4.6 | Dark Ages ✓

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THE SAFE-HOUSE THAT Jungkook brings him to is familiar.

It's the same one he's lived in for the past five days. Has it been five days? He isn't so sure of his reality anymore. During the time he'd supposedly drowned, he'd dreamt. He'd dreamt of the girl spelling out his name on his palm. He'd dreamt of saving a pregnant woman.

He stops dead in his tracks, looking up at the sky.

Were they dreams?

It had been daylight when he escaped the creatures—zombies, as Jungkook called them. And now, it's in the middle of the night. Surely, he couldn't have been drowning in the water for hours on end. Uneasiness stirs in his chest and he stares suspiciously at the man in front of him. The latter's unlocking the door and kicking it open as though he owns the whole damn place. But it doesn't belong to him.

Does it?

Gritting his teeth, he tightens his grip on the gun and heads into the house. He leaves Jungkook to shut the door, while he studies the place with increasing paranoia. The place is the same, and yet it isn't. It's different, somehow, but what is it...?

Yes, there it is. The files on the counter—they hadn't been there when he'd lived in the house. The dirty dishes by the sink—he'd mostly eaten food right out of the packets anyway. The photograph...

It's her.

He stills. In a picture frame sitting on the mantlepiece, there's the girl with the sunshine on snow smile who's haunted his dreams.

She's real. His mind reels from the revelation; his fingers tighten around his bag. She's not a figment of my imagination. She's real, damn it. She exists.

All at once, his gun comes up to point at the man in front of him. "Where is she?" he snarls. Somewhere at the back of his mind, he's vaguely aware that his voice is no longer the same. It's his, yes, but it's no longer frightened or hesitant. It's authoritative, demanding and vicious.

Jungkook whirls around, then takes a step back. "What are you—"

"Where is she?" he hisses. "How did you find me in the river? What are you doing in my house? And where the fuck is she?"

"Stand down, Doctor—"

"Don't call me that! I'm not a doctor, I'm not anything! You must know her; you wouldn't have had her picture if you didn't! Where is she?"

He doesn't realize that he's advanced forward until the barrel of the gun's pressed against Jungkook's forehead. The latter brings his own gun up. Quick as thought, he disarms the man with one swift maneuver. Another punch to the gut sends Jungkook stumbling backwards, and he presses the gun harder into the man's forehead.

"Tell me!"

"I don't know!" Jungkook yells, wincing at the snap of the safety catch. "I don't know anything! She let me stay in this safe-house while my battalion was being relocated, and then she left with another man. I don't know where she is now!"

Jungkook's words snap his mind out of that red haze. Suddenly, he's aware of the gun pressed to the man's head and his finger on the trigger. I almost killed a man. Why had his actions come so instinctively?

Am I one of the monsters?

With a sharp hiss, he wrenches away and drops the gun with a clatter. "I'm sorry," he gasps, curling up on the floor and dragging his knees to his chest. "Oh, fuck, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to. I didn't—I swear I didn't—"

Amidst his apologies, he hears the thump of boots beside him. A hand comes to rest on his shoulder, clapping him twice on the back.

"It's okay," Jungkook says quietly. "I understand."