Tonight, Amy Dallon was going to be nominated.

  What a fucking thought to wake up to. I guess she was priority two, beyond survival, so it made sense. Still, it didn't make me want to get out of bed anymore than my own nomination. I got up anyway, feeling more like a puppet on strings than a person. Breakfast and coffee tasted more like ash and cyanide, though it didn't have the same effect. I wasn't sure how lucky that was.

  What was I going to do? I mean, try and stop it obviously. That hadn't been successful yet, but there was always a slim chance that this time things would be different. How would I actually do it though? I'd avoided suspension only to be taken off duty anyway, reasonable since I'd killed someone but a pain in my ass. Sending others wouldn't work either.

  I sat down on the couch and stared up at the ceiling. What to do, did it matter? Everything I did had impact, but it all just seemed to be negative. I'd even--

  A sudden sob escaped my throat. Another followed and my vision blurred. I screwed my eyes shut and screamed into the empty air. It wasn't enough. I rolled over and screamed again and again into the cushions, until my throat was so raw it hurt to breathe.

  “Amelia, oh sweetheart, what'd they do to you?”

  My stubby nails dug painfully into my scalp. I felt a warm tickling behind my ears as I grit my teeth, another sob choking me. I couldn't even tell myself it wasn't him because he looked me in the eyes as I pulled the trigger. God fuck how could I have done that?! Jack had really nailed his choice I guess...

  A knock made me flinch so hard I nearly fell off the couch. I ignored it, I didn't want to see anyone...or anyone to see me. It came again a moment later and I curled into a ball, hands over my ears, eyes shut. They'd go away and leave me alone, like I deserved. Should stick me in isolation like Sophia so I don't kill anyone--

  “Amaranth?” I heard Gallant call out, muffled through my hands. “Sorry to come in, I was asked to check on you and--” He cut off with a sharp intake of breath, then a muttered: “Oh christ.”

  To the man who could see my feelings, what did I look like? What kind of colour did guilt over pseudo-patricide make? Or for fucking writing him off because Mom--

  “Hey.” The couch creaked as Gallant sat at the other end. “I'm just going to be here, alright? I want to talk but...take your time.”

  “Take your time, talking about this stuff's hard, right?” Mark smiled gently through the hole in the middle of his face.

  “Fuck is there to talk about?” I groaned into the cushions.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Sorry.” There was a beat of silence. Despite myself, I was worried he'd leave. “When I was twelve, my uncle died. We were pretty close and I was really broken up about it. Didn't leave my room for days, til my dad made me go to the funeral. I didn't want to, but Dad made me get up at the front and talk about him, talk about my Uncle Rodrick. Stuff like about how he would take me backwoods camping every summer, or taught me how to ride a bike, you know?”

  “At first I couldn't make it through more than three words without breaking down.” I could hear the smile in his voice as the knife twisted. “But it got easier. I must have talked for half an hour, about everything. After that I just...cried, pretty much for the rest of the service. After though?” He sighed. “You don't have to say a word if you don't want to, I know it's not the same.” Yeah, you didn't do it. “Still, if you want to tell me about him...I'd be happy to listen.” There was a long, tense pause.

  “Mark was a piece of shit,” I spat, feeling like throwing up. “Cheated on his wife with Mom for four fucking years. Never told her a thing about it but...but she found out.” 'Men are a poison,' I took a shuddering breath. “I knew though, never said a fucking word because I'm the shittiest daughter on the planet.”

  “He was the only one that remembered my birthday,” I rambled on after a minute of guilty stewing. “Taught me how to drive in his piece-of-shit Daihatsu.” 'Ease off the clutch and...there you go, you're driving!' I sniffled and wiped my eyes, rolling onto my side. “Doesn't matter now. He's dead and...and...” I swallowed the lump in my throat as more tears fell.

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  “I'm really sorry,” Gallant said, voice husky. “He sounds like a good guy.”

  “What do you want, Gallant?” I couldn't even muster the energy to snap at him, there was just nothing left.

  “I wanted to talk,” he replied simply. “And we are. What do you want?” I blinked as tears crowded my eyes, drowning my vision.

  “I want my dad back...”

  I hated how much the hand on my back helped as I broke down again. I hated the pathetic sobs that wrenched themselves from my throat, for a man I barely knew who'd been the only father figure I had. Who I'd never seen before yesterday but had given me a bear hug when I worked up the courage to bring my girlfriend to meet him.

  A spike of pain lanced through my skull as I grinded my teeth loudly. The hand on my back moved in gentle circles. 'It's okay sweetheart, it's perfectly natural.' God why the fuck could I remember so clearly? I couldn't remember shit that could save my life, couldn't remember what the heroes knew, but obviously I remembered him.

