Chapter 6

CYNTHIA CORVILLE

Cynthia Corville was simultaneously looking forward to the meeting and dreading it in its entirety.

One week had passed, and cases of the new disease had done nothing but rise. She was grateful that there were still no confirmed deaths caused by the disease, but that didn't mean there were, in actuality, zero, or that the disease hadn't played a role in some way. And no deaths didn't make something good— there were plenty of illnesses that held no concern of death but still caused a great deal of pain and suffering.

Cynthia sat at her desk in the President's Room, flipping through a stack of documents. Updates from the doctors and scientists researching the disease, ranging from what was known about it to where they still did not know enough to recommendations on how to best combat it since it had been determined that the disease spread through physical contact.

But hidden amongst the last paragraphs in an update, someone had written out that the disease was not behaving like other ailments that had been studied before. Medications that had worked against other similar illnesses had no effect on this new one.

Cynthia blew out a big breath of air as she read through the paragraph again. Unfortunate, but we will work through it, she told herself. No need to get worked up— it will not help anything. You will become blinded, and that is the last thing you need.

In big, bold letters at the top of the most recent report from the Corville Medical Center, the words RECOMMENDATION: COUNTRY-WIDE LOCKDOWN had been printed.

Upon reading those words once, twice, and then thrice, Cynthia had leaned back in her chair, placed a hand over her mouth, closed her eyes, and let out a slow exhale. In the back of her mind, she knew she had known it was coming, hadn't seen any realistic future where that lockdown didn't occur. But she hadn't been able to help the hope that had curled up in her heart. Hope that the disease would somehow have slunk off like a wounded animal and disappeared for good. Hope that maybe all that would be needed to be done was just wait a week and that would be the extent of its damage.

But neither of those had happened; the disease had continued to spread. The only unaffected city remaining was Raconteur, which functioned almost as its own little state. Few made the trek to or from it, except for a few delivery trucks now and then and the odd car every so often. Cynthia hoped the disease never made it to there.

Cynthia sighed. The recommendation to enforce a country-wide lockdown had been made, and those who made the recommendation were doctors and researchers at the top of their field who had dedicated their lives to healthcare and learning about the diseases and illnesses that affected the human species. They were the ones who knew how best to combat threats to human health.

All Cynthia could do was implement laws and emergency actions that followed those recommendations.

And she needed to now— there had not yet been any deaths, but confirmed cases were rapidly increasing, and likely would continue to do so.

The meeting with Gabriella, Delta, and the rest of the highest Waverwell government officials was in a few hours. Cynthia had time to look over each report in detail and absorb all of the information to create the best argument for enforcing the recommended lockdown; she knew she would get pushback from Harold and likely Delta.

She could use her Presidential power to implement it without speaking to anyone, but her decision could be challenged and overruled. If she could at all avoid that scenario and get everyone in agreement, she would much rather do that.

Just as she was responding to Harold's email that yes, they were still meeting today and that yes, they were meeting in the same room as last week, someone knocked at the door to the President's Room.

"Come in," Cynthia called as she hit send on the email.

"Hey, Sin," Charlotte said, letting the door shut behind her.

"Char," Cynthia replied with a smile. "It is so great to see you." She stood up and walked around her desk to pull her wife in for a hug and a kiss.

Charlotte's touch lingered, hands holding onto Cynthia's shoulders.

"To what do I owe this surprise? It was a very pleasant and welcome surprise though." Cynthia placed her hands over Charlotte's, gazing into her wife's eyes. The warm feeling it gave her never got old and felt like it had the first time every time she looked at Charlotte.

"We have lunch soon, remember?" Charlotte's eyebrows furrowed.

Cynthia took a quick step back, pawing across her desk for her calendar, a spiral-bound notebook bulging with enough sticky notes and cut-out papers taped in as reminders that it could not close flat. She skimmed through, and sure enough, lunch with Charlotte was on today's list. Her heart sank, and she felt like a deflating balloon.

She couldn't make it— between the meeting in the afternoon, keeping up with the investigation into Ashley's murder, and working out how she could help combat the disease on top of all the other duties she had when it came to fulfilling the role of President of Waverwell, she would barely have time for a snack, much less fully commit both herself and her mind to enjoying a lunch with her wife where her full attention was on the meal and giving her wife the attention she deserved.

"I'm sorry," Cynthia started, turning around and silently pleading with Charlotte to understand.

"You can't make it?" Charlotte's voice was oddly flat.

