The Silk Moth Dream (Season 1 Complete)

EPISODE 3: LEFT BEHIND

As far as Fiona can remember, Ragnar has never been the expressive type. She remembers baking him a triple-layer vanilla cake with Shailene when they were kids for his 35th birthday - he had eaten the entire thing in solemn silence, wiped his face with a napkin, and said, "Well done." She remembers him sitting at the head of the table in every WAB meeting, nodding but never reacting to everyone's suggestions. She remembers watching her mother bleed out together, after which he patted her on the shoulder once and sighed deeply.

They didn't see each other for a bit after that.

Even now, his reaction is relatively subdued. But now, Ragnar eyes Fiona dubiously as she recounts the details of the last few hours. On anyone else, it would read like mild skepticism. On Ragnar, it says should I take you to the hospital?

"It was terrifying. Breathtaking. He looked like... an angel of death." Fiona whispers, feeling weird talking about him in front of him even though she's fairly sure he doesn't speak any English. Also, 'an angel of death'? Really? Thank the heavens that Shailene isn't here.

If the sullen stranger registers what she's saying, he doesn't show it – he just stares blankly ahead like he has been for the past 20 minutes. They're in Ragnar's office, which is sparingly decorated with its two armchairs and stolen desk. The stranger slumps in the chair, not touching the glass of water they offered him.

Ragnar swirls his glass of homemade mead on his desk. That's something else Fiona has always remembered about him – he needs alcohol to sleep, although the amount has increased vastly over the past few years, along with his belly. She briefly wonders how much honey's left in the world, and what Ragnar would do when he inevitably runs out of honey to make mead.

"So why'd you come here? I thought you said you wanted to stay away from the base for a while." Ragnar doesn't say it with any malice or spite, but the statement still brings a flush to Fiona's face.

"What else would you have wanted me to do?"

Ragnar sighs again and toggles something on his Sheltersuit. He hands a small metal sticker to Fiona. She approaches the young man, but hesitates for a second. She then puts on the sticker behind his right ear. He pulls away for a moment, but cautiously lets Fiona do her thing. Although Ragnar's still speaking English, the stranger will now hear a simultaneous translation. "Did you really take out an entire Compliance Order squad on your own?"

The stranger doesn't react in any way, almost as though he didn't hear. If Ragnar was even a slightly less-assured person, he would double-check his Sheltersuit settings. Instead, he repeats himself.

They wait in tense silence before the stranger looks up. He shrugs and his gaze slopes back down to the ground. Ragnar rolls his eyes. "Looks like your death angel is the quiet type, Fiona." He leans back in his seat. "But I'm intrigued. Compliance Order troops are DOD's meat shields, at least compared to WRAITH, but the CO technology is still impenetrable. If your story is 100 percent true, which I would have outright dismissed had it come from anyone else, he might just be the asset Left Behind's been looking for."

For some reason, this annoys Fiona. "I didn't bring him here to be your asset. I just wasn't going to leave him behind to be executed."

Ragnar takes a slow sip of his mead. He thinks for a minute. "We can keep him on the base for now and decide what to do later. Maybe he'll tell us what he wants or why he was wandering the streets unsuited. We'll keep him safe. For a bit."

Fiona looks at the slumped man, still dressed in his strange garb and unspeaking. "Maybe. On one condition. Let me be the one to tell Shailene."

Perfectly on cue, there is a sharp knock on the door. Succinct yet assertive and Fiona knows exactly who it is. "Do not let her in. Please."