𝐃𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐈𝐀 - TMR, Gally ² / ³

𝟢𝟤𝟤，𝐣𝐨𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥

"You're gonna need the energy," he warns. "It'll be a long day tomorrow and you still haven't fully recovered, woman. Your cells need time to restore blood."

She sighs knowingly. "I get that. But it's so stupid. I want to hear what Teresa has to say. Inspect if she's lying. See how it goes."

Gally remains silent for a few seconds, then nods. "Alright. I'm not going to force you to do anything either."

"Good." She lies back a bit, leaning into his chest. "Do you miss it? Sometimes?"

"Miss what?"

"Our connection."

Again, he's silent for a few seconds. "I don't know. You're hard to read, so it would be nice to sometimes feel what you're feeling. And talking in each other's heads had its benefits."

"Agreed," Joan replies, but then she frowns. "No. Not agreed. Well, agreed with your points. But not with the pain sharing thing. I'm glad that got cut off before the whole... hotel thing."

"But we only shared certain kinds of pain. If you bumped into something, I wouldn't feel it unless it would actually lead to a headache. Cramps and things happening inside your own body did hurt. Like broken bones, because that's actually inside your body, and not on your skin."

"You would've felt the needles," she says. "They buried deeply in my body. And you'd feel the tiredness from all the blood loss. So again, I'm glad we don't share it."

"If our connection made us able to take each other's pain, then I would've wished we still had it."

Heavily, she shakes her head. "Don't say that."

"But it's true. I'd take all the pain you've ever had."

"Don't," she repeats, her voice less weak now as she sits straight up. "Don't say things like that."

"You want me to lie?"

"No. But neither do I want to imagine you going through pain. Because I'd take all your pain too, you know?"

"Good thing to agree on, then," he says, voice almost a whisper. "Come here."

Slowly, she lies back down in his arms. Head on his chest, arm wrapped around his waist.

"Promise to be careful tomorrow."

"I promise. You promise, too."

"I promise," he says. "But we're going to be together the whole time. Sneak inside that building, take all the kids, get out of the building, and then let Lawrence handle the rest."

She nods. "Yeah."

***

The second the bag gets pulled off Teresa's head, they get on with it. Gally walks past her and leans against the table, on which Joan sits. The rest is surrounded around it, too.

"Here's how this is gonna go," Gally says. "We're gonna ask you some questions, and you're gonna tell us exactly what we need to know. We'll start off simple. Where's Minho?"

"You guys don't seriously think—" Teresa starts, her eyes fixed on Thomas.

With a sound, Gally slams a chair in front of her and sits down on it. He leans on the back of the object, pissed off. "Don't look at him," he says. "Why are you looking at him? Look at me. He's not gonna help you."

"Holy shit."

When Joan realizes she said that out loud, she pulls a face. "What?"

Luckily, they continue with the job. "Now, we know you have Minho in the building. Where?"

The girl presses her lips together. Not a single thing could make her regret that she didn't go to sleep. Shuck me.

"He's with the others in holding," Teresa says. "Sublevel three."

"How many others?"

"Twenty seven."

The eyes go to Brenda, who holds up a card, nodding. "I can make that work."

"No," Teresa insists. "No, you guys don't understand. The whole level's restricted. You can't get in without a thumbprint ID."

"That's why you're gonna come with us," Thomas says as Gally slowly gets off the chair.

"Well, I don't know," he says triumphantly, and he walks over to the table. "We don't necessarily need her. Right? Not all of her."

He takes a knife, inspecting it before he looks back at Teresa. "We just need her finger."

Meanwhile, Fry nudges Joan in the side. "Girl."

"What?"

"Hold back. I can see your thoughts dripping over your face."

"Not the only dripping thing."

"Oh my god—"

She holds up her plastic cup of water, which she started holding so weakly a few seconds ago that half of the liquid it contained before has now dripped out.

Fry's flabbergasted face turns into a 'are you serious' expression.

"Gally, back off," Thomas's voice returns them back to the conversation.

"What, are you squeamish? I guarantee you she's done a lot worse to Minho."

But Thomas takes the knife from him. "That's not the plan. Back off."

"You can do it to me. You can do anything—"

"Joan, not the time to drool. I'll tell Vince."

Gally grins a bit.

"It won't make a difference," Teresa then says. "Do whatever you want to me. You still won't get through the front door. The sensors will pick you up the—"

"We know. We're tagged. Property of WICKED."
Thomas bends down beside her, holding the knife up. "You're gonna help us with that, too."

***

"Fuck."

"Shh. We're screwed if they hear or see us for a third time."

"We're already screwing."

Chuckling, his fingers trace the curve of her jaw, which she shivers at. The distance soon gets closed between them as their lips connected, and her breaths get stuck in her throat.

Their mouths meld together. With each second, their movements escalate in fervor. She pulls him as close as possible, chests colliding. A few seconds later, his is bare.

"This isn't gonna work in our favor tomorrow. If we wanna have energy—"

"What, you wanna stop?"

"Hell no."