"I'm sorry," Cynthia repeated. "I would give anything to be able to sit down and have lunch with you, but I have so much going on. The second I have enough time to dedicate to a meal with you, I will. I want to so badly. I love you, and I love spending time with you."

"I've barely seen you lately, Sin," Charlotte murmured, stepping forward to wrap her arms around Cynthia's middle.

Cynthia pressed her forehead into Charlotte's shoulder, speaking into the curve of her neck. "I know. I'm sorry."

"Sorry doesn't change it."

A bolt of pain lanced through Cynthia's chest, and she held back her flinch.

"I know," she whispered, tightening her grip and trying to commit to memory the feel of Charlotte, the warmth of her body. It was true— no apology could make up for her being unable to sit down for lunch with her wife. Cynthia wanted to give Charlotte everything, dedicate every ounce of her attention to her wife and force new memories she would cherish forever. But she couldn't, and sorry couldn't change it.

"That's not what I meant."

"But it's true," Cynthia replied, pressing a gentle kiss to Charlotte's throat. "It's true."

"I didn't mean it like that." Charlotte pulled back but kept her hands on Cynthia's shoulders.

"How did you mean it?"

"I miss you, Sin. I want to see you, I want to spend time with you. It's like you've become a ghost. I know you're drowning in work and are trying to carry our country through an incredibly tough time, but..." Charlotte sighed. "But I miss you. We've barely seen each other these past few weeks."

"I know, I know. I'd change it in a heartbeat if I could. President of Waverwell is busy, but we made it work in the past. We can work it out now."

"We can work it out," Charlotte confirmed.

Cynthia chewed on her lip for a moment. "How about we do something tonight, even if it's just saying goodnight for a few minutes? I'd love nothing more than to sit down for a meal, but I don't know when I will be able to do that."

Charlotte nodded. "I'd like to share a meal as well, but I know you're busy. Hell, I'd love a vacation. But Presidents don't get those very often, especially not when there's a high-profile murder and a disease rampaging across the country. I'll take doing something tonight, a quick goodnight or something more. Deal?" She stuck out her hand.

"Deal." Cynthia took her wife's hand and gave it a firm shake, just like her parents had taught her.

"Seal it with a kiss? You can't break it if it's been sealed with a kiss." Charlotte smiled, eyes twinkling.

Cynthia narrowed her eyes playfully. "I thought that was a pinkie promise?"

"Well, there's those, but there's also promises sealed with kisses."

"In that case, we should test out just how good those are." Cynthia stepped forward, closing the space between herself and her wife. She laced her arms around Charlotte's shoulders.

"I think we should. It's for science."

"Oh, most definitely," Cynthia said, pressing a soft kiss to Charlotte's mouth and melting into it.

xxxx

Cynthia steeled herself as she walked down the hallway to the meeting room. In her arms, she held her notes and the documents, updates from various doctors and researchers about the disease Information that ranged from newly known facts about it to how it worked to the best precautions to take in keeping it under control.

She wasn't a doctor, so she was limited in what she could do.

But, she silently added as she approached the room, she had power the doctors didn't have.

Cynthia could implement laws. She could lean on local governments to take certain steps, but she could also wield her Presidential power and make an executive decision on what choices to make. In her several years as President of Waverwell, she had never used that power, and she hoped she never would.

Harold was already in the meeting room when Cynthia entered, and he was flipping through his notebook. He wore a green suit that gave him a bit of a queasy appearance, although his stern expression said otherwise.

"Hello, Harold," Cynthia greeted as she sat down across from him.

"Cynthia," he replied, giving her a quick nod of his head.

It was only another few minutes before Gabriella opened the door, holding it for Delta as he walked through.

Linda was the last to arrive, and she sat in the same seat as she had last week— the one closest to the window that looked down at the street below. She pulled out her notebook and an assortment of pens.

"Shall we begin?" Cynthia asked once the shuffling of papers ceased.

"We shall," Harold replied.

"I am ready," Linda said.

"Wonderful." Cynthia pulled out the report she received from the Corville Medical Center. "In attendance we have myself, Cynthia Corville, as well as Gabriella Torres, Linda Machowski, Delta Bass, and Harold Morris.

"A week ago we agreed that we would hold off on any major decisions until we had a better grasp on how the disease was acting and what recommendations were made by medical professionals. The most recent reports, which I made sure were all sent to you as well, say that the best course of action for right now is a country-wide lockdown to help prevent more people from catching the disease until we know enough to be able to effectively combat it. Their evidence is also in the report."

