A/N: Thanks again for the reviews, you guys are amazing! It means a lot that you've all enjoyed this story so much. Thanks again!

(iii.) Daylight

Aaron awakes to the sound of Marta singing quietly to herself. This is a totally new experience for him so he pretends to be asleep for a little while longer in order to listen to her voice. Marta is clearly someone who's never had voice lessons and probably never sang past a third grade pageant but he likes listening to her all the same. It's endearing and innocent. Plus, he now knows that she's a Beatles fan.

Aaron cracks one eye open, trying not to stir and interrupt her. She's standing with her back to him in front of the mirror above the sink, which is visible from any point in their small rented room. She's in a robe, combing out her damp hair. Aaron's surprised; he didn't hear the shower running and the smell of her floral shampoo didn't entice him the way it usually does. For some reason, the little slip bothers him more than it probably should.

Marta sees him watching her in the mirror and stops singing, a blush spreading across her cheeks and neck. "Sorry. I hope I didn't wake you."

Now that the jig is up, Aaron sits up, a little disappointed that the concert is over. "It was nice." He assures her. As he sits up, his head starts to spin and he feels completely disoriented. The room feels like it's tilting on an axis, ready to dump him onto the floor. He hasn't felt like this since he was viraling out in Manila. It was only two months ago, but it feels like a life time.

"You're a good liar, Aaron Cross." Marta remarks with a smirk. She pauses, brow knitting. "Are you all right?" She comes over to stand beside him, her concern evident.

Aaron figures he must look as bad as he feels to cause the look of worry he's seeing on Marta's face. He blinks, trying to force the room back into focus. Thankfully, he's no longer seeing three Marta's kneeling in front of him. "I'm fine." He assures her with a weak smile. "I must have just sat up too fast."

Marta doesn't look convinced. She studies his eyes, which seem to have a hard time focusing and don't seem as bright as usual. She presses her palm to his forehead, surprised to find his skin hot. "Are you feeling sick?" She questions. "You feel like you have a fever."

Aaron shakes his head, even though that's a lie and it just makes everything go topsy-turvy again. He hopes he doesn't throw up, even though that feels like a dangerous possibility. "I'm fine." He murmurs again.

Marta narrows her eyes at him. "You don't have to lie to me, Aaron." She chides. "You need to be honest, so I can help you." She can tell something's not right with him. She feels like she's back in Manila, watching him get sicker and sicker from the viruses she injected into his body.

For some reason, he has hard time processing Marta's question. Did he lie to her? What did he say? He feels hot all over, his skin feeling too tight for his bones underneath. When did that happen?

"You need to lie down." Marta instructs, gently guiding him back toward the pillow. "I'm going to get you some water."

Aaron doesn't protest, he just pulls the covers back around his body. Suddenly, he's so cold he can barely stand it. His time in the mountains doesn't seem to come close to how chilled he feels now. At least there aren't any wolves. He thinks.

As Marta fills up one of the glasses provided by the hotel and tries to think back to the night before. Aaron seemed perfectly normal; he laughed and joked and teased her just like he always did. And when she laid down beside him to go to sleep he didn't feel hot and she doesn't remember him tossing and turning. It's like it just hit him all at once.

Marta drags a chair over to the side of the bed and sits down, helping Aaron sit up just enough to allow him to take a few sips of water. "When did you start feeling sick?"

"When?" Aaron repeats. He feels like his head is stuffed with cotton, making it hard to hear her and focus. He does not like feeling like this, like his head weighs a million pounds and nothing makes sense. It's too close to how things used to be before. "Just now." He answers when Marta nods.

Marta bites her nails, a nervous habit she hasn't indulged in since she was in high school. "I wonder if it was something you ate." She says this almost to herself. She can rule that out right away, they both ate from the same plate last night and she feels fine. "Maybe you picked something up while we were traveling. Airports are breeding grounds for sickness." She knows she's rambling but she can't seem to stop herself from talking. Another nervous habit.

"Maybe it's not working." Aaron mumbles. He's starting to feel worse with each passing second, like somehow talking about his sickness is making him sick.

Marta's brow knits. "What?"

"The virus. Manila." He suddenly feels very tired. He hopes Marta's okay playing Nancy Drew by herself because he might have to sit this one out.

