Walking around it in the middle of the night, with most of the personnel gone, felt like walking inside of a dream. I trailed behind Damien who, despite having spent less time conscious and wandering the halls of the AM than me, seemed to know it like the back of his hand. I realized that it’s probably because he had studied the blueprints when he broke Mark out—he had done this before. But he had had his power then, and had gotten in and out with very little trouble.

This time it wasn’t so simple.

We found Dr. Sharpe’s office and spent fifteen frantic minutes rifling through her cabinets until we found what we needed—her notes on the serum. That had been the plan: we would take the notes, break out the Atypicals who were trapped, and then figure out how to get the serum to someone who could make a medicine to help both my dad and Blaze. The AM had backups to be sure, would certainly make their own serum and use it to help people, but we couldn’t trust that they would do it. We had to take matters into our own hands.

So. Goddamn. Stupid.

As we were on our way out of the lab, the file clutched in my hand, still unopened—I was too terrified to look, even though I knew I might not understand it, I just feared opening that folder and seeing big letters saying THERE’S NO WAY TO HELP HIM, GIVE UP ALL HOPE. So I just clutched it in my hands as we ran as silently as possible down the hall, making our way down to the basement.

But then, we turned a corner, and Owen was suddenly ten feet in front of us. Some kind of veteran-break-in instinct kicked in for Damien and he immediately disappeared into some shadows while I stood frozen, a complete deer in the headlights.

Owen stopped in his tracks, a deer in the headlights all his own.

“… Rose?”

“Owen!” I yelped, wondering if I could play this off somehow. “Agent—Agent Green, I mean.”

“Director Green, actually,” he mumbled. “What … what are you doing here?”

“Director?” Damien’s voice hissed from the shadows and I tried not to react, instead repeating his question out loud as cover.

“Yes, it’s … it’s very recent,” Owen said absentmindedly as he took a hesitant step toward me, like he was still trying to figure out if this was all a dream. I could relate.

“Rose…” he said. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

“I—I’m back,” I said. “For another round of the program. And I think I must have started sleepwalking when I’m dreamdiving because I don’t know how I got out here.”