Fitz did what he could for Alex Way.

A short, silent funeral. Attended by two. A bloodied tarp, his death shroud; a cramped space beneath a Seegson advert bench, his coffin.

Christia's cheeks were dry the entire time, gentle eyes staring into the empty, hot corridors of Sevastopol thoughtlessly. For that, Fitz was grateful. Grateful for her strength and resolve, and grateful that she hadn't noticed him staring.

How couldn't he? Alex Way, though only an acquaintance, had never mentioned Christia, and he understood why.

Christia was the most beautiful thing on Sevastopol. He shuddered to think of what might've happened to her if they had never crossed paths.

They'd left quickly, using the elevator. He'd tried everything to sway her from such a decision.

"Christia, we don't know where that elevator stopped last, where it came from."

"It was that thing, wasn't it? That fucking...abomination-"

"No, it was synthetics," He's retorted quietly, but with a firmness she couldn't deny. "Your father was...beaten. That thing, from what I've seen, i-it claws and tears, and for all we know, an entire legion of Joe's could be waiting for us in Comms."

She believed her mother to be waiting there as well, and wasn't going to acknowledge the possibility of finding her in the same state as Alex. That was something he couldn't tell the girl who was holding on by mere threads, even if it meant risking a rescue that was likely too late to come.

Fitz shifted his focus away from the rumble of the elevator, and impending doom.

"Water?" He asked quietly, looking over at Christia.

Beautiful, indeed.

She reached down to the single, salvaged bottle at her feet, leaning her left side against the steamy wall: the movement denoted pain. "Take the rest," She whispered, handing over the bottle that held less than a good sip, and gave a smile which she must have thought to be encouraging. Fitz could only smile back, appreciative of such a gesture, but unwilling to accept.

"You know, I'm...actually not that thirsty. Go ahead, finish it up. We'll find more after-"

"No, I'll just save it. Who knows how long my mother's been without water, right?" Fitz sighed.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Christia?"

If he could just tend the seed of doubt that was beginning to crack open and grow inside of her, make her understand that nothing was worth more than her life.

But it only gave way to anger.

"Listen, you do not need to do this. We should have gone our separate ways some time ago, Fitz. I've only caused you trouble," She said coldly, limping over to the elevator controls. The floor gave a jolt, then stopped. "You can get off right here." Fitz couldn't tame his laughter and her cheeks went aflame.

"Remember what I said? You're too pretty when angry, I simply can't take you seriously," He paused and stepped closer, "Nor can I give in to your rash demands. If we're to find her, we've got to do it now. That ankle needs rest." He reset the elevator back on course and crossed his arms. "Besides, we may have a chance of getting in touch with someone up there, I can't rationally give that up."

"What...will we do if it-"

"You hide," Fitz whispered, tone more serious than ever, "You don't give a single thought to anything else, not even me. You just hide." Christia stared up at him, frightened and speechless. "There is something bigger going on here, something wicked. That thing didn't come aboard by accident. No matter what happens, you must live through this, and you must figure it."

The elevator gave a jolt, and they were heading up once more.

"I'll sweep the area as quick as I can, but I want you to look for a terminal and find out whatever you can, and you do it before you go searching for your mother." He held out the revolver. "You put a bullet through anything that moves." She took it, shaking her head, damp curls bouncing wildly.

"But-"

"No, Christia!" He grabbed her shoulders, eyes clouded. "I won't step out of these doors unless you promise!"

"I promise! I promise..." She choked out, and he pulled her into a crushing embrace.

Then the elevator stopped, and Fitz tried ignore the malignant voice of fear whispering obscenities in the back his mind, mocking.

Reminding him that no matter what he did, Christia was in more danger than she could understand.