GREEN [complete]

CHAPTER 26: Mars

Mars checked the door. Again. It was the third, fourth, maybe even fifth time. He wasn't counting. They'd dragged Sekam out there and discarded her like she was a broken thing. Mars knew she wasn't, he understood that she was scared and that she needed someone she could trust. He wasn't sure if he was the right someone, but no one else was volunteering.

"I want to be with her," he said to Dylan. Again. It was the second or third, maybe even fourth time. Bek's back was turned to him, and no one else in the room acknowledged his signs.

Dylan listened and said nothing. Again. They were doing that more and more; watching him, listening to him, refusing to be his voice. Why weren't they helping him? They were supposed to protect him. They promised they would keep him safe.

Mars didn't feel safe. Not while he was surrounded by the men that hurt Sekam and pushed her aside. Not while other people discussed his future and didn't give him a voice. He needed Dylan. He needed them to tell Bek and Reddington that all he wanted was to be with Sekam.

But no one cared what he thought. They were so fixated on fixing him that they didn't stop to ask if that was what he still wanted. He was coming to terms with the fact that there would be no fixed. He would always be broken; he would die with or without new organs. Sekam, though—Sekam was different. She could be helped. She needed to be helped.

"You took an oath," Bek said, ignoring Mars as completely as everyone else in the room. "You took an oath." Her relaxed posture had been abandoned for uncomfortable stiffness and she'd smothered all emotion.

Reddington's lips pinched tighter. "You took the same oath I did," he said. "You know that it applies strictly to humans. I trust you have not forgotten that mongrels are not human—you should know this better than most of us."

"He needs help." A hard edge took over her words, and she let some of the desperation leak through. "I promised I would help him."

"That is your promise to keep, not ours." Reddington released a measured sigh, changing his voice to match a tone that Jones had frequently used with Mars. It was a nurturing tone; he believed she would understand that there would be no arguing. He knew better. "His presence puts all of us in danger, Rebekah. You may have been one of us, and you may have created this"—he looked long and hard at Mars—"creature, but that does not make him one of us."

A knot formed in Mars's throat, blocking his air.

"Wait," Dylan said, crossing the space between them and Bek. "Created him?" Their words mimicked Mars's thoughts, if only his thoughts could slow down long enough to be coherent.

It had to be a mistake. Bek couldn't have created him.

Bek touched Dylan's shoulder. "Honey, please ..."

They slapped her hand away.

"What does that mean?" Mars asked, rattle trembling.

"It doesn't mean anything," Bek tried to assure him. She failed.

"Do you work for ORCTech?" Dylan was afraid.

"No!" Bek launched herself to her feet so fast her chair toppled. Her cheeks stained a deep mahogany as heat rushed through her veins; anger, tangled up with all the same emotions she'd felt when she told Mars about Helian and Chrysa. "I would never."

Reddington watched the scene play out, regret written on every part of him.

"He"—Dylan pointed an accusing finger at Reddington—"said that you created Mars!"

Bek looked from Dylan and Mars to Reddington and back again, panic building above everything else. She smelled like a trapped creature ... like the mongrels Thompson fed to Mars. Mars's hunger began to build again, drowning out his confusion and his worry and his pain. His rattle stilled and his fangs crept out, pushing against his lips.

He needed to eat.

"They said they'd help my girls," Bek was saying. "All they needed was my research and they could help my girls. I had to ... I had to do something ..." Her words were muted under the seamless silence that settled through Mars's body. She kept talking, he was sure, but he didn't hear her. He was too busy deciding who to eat first.

"Mars ..." Dylan took a cautious step back.

Unfortunately, he didn't get a chance to eat any of them. The world broke into frames. One fell after the other. Snap. Snap. Snap. As he fell through the air. Fuzzy darkness rushed in around him and he kept falling. Just kept falling. Nothing. No one. Just him, alone, in the dark. Scared; always so scared. Then, the darkness shattered.

Dylan knelt over him, hand on his shoulder. "I'm right here," they said.

"How long has that been happening?" Reddington asked. His voice came from far away, like he wasn't even in the room with them—but then again, everyone's did.

"A few days, maybe," Dylan told them. "Last time it was less than a week before he was coughing blood." They rubbed Mars's shoulder, trying to instill that sense of comfort. It didn't help.

"It won't matter," Mars said. "Even if I get new organs, it will just happen again. I want to be with Sekam." His hands trembled, weak with the same exhaustion that pulled down the rest of his body.

"I promised I would get you new organs," Bek said, "and that's what I'm going to do."

"I want to be with Sekam." Mars tried to emphasize the words, but they didn't listen. None of them listened.

Instead, Reddington pinched his nose, sighed, and said, "Fine. We will help your mongrel, this one time. But only if you leave as soon as he's well enough to move and never bring him back here."