"I think it's an easy decision," Gabriella said. "We need the lockdown. It'll be a bit unfortunate, sure. No one wants their normal routines to be disrupted, but the evidence is there and it has sound reasoning. And it is also not my place to argue too much since I do not have a medical degree."

Harold crossed his arms across his chest. "I'm not convinced." His voice was flat and left no room for interpretation.

"You're not convinced about what?" Cynthia asked.

"The lockdown!" Harold threw his hands up in the air.

"What about it doesn't have you convinced?"

"That the lockdown is the best course of action. I mean, there's those claims floating around that the disease is from Leviathan Inc., not that I agree with it. Bad business to infect customers, right? What would be their motive for doing so? But regardless, can't the doctors just create some antidote?"

"For one," Gabriella replied, "an antidote is for a poison. And two, I think few would intentionally infect others with a disease, although I will not come to any conclusions until I see clear evidence either confirming or denying the claims. And three, there are currently no medications or treatments that doctors know of and have in their possession that will work against this disease."

"And they can't just whip one up?"

Gabriella's body was tensed so tight that Cynthia thought she might spontaneously combust. "No, they cannot." Gabriella's voice was smooth, sickly sweet, faux pleasant. "Doctors cannot just whip up a treatment to a disease they do not yet know enough about to properly work out the correct formula that would be used in said treatment."

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"They're that slow?" Delta frowned.

"Would you like to study something you cannot see with the naked eye and then figure out the best way to target it and treat it?" Gabriella snapped, nose wrinkling and dark eyes flashing. Light glinted off her dangling earrings in sharp bolts of white.

"Nak-."

"You say one word about naked, and God help me, we will have serious problems."

Delta held his tongue.

"I thought so."

"Why are you so against the lockdown, Harold?" Cynthia asked.

"I don't think it's necessary," he replied.

"And why not?"

"It's going to cost jobs, and our economy is going to suffer."

Gabriella gave Harold a steely glare, eyes narrowed until they were little more than slits. "An economy that is a product of our imagination that doesn't truly exist is going to suffer? And this economy is something you are willing to place above the lives of the citizens you vowed to serve when you were elected to Waverwell government?"

Harold met her cold gaze. "In case you forgot, my campaign ran on protecting jobs and the economy. In every speech I gave, I said I would do everything in my power to ensure the economy grew and became stronger and that new jobs would be created. Why do you think I stood beside Leviathan Inc. so much? They employ ninety-thousand citizens. That is almost one-fifth of Waverwell's entire population."

"You vowed you would serve the people of Waverwell. In this instance, serving the people means working to keep them safe from this disease, one that we still know little about and one that has not been acting like anything similar to it."

"I do not wish anything bad upon the citizens and I am all for protecting them, but I do not feel that a lockdown is the right way to go."

Cynthia exhaled slowly, holding back the biting response she wanted to give.

She didn't need Harold's support to implement the lockdown; all she needed was the majority. But the more people she could get on her side, the better chance of the lockdown working the way she hoped it would— citizens complying with minimal complaint because they saw the benefit and the reason why. Their politicians showing their support and pointing them in the direction of the doctors for answers would help.

She needed Harold on her side if at all possible.

"Harold," Linda said, lifting her gaze from her notebook. She tapped her pen against her ring finger as she spoke. "The doctors have stated that this is the best way currently known to help prevent more people from getting infected. It's simple logic: it is harder for the disease to spread when people are spending less time near each other. Why are you having difficulty with that? I'm not super excited about shutting down our country, but it's what needs to be done. As soon as the lockdown is no longer necessary, I will push for it to be lifted, but I do not want this disease to ravage Waverwell any more than it needs to. I'm with you in that I do not like it, but I know that there can easily be complications and lasting effects long after the disease itself has left a person's body and there is still the possibility of death. It's worth it for now."

"He's against it cuz he's got his own free will. Harold can do what he'd like, and that's that. Free country," Delta muttered, eyes flickering between Cynthia and his phone.

She shook her head back and forth slowly. Just you try it, she thought to herself, daring him to let his fingers brush the phone.

Delta sank down in his chair like a scolded child.

"There's free country and then there's being too selfish to accept minor inconveniences for the good of the country." Gabriella crossed her arms across her chest, nails digging into her skin like colorful claws.

