Chapter 5

CYNTHIA CORVILLE

Cynthia Corville blinked. She hesitated.

"I-I'm sorry?" she said. "Someone supposedly has survived the disease?"

Danzig nodded. They adjusted their glasses when they started to fog up from their mask. "Yes," they replied. "There is a rumor that someone contracted the disease and survived."

Cynthia leaned forward on her desk. She held eye contact with Danzig and searched their gaze. "Is there any evidence to back this up?"

They shook their head this time. "No, as of yet I have not found any proof that this is anything more than gossip, though I also don't have any evidence to the contrary. I hope it's true since it would mean that someone can live through this and I can work with researchers to figure out how and why they survived, but I'm a scientist. I need the evidence. I need facts. I need data to back up any claim. Rumors can make for good television, but they have no place in science."

"I'll second that. Goes for laws, too. There is no place for rumors or guesswork. Not when something is all but written in stone. Even if it can be changed, it takes time. Better to get it right the first time."

"That is very true," Danzig agreed.

They slouched back in their seat, turning their attention to their notebook. Tapping their pen on the side, Danzig frowned at the pages, then scribbled something down, crossed it out, and wrote something beneath it.

Cynthia and Danzig sat in silence for a few minutes.

"Do you think it is true? The rumor?" Cynthia asked.

Danzig stared off to the side, thinking over the question, and Cynthia could see the wheels turning in their head. They ran a hand through their hair before shifting in their seat.

"I'm honestly not sure," they replied. "I cannot definitively rule the rumor in or out. But if it's true and someone truly has survived the disease, I would love to speak with them. With what we know of the disease, the rumor does not sound very believable, but... things can happen. Our understanding of the disease is nowhere near complete, and I will never count out the possibility of someone surviving something currently known to be fatal. Sometimes the unexplainable happens. I hope this is true. I want it to be true." Danzig sighed and they gave a soft smile before meeting Cynthia's gaze. "But until I get more information and the concrete facts I cannot say either way."

Cynthia nodded. "I suppose that's the issue," she murmured softly. "We always just need more facts than we have."

Danzig hummed in agreement.

"Oh, how is the... It's the Silverlight Forest Protection Unit, right?"

"Yes, it is," Cynthia confirmed.

"How are they?"

Cynthia grimaced. "They are doing as well as they can be, I suppose."

"I cannot imagine going through something like that." Danzig exhaled through their teeth.

But then they paused and frowned at their notebook with a curious expression. Their gaze darted over the page, and they flipped through it as the gears turned in their head.

A few moments passed by, and then Danzig jolted forward, one leg outstretched like they were about to bolt.

"Can I help with something?" Cynthia asked.

They held up a finger, staring at their notebook with wide eyes.

A second ticked by on the melting clock on Cynthia's desk, then another.

Danzig gasped and stood up.

"I'm sorry," they said, speed walking toward the door of the President's Room. "I have to go. There's something I have to research further. I don't know as much as I should about it." They skipped on their toes as Cynthia saw a smile forming behind their mask and their eyes lit up. "I think there might be a way someone could have survived this, even though we don't have a treatment or cure that's been proven to work."

xxxx

Seven Valentine called an hour or so later as Cynthia flipped through yet another stack of documents on the disease.

"Hello?" she answered, setting aside the papers and pulling out a pad of paper for notes.

"Hi, Mrs. Presi-. Sorry, Cynthia."

She could hear the wince in Seven's voice.

"Hello, Seven," she said. "What can I help you with?"

"My brother, Sedge, is going to call you and he wanted to make sure now is a good time."

Cynthia glanced at the documents. She needed to work through them, but they could wait.

"Have him call me, please."

"Ok, I will. Thank you, Cynthia."

Seven hung up and Cynthia filed away the documents for later.

Her phone rung yet again a minute later.

"Hello, Sedge," Cynthia said as she wrote a heading for her notes.

"Hello, Cynthia. How are you today?"

"I am doing well," she replied automatically. "How are you?"

"Could be better, but we're working on that. As soon as the Trinity is caught and all of this gets figured out, I will be sleeping much better." Sedge exhaled, then added: "I mean... I'm never going to forget what has happened. I don't know that I'll ever be able to sleep well like I did before. But I'll sleep better knowing the Trinity is behind bars."