Quickly, Marta shakes her head. "No, that's not-" But then she pauses and feels her chest tighten. She remembers a colleague telling her about a program participant that didn't viral out correctly. Everything seemed find for the first several weeks and then all of the sudden the man started to become sick and disoriented, weak and hardly up to his usual standards. He recovered but he was never the same, like he'd never been trained or viraled out at all. He was the first participant to leave the program.

Aaron forces his eyes to open, finding her face. "It's happened before." It's not a question.

Marta swallows and gives him a weak smile. "That's probably not even what this is." She doesn't know who she's trying to reassure. "People get sick all the time. You just need to rest."

"What if it is, Doc." Aaron is apparently a pragmatist all of the sudden.

Marta gets to her feet, feeling incapable of sitting still any longer. "Well…you can't go to a hospital, so there's not point in even entertaining that thought. I can try and get some medicine, you need fluids." She paces back and forth as she speaks. But she knows she's avoiding Aaron's real question. "I…I'm not sure there's anything we can do."

Aaron had a feeling that was going to be the case. "What happened to the other guy?" He's not sure how much longer he can force her eyelids to stay open or his brain to stay alert, so he hopes she talks fast.

Marta stops pacing and looks at Aaron. His skin is pale and flushed. She doesn't know how this is happening, how things have turned to shit so quickly and spectacularly. She can't believe this could be how it all ends. They've dodged every bullet sent their way for the past two months, they've been moving from country to country, one step ahead of those hunting them. This is not fair. They don't deserve this.

"It would be like if you never viraled out at all." Marta responds finally. "Like if you stopped taking the chems and just let nature take it's course." She kneels beside the bed once more, reaching out to take his hand. "We'll think of something Aaron. I promise."

Aaron squeezes her hand as tightly as he can muster. "Don't worry Doc. You're strong. You know how to survive now. You can make it without me. You don't need me anymore." He assures her, hoping to stem her worries. He doesn't want to leave her but she's a warrior, she'll be fine.

Marta looks at him for a moment, her face a picture of confusion. She slowly pulls her hand from his and gets to her feet. "You think I'm worried about myself." She says softly. "You honestly think I'm that selfish." Her voice is barely above a whisper, like she understands the ridiculousness of getting into a fight with him now.

She goes over to the sink, wets a wash cloth and brings it back to him. Marta lays the cloth across his forehead and Aaron closes his eyes as the blessed cold soothes his hot skin.

"I'm going to get some medicine." Marta informs him. "I'll hurry."

Aaron doesn't have the energy to protest her departure or ask her to stay. Before he even hears the sound of the door shutting, he's drifted off to sleep.

He's not sure when he's awake or when he's asleep, what's real and what's just something his addled mind has conjured up. He dreams of being back in the Sandbox, of watching his friends blown up or shot. He dreams of Marta. He dreams of joining Outcome. Of the training, the sacrifices. He sees Marta in memories she shouldn't be a part of, places where she doesn't belong. He's not sure if the Marta who is taking care of him is real or just part of his imagination. She might have been a dream this whole time, someone he made up to make life a little better for himself. He dreams about the wolf pack from the mountains, hunting him, tracking Marta, separating them in the forest. He can hear her screams. He also dreams about June Monroe, his senior year English teacher. She was the only person who never seemed to think he was stupid, who encouraged him when he struggled and when he actually managed to turn in a homework assignment. He thinks of the last time he saw her, the night he'd stolen a handle of Jack Daniels form a local liquor store with some of the guys from the state home. They'd "borrowed" their keeper's car and a drunken rock-paper-scissors game appointed Aaron the one who had to get them all back to the home. He doesn't remember much else past that point, just the horrifying realization that they'd hit someone and the devastating knowledge that he was responsible for the death of the only person who didn't think he was a waste of space. His subconscious replays that moment over and over again, as well as a moment that never happened: Ms. Monroe forgiving him for what he had done that night. But it's not his teacher's voice he hears but Marta's. Sometimes it is Marta and he's back in that room in Manila, apologizing for his past sins. It all blends together in a maddening tableau until Aaron wants it all to stop. Blackness would be a relief. He's not even sure who he is anymore.