Cynthia held up a hand, silencing Delta before he could speak. "We are clearly getting nowhere. I think it's safe to say we're at a bit of a stalemate. Can we agree that we should do something in regard to the disease to help prevent it from spreading further?"

Cynthia hated how it made it seem like she'd be willing to accept less than what she was originally asking for. She wasn't, but perhaps that illusion might give Harold a boost to his ego, and maybe with a minor miracle, she would be able to get an agreement on a lockdown. Maybe. It was very wishful thinking, but Cynthia would do what was needed and would take all she could get to be able to walk out of the meeting room with five votes in favor of a country-wide lockdown.

"I think we can work something out," Linda replied, starting a new page in her notebook.

"Yeah, sure. Whatever." Delta hunched over the table, picking at his nails.

"This is not me agreeing to the lockdown, let me make that clear," Harold said. "But I will say... I do think that we should do something about this disease."

"And what do you have in mind?" Cynthia asked.

"Funding. We should give the Corville Medical Center money for their research."

"We're already do that," Cynthia said. "And they know we will pick up the cost on anything they do not have enough funds for."

"We should do more of that— give them enough money that they will not have to ask us for anything."

Gabriella let out a sharp breath. "Harold, that will be useful, but how about something we can do that would help right now. Research is very beneficial and will let us understand this disease, but that will not help right now and will not help keep people from getting infected right now."

Harold gave Gabriella a sour look.

"So basically a lockdown is our only option?" Delta asked.

"A lockdown is what the doctors and researchers at the Corville Medical Center recommend. There is no political motive behind this." Cynthia fished through her stack of documents and pulled out the report, holding it up.

Harold narrowed his eyes, giving Cynthia a squinty stare that told her he wasn't convinced on what she was saying.

"I'm still not sure about that," he said.

Cynthia was beginning to consider more seriously that she should take the decision of a lockdown to a vote. Three out of five would get her the win. With Delta seemingly considering agreeing, that put her at potentially four out of five since Linda was likely to vote yes. And even if it was just her and Gabriella, she could enforce the lockdown using her Presidential power. But four out of five would help increase the likelihood of the lockdown working successfully— there were beyond the three votes necessary for the win. Getting an entire country to all do one thing was tough, even more so when it would have some inconveniences and would affect virtually every aspect of life. But it could be done.

A knock on the door kept Cynthia from responding.

"Come in," she said, racking her brain for who might be at the door.

She didn't have any possibilities, but when Seven entered the meeting room, she knew he was not who she would've guessed it could be.

"Hello, Seven," she greeted.

He offered a small smile. "Hi, Mrs. Pres- er, sorry. Cynthia. May I, uh, speak with you for a-for a moment? I-I apologize for interrupting, but it is... it's really very important." Seven rocked on his feet, and his fingertips worried at his dress pants, which still seemed a size too big. Cynthia wondered what she would have to do so he could relax and not look so strung up.

"Yes, Seven. Would you like to speak privately, or is here alright?"

"I don't..." he paused for a moment. "Privately?"

"Ok, we can speak out in the hallway." Cynthia pushed her chair back and stood up.

Seven nodded, opening the door and holding it as Cynthia walked through.

"What is it?" Cynthia asked once the door had shut.

The hallway was empty, silent. The air felt heavy, tense.

"There's been another murder." Seven chewed on his lip, mouth twisting into a frown.

Cynthia froze, and she gave herself several seconds to let things settle in her mind. "There's been another murder?"

"Yeah."

"I'm assuming this is in reference to Ashley Baok's murder?" Cynthia gave a brief wave to someone as they passed by in the hallway.

Seven waited until they were gone before responding. "Yeah."

"Where?"

"Here in, uh, Corville. Near the shopping center."

Cynthia narrowed her eyes. As far as she knew, Ashley Baok hadn't been to Corville. At least not regularly. Waverwell wasn't all that big —the drive from Raconteur to the other side of the country in the Warren could be done in under a day— but killing in two different areas not right next to each other? The locations were so different, a forest and a shopping center, and Cynthia wasn't sure what sort of connection could be made. Perhaps it was the people and not the place, but Cynthia knew she didn't have the knowledge to come to any conclusion with any sort of certainty, much less without all of the information.

"Does the Corville Precinct know who the victim is?"

"Not yet," Seven said, shaking his head and then running a hand through his shaggy hair when a few locks fell over his eyes.

"Do they know what the connection is to Ashley Baok?"