Cynthia ticked her jaw. "Me too," she murmured. "Me too."

She would never forget either. How could she? At least two of her citizens were dead, and known murderers, even if their identities were yet to be determined, walked her streets. Cynthia was the President of Waverwell, and she couldn't sleep knowing there was such a risk.

And the disease only added to her stress.

"Anyway," Sedge continued, "I wanted to meet with you since I'm guessing the evening news is going to headline Ashley Baok's murder."

Cynthia hummed. She had seen how the news had covered Ashley's murder extensively at the start, even if some of it was little more than speculation at best and throwing out unsubstantiated claims that only pointed fingers at worst, and soon died down when the next story came along. But hearing how Sedge expected the news to cover Ashley Baok's murder first piqued her interest, and not in a good way.

"What has come up?" she asked.

Sedge sighed, and the sound came through slightly garbled from the speaker. "That's the thing. We're hoping it won't break just yet, but we think we have someone who knows the Trinity."

Cynthia paused. Her stomach sank and her skin prickled as the hair on her arms stood upright. She felt like a cool air had creeped into the room, even though the windows were latched tight. "You have someone who knows the Trinity?"

"Supposedly. Larson's currently talking with them to try to get an idea of what they know and how trustworthy they are and what angle they may be playing. But it's a new lead, which we'll never turn down."

"How'd you find them?"

"That's the thing." Sedge mulled over his words for a moment, and Cynthia heard him shifting in the background. "We didn't find them. They found the Silverlight Forest Protection Unit first."

"They sought out the Silverlight Forest Protection Unit?"

"Yes," Sedge said, "that is what happened."

"What does that mean?" Cynthia asked.

"We're not quite sure yet. Something like this doesn't automatically mean they're guilty, but it's certainly... curious. The camp is designed to not be accidentally stumbled across, and it's in a part of Silverlight Forest that the general public does not have access to. They might have sought out the camp with ulterior motives in perhaps the next move by the Trinity, or they are being truthful and are offering the information they have."

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Cynthia couldn't resist her next question. "Do they know things they could only know if they were involved?"

Sedge hummed. "I can't answer that just yet. We need to learn more about them and speak with them further."

Cynthia sighed. "I can understand that." Her mind drifted back to the start of their conversation. "Why do you think the news will cover Ashley Baok's murder if you are hoping the story won't break?"

"A swarm of reporters from Did You Hear?! somehow found out we had brought someone to the Moonfall Precinct and they were outside. A full on ruckus. I don't know how they found out, but I'd be shocked if it wasn't headlining on the news this evening."

"That's not good," Cynthia replied.

Sedge huffed a short laugh. "To say the least."

xxxx

Sedge's prediction proved to be accurate.

While Cynthia ate dinner in the President's Room so she could immediately return to work, Waverwell News and Did You Hear?! both aired the footage of the person believed to know the Trinity walking inside.

A car lacking the usual Moonfall Precinct markings pulled up to the back of the building and another one parked just behind to block most of the view. Cameras flashed harsh beams of light, and shutters created a racket alongside the chatter of reporters barking questions. Larson stepped out of the first car, shot a look at the other officers piling out of the vehicles, turned his back to the array of cameras, and helped someone out of the car. He and a few other officers shielded the person from view and led them inside.

And as Shaheena Driscoll and Jaymes Haverfield discussed what this could mean, Cynthia dropped her gaze to her dinner of lamb chops she'd had delivered from the kitchen and scowled. She wished she understood what was going on. Perhaps if she knew the ins and outs of what detectives did and the strategic moves of what to say and do and when, then she could quiet her mind and silence the rambling questions.

She wished for the millionth time that she could do more.

In her heart, Cynthia knew that there was a reason why she was President and Larson and his team were detectives. The world needed specialized people, and no one could do everything. She had her strengths as President of Waverwell, and Larson had his strengths as lead detective at the Moonfall Precinct. They could do more together than they could ever do on their own.

But, somehow, despite fully knowing that, Cynthia still wished she could do it all. That she could have the Trinity arrested and the disease stopped right now. Or yesterday. Or when each first began so no one would've had to suffer.

No, you can't think like that, Cynthia told herself.

She didn't look up when she heard the door to the President's Room open; she recognized the footsteps and would know them everywhere.

"Well, you look like death."

Cynthia rolled her eyes as Charlotte sat down across from her.

