Reid is still alive. He never expected to be.
Trouble is, so is Dr. Lund. She is wheezing, but he realizes it’s hardly from her death throes. She’s just trying to laugh, difficult to do with him pressed to her narrow chest.
“Nice try,” she whispers around the thin breath of air she is able to draw. Her amber eyes sparkle. “But the new dose won’t allow an overload, darling. That was one of the flaws in the formula, one I was forced to add by Brackett. And why some of the older subjects died. They simply hit their saturation point.”
Reid hears gasping behind him, sees the two hunters crouched close go down in a froth of white foam. There is the sound of metal hitting concrete. He glances over his shoulder, sees the four soldiers collapsing to the floor, clutching at their throats while the two hunters are human again and very, very dead.
“Oh, them,” Dr. Lund says. “Yes, I’m afraid they haven’t had the new stuff yet. And, come to think of it, your little girlfriend hasn’t either.”
Reid is off of the doctor and turning, watching in horror as Leila’s crystal blue eyes bulge, her slim hands going to her mouth, her pale skin washing out further as the poison takes hold. She’s far enough from the initial dose that her death is slow, but she is dying and there’s only one thing he can do about it.
As Leila crumples to her knees, Reid throws himself back on top of Dr. Lund, his hands at her throat. The hunter within him takes over, his vision tightening, only seeing her, his hands registering the softness of her skin, the scent of cinnamon and honey on her breath.
She doesn’t fight him in the end. Just smiles up at him, her small hands around his wrists. As if she wants to die.
“You… are my… greatest achievement.” The hoarse croak just makes it past the horrible pressure of his hands. “And… I am… so… proud of… you.”
Reid howls his fury, his denial, as his hands jerk together.
The doctor sighs away into a tidy heap of glittering dust.
The soldiers are dead, white foam making the floor slick where it spewed during their struggles. Reid slides over a patch, grabbing Leila. She is barely breathing, only a hitch in her chest as she fights for air past the rising liquid in her lungs. He holds her over the remains of the doctor even as Leila’s eyes fill with terror and her fingers scrabble at his shirt.
“Don’t… crazy.”
He understands her fear. Dr. Lund’s insanity quite possibly came from the dust she took. It could be passed on to Leila. He knows from the fading light in her eyes she would rather die. But he just can’t let her go.
“This might kill you anyway,” he says all in a hurry. “And if you go nuts, I’ll do it myself.”
There is just enough of her consciousness left to agree. Her eyes close as he lays her beside the pile and turns her on her side, face pressed into the sparkling powder.
She manages one small inhale before falling still. Reid’s whole body breaks out into a cold sweat, panic driving him to pile handfuls of the stuff onto her face, pouring it in her mouth.
It’s too late. Leila has stopped breathing. Her body twitches once, twice. Lies still. No foam emerges from her lips, he has that much. But it’s not enough, will never be enough. She is dead and he has failed her in the end when it matters most.
He never got the chance to tell her. How he feels. How he felt. That she means--meant--so much to him. That her memory is all that keeps him going.
Despair is eating him alive. Reid takes a large handful of the dust and inhales it, hoping it will drive him mad, or at least take his emotions away. He would rather not care right now. But this strain is pure, without the blood lust, without the masking of who he is. That’s when he knows, it wasn’t the dust that drove Dr. Lund insane.
She was crazy to begin with.
Reid sobs over Leila’s body. If only he had acted sooner, she would be alive and well. It’s all his fault.
He glances to the side, sees something blinking. Unhooks a GPS tracker from one of the soldier’s belts. Only one light blinks. His.
Reid shoves it in his pocket and lifts Leila’s dead body into his arms. He carries her to the door, using his new strength to wrench it from its hinges. He carries her out into the night, the cool air ruffling her pale, blonde hair. Reid lays her out on a patch of grass, stroking the silken strands out of her face. She is so beautiful and peaceful in death.
Reid decides then and there, when he finds the others and tells them what he knows, he’ll do the right thing and join her.
He will bury her here, just up the bank a ways, in the edge of the trees. She’d like that, he’s sure. It takes him a long time before he’s able to bring himself to leave her but he finally manages it. Reid moves to rise, to find the perfect place to lay her to rest, when a breath of air slides past her lips.
He waits, not breathing himself, hoping beyond hope. But she is still again. Just the last of her leaving him forever.
No. There. Again. Her chest rises. Falls. She chokes suddenly, rolling toward him, fluid gushing from her mouth to wet the ground beneath her.
Reid rubs her back, strokes her hair, his vision wavering behind a veil of constantly flowing tears. Alive. She is alive.
Leila collapses back again, her glorious eyes opening, meeting his. What little color she has returns to her cheeks, her pink lips widening into a smile.
“Reid,” she whispers. “I love you.”
He is hugging her and laughing as her fingers slide into his hair.
“Leila,” he says, finally able to tell her, knowing now, at last, no matter what, they have each other and everything is going to be okay. “I love you too.”
***