I didn't fall back asleep before Doctor Jean came back, but I was feeling nice and drowsy by the time she opened the door and leaned into the room. She had a bag at her side, like the purse Steffie carried but much longer and bulkier, though it didn't seem like it weighed too much from the way she was carrying it. "Okay, I'm ready."

Steffie nudged my head, and I grumbled as I slipped off of the couch. The couch hadn't been as comfortable as my bed would have been, or even the floor, but it had been warm and relaxing. I yawned, then fanned out my wings as I stretched... then Steffie rose from the couch, and I followed her out of the room.

We walked down white hallways with harsh lighting. Steffie and Doctor Jean kept enough space between them for me to walk through, even though I lagged behind Steffie while we walked. I had a feeling Steffie was still angry with Doctor Jean, though I couldn't quite understand why she would be mad. Something Doctor Jean had done that I couldn't remember, but... I couldn't remember it.

My headache was still a miserable five when we made it to the door at the end of the hallway and stepped outside. I looked up at the sky above me, and at the glass dome that covered us... and I felt a strange chill, even though it was nice and warm outside. My wings started to tremble, and I pulled them tighter against my sides.

"It's okay, Joy; we're almost to the van." Steffie noticed my trembling wings and knelt down to hug my neck. "Do you want to rest for a minute, or do you think you can go on?"

The sight of the full dome of glass bothered me... but once I got to the van, I wouldn't have to see it anymore. We could finally be gone from this awful place, after what felt like being locked in it for months. I shook my head. "I can go on."

Steffie nodded and let go of me. I followed closely behind her and tried not to look up until we finally reached the van. Steffie opened the van door and I quickly hopped inside.

I felt much, much better once I was inside the van.

Doctor Jean put her bag in the back of the van behind me, and... then Steffie put her purse next to it, which seemed odd. Usually she kept her purse up front with her, in case she needed something from it. But she usually kept it on the other seat up front, so... maybe there just wasn't room there with Doctor Jean riding with us.

I was still trying to puzzle that out by the time Doctor Jean and Steffie were seated. Steffie started the van and we began to drive off.

It was such a relief to be leaving. I glanced back through the back window and shivered as I watched the scary building fall away. I still didn't know why it bothered me so much, but I hoped I never saw it again.

"I asked security to do a plain-clothes inspection on our way in." Steffie glanced at Doctor Jean before looking back at the road. "Do you think we'll still need that?"

Doctor Jean shook her head. "We shouldn't. She didn't react to an officer in uniform during our tests this morning."

"Oh. That's good." Steffie hesitated, and I saw her scratch at the steering wheel with one finger. "Do you think we could skip it? I'd rather not stay here any longer than we have to."

Doctor Jean glanced at me in the rear-view mirror, that same funny look in her eyes, then shook her head. "No. But I'll see if I can ask them to try and make it quick. Just wait in the van while I talk to them; hopefully you won't even have to get out."

"Thanks." Steffie went quiet after that, focusing on driving the van.

Steffie pulled the van off the side of the road as we reached a small shack by the exit of the dome. A man in a blue uniform came out of the shack and waved at us. Doctor Jean opened her door and went out to talk to the man, and after some talking they walked back to the van.

I frowned as I watched the man. He didn't seem familiar, but... he bothered me, somehow. The blue uniform he wore reminded me of... of... something.

"Good afternoon!" The man leaned in through the passenger door and took a quick look over the van, smiling at me briefly before looking back up at Steffie. "Doctor Jean says this is sensitive, so I'll try and be quick. Can you open the back for me?"

"Of course." Steffie nodded and reached for something at the front of the van. I heard a click sound behind me, and then the door there lifted open. The man leaned away from the van, and Doctor Jean slipped back into the passenger seat and began putting her seatbelt back on.

I watched while the man in the blue uniform walked around the van and poked his head into the trunk. I still couldn't understand why he bothered me, and I leaned away when he reached for Doctor Jean's bag. I felt guilty for not saying hello to him, but something about him just made me too nervous. I felt better not being noticed by him.