  “Sorry,” I apologized as I slowly, gingerly pulled myself together. Had to remember that he wasn't my...my dad, not really. It didn't help much.

  “Nothing to apologize for,” Gallant replied gently, taking his hand away.

  “No, there is,” I said glumly, sighing. “I've been a real piece of shit, fucked up a ton, you...” They didn't know the half of it, never would. “I'm a bad hero and...yeah. Sorry you had to find out like this.”

  “I won't push it, but I think you're wrong.” I scoffed.

  “You're biased,” I muttered.

  “Yep,” he said without missing a beat. “You know why? Because you saved my life.”

  “That's what I mean.” I finally turned and faced him, wincing at the warm smile on his face and the tear tracks down his cheeks.

  “What happened was bad,” Gallant continued. “I won't try and say it wasn't, but Bonesaw was the one that did that to Mark.” I flinched. “Sorry, but it's the truth. Anyone who tries to put the blame on your head is an idiot.”

  “Wow, thanks,” I drawled sarcastically.

  “I didn't mean it like that,” he said, eyebrows knitting. “But you can't take the blame for what other people choose to do; especially the Nine.”

  “And if they choose to do it because of me?” I shook my head. “None of that matters anyway, because Bonesaw didn't pull the trigger. Don't try and tell me that isn't my fault.”

  “I won't,” Gallant agreed, too easily. “But I won't say it was the wrong choice either.”

  “The fuck you assho--”

  “Let me finish,” he snapped, interrupting me. “Mark died an hour before you even went out. Whatever Bonesaw did to him, he didn't survive it.”

  “He recognized me,” I argued, sitting up and prodding his armoured chest. “He talked to me. I wasn't fucking hallucinating, was I?”

  “Bonesaw's work,” Gallant said with a shrug. “I'm sorry Amaranth, I truly am, but you didn't kill anyone.” 'Sweetie, hey, sorry it's been a while.' “It may not feel like it now, but I hope that you'll come to understand that.” I turned my gaze to the floor, shaking my head slowly. He sighed quietly. “You won't be alone. Tomorrow afternoon you have a meeting with Dr. Yamada, on-site therapist. And don't give me that look, she's great; give her a chance.”

  “Not like I have a choice,” I grumbled. Maybe she'd try hypnotherapy to get me to talk to my passenger. “Anything else, captain?” He sighed.

  “I'm sorry I'm coming across...like that,” Gallant apologized with a grimace. “I don't like to give orders when we're not in the field, but in this case I think you need it.”

  “I wish I could disagree,” I said dryly.

  “Different people need different things,” he said with a shrug. “If I've got to play captain to get you help...then fuck it, I will.” I pressed my lips into a thin line, twisting my hair around my fingers.

  “You sound like him.” The bitter words escaped my lips before I could stop them. “Shit, sor--”

  “Thank you,” Gallant interrupted, smiling. “Can you tell me what you mean?” I bit my tongue.

  “I...shouldn't.” It didn't feel right, talking about him, considering everything, but.... “He...Mark was...” I sniffed. “Fucking idiot. Sorry, he helped, or tried to. Don't know why considering it was me he was helping.” I ignored how Dean winced, how it reminded me of... “You're like that, trying to help me even when I...” When I destroy everything I love. “...fuck up.”

  “And you don't care,” I added, head swimming as the words fell out of my mouth. “Or you don't make a big deal out of me being all screwed up. I don't know why because it's me, but he was like that.” 'Thanks for trusting me, honey.' “So yeah, you're like that. Sorry.”

  “I appreciate that,” he said gently, patting my shoulder as it slumped in defeat.

  Anything else he said was lost as I turned and glanced at the clock in the kitchen, eyes going wide. How the fuck was it so late already?! I felt sick, listless. I'd let the day slip by and now...now there was almost no time left to help. Soon, too soon Amy would fuck up and I was in no position to help her. No one was, unless...

  “Amaranth?”

  “I need you to listen, Dean,” I said gravely. I didn't want to know what my aura looked like to him. “Really listen, okay? Like take me at my word and--”

  “What do you remember?” I took a sharp breath.

  “Amy,” I replied under my breath, making him flinch. “She's...fuck Dean, she didn't mean it okay? She was all fucked up because Bonesaw nominated her and made her--” I bit my tongue and shook my head. “I can't stop this one, I don't know...don't know if anyone can.” No one had yet.

  “Lia what happened?”

  “Happens,” I corrected. “Soon, really fucking soon Dean. I don't know what to do.” It felt like confessing to a murder but...what else could I do? The heaviest words imaginable crawled like a venomous centipede from my mouth. “Help...please.” I heard a sharp inhale.

  “How?” I took a deep breath.