Bright light.
Aya awoke beneath it, breath catching as if she'd drowned and only now broken the surface. The ceiling above her was clean white, smooth panels humming with quiet electricity. Not meat, not flesh.
A hospital bay. CTI headquarters.
Her heart still pounded as though she were inside the Babel, but her hands were empty. No rifle, no blood. Just herself, tucked into sterile sheets. A thin line burned along her wrist where an IV fed warmth into her veins.
She sat up too quickly. The world swayed.
"Easy, Aya."
A voice carried from the corner. Gabrielle Mons. The other woman's dark hair was tied back sharply, her arms crossed above her sidearm holster. Aya could never read if Gabrielle's tone was protective or annoyed—it was often both.
"You collapsed during the dive," Gabrielle continued. "Vitals flatlined for thirty seconds. You scared the hell out of everyone."
Aya grasped her temples. The memory was a blur: faces melting from the walls, blood pooling under her boots, Eve—or something shaped like her—floating inside the heart. Her whole body trembled.
"It wasn't just a building," Aya whispered. "The Babel… it's alive. And inside—"
"Save it."
This time Hyde Bohr's voice cut in, sharp as a scalpel. He strode into the bay, tablet in hand, not sparing Aya a glance until he'd read three more lines of data. His coat swished cleanly behind him.
"You did well enough, Aya. Overdive synchronization is increasing. Though your reluctance remains… problematic."
"Problematic?" Gabrielle snapped, shoving off from the wall. "She nearly died in there. Again. You can't push her like this."
"She is the only one who *can* be pushed," Hyde replied without heat. "Don't confuse fragility with value, Mons. The tool survives as long as it's sharpened."
Aya flinched at the word. *Tool.*
Her reflection caught in the metal cabinet beside the bed. Pale skin, hollow eyes, tangled golden hair—hers again, not some soldier's. Yet the reflection made her recoil. She remembered seeing her face etched into the organic walls, twisted and lost. Which one was real?
The bay door hissed open.
"Kyle," Gabrielle muttered.
Kyle Madigan strode in, casual as always, hands in the pockets of his jacket. His eyes swept the room once, lingering on Aya with something harder than pity but warmer than Hyde's indifference.
"You held longer than last time," Kyle said. "That's progress."
Aya searched his face. He knew more—she could *feel* it. But the way he guarded his words made her throat ache.
She whispered, "Kyle… I saw someone. In the Babel. Inside its heart. It looked like—" Her voice cracked. "It looked like Eve."
The room fell into silence.
Gabrielle's eyes widened with shock. Hyde's narrowed.
"Impossible," Hyde said curtly, cutting the thought before it could bloom. "Your sister is gone. Don't confuse afterimage with reality."
Aya shook her head violently. "No. It was her—I know it!"
Kyle didn't say anything. But he also didn't deny it. That silence stabbed deeper than Hyde's words.
Gabrielle lowered her arms and softened her voice, for Aya alone. "Aya… you don't have to keep doing this."
Aya turned toward her, trembling. "If I don't… who will?"
The question hung in the sterile air.
No answer came. Not from Gabrielle. Not from Kyle.
Only Hyde, cold as steel:
"You're right. No one else will. Rest, Aya. You dive again tomorrow."
Aya stared back at the cabinet's reflection. The woman looking out at her didn't feel like Aya Brea anymore. She wasn't sure if she ever had been.
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