He unzipped Doctor Jean's bag and looked inside, frowning as he did, but he kept whatever was inside pointed away from me. He took his phone out from his pocket and pointed it in the bag. It made a 'click' sound a few times, then the guard zipped her bag back up. He moved to Steffie's purse and began digging through it... then he frowned again and brought his phone back out, making one more 'click' sound.

Then he put everything back and brought the van door back down.

I watched him as he walked back around and stopped at Doctor Jean's window. "Doctor Jean, you are cleared to take restricted materials from the lab, but I just need to verify that you're authorizing taking-"

"Yes, I'm authorizing it." Doctor Jean spoke quickly and interrupted the man in blue. She seemed to be doing her best not to look at Steffie as she spoke... and I noticed that Steffie was doing her best to look the other way.

Neither seemed to notice just how guilty the other one was acting.

The man in blue hesitated, glancing back at me before looking back to Doctor Jean... then he nodded. "Okay. I'll log the pictures in case there are any issues later, but you're good to go now." The man in the blue uniform gave another wave as he walked past the van and back to the shack.

Steffie and Doctor Jean both seemed to breathe a small sigh of relief as he left.

"Thank you." Doctor Jean waved back at the man, then closed her door and glanced over at Steffie with a forced smile. "You'd think they wouldn't mind by now if I brought my laptop and some diagnostic equipment out with me, but I still have to do this every time."

"That's security for you." Steffie kept looking out the windshield while she spoke, not looking back at Jean.

I stared blankly ahead as I watched my best friend and my doctor lie to each other.

There was something in Doctor Jean's bag that she did not want Steffie to know about.

Just like Steffie did not want Doctor Jean to know about whatever that blue thing was that she had put in her purse.

I pulled my frills flat against my neck and tried not to whine. My head hurt, and this day was so upsetting. I watched through the window as the man in blue finally made it back to the shack. He did something inside, and the large door in the brick wall ahead of us slid open. Steffie drove the van back onto the road, and...

...and then we were outside of the scary dome.

I exhaled heavily and relaxed my wings, only then realizing how tightly I was holding them against my sides. Finally. We were on the way back home.

Steffie glanced at me in the rearview mirror with a sad smile. "I know, Joy. I know. But we're leaving. Here, I'll put on some music for you." Steffie tapped some buttons at the front of the van and music started coming through the speakers.

I stretched my wings out as far as I could spread them in the back of the van and tried to relax. The music was nice... but I didn't really feel like singing. I didn't really feel like sleeping, either, even though I felt worn out. Something was still wrong, and something very bad had happened. We were leaving the bad place, but... it still bothered me that I couldn't remember why it scared me so much.

Doctor Jean brought her phone out of her pocket and began reading something on it. She didn't sing along to the music either, but I noticed she tapped her finger on the phone in time with the music. Just like Steffie tapped her finger on the steering wheel while she drove.

I watched Steffie and Doctor Jean while we drove along, feeling like there was something terribly important about the long sleeves that covered each of their arms.

It had been dark for a long time when we finally made it to the Arboretum.

Steffie brought the van to a different part of the cliff from our home, and we stopped to help Doctor Jean unload. I grabbed the straps of her bag in my mouth and carried it inside, dropping it on the couch of a sadly empty room similar to our living room. Doctor Jean said she would call Steffie if she learned anything, and then we left.

And then a few minutes later we were home.

Steffie fished her keycard out of her purse and opened the door. "Are you hungry, sweetie? There's one piece of cake left if you want it. Or I can make some steak for you. I know you've had a long day."

I shook my head and started padding towards the curtain of beads leading to my room. "No tank you. I think I just want to go to bed."

"Okay, sweetie." Steffie sounded sad when she answered, but she smiled when I looked back at her to be sure she was okay. "Sweet dreams. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Steffie." I smiled back at her, then slipped into my room.

