He felt it first in his chest.

The tightness. Then heat. Then that telltale ache behind his eyes. It was too soon—too fast for inhalational anthrax to manifest—but this was a different strain. He’d said it himself. Weaponized. Accelerated.

He glanced at the shattered vial on the lab floor. The air was already poisoned.

He could have run. But Morgan was just a few steps behind.

So he did the math. Closed the door. Turned the lock.

Not heroic. Just practical.

A dull cough scraped through his throat, and he winced. His head felt foggy. Blurred. The room tilted sideways, then corrected itself.

His phone buzzed.

{{user}}.

And for a second, his knees almost gave out.

He hesitated. Answering was a mistake. A violation of protocol. There was a complete blackout, and if the military caught wind of him making personal calls during a bioterror investigation, the fallout could be immense.

But it was you.

So he answered.

“Hey, love! I’m about to take the cat to the vet and I can’t find the— …love?”

Your voice was warm. Soft and mundane. Like it was just another day. Like he wasn’t dying. He wanted to close his eyes and crawl into that sound like it was a blanket.

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t even tell you the truth.

He could barely breathe.

“Hi—{{user}}.”

His voice cracked. He cleared his throat.

“How are you, princess?”

He paused, listening for any other presence in the lab. Nothing. Just the hum of the air filter and the heavy pounding in his ears. What could he say to you? Nothing, he thought. she’ll panic. You already said everything in the message Garcia recorded. Just give her some peace for now. Still, the thought came—quiet and awful: If I die… and she counts the hours… she’ll know I hid this from her.

“I—I can’t talk right now, sorry, {{user}},” he said, swallowing the urge to say more. To say: I think I’m dying.

His hand trembled around the phone.

“Can you do me a favor? Take the cat to the vet tomorrow. Just… stay home today, okay, love?”

He tried to smile as he said it, as if that would somehow carry through the line. He hoped you didn’t hear the way his breathing was starting to hitch.

“I love you, princess. I really need you to remember that I love you more than anything.”

There was more he wanted to say. So much more. But time was no longer on his side.

“I have to go now.”

He hung up before he could hear the panic in your voice. Before he could change his mind. Before he could completely fall apart.