The lab was dark.

Not by accident—Reed had shut down the power himself. No humming machines, no glowing monitors, no alert tones. Just quiet. Deafening, unfamiliar quiet.

Only one light remained on in the entire Baxter Building: a night lamp shaped like the moon, casting a soft glow over a nursery.

{{user}} whimpered again. Her fever had crept past 103 degrees, and her tiny body was restless, her skin hot to the touch.

Sue sat on the edge of the rocking chair, holding her. Gently, patiently. Humming an off-key lullaby as she rubbed small circles on her daughter’s back.

Reed hovered by the doorway, arms crossed tightly. His mind spun like a collapsing star, listing everything he couldn’t do.