"How nice of you, Char."

"Honesty is a good thing, Sin." Charlotte smiled as she took a scoop of her cheesecake.

"Did you eat dinner?"

Charlotte nodded. "I did. I want cheesecake."

"Let me have a bite." Cynthia picked up the little spoon in front of her plate and reached across the table, but Charlotte moved her bowl back.

"No," Charlotte replied. "You have your own food."

"But I want some." Cynthia gave a mock childish pout.

"Well, that's just too bad."

"I'm the President," Cynthia teased.

"You can't always get what you want," Charlotte shot back, but she pushed her bowl of cheesecake across the desk with a smile and Cynthia took a bite of it.

"Thank you," Cynthia murmured, but her voice was weaker than she intended.

"Are you alright?"

Cynthia frowned at Charlotte's question and set down her fork, intending to give some sarcastic response, but all she could do was look away. Charlotte saw that and her posture softened.

"Come on," Charlotte said as she stood up and walked around to the side of the mahogany desk. She held out her arms and wiggled her fingers in a come here motion.

Cynthia sighed and stood up, following the silent request.

Charlotte pulled her into a hug, and Cynthia settled into the warm embrace of her wife. Charlotte ran her hand up and down Cynthia's back, and Cynthia felt the tension begin to ease from her body for the first time all day.

"Relax," Charlotte murmured. "Breathe. Chill. You're doing great, and no one expects you to do it all. You're the President, but you're human. You are not a robot, Sin. A robot cannot do the job you do as a human being. You have empathy for everyone. It's not your fault that none of this can get solved overnight, so don't pretend like you can do it all in one night."

"But I feel like I should," Cynthia whispered. She knew her wife would call her on it, and she uttered the words as if she were telling a terrible secret. "They're all watching me. How am I supposed to sleep at night knowing I have so many problems in my country? I've got a group of murderers walking the streets and a disease rampaging through."

Once Cynthia started speaking, the words poured from within her and she couldn't stop them. "How can I sleep at night knowing that Kristin Baok and Kansas Sampson March have lost their sibling? How can I sleep at night knowing that there are countless families mourning the loss of a loved one from the disease? How can I sleep at night knowing that I live in a bubble with the highest security and have virtually whatever I ask for the second I request it, and that while I do what I can to make sure my country is safe, I cannot replicate this bubble for every single person? How can I sleep beside you, Char, when there are surely so many spouses learning to sleep without their partner because the disease took them away? All I can say is that we're doing our best with the disease, that we're looking into every possibility, and echo guidelines and recommendations. Those words wouldn't comfort me, and I doubt they do for many of our citizens. I can't even tell them we're on the verge of a breakthrough, that we're testing a potential cure, that we're trialing a treatment. I can't tell my citizens what they need and deserve to hear: That medical professionals are well-informed on the disease, have a treatment, and are coordinating with me on creating a plan on getting it out to those who need it. There isn't one piece of good information I can give them."

Charlotte put her hand on Cynthia's cheek and wiped away a tear. Charlotte's face was blurry in Cynthia's eyes, but her heart softened at the sight of her wife.

Through thick and through thin, they had said at their wedding. Together until the end, no matter what life threw their way.

"Cynthia," Charlotte murmured, eyes watering with tears. "Cynthia, you cannot fix all of this with the snap of your fingers. You are doing your best, and that's all you can do. Would you expect anyone else to know exactly what to do in this situation? Would you expect anyone else to have solved all of this and stopped the disease that we do not yet understand or catch the Trinity or solve any problem on your plate?"

Cynthia shook her head. "Of course not."

"Then you have to give yourself some grace. You are human, and you are working day and night. You will figure this out, ok? I have no doubt that you can do it. But you have to rest and give yourself grace."

Cynthia leaned back, sitting on the edge of her desk. Tears rolled down her face and stung her eyes. "How am I supposed to go easy on myself when people are dying? I have to fix this all, but I can't yet. What am I supposed to say when someone asks why their daddy died or why their daughter died or why their friend died when we should've had a treatment and a cure."

Charlotte didn't answer right away, and Cynthia forced herself to take a slow breath, inhaling deeply and exhaling for as long as she could. She had to try to stay calm. She couldn't solve anything if she didn't.

