I am a poor, wayfaring stranger wandering through this world alone there is no sickness, toil or danger in that bright land to which I go

The lights seemed to flicker, the sketches of the room around her dancing in front of her eyes. A moan escaped her as she tried to move; she was shaking so bad she didn’t know how she would get up – if from fear, exhaustion or the cold that gripped her was debatable. She tried to take a deper breath, but ended up coughing – she couldn’t feel her arm, but she could feel a burning pain across the length of her leg. Valentina faded from unconsciousness too reality and back to unconsciousness. Where was she? As the agent wanted to touch the ground next to her, her hand went through a puddle of water, and she realized her whole body was drenched, her jeans and t-shirt clinging to her frame. With another pained groan, Valentina moved her clouded head to look down on herself, then around a bit. What the hell happened to her?

When she laid eyes on the gushing wound that stretched across the side of her calf, it started to come back to her. The bunker is flooded. I slit my leg in the darkness. The east wing is closed off. Jason got me out. Where is Jason? What… what happened to Amanda? Where is … where is Maya? Where is she? Why did I give up like this? A fit of panic started to build up in the agent again at the notion that she hadn’t found Maya. Groaning in pain, Valentina tried to get up but fell back, dizzy, panting. Get up. Get up, now. Painful memories flooded Valentina’s mind as she started a second attempt, holding on to the wall now. Inch by inch, her back bent, her eyes closed, she moved forward, dragging her injured leg along. Breathing was so hard, her head so heavy. Her ears felt deaf, her vision was too blurry to even try to use. She was disoriented, feeling herself through the hallway, her legs signaling that they would give in any minute.

In the years before Division picked him out from the real world, Wesley considered going to therapy for his phobia. He did a lot of research, studied some breathing techniques, but at the end of the day, he decided against it. After all, he could shower no problem and rain wasn't an issue either. It was only large pool of water that tended to get him anxious and when would he ever be near a large pool unwillingly.

As he sat on a chair, watching the water slowly rise above his hip, he cursed at his stupidity. He should have done the therapy. His palms were clammy as he focused on his breathing, a technique he learned once that he now realized was stupid because it did nothing to stop the rising panic inside of him. Still it did give him some sens of control as he took long deep breaths and muttered words like, "Stupid fucking water always trying to fucking drown me" under his breath.

It was partly a mystery to Rachel how she had made it to the mensa in one piece. The rioters that she and Cambria were forced to face had done their best to keep them from ever getting there but somehow the two agents had managed to fight them off. Not completely unharmed thought, the blonde thought and bit her lip when she remembered the injury that her friend had suffered. It was another miracle that she had gotten away with nothing more than a few bruises that would be gone within a week or less, nothing like the nearly fatal injury that had happened unto her during the last riot. Her training was most likely to thank for it as well as her willingness to hurt people. It was concerning how much her attitude towards violence had changed since September when she had been recruited into Division.

She was abruptly ripped out of her reflection when her eyes spotted a familiar person and her heart leaped out of her chest as she momentarily forgot how tired and sore she was to run up to Nathan. Her heart was beating faster and her head was starting to spin when she noticed the big bandage that covered his forehead. What had happened to him? Guilt started to well up inside her but she managed to keep the tears from coming. She had been so focused throughout the entire danger so far and she would continue to not show how much she blamed herself now for not being at the agent’s side.

It seemed as though it took forever to get back to the Mensa, even though it didn’t seem like she and Isaac strayed too far. It felt so much longer as the wounds from the knife continued to pulse out blood and she had a stab wound on her side that she didn’t notice before. That one hurt the most and every time she had to pull Isaac with her, it felt as if she lost more and more blood. However, they got to the Mensa and Emma all but fell into the guard’s arms who looked at her sternly before bringing Isaac in as well. He didn’t say anything most likely because she looked like shit.

Emma was pissed off that she couldn’t find Jonathan or Cambria and that there was basically no point in leaving the Mensa at all. She hoped that they were okay and that they managed to get back okay. Settling down on the first open place she could find, she checked out her wounds, making makeshift bandages until she could get them checked out properly. When she deemed her work sufficient, she stood so that someone with a worse injury could take her place. She had to find her friends.

Mensa. Finally. Once again she was there, and with the final sound of the doors closing, she was half smiling and shaking. She won't have to go back there. Oh how her body and mind was testing her... at the start of the explosion, the handler went into East wing rather than west to see whom she could help, and what happened? She got grounded so many times and had to bring a half conscious Nathan in West Wing. What happened then? She had a gut feeling to go back into the source of the explosion, murk her way into the darkness and unfriendly water, got cuts in her feet and body- found Valentina, shot a recruit, not caring if it was alive. She was half delusional and she fainted- and then she woke up to find Wesley out of commission because of his understandable reason of being afraid of water. What did she do? She went into the east wing, one more time, with the water mid stomach on her tall frame. She was freezing, she was tired, she was angry, and her heart wanted to kill herself and let her drown. She had battled more recruits, dragged an injured agent again - in the mensa and now... there she was.

The last door was sealed... it was only her and the multitude of refugees and rioters. She didn't have to go back, she couldn't go back... she was tired, she was so tired. Where was Wesley? Her recruits? Her agents? Nathan.. Nathan was there on a table... was he like that since she brought him to the safety of Room 1? Or did he stand up and get himself hurt.. Why was this happening... her thoughts said, why... she didn't understand, all she knew is that she was standing in the middle of the darkness and light, her recruit jacket worn was scratched, her t-shirt bloodied at the stomach mixed with a recruit's blood and hers, her slacks were destroyed, her feet had no shoes left and it was as dirty as dirty can be... her hair though was still magically in a ponytail, despite being drenched. 

The cold was barely noticeable to Skylar compared to the feeling that had taken hold of the recruit. She would never be able to explain to anyone what she was feeling, the fact that she was so clearly able to identify her emotion scared her much more than her injured shoulder or that her chances of getting hypothermia had risen a lot. The brunette couldn’t bring herself to get away from the door that had closed sometime ago – or had it been only second since she had been ripped away from Jane? She hadn’t know, how could she have? But not it was staring her clearly in the face, the fact that she had lost someone. No one was ever so important to her that she would miss him but this one person had managed to bury herself so deeply inside Skylar, that she was devastated.