He took a glance and found no abnormality; then he asked Sarah aside, “Any idea when we'll have the antidote ready?”

“If we're lucky, three months. If not, it could take up to six,” Sarah glanced at the monitors, her brow furrowed in concentration as

the data danced before her eyes.

Fitch asked in concern, "Is there a problem?"

"No. Could you just handthat vial, please? I want to run schecks."

Almost reflexively, he reached for the bottle she was pointing at. Inside was a green liquid. He saw that Sarah moved to another

terminal, and the vial in his hand unexpectedly exploded.

He was unharmed, but his nose wrinkled at the acrid smell that filled the air. He glanced down at the shards in his hand and then

looked up, his vision blurring.

Sarah walked over, helping him lie down as she peeled his eyelids back for a quick examination. Turning to the person beside her,

she said, "We're good to go."

protective helmet,

and administered a shot into Fitch's arm. Together with Sarah, they shifted

adjacent empty bed.

across the central monitor, as the system ran diagnostics. There was a string of numbers dancing on

screen.

complete. Match success, match

Bernard years ago; he had

faces, Sarah reviewed the cascading

the data and analyze it. If everything checks out, we'll

"Understood."

her gaze lingered on Fitch with an unmistakable yearning. She was still smitten

to abandon everything. She could spend her life just watching him, even

a coma forever.

the syringe spread through Fitch's body, his world began to

voices around him but

was on the phone with Bernard, confirming that

stroking it gently before giving

is good. Patric's arrival has filled in the gaps

"Seventy percent."

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