* * *

Dream or reality? Sarah had long lost track of her scoreboard. That might be for the best, she might not like the results.

She stopped pacing around her room, the bottom of her left foot was starting to hurt even with the bandage. It was difficult to be basically confined to her room. Again.

She’d spent the last five hours letting the doctors poke and prod her as they pleased. They repeated the CT scan and did an MRI. She hadn’t even known they had an MRI hidden somewhere in this place, but it made sense. Live—get suspected of brain tumors—and learn.

Sarah tried not to think too much about what had happened. It seemed counterproductive when aiming for peace of mind or even sanity. But her mind insisted on returning to that rooftop of its own accord, triggered by the most random things.

Unable to do much else, she held onto the belief that this was the real world, her world. The version of herself that had been atop that building, looking down at Pegasus’ lifeless body, was just not her.

Ignoring her will, tears formed in her eyes. No matter how much she insisted that he was alive, her fear had yet to subside. Her mind couldn’t reconcile the feeling of having lost him with his being alive. She wiped her tears. That in itself might drive her insane.

Sarah wanted to call Pegasus, needed to hear his voice. She forgot about her foot again when turning, almost putting too much weight on her left foot. An image shifted in the corner of her eyes, a trick of light. She looked up, and the air went out of her.

It was her, and she was smiling. Sarah blinked at the image, at this version of her that felt so alien. She touched her own face, tracing her lips to make sure it wasn’t her. The image followed along, a perfect reflection except for that smile.

Was her mind mocking her now?

The tears fell, forgotten.

How could she still smile like that? How could she have lost everything and look perfectly fine?

“What are you smiling at?” Sarah shouted.

The hallucination laughed.

* * *

Pegasus hadn’t had to bend the truth so hard since the time he was still volunteering at the Crisis Center and someone asked him what he’d done over the weekend.

He’d so far had to dodge Griffon and Unicorn’s questions, and even Athena had called him to get some insight about what had happened with Sarah during the mission.

Telling the others whatever quick lies about Sarah’s state of mind that best fit the truth—she was confused, had a lot going on, he wasn’t sure what had happened—was a piece of cake compared to that conversation with Athena. She wanted details, and since she felt she wouldn’t get them from Sarah, she’d wanted to get as much as she could from him.

Pegasus kept his lies as close to the truth as possible, but in the end he was simply glad Athena had to let him go because she had other things to do. Before they parted, she did tell him that she wanted Sarah to speak with a psychiatrist from Center. Pegasus tried not to grimace. That should be interesting.

When he had gotten down to the lower levels, where the living quarters were, he hoped he’d be free and clear. He should have known better.

Scorpion ambushed him as soon as he stepped out of the elevator. She didn’t even bother pretending she hadn’t been waiting for him.

“You’re too close to this one,” she said. “That’s how we screwed up with Robyn. We were all too close.”

“I know.”

“Then what are you doing?”

“As I’m told,” he replied.

She flipped her hair back impatiently. “Fine time for you to start.”

He shrugged. It wasn’t the whole truth, Scorpion would be aware of that.

“You should take a step back and let someone else handle it.”

“I can’t.” And that was the truth, for various reasons.

He tried to walk around her, but she extended her arm out, stopping him. “And where are you going now?”

“To check on Sarah. Zeus told me to take point on this mess.”

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“And are you sure you should be doing that?”

“Orders.”

The irritated look in her eyes clearly suggested that part was irrelevant. “You’re not the best person for this. Do you even realize what you did?”

He nodded, resigned to the fact that she would not let him pass until she had finished saying everything she needed to.

“You walked her right past security and straight to Zeus.”

“I know. I kept an eye on her until the moment I handed her off to Unicorn,” he said. “I know what I did. The decision wasn’t made lightly.”

She cursed at him, and for a moment he thought she’d try to strangle him. Thankfully, that moment passed. She deflated. “You’re being stupid. You know you’re being stupid. So why am I telling you things you already know?”

“Because you like the sound of your own voice?”

Scorpion glared at him for a second, then threw her arms up in surrender.

“And because you worry too much.” He placed a hand on her shoulder. “And you know I need reminding. And you do have a point.”

Scorpion sighed, no sign of triumph over having won the argument. “I worry about you.”

He smiled. “I know.”

Scorpion reiterated her glare. “It’s disturbing that you enjoy worrying me.”

His smile widened naturally, pure mischief now. “I know.”

When he walked away, she let him.

By the time he got to Sarah’s room, he had somehow managed to convince himself that things would at least settle down long enough for him to sort through it all. He should have known better.

* * *

Sarah’s automatic response to the knocking was a loud curse.

The door opened anyway, as she knew it would.

“Can I take that as come in?” Pegasus asked before he opened the door more than a crack.

She looked up from the cuts on her hand. “Why not?”