I climbed up onto my bed and sprawled out onto it. My head was still pounding in a solid five that just wouldn't fade, just like it had been doing the whole way home, and I was glad to rest against the cool stone of my bed. I rolled over onto my back and tried to press the aching part of my head against the stone, but my horns kept getting in the way.

Eventually I snorted and gave up. I was too worn out to try and get comfortable, and it wasn't like a headache would keep me from sleeping. Not with how used to them I was. Even if this one was hurting more than most.

I yawned, rolled back over onto my belly, and closed my eyes and waited to fall asleep.

Everything was... fuzzy... was this a dream...? This was a dream... or... was it...?

It was so hard to think. Everything hurt. And everything itched. And there was a tingling feeling and a headache, both coming from beneath the bandage. Beside the... what were they? Something growing on either side of the bandage, a word for them... hurt? No, that was the feeling... horns. That was it. Horns.

The glass walled off the desks of the rest of the lab. And there were people in green uniforms past the glass. They looked familiar, but strange. It was hard to remember who they were, even though they all felt familiar. Who were they...?

"Still nothing from Doctor Richards?" The voice came from the side, but the person speaking wasn't over there. There was a... there was a speaker over there. Speakers carried sound. When had that speaker gotten there? Had it always been there? It was so hard to remember...

"No. This is very unusual; she'd been asking for a status update every hour up to yesterday. And now that our specimen is finally out of the coma, we don't hear a word from her?" The other person shook his head as he spoke, but the sound still came out of the speaker inside the glass. Was that how sound was supposed to work? It was so hard to remember. And it was so hard to think with the headache. Was it important for some reason, that the sound was coming from the speaker?

Stretching a wing helped. It was a strange feeling, but a relaxing one. It made the headache fade a little. And... it was a pretty wing. It seemed small, for some reason, but the yellow scales covering most of it were very pretty. Yellow was a pretty color. And there were pretty purple stripes too, just along the edge of the wing. Purple was also pretty. But yellow was prettier.

"Still going straight to voicemail when I call her. Something weird is going on here; she's been waiting all month for this." The sound came from the speaker on this side of the glass, but the person in the green uniform was the one talking. Was sound supposed to do that? "Should we go ahead and use the booster shot...? He... she... the specimen responded to the cognition tests exactly like we expected; the Neffal gland was working throughout the coma. The shot will work, and after that we'll be done?"

The other man in the green uniform scoffed. "Yeah, right up until Doctor Richards shows up and strangles you with her bare hands. I don't care how long we wait; unless I have a death certificate and see her cold body lowered into the ground, I am not getting between her and giving him that shot. You know how badly she wants to be the one to deliver it; she will kill you if you take that away from her."

There was a gulp sound from the speaker, then the other man nodded. "You're right about that." There was a pause, during which the pretty yellow wing pulled back in... then stretched out again. Yellow was a pretty color. It was a pretty wing. "We should send somebody from security to her house to see if she's okay. There might have been a car accident or something. She might need help."

"Good idea." One of the men in green reached for something on the wooden thing in front of him – was there a word for that? Wood... ship? Ships were made of wood. And somebody had said something important about a ship, and about its crew. The man reached for something on the ship... no, that wasn't right. The man pushed something, and there was a buzzing sound.

The door behind the desks – desk, that was the word! – slammed open. The green men seemed surprised by that, which was strange... they had pushed something, and that had probably opened the door... or... had they pushed something? It was hard to remember now.

A man in a blue uniform stormed through the doorway, clutching pages in one hand as he approached.

There was a sudden panic, and an awkward scramble away from the glass. The people in blue were bad. They would hurt... they had hurt... they had... something had happened, something bad had happened, and the people in the blue uniforms had done it...

The man stormed up to the glass and began yelling. "Where is she!"

"Sir, you can't be in-" One of the men in green started to speak, but the man in blue whirled towards him.

"Your boss has been kidnapped. It's his accomplice, the one that helped with those other three kidnappings. We got an alarm from her house, and it was just like the other scenes." The man in blue pulled one of the pages from the stack and shoved it at the man in green. "That's her house now. No fingerprints, no signs of a struggle. Just blood on the wall – blood I'm sure the lab will show is hers – spelling out this guy's initials on the wall, 'MD', just like all the other killings."

