Catcher approaches me, each step a distinct echo in the dim chamber. The firelight jumps over his skin, shadows flickering around his eyes. He stops just out of reach. For a moment he stands there and breathes as the muscles along my neck tighten.

I blush. What do I care if I look like her or not? “Never mind,” I mumble, turning back to the darkness and the stairs.

“Yes and no,” he says.

“Let me guess,” I snort, spinning toward him. I raise one finger and press it to the smooth side of my face. “Yes.” I raise my eyebrows as I move my finger over to the scars. “And no.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he says, inching in closer.

I back away. There’s still too much I don’t know in order for me to trust him. To allow him this near.

“You’re just different people,” he says, trying to explain. “Different personalities. It’s reflected in what you look like.”

“Whatever,” I say, waving my hand in the air as I start up the stairs. It was a stupid question for me to ask.

His footfalls follow me in the darkness and I feel calmer and more in control now that I’m invisible. Our breaths fall into a rhythm with each step, our hands gliding up the rusty railing bolted into the wall. Soon the movement chases away the chill of the tunnels, a clammy sweat trickling down my back.

“I think it’s time you told me what’s going on,” I say as we near the top.

He hesitates, breaking stride. “What do you want to know?”

I stop and he stumbles against me, his hands sliding along my arms to steady himself. His touch is warm, almost to the point of hot. He jerks back and mumbles an apology. I ignore it.

There’s so little light that I can barely even see his outline. He’s become nothing more than the sound of his breathing, the rustle of his clothes and slide of each footstep. It feels almost intimate, being so aware of the noises he makes, and I become uncomfortable.

I pull farther away from him, the heat radiating from his body fading with distance and the cold taking its place. “I want to know why you act like you know me. I want to know why my bro—Why Elias told you to find me. I want to know what’s going on with my sister and what you’re doing here. With me.”

He shuffles, shifts his weight from foot to foot and then sighs. “I know Elias because he came to kill me when I was infected. And when I didn’t turn, he was the one who told me about the immunity.”

I start to say something but he cuts me off. “And I know your sister because I grew up with her.”

This is too much too fast and I sit, my feet propped on the step below. His fingers brush against my hair and cheek and then along my shoulders as he moves his hands through the air to find me. He sits next to me, the heat of him wavering around us. I touch my hand to the stairs, needing to ground myself, to stop the spinning.