"They're not sure yet, but there are many similarities in the way the victim was killed. Mostly, uh..." Seven trailed off, and when he continued, his voice was far softer than before. "Mostly it was the... nature of the killing."

"Nature?" Cynthia echoed.

"They think it was the Trinity."

Cynthia swallowed against the bile that rose in her throat. She had only seen pictures of Ashley Baok's body, ones attached in the files she had forced herself to flip through because she couldn't stomach the horrors that had been inflicted upon him but knew she was the President of Waverwell and had to. If what this new victim had been through and they were killed by the Trinity... Cynthia could hardly imagine the agony they had suffered.

She closed her eyes, leaning her shoulder against the doorframe.

"The Trinity," she murmured. "They think it was the Trinity."

"Yeah," Seven replied.

"Can you please tell the Corville Precinct to get in contact with Asa and Azrael Smith, as well as Larson Hotch at the Moonfall Precinct? They will be able to help confirm whether or not this murder was committed by the Trinity."

Seven nodded. "I will do that right away."

"Thank you. I am going to go speak with Asa and Azrael Smith."

Cynthia opened the door to the meeting room again, and all eyes fell on her except Delta's— he was scrolling on his phone.

"I need to go. There has been a murder that appears to have similarities to Ashley Baok's murder. Gabriella, you are now in charge. Let me know the decision you all come from. You know my vote, Gabriella. Linda, please put it in your notes that I have left. Continue on."

Cynthia quickly made her way back to the President's Room after bidding Seven farewell.

Another murder, she thought. She didn't know if she wanted the Trinity to be responsible or not. Which would be less bad? Could something like this even have a less bad option? There was nothing that could make it good in any sense of the word, she knew that for certain.

xxxx

Asa and Azrael Smith picked up on the third ring.

Cynthia was back in the President's Room, sitting in her chair at the mahogany desk with her telephone on speaker and a pad of paper turned to a new page at the ready. The hands on the melting clock were nearing eleven at night.

"Hello?" Asa said.

"Hello, this is Cynthia Corville."

There was an immediate rustling, a startled cry followed by a thump, and then a muffled curse.

"Shush, Az," Asa hissed in a muted voice— she had stepped away from her phone.

"I know! I just wasn't expecting a call from the President!"

"You knew it was a possibility. We're working for her. Take a second, get yourself together, and then come speak with her. I doubt she'll bite."

Cynthia bit back a chuckle but didn't say anything.

"My apologies, Mrs. President Corville," Asa said.

"No worries, and you can call me Cynthia."

"Oh, right, sorry. You told me that last time." Asa's voice was hesitant, tentative.

"There's been a lot going on."

"Hell, yeah," Azrael said with a humorless laugh. "Lots going on. I'm assuming you're calling about the new murder?"

"I am," Cynthia confirmed. "How much do you know about it?"

"Probably about the same amount as you do. One victim near the shopping center in Corville, unidentified as of now but that might've changed, not much evidence, wounds and manner of death appear similar to Ashley Baok's injuries, and they're suspecting the Trinity but can't conclusively say yet," Asa listed off. "That's what we know."

"That's what I know as well. I'm guessing it would be helpful for you to look at the crime scene?"

"Yeah, it would be. We're working on that right now. We've been in contact with the Corville Precinct and are communicating with them about our investigation into Ashley Baok's murder. It's what started the theory of a second murder by the Trinity."

"Do you need me to reach out to the Corville Precinct? I can push them if you're having trouble getting access to the crime scene and their reports."

"I'm not sure that will be necessary," Azrael replied. "Rift Oberhofer has been assisting in our investigation, and his brother, Ryzor, is the lead detective at the Corville Precinct. I doubt it would really hurt anything, though. It would at least give them a sense of the urgency in this investigation and who they might be looking at as far as suspects go. I mean, you only get involved when it's something really serious. Whoever killed Ashley Baok is very dangerous."

"Can I get your honest opinion?" Cynthia couldn't quite settle the question in her mind.

"'Course. What is it?" Azrael asked.

"Do you think this victim really is the second victim of the Trinity?"

Asa sighed. "I cannot say for certain without seeing all of the information, but I can say that another killing was a very real —but very unfortunate— possibility. I can give you a better answer once we head out to Corville and talk with the detectives there. We'll get a better sense of if this was the job of the Trinity. But-..." she trailed off.

"But what?" Cynthia pressed.

