Rory returned to his rooms in less of a numb haze than he had left them. The office was still too sterile, a stranger's office that he didn’t feel at home in yet. He yearned to stumble to his bed, to cocoon himself in the soft layers of his blankets, to wake up when things were less confusing, less frightening. An equally strong but opposite yearning screamed at him to burst from his office, to prowl the streets of Haven until Eden was back where she belonged. He stood frozen in the center of his office, weighing his options. He took a step towards his bedroom, and stopped. How could he think of sleeping?

Rory let himself slump in his office chair, more comfortable than he deserved. The city police were worse than worthless, having made no progress in unearthing the Hive since its inception. The Cards were a bit more effective, in that the Hive often struck where they weren’t. Rory took his glasses off, letting them fall onto his desk, and he rubbed his eyes until stars and patterns danced behind his lids. He was powerless. Worse than powerless, he was hopeless. There was nothing that he could do.

Nothing? Unbidden, an image of the Tyche and her schematics projected onto the backdrop of his mind. His stomach rolled, but Dr. Abrahams words were stuck in his heart. The Tyche could be the only option they had when it came to finding the Hive and shutting them down. Alex Jepsen and Eden were not the only names on the list of the missing, but their disappearances in the same week could not be ignored. Whether it was the Hive’s outrage at Cardinal Enterprises’ invitation to Paradise, or their disapproval of the city contracting the Cards—both were common whispered theories around the cafeteria these days—the Hive was escalating.

The other cities couldn’t possibly understand. Paradise was nothing like Haven, without the corporate cancer of Cardinal Enterprises and the resulting aggression of the Hive. The other cities were not being terrorized from within their own domes, weren’t fighting for their lives and crying for their friends.

Rory wiped his eyes and let out the sob he’d been choking back most of the day. He let the sobs wrack his body until he was a mess of phlegm and emotion. He wiped his face again on his jacket sleeve and struggled to catch his breath. What Dr. Abrahams was proposing with the plans for the Tyche was wrong, that much was clear to Rory even through the haze of his mind. What Dr. Abrahams was doing by smuggling the Paradisium out of Paradise before they released it was enough to ignite the first Martian conflict on its own, even without the illegal satellite it would be powering. Either act, isolated, was enough to ignite a war the scale of which Rory had only read about in history books about Earth and the cursed final years humanity had spent there.

It would be worth it. The thought, though it had been knocking against his brain for the last few hours, shocked him. It would be worth it, he thought again. If Eden could be found, or even the terrorists who had stolen her could be punished, that would be enough.

Rory jostled his computer's touchpad and woke it. Dr. Abrahams’ encrypted assignment was waiting for him in his inbox. Rory could only stare at it through his blurred vision for a moment, feeling his heartbeat in his throat. He hovered his finger over it, hesitating. Wrong, wrong, wrong, his mind screamed. Worth it, his heart whispered.

Rory lost track of the hours as he worked. What Dr. Abrahams had requested of him was nothing so complicated, nothing so offensive, and, when the wave of guilt rose, Rory was able to pretend that the software he wrote could be for any innocent application. Both moons were high in the sky and reaching their soft glowing fingers of light through the large window of Rory’s office, trying unsuccessfully to lull him to sleep, when a sharp few knocks jolted him out of his deep focus.

“Can I come in?” Dr. Whitmore asked, not seeming surprised in the least at how quickly Rory answered his knock. He held two identical oversized mugs and offered one to Rory. “I brought you some tea. It’ll help you sleep.”

“How did you know I wasn’t sleeping?” Rory asked, though he knew the evidence on his face was likely enough.

“Call it a hunch.” Dr. Whitmore crossed into the room and let himself down into one of the stiff backed office chairs in front of Rory’s desk. He sighed and took a deep drink from his own mug.

“I’m sorry, Dr. Whitmore,” Rory said, still standing beside the door. “I don’t know what to say. What can I do for you?”

“Tonight,” Dr. Whitmore said, offering Rory’s own chair to him with a comfortable gesture. “You should call me Alan. We’re colleagues now, anyways. I haven’t come here to ask anything of you, Rory. Just to bring you tea and offer some friendship.”

