BECAUSE even if the big picture motivation makes no sense (i will stress that until i die; he was dumb as fuck to go into bioweaponry) it's all the small details of Dylan's character.
The way he speaks with JJ. The way he chose Alcatraz, which just happened to be in "San-Fran", the last place he and JJ wanted to go.
Now he's standing there (timestamp 31:25), speaking to nobody. Nobody but JJ. His JJ, the JJ he thinks about every day, the JJ that he killed. His JJ. He prattles on, his insane nonsense and at some point he knows he's insane, but why bother? JJ, his JJ, isn't listening. He wants to die. He wants to die, so he unloads his gun, selects one bullet, places it in the second slot. He wants to die, so he takes the gun in his hand, and spins the cylinder. Fate, he thinks. Fate.
He puts the cold metal up to his head and feels himself tremble. He's breathing hard, he's choking, he can't see straight. But he's fine. He wants to die. He closes his eyes. Breathes in the somewhat salty air. Speaks low and soft. "Isn't that right... JJ?"
The name leaves a metallic taste his mouth, and he's back in the building again.
JJ hits him. And he's been hit before, JJ has hit him before, but not like this. Never like this. Never are both of them so unsteady on their feet, never are both of them so far apart. JJ is so far out of reach, and Dylan is terrified.
All he can hear are his own screams, mixing with gunshots ricocheting off the walls. The way he begs with JJ, pleads with JJ. Begging, pleading, JJ. "That's our team!" "You'll regret this!" "Stop it!"
He's curled up on his side, knees against his chest, screaming. Eyes closed. There's blood now, and bullets. The bullets stop. JJ is screaming. Screaming. The bullets begin again. Then they stop. JJ stopped, and he's breathing, hard. Dylan dares to open his eyes. To get up, start acting like the man he is, to help JJ. To get them out of here. His body, his shaking limbs, he can barely stand. He grabs the phone.
His voice is shaking. He doesn't sound like himself. "Two survivors." JJ is alive, he's bleeding. JJ needs help. He just needs help. "He's bleeding, bad."
"Negative. Orders are to terminate anyone bitten. No exceptions."
Dylan is shaking. The phone clatters to the table, plastic hitting cold metal. He's shaking and nothing feels real and everything hurts and JJ hurts and JJ is sick and JJ needs help and he will not kill JJ.
Dylan looks at JJ, he thinks he's crying, and shakes his head. Fast, small, over, and over again until JJ blurs. He can barely see the blood anymore. He can't see the blood anymore. It's just JJ. His JJ. His JJ, close enough to touch, to hold, to never let go. His JJ would tell him that everything would be alright. For a moment, it's just them.
JJ turns to him, eyes wide, bloodshot.
And then they're fighting again. JJ is hitting Dylan, Dylan is grasping at the barrel of his gun. Each of them clawing towards an idea of a life they'll never see again. It goes off, loud and sharp, each bullet like lightning against the walls. Everything hurts. Dylan feels bullets hit his bone and everything hurts. This isn't JJ. This isn't his JJ.
He's on the floor. His fingertips brush cold plastic and this isn't his JJ. He stands, he doesn't know how he's standing, everything hurts, he can't feel anything.
JJ. He is crying now, he's sure of it. JJ. He's pointing a gun at those wide eyes. JJ. He can't breathe. JJ.
Fate, Dylan thinks, a moment in the present. A moment out of his bloodstained memory. Fate.
Then it's JJ again. JJ, Dylan's shaking hands. JJ asking for help. JJ was bleeding, JJ was hurt. Please. Please, JJ...
Fate, Dylan thinks. He is breathing too hard. Fate.
The gun clicks, and he hears it in the room. The room he's really standing in.
Nothing hurts worse than it has been.
He lowers the gun, slowly. How unfortunate, he thinks. He can feel the tears in his eyes. Fate has decided I cannot see JJ today.