She made a basket, but he ignored it and scrabbled up the side. But his feet knocked off a cluster of clay tiles and he slipped, face planting onto the roof. Blood erupted on his face, his nose broken. He clung to the site of the roof panting, whimpering.

“You can do it.” Ziggy held out her hand.

He looked up, the blood streaming off him, but grabbed her hand.

Ziggy hauled him in, then disappeared with him into the room.

“Now you,” RJ said to the other doctor. He was smaller, thinner, older. Maybe a buck thirty, sopping wet.

He shook his head. “You go.”

“No—!” She grabbed his arm, yanked it. “You won’t fall—just be careful.”

Ziggy appeared back at the window, climbing out. “Let’s move!”

A siren whined in the distance, and from the water, a boat sounded its horn.

Please, be okay, York.

She made a basket with her hands, and this man took her up on her offer to help. Ziggy scrambled down the roof, got a grip along the edge and got a hold of his arm to help pull him up.

He landed on all fours on the roof, unable to move, breathing hard.

“C’mon, doc, this roof is going to collapse,” RJ said, not sure of her words, but feeling it in her gut.

The man nodded, then reached for Ziggy’s hand. She’d repositioned herself at the window and helped him climb up. He practically collapsed on the frame, and she disappeared inside, probably to help pull him in.

RJ dragged over a chair from the table. Put it against the wall. Climbed on, waiting for Ziggy.

“RJ!”

The voice lifted from behind her, across the terrace…

She turned, searching. “York?”

Nothing. But she’d definitely heard her name. “York?”

She started toward the door—

“RJ! Where are you going? The roof is going to collapse!” Ziggy, frantic at the window.

“York!”

“RJ, Come on!”

She turned back, headed for the chair.

And heard it again. “RJ!”

Looked at Ziggy. Then she shook her head and took off toward the billowing black smoke rolling out of the open door.

Not. Again.

“You still with me?” He directed his question at Roy, somewhere in the debris-filled darkness of the lift, which had come to a shuddering stop with the explosion.

An explosion that sounded too close, and now with the smoke that billowed in around the compartment, a roar not far away, he guessed that the explosion might be on the floor they’d just left.

Floor three, the same floor as Director Grey’s room.

“Yeah,” Roy said, but his voice sounded tight.

York could just make him out, and now reached out and grabbed his arm. Roy grunted and he guessed that the man had re-injured his collarbone. But he helped Roy to his feet.

“This entire building could come down,” Roy said.