Jimin gently took the gun from my hand.

I stared at him.

Was he real? Was this really happening?

Soldiers milled everywhere, tying Reformists' wrists tightly behind their back in handcuffs.

Did we win? Did we really win?

Jimin pulled out his own pair of zip tie cuffs and tightened them around the wrists of the man I'd been holding down. He then mercilessly grabbed the man by the back of his shirt and shoved him towards the nearest Infinity soldier, who in turn escorted the Purist out.

I forgot how to move, how to speak, how to function in general when the silver Outworlder turned back towards me. His eyes softened. He gently cradled my face in his hands.

"You're alive," he breathed, brushing our noses as he leaned in. "Oh my god, you're alive."

His hands were gentle. Too gentle. Cupping my chin. My skin tightened under his touch, bracing for a concrete blow at any moment. Instead, he began to stroke my cheeks with touches as light as a feather. Our foreheads were pressed together and I could smell jasmine ever so faintly under the smell of hot steel and blood.

The emotions behind the wall of adamant rose up once again, bubbling like water left too long over heat. They screamed to be let out, to be freed, to course through my body once more.

Jimin pulled back, mouth parted to say something more, before his eyes fixed onto something behind me. An eerie blankness wiped all expressions of his face and his hands fell away from me.

I turned to follow his gaze.

Taehyung.

Ah, right. As far as Jimin knew, Taehyung had still been missing in action.

The black Marked Outworlder was clapping zip ties over Purist after Purists' wrists. His mouth was set in a thin line but triumph was aglow his face. His uniform was freshly torn in multiple places, but he seemed all in all uninjured compared to many. He paused to straighten and roll out his shoulders.

"Taehyung." The name was a but a whisper upon Jimin's mouth, so soft even I could barely hear.

Yet it was as if Jimin had yelled. Taehyung's head snapped to the side and widened when he took in Jimin.

For a split moment the two were staring at each other. The bond between them that had shattered into millions of broken fragments suddenly flew back together. Locking into place. Rebuilding the bond with tenfold the strength between them.

And then the two were tackling each other, embracing each other, tears in both their eyes. A friend from the dead.

Someone released a yell, swearing. A wide shouldered, brilliant cerise Marked man was shoving through the different people, his eyes dilated and huge as he too took in Taehyung.

Jin swore again before he was flinging his arms into the embrace. Two more figures were fighting through the lake of people— champagne Marked and bronze Marked.

And finally, a couple moments later a tall, mauve Marked man was hurrying across the floor, almost tripping over two Purist bodies on the floor, before he too was interlocked in the group embrace.

Sobs and words broke out from the group of friends reunited, all of them clinging to each other as if it was they were each other's lifeline. And in a way, they were one another's lifelines.

I looked away. The moment seemed too raw, too personal to watch.

Instead, I slowly began walking through the room. I felt like a ghost as people parted around me, some yelling and embracing each other, others still searching for different people.

"Jiyeon!"

Krystal was there. She was there, she was standing, she was... alive. Flinging her arms around me tightly. Sobbing.

"Krys..."

I was empty. An empty vessel with no pain, no fear, no relief. Nothing.

Krystal pulled back and swore. "Where's Suho?"

An empty vessel. No pain, no fear, no relief.

"I don't know." My voice sounded robotic. Distant. Detached.

What was happening? What just happened? What was going to happen?

Surely at any moment this happy moment was going to end. I was waiting for a gunshot. A loud bang. Something that would rip apart this false hope of victory and turn everything into a bloody, god-forsaken blur once more.

I realized that Krystal was yanking me along, shoving through people. There was a heavy limp in her gait, however it didn't stop her from weaving through the soldiers and trainees alike.

Up ahead I saw a group of medics, crimson crosses painted on their gray uniforms, kneeling around someone.

"No..." Krystal halted right before them, peering down. All the blood drained from her face and I felt her hand on my arm begin to tremble uncontrollably. "No no no..."

I took a step forward. Looked down. Between the bent-heads of the medics as they worked quickly upon the person sprawled lifelessly on the ground.

Suho.

"I-is he dead?" Krystal asked hoarsely.

He looked dead. He was utterly motionless, his skin an ashy gray, and insurmountable bruises and injuries covered his skin.

"No. But we need to focus if we want to keep him alive. Please step back ladies," one of the medics replied tersely.

Krystal moved back accordingly as the medics lifted Suho's body and gingerly but with obvious urgency moved out of the room.

A brand new feeling was crawling up me. A sickly, ugly feeling. Even the emotions slamming against the dam inside me seemed to still and fall quiet as the new sensation.

A midnight violet hair appeared just as the medics disappeared.

"Tzuyu!"

Krystal released my hand and flung herself at the girl, holding her tightly. "Wait, where's Irene?" She pulled back.

Tears streaked down Tzuyu's bloody cheeks. I recognized several faint scars on her body: she'd been exposed to the Moonsbane.

"She didn't make it," Tzuyu whispered hoarsely. "The bullet went right through her chest."

The ground tilted beneath my feet and I staggered a little, catching both Krystal and Tzuyu's attention.

"Jiyeon." Tzuyu walked towards me, eyes reflecting the lights above.

Said room's lights were suddenly too bright. They burned into my eyes. The sickly feeling rushed up my chest, up my throat—

I whirled away from Tzuyu's arms and vomited all over the floor. Then I blacked out.

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