"I believe Larson already told you, but we don't think Ashley Baok's murder was the first," Azrael said.

Cynthia thought back to the conversation she'd had with Larson Hotch. He had told her that, and the idea sickened her. One life was too many, but more lives taken meant more families destroyed.

"You think the Trinity committed murders before Ashley Baok's?"

"We believe they did," Asa replied. "We will share more once we're confident of it and have the evidence we need."

"Don't take this the wrong way, but I hope you're wrong. I trust in your abilities, but I don't want to hear or any more people dead."

"Nah, I get it. I don't want a dead body any more than you do. Sure, we'll get evidence and all that, but a dead body means someone lost their life and their future and someone's family just got crushed." Cynthia could almost hear Azrael's frown and the slow shake of her head from the tone of her voice.

"Please keep me updated," Cynthia said.

"Will do."

"Thank you. I will reach out to Ryzor Oberhofer and get back to you soon on that."

"I appreciate it, Cynthia," said Asa.

"Have a nice rest of your evening."

Azrael laughed. "Past eleven? Not much of an evening, now is it?"

Cynthia chuckled. "No, I suppose not."

Cynthia hung up the phone, and an email was waiting in her inbox from Gabriella.

The lockdown would go into effect the following morning, and all but Harold had voted in favor of it.

A wave of relief crashed over Cynthia, and a bit of the weight on her shoulders lifted. It wouldn't solve everything, but it would be enough for now.

She knew Delta might soon turn against his decision and that Linda would likely only be in favor of the lockdown for as long as it was entirely necessary, but she would take the win.

It will be enough, she told herself. It had to be.

xxxx

It was nearing midnight when Cynthia returned to her room. She opened and shut the door quietly as she snuck inside, and she was glad she did when she saw Charlotte's slumbering form tucked away beneath the blankets on their bed.

Waverwell News was playing quietly on the tv as Cynthia crossed the room. She could barely hear the voice of Shaheena Driscoll and Jaymes Haverfield, but the subtitles at the top of the screen let her catch up with the two reporters.

The biggest story was still the claims made against Leviathan Inc. Ashley Baok's case was a scrolling headline at the bottom of the screen, mixed in amongst a blurb about the weather and an update about the disease.

Cynthia skimmed the subtitles as she took off her jacket and set down the documents she'd brought with her to look at in the morning.

No new information has come to light in support of the claims against Leviathan Inc. that the disease has come as a result of their misuse of Arkreon, and Leviathan Inc. has continued to promote their innocence, citing their rigorous safety protocols. However, some are raising questions over the energy company's reluctance to let reporters and investigators inside their factories where Arkreon is turned into the energy they provide to much of Waverwell. We will keep you updated as this story unfolds. Leviathan Inc. did not respond to our requests for comments.

Cynthia sighed and reached out for the remote, turning the tv off with a click. It was time to sleep— the disease, Ashley Baok's murder, and the claims against Leviathan Inc. were all problems that needed to be solved, but doing so required rest. They would have to wait until tomorrow.

As quietly as she could, Cynthia changed into her pajamas and brushed her teeth.

Charlotte only stirred as Cynthia eased her way into bed.

"Sin?" Charlotte grumbled, voice thick with sleep. "That you?"

"Hey, Char," replied Cynthia. "Go back to sleep."

"No, you're here. I want to see you." Charlotte wiped her eyes and sat up, propping pillows against the headboard. Her jaws parted in a massive yawn, but she stayed awake.

I'm right here, Cynthia wanted to say, but she knew what her wife was really saying: I have hardly seen you these past few weeks. You're here now, and I want to spend time with you before we fall asleep and you have to be away for so long tomorrow.

Cynthia was beyond tired and her brain could hardly string two coherent thoughts together with how much time she had spent trying to puzzle out seemingly impossible problems, but she was here now with her wife. She wanted to sleep, but she missed her wife. Charlotte meant everything to her, and so it wasn't a hard decision at all.

"Come here," Cynthia said, wrapping an arm around Charlotte's shoulders.

"Hey," Charlotte murmured, snuggling in against Cynthia's side.

"Hey," Cynthia replied, an exchange that echoed the first time they had met when they were teenagers.

They sat together, cuddled up as the stars blanketed Corville and silence clung to the hollow streets, no cars to be heard in the dead of the night.

Waverwell would shut down tomorrow, and the emptiness would carry over to the day. No more bustling crowds for the first time in Cynthia's memory.