And then it's like everything makes sense again. When Aaron opens his eyes, he sees the hotel room he remembers checking into the first night they got to Berlin. Marta is asleep sitting up in the chair positioned next to the bed. There's a washcloth in one hand and a water bottle in the other and Aaron has no idea how she's actually managed to fall asleep in this position but the sight of her makes him smile. It also feels him with an extreme sense of relief: he didn't dream her after all.

Aaron sits up slowly, not wanting a repeat of the last time he moved. However long ago that was. He has no idea how long he's been sick, how long they've been staying in this hotel room. It's disorienting to feel so helpless. At least his body doesn't seem to be betraying him anymore. He doesn't feel sick and he doesn't feel like his brain is going to start leaking out of his ears. He feels normal…as normal as someone can be after spending an inordinate amount of time in bed.

For a moment, Aaron debates waking Marta. She looks exhausted, even in the middle of sleep. He owes so much to her; she saves his life every day, sometimes more literally than others.

He's suddenly struck by a memory of a conversation he's almost sure they had. The memories before he slipped into the chasm of his illness stick out with more clarity than the things his addled mind dreamt up. You think I'm worried about myself. You honestly think I'm that selfish. Aaron can hear Marta clearly, clearer than he had when she'd actually spoken those words. The barely concealed hurt in her voice.

Of course her concern hadn't been for herself. She hadn't been worried that he wouldn't be there to take care of her anymore. She'd been worried that he wouldn't be there at all. Aaron feels like an ass for implying otherwise. Even after he'd been mentally enhanced by the program, he hadn't been the most sensitive guy. Emotional nuances still have the tendency to escape him.

Aaron slowly slides out of bed, kneeling in front of Marta and kissing her forehead softly. Her eyes flutter open and he can see her slowly coming awake. She stiffens a yawn and sits up a little straighter in the chair. "You need to be resting." She says this almost on autopilot. "How are you feeling?"

Aaron sits down on the edge of the bed, their knees just barely brushing together. "Much better Doc." When he smiles, it's not a forced gesture. "Thanks to you."

Marta smiles slightly. "I'm glad you're all right."

She gets to her feet and moves toward the bathroom, tossing the wash cloth into the sink and setting the empty water bottle on the counter. Aaron follows her, coming to stand behind her, closer than he ever has in their waking moments. Marta meets his gaze in the mirror but doesn't turn around to face him.

"I don't think you're selfish." Aaron says softly, recalling her words from his hazy memory. "You're pretty much the most unselfish person I know." Marta looks like she wants to say something but can't quite find the words. Which is just fine with Aaron, because he's not done yet. "I meant what I said earlier, about you not needing me anymore."

Aaron can feel Marta tense, worry and doubt flickering in her eyes. She turns to face him. "Aaron-"

"I'm sorry Marta." Aaron interrupts her.

She looks at him, uncomprehending. What could he possibly be apologizing for? Unless this really is how it all ends, how they finally part ways. Not with a bang but with a whimper.

"I can't be like you," Aaron continues, unaware of her private thoughts, "I'm not unselfish. I can't be without you."

Marta can't keep herself from scoffing at his words. "You don't need me." She wishes it was different but she can't argue with facts. She's been a liability from day one, someone for him to watch over and protect. What use she had is long gone.

Aaron reaches for her hands almost without thinking about it. He's never been one for heart-to-heart conversations. In his life, they've been unnecessary. He wishes that he could just make Marta understand everything he feels about her, that he could thread their hands together and she would just know.

"I do need you. I'm sorry I let you go on thinking I didn't for so long." Aaron swallows, forcing himself to look into her eyes. He never wants to look away from her. "Without you, I wouldn't have survived." Marta opens her mouth but he interrupts, sensing where her mind is going. "That's not what I mean. You…you thought I was saving you. But really…you saved me."

Marta leans in and kisses him and Aaron feels his heart speed up and slow down all at once, an unfamiliar feeling of calm spreading through his body. He pulls her to him, desperate to feel her weight against him. He needs to feel the realness of her.

The program has taken a lot from him. His identity, his life, his freedom. But it has given him this moment. And hopefully many moments after this one. Maybe he's biased, but Aaron thinks he can live with that.

Something was bound to go right sometime today/All these broken pieces fit together to make a perfect picture of us/It got cold and then dark so suddenly and rained/It rained so hard the two of us were the only thing that we could see for miles and miles