"Cynthia," Charlotte started. "You care deeper than anyone I know. It's why I feel you're perfect for this job. You want to help, and you'll do anything you can to try to make Waverwell a better place for everyone. But right now, you have to accept that you cannot solve it all this very instant. Sometimes things take time, even though you want a solution right now. It's not your fault, Sin. It's not. I know there's a massive spotlight on you and that everyone is turning to you for answers and that sometimes you don't have those answers and are wondering the same thing yourself, but it's not your fault that not everything can be solved in one day. You are doing the best you can, and you can rely on your network of support. Everyone has their area of expertise. Larson, Asa, Azrael, Ryzor, and everyone at the Precincts knows how to investigate and track down and arrest the Trinity. Danzig and all the researchers at the labs know how to discover the treatment and cure for the disease. You, Cynthia Corville, know how to lead a country through this impossible circumstance. I'm here for you. Gabriella is here for you. We all are. No matter how lovely it would be, this cannot be solved overnight. But you aren't alone, ok? We're all here."

Cynthia gripped the edge of her desk and her skin pulled taut across her knuckles.

"I know that," she bit out.

She sighed and ran a hand through her hair, tugging on it. Charlotte laced her fingers through Cynthia's and gently pulled her hand away, keeping it in her own.

"I feel like if anyone else were to be doing this job..." Cynthia trailed off, taking a breath before finishing a sentence she knew Charlotte wouldn't like. She hung her head and let her hair hide her face. "I feel like if anyone else were to be doing this job they... they'd be better at it."

Charlotte lifted Cynthia's chin, forcing her to meet her gaze. "Cynthia," she started. "The citizens of Waverwell voted for you to be their President. If they felt another would've done a better job, someone else would have won. Whoever gets the most votes wins, and you got the most votes. It is that simple. They believe in you. And you are currently facing something that no one has ever faced before. There is no guidebook for how best to handle a situation like this, both with the disease and the Trinity. You were thrown into the deep end, and you are doing the best you can, ok?"

Cynthia nodded. She pushed off from the desk and pulled out of Charlotte's grip to wrap her arms around her wife's shoulders, snuggling in close. Charlotte hugged her tight.

"I'm here," Charlotte whispered. "I'm here."

Eventually, after a while wrapped in Charlotte's arms, Cynthia could exhale and let the tension leave her body.

She still felt worked up and energy and the need to move and just do something still coursed through her veins, but the band around her lungs loosened enough to where she could breathe. Her muscles relaxed, and she slumped into her wife, who tightened her grip.

"I'm here, Sin," Charlotte murmured, letting go as Cynthia pulled away.

Cynthia took a slow breath, then exhaled slower.

"I know," she said. "Thank you."

"Of course. You needed me." Charlotte took Cynthia's hand and rubbed the back of it with her thumb.

"It feels like you're always there for me. What if you need me?"

"Then you'll be there for me." Charlotte shrugged. "It's a two-way street. Sometimes one might give more than the other, but it'll even out in the end."

"You don't feel like you're doing too much and not getting enough in return?" Cynthia asked.

Charlotte shook her head. "Of course not. If I ever have any concerns about our relationship, I will come and talk with you. But I have zero. Things have been... a lot lately with the disease and the Trinity on top of the usual work of keeping a country running, but we're figuring it out. We are doing the best we can in an unprecedented time, Sin. I don't think anything is going to be normal. And if you need someone to talk to or to hug or even to just sit next to in absolute silence, give me a call. We'll communicate and figure it out, alright?"

Cynthia nodded in agreement. "Alright," she replied. "Thank you. I needed that. It's all... it's been tough lately."

"To say the least," Charlotte said. "You've got more things on your plate than I could count. We all need some help from time to time."

"Very true." Cynthia sat back down at her desk and cut off another bite of lamb.

"So how much more work do you have to do tonight? Do you think you'll be done before I'm asleep?"

Cynthia looked at the stack of documents on the disease she had been working through before Sedge called. She wanted to have a little more time with her wife, to be able to let go and just be with Charlotte... but she also was President. Any error in her work, any missed tasks, getting behind even just a little had a massive effect. It all had to be done right the first time.

"I'm sorry," Cynthia said, meeting Charlotte's gaze with a sad expression. "I don't think so tonight."

Charlotte inclined her head. "Alright. But make sure to give me a kiss before you go to sleep."

"Of course I will."