Despite everything else, a little warmth spread through Rory. He took a sip of the tea Alan had brought him, and the warmth spread faster and stronger. The two let the companionable silence reign for a moment. It was nice to have someone near him. Another beating heart in the room.

“Thank you, Alan. This is excellent tea.”

Dr. Whitmore looked at him with kind eyes, soft and empathic. “I’m truly sorry for what you’re going through. Nothing I say will help, unfortunately. I’m not fool enough to think this could be soothed with words. If it could, I’d say them. But I will say this. Don’t let your fear hold you back. Don’t make the same mistakes so many young bright scientists make, letting their doubt get in the way of the future.”

“How can I not be afraid?” Rory asked. Of course, he was afraid. Any reasonable person would be.

“There’s nothing wrong with being afraid, Rory. It’s whether or not you let the fear stop you.”

Dr. Whitmore's intention was suddenly clear to him, and Rory’s heart dropped a few stories.

“You think I’m going to give up on the Tyche?” Rory asked. “Is that why you’re really here?”

He has the good manners to look embarrassed, but Dr. Whitmore nodded.

“It may be the only hope of saving your friend,” he said solemnly. “Ignoring all the other applications. We need the Tyche. Dr. Abrahams is a visionary; I’ve never known him to fear the future. Trust him with me. Can you do that?”

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Numb all over again, Rory could only nod.

“You’ve got a lot to think about, Rory. But try to get some sleep. Let me know if there’s anything you need.”

Despite the warmth of the tea and the exhaustion he felt, Rory couldn’t stand the silence of the room and the emptiness. No one really cared that she was missing, besides him and the Coopers. Mara and Hal certainly weren’t overly bothered, and Rory doubted that Mara had even kept her name on the list after everything Hal had said. If Eden had accepted the position on the Cards and taken Mara up on her offer, she would have taken Rory’s report more seriously, Rory was sure of that. Even Dr. Whitmore and Sabrina only cared about Eden’s disappearance as a means to bring him deeper into the treachery of the Tyche.

And it was working.

Rory slammed his mug down, harder than he meant to, and tea sloshed over the sides. She was out there, somewhere. He could feel it. She was alive. If she wasn’t alive, he would know it somehow. Feel it in his bones. Taking the mug of tea with him, Rory shrugged into his cardigan and slipped on his old boots. No one was out there looking for her. He’d have to do it himself.

Before the last two days, Rory rarely spent time on the streets of Haven, especially at night, typically preferring to spend his evenings cross legged on the floor of Eden’s room or holed up in his office. The night air was the same temperature as during the day, thanks to the protective dome, but beneath the twin moons, it felt much colder. Rory hugged his cardigan closer to his body. It was threadbare and worn through in places, having been previously worn by Silas Cooper several pounds ago, and now it was held together by love and mended stitches. Rory tried not to think of what Silas and Elena must be feeling and he wondered if they looked for her too. Did they still have hope? Did he?

He wasn’t sure where he was going. The gates of the Garden stood locked before him and he hesitated out of habit. It seemed like another lifetime that he had helped bring the Garden to life. He couldn’t even look at it now and turned away, heading to the southern quadrant. Everything had started with the Garden, but now it was a symbol of loss. The streets were mercifully empty, but for a few stragglers hurrying home for the night and a few city police officers patrolling. There should be more patrols, Rory thought, trying not to make eye contact with them as he passed. Nothing was being done.

As Rory walked, he shone the flashlight he’d brought down each dark alley. He chased every shadow he came across but none of them held her. They believed the base was mobile. Was he one step ahead of her or behind her? Even though he didn’t want to think about Dr. Whitmore’s visit, every useless step that Rory took reminded him that breaking the treaty was not the worst thing in the world. It was probably Eden’s only hope.

