brain. "But I don't know if I could come back from that."

Finn was gaping at me now and I heard the slowing of his breath. Only then did I realize how unhelpful what I'd said was. I half-wished he'd just take his hearing aids out now to prevent him from hearing any more of me struggling.

"You think I can't come back from this?" His voice was barely a whisper.

"No, no, that's not what I meant," I backtracked. "I think that you're strong. Stronger than I am. It takes a very resilient person to walk through fire and not get burned." I cringed. Why couldn't I form a proper sentence around him? "Not...literally, but you know what I mean."

"I don't know how to get past this." I hated how desperate, how anxious, he sounded. "How am I going to learn to live with what I've done?"

I took a deep breath and tried, for the first time, to speak from my shriveled, black heart. "We all have things we regret doing. What you did was terrible, but it was an accident. Look at me, look at the others. All of us have done things we shouldn't have done in the name of this war. Wars like this...they make good people do bad things to survive."

He was watching me intently now. Finally, I seemed to have said something that was helping. But all the things I'd told him would be what he'd tell me if the roles were reversed and I'd come to him as a complete wreck. With a jolt, I realized that I now knew exactly how to make him feel better. And I didn't know what to do with that information.

So I continued on, hoping that I could ease his guilt. "You didn't do it with evil in your heart. That doesn't make it right, but it does mean you're not a bad person for it." I paused to gather my words. What would he tell me if I was him in this situation? "You can't harp on it or it will destroy you. You have to take what you learned from this and use it to do better. And I don't think you'll be killing any more people after this."

There was a moment where neither of us said anything and I felt a sudden bout of embarrassment warm my face. I never got nervous, so why was I now? "I don't know," I said finally, trying to fill the silence. "I'm not good at advice."

He gave a strange breathy laugh, like he was panicking too much to give a real one. I could hear how fast his blood was flowing through his veins. "The start was...rough. But it did help. Even if it's not easy for you, you still stayed here. With me. Thank you for that."

I shrugged. "I know what it's like to be swallowed by your own mind. I know how damaging it can be."

"I know." He cocked his head, watching me. "I don't think people give you enough credit."

"Well, I do deserve a lot of it."

Despite my joking, he was still serious. "Your senses are constantly being flooded with so many different things, it's almost amazing that you're not completely insane. Especially after what happened to you as a child. And on top of that, your sickness..."

"More present than ever," I finished, pointing a finger toward him.

"Are you okay?" When I started to give another joking answer, he stopped me. "I'm serious. You always joke about it, but this is your life." Again, he was asking me this after he'd just had one of the most traumatic experiences of his life. The bounds of his goodness amazed me.

That threw me off guard for a moment. "I think I'm as okay as I can be. Maybe a little more than that sometimes." It was completely honest, especially now as we had such a strange, deep conversation. Maybe this was going somewhere good.

He gave me a real smile that time, and even though it was small, some part deep within me felt relieved that he still could.