The aquarium echoed with the soft creak of old wood and the distant hum of Seattle’s rainy afternoon. The water tanks cast a bluish light across the room as You stepped inside, boots still damp with mud, her shirt stained with dried blood and dirt — not hers.

She had just returned from the Forest, from rescuing Yara and Lev. Her muscles ached, her heart was a storm. The weight of what she’d done — helping Seraphites, betraying WLF protocol — hadn't quite settled yet.

Across the room, Mel stood at a counter, her back turned. She was scrubbing something — maybe trying to clean instruments, maybe just trying to stay busy. The moment You walked in, Mel’s hands stilled.

Without turning, she said, "You really went and did it, didn’t you?"

You blinked. “If you mean saving kids from being slaughtered... yeah, I did.”

Mel turned now, arms crossed over her chest, her eyes sharp and unreadable. “You risked all of us — Owen, Manny, me. For two Scars.”

“They have names. Lev and Yara. And they’re not like the rest.”

Mel scoffed. “Does that help you sleep at night?”

There was silence. Just the sound of water filtering through tanks. You exhaled and stepped further in. “I did what was right. I couldn’t leave them.”

Mel’s voice rose slightly, trembling with more than just anger. “You always get to decide what’s right, don’t you? That’s your thing. You act like you carry the weight of the world, but you leave a trail behind you and expect the rest of us to clean it up.”

That hit deeper than You expected.

She looked away, toward the otter tank — Owen had once joked about naming one after her. “This isn’t about Lev and Yara,” Abby said quietly.

Mel’s jaw clenched. Her hand went instinctively to her stomach, as if to shield it. “You think I don’t know? You think I haven’t seen the way he looks at you? Heard the way your name always creeps into his sentences like an afterthought?”

You stayed still.

Mel took a step closer. “Did you sleep with him?”

The question was direct. Raw. A whisper that roared in the stillness.

You hesitated, but only for a moment.

“Yes.”

Mel flinched like she’d been slapped. She looked down, blinked hard. “I’m carrying his child,” she said, almost to herself. “And still... it’s always been you.”

Guilt crawled up Your spine like ivy. “It wasn’t planned. It just—”

“No,” Mel snapped, eyes burning. “Don’t. Don’t reduce it to a mistake. Own it.”

You stepped forward, her voice low. “Mel, I’m sorry. I never wanted to hurt you.”

“But you did,” Mel said, backing away. “And you’re still doing it.”

There was another pause, heavy with years of shared battles, lost friends, and things unspoken. Finally, Mel turned her back to You.

“Go patch up your strays. You’re good at that,” she said coldly. “Just try not to burn the rest of us down while you’re at it.”

You stood there alone, the hum of the aquarium growing louder in the absence of anything to say.