Rory searched the southern quadrant of the city for hours, until he was slick with sweat and the blisters on his feet were begging him to stop. He refused to slow until the sun threatened to rise again. Rory turned back towards campus, always terrifyingly visible as one of the tallest buildings in Haven, and trudged wearily in that direction. Sleep. He would sleep for a few hours. Steps slower than before, it still did not take long before Rory could see the steps of campus.

For a moment, he thought he had lost it. Hallucinating at this stage of sleep deprivation would be dramatic, perhaps, but not unheard of. Rory broke into a run and took the steps two at a time. It wasn’t until he crouched beside her curled body, and saw her chest rise and fall, and heard the soft whisper of her breath and breathed in the strange earthy smell on her skin, that Rory realized he wasn’t hallucinating. Eden was lying at the top of the steps of Cardinal Enterprises Main Campus, inexplicably and miraculously returned.

“Eden? Wake up! Please, oh god. Please, wake up!”

She was breathing. She was alive. She was alive! He shook her shoulder–warm to his touch!–but she didn’t respond. She laid on the steps of the building as if she was simply sleeping, as if she’d been laying here this whole time. The hair on the back of his neck prickled, and Rory shot a wary look over his shoulder, searching for the eyes he felt watching him. She hadn’t gotten here on her own. The steps below him and the street below revealed nothing; they were alone.

A small groan, and the watching eyes didn’t matter anymore. She was moving in her sleep, groaning and beginning to stir. Rory gathered her small body in his arms and held her close to his chest. Had she always been this small? This thin? Her face was bruised, and her bones poked at him in a sharp way they usually didn’t.

But she was alive.

Later, when she asked about it, he hadn’t been able to recall carrying her to the infirmary, or what he’d said to the doctor there. All he remembered was slumping into the chair at the side of her infirmary bed, her hand in his, and then blessed sleep.

When Rory woke, he felt as though he were still dreaming. Sunlight was streaming in through the infirmary windows, illuminating the lone bed and its crisp white sheets, but it was still early. Eden was still sleeping; her brow was smooth and her eyes moved beneath the lids rapidly as she dreamed. Her hand was still neatly folded in Rory’s; they’d slept so deeply they hadn’t moved.

There was a soft knock at the door, and a man entered without waiting for any answer. He wore the white jacket and the patient expression of a practiced doctor, and he was consulting the tablet in his hands as he entered.

“Oh! I didn’t expect either of you to be awake yet,” the doctor said, crossing to the bed and examining the displays of the machines hooked up to Eden.

It was only then, as the doctor poked around, that Rory noticed the wires and tubes protruding from Eden’s uncovered skin. She was wrapped in a blanket, hospital gown poking out and askew. There was a bandage wrapped around each of her wrists. Rory shuddered. Her hand was clammy in his, and he rubbed it softly. She murmured in her sleep.

“Has she woken at all?” the doctor asked, noting down the last numbers he needed and turning his attention to Rory.

“No,” Rory answered. “At least, I don’t think so. I just woke up myself.”

“And your relationship to the patient? I understand you were the one who found her? Though you look like you’ve been through hell as well.”

Rory smiled weakly. “She’s my best friend,” he answered. “She’s been… missing. For two days. It has been hell, but nothing compared to what she must have been through.” Two days? That didn’t seem right. Rory felt as if he’d aged a lifetime.

The doctor nodded. “Our blood panel shows some kind of sedative, though I must admit I’m not familiar with the variety. I’d like to try waking her now.”

“You don’t think she’d wake on her own?”

“Maybe. But she’s slept long enough, and I’ve got someone here with questions for her.”

The doctor opened the door of the cabinet near the door.

“Wait!” Rory said before he could think better of it.

The doctor stopped and Rory, who hadn’t thought much farther than stopping him from experimenting on Eden, gently squeezed Eden’s hand. He touched her face and brushed some of her hair out of her face. She hated it in her face. He tucked it behind her ear, wincing when that revealed the bruising on her face he’d forgotten about. Horrifyingly aware of the doctor’s eyes on his back, Rory leaned down and whispered to her.

“Eden?” he said softly. “Wake up, Eden. Please. It’s time to wake up now.”