The man in blue turned back to the glass and shoved another page against the wall. A picture.

A sick feeling went through a strangely familiar stomach. It was a picture of a woman... a woman's body, dumped on a pile of trash bags. A woman covered in bruises, with wounds all over her body. Cuts up her arms, her legs, her chest, her face. The same letters, over and over again. Initials. 'MD'.

"Look at your victim, you sick monster! I don't know what your accomplice is thinking, but it's not going to help you. If this is some kind of rescue attempt it's too late, and it's not going to work – he's going to be in here with you, sharing your fate for what the two of you have done to these women. If you want to-"

The picture was scary. And the man in blue was scary. And there was a yellow wing. With purple stripes along the edge. It was pretty. Much nicer to look at it, instead of those scary things. Looking at it made all the pain seem like it wasn't quite as bad.

A fist slammed on the glass, demanding attention. There was a renewed sense of fear, and a feeling of huddling close to the ground. Holding and hiding behind a strange tail that somehow felt very comforting.

"Don't ignore me! Answer me – who is your accomplice! Where is he taking her?!"

There was trembling, and the picture was painful to see... but the man was angry, and only got angrier when the picture was ignored. There was a long moment of staring at the horrible image. It was familiar. It had all been seen before, those trash bags, that woman, those scars. There were memories attached to it, horrible ones, of people in a room, angry people and a mean person... and... and... something important, something that needed to be said, but which gags and handcuffs had kept quiet... then the fuzzy feeling faded, and the headache beneath the bandage grew stronger as memories and confusing details became clear once more.

It was a picture of a murder. A murder that was about to happen again, to someone else. A human was in trouble. The man outside the glass was demanding help to save people that were in danger.

But...

Humans were of another world now. Men were of another world. Even people.

This place had made sure of that.

All that there was now was the world of monsters. Of beasts. The problems of people were no longer a concern. There was nothing left to say. There had been nothing left to say for a long time. Everything had already been said.

The people could deal with their troubles themselves.

The trembling head turned away. The strangely familiar snout stayed closed. Silence was the only sound.

The moment of clarity ended, and everything became fuzzy again. There was a pretty wing – a small one, it seemed, though it was hard to think of what a normal-sized wing would look like. It was hard to think of anything now, not through the constant pain. But stretching the wing helped. It was a pretty wing.

A banging sound came from the glass. It was scary. There was a man there, holding something that was also scary. But it would hurt too much to look at. And it was a problem for someone else. The pretty wing was so much more interesting...

The banging finally stopped, and the man at the glass whirled back to the men in green back in the larger room. "I'm calling the detectives. Nobody touches that prisoner until I get back, do you understand? We'll see if he's more willing to talk once we've beaten him to a pulp."

Him...? That didn't sound right. 'Him' meant something, and... that something was gone, replaced by something else, just like the pounding beneath the bandage had been replaced by a growing fuzzy feeling, which meant... but the angry man in blue was gone, too, storming off through the doors. That was good. That was good.

But the wing was still here. And the wing was still pretty. It was yellow. Yellow was a pretty color. And it had purple markings along the edge. Those were pretty. Though yellow was a prettier color. The whole wing was so pretty...

"I... I guess we'll hold off on the Neffal gland booster shot. We'll have to give another dose of the cell replication suppressant in a few hours; let's lock everything up until then. Maybe we can help them find Doctor Richards."

The sound came from the speaker inside the glass wall... which was odd, because the person speaking was outside the glass wall, in that larger room. Was sound supposed to work like that?

A few seconds passed pondering the question... then the lights went out. It was dark, and it was quiet. The darkness felt nice. Soothing. Comforting. Safe. The darkness meant it was time to sleep, didn't it? Sleep sounded nice. Maybe the headache and the pain and the itching would all be gone after a nap...