Pegasus froze as soon as he stepped into the room and cocked an eyebrow. “Please don’t tell me that’s for writing on the wall.”

Sarah ignored him. She’d rather not tell him that she’d lashed out at her laughing hallucination and hit her reflection, breaking the mirror—but thankfully not her hand.

So why was she bleeding? Because she then stupidly cut her hand on the shards spread along the floor when she lost her balance after placing too much weight on her injured foot.

The mirror fragments crunched and cracked under Pegasus’ boots. “How much bad luck do you still need?”

“If I count retroactively, there’s only five or six more years to go.”

He offered her a hand.

“It’s fine.”

Pegasus took a hold of her elbow. “Yes, I see you have everything perfectly under control.”

Sarah held back her retort. Her hand hurt, and she might’ve stepped on a shard with the foot that hadn’t been bandaged. All she wanted to do right now was sulk.

Pegasus pushed most of the larger shards away from her towards the wall, then unceremoniously lifted her over a shoulder and carried her to the bathroom.

Sarah gave the wall a confused look at being treated like a bag of potatoes, but didn’t protest.

He set her down on the countertop and put her hand under the cold water.

Sarah watched as thin slivers of red escaped down the drain. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

“Not really. Hasn’t there been enough crazy for one day?”

“I’d hoped so.” He reached for the soap. “Apparently there’s always room for more.”

Sarah focused on the cuts, unwilling to meet his gaze. It hadn’t been too deep, and she didn’t think she had broken anything, though the pain still made her uncertain.

“One of the docs will have to take a look at that.” Pegasus placed her hand on a towel, examining it. “Maybe an x-ray just to be sure. Looks like it’s gonna bruise.”

Sarah groaned.

Pegasus fished through her drawers, pulling out some gauze and a bottle of chlorhexidine. “What did Doc Blue say earlier?”

“Did Zeus send you to check up on me?”

“I doubt Doc would have asked you that.”

She glared at him, wincing when he dabbed at the edge of one of the larger cuts.

“Yes, he did, sort of,” Pegasus answered. “But let’s face it, I was going to check in on you regardless.”

“Beats my having to camp out at Athena’s office.”

“You might have to do that anyway.”

Considering where they were now, arguing that she didn’t need to see Athena was pointless.

“Tell me what happened,” he asked.

“I thought I saw myself.”

“It’s a mirror.”

“I know, I’m not that far gone.” Or maybe she was. “The thing is, it didn’t look like me. Well, it looked like me, but not like my reflection.”

He went back to what he’d been doing, eyebrows scrunched together. “I’m gonna stop saying ‘assuming you’re not crazy’ just because of time constraints.”

“That’s my favorite assumption right now.”

“Then skipping that part and diving head first into wherever far-fetched theories come to life, do you think it could’ve been the other version of you?”

“That’s the thing. She didn’t look like me.” She turned to face the mirror, meeting his eyes in the reflection. “Like this.”

Her eyes were red, vestiges of tears obvious in her damp lashes. The dark circles underneath her eyes seemed darker in a skin that looked sickly. There was a minor scrape above her left eye from the scuffle with the New Nation terrorist that would’ve shot Pegasus. She couldn’t look away from his eyes in the mirror. “If she’s me and she lived through today, a much worse version of today, she shouldn’t seem so whole, so… not like this.” Not broken.

He leaned his chin on her shoulder, grinning. “Maybe the other you isn’t as fond of me as you are.”

She returned the smile in spite of herself. “You have your moments.”

The memory of him on the stretcher came to mind again, unbidden, and a strangled sound emerged from her throat.

How could any version of her have seen him dead and not feel as if her heart had been crushed?

In the reflection, she watched herself reach over and touch his face with her free hand before she realized she was doing it. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and hold him until the fear went away. The feeling of loss without having lost someone was disconcerting, but at least she recognized it now.

Pegasus looked away first, focusing again on her injured hand. “Well, you should appreciate me. Who else would help you literally wash blood off your hands?”

She could only hope she truly hadn’t lost him.

“Okay, let’s get you to medical.” He pulled back and looked her over. “Or would you like to get any more wounds out of the way before we go? Maybe a broken clavicle or two?”

“No, I think I’m done for today.” She slid off the edge of the counter, grabbing onto her hand.

“Alright, just checking.”

He grabbed her flip-flops—well, her spare pair—hers were somewhere near that alley where Pegasus had died.

Sarah was doubly careful about not stepping on any of the glass shards. The last thing she needed was to continue this streak of mishaps.

Pegasus punched in a code to get her door open. Once again, she was a prisoner in this place. “Well, that’s familiar.”

“It’s temporary.”

“Don’t mind my whining, I know you can’t trust me right now.”

His eyes sparkled. “Be patient. We’ll have you checked and cleared—or locked up in a rubber room—in no time.”