After taking a two-hour detour the four of them arrived back home.
Rain clung to everything. The metal grates steamed with heat from the external disinfectant units as the sweep team stepped inside.
Ty stood hunched and quiet in the quarantine suit they'd zipped him into — his borrowed clothes sealed in a thermal bag for decontamination. His hands trembled, whether from cold or adrenaline, no one could say.
Josh stayed stone-faced as Jules led him down the side corridor toward the holding unit. Boris peeled off toward the med station to prep the antibiotics.
That's when Jessi stepped into the hallway—eyes wide, hoodie sleeves pushed to her elbows, a thermal mug of soup in one hand.
She saw him.
Her body jerked like she'd been struck.
"Ty?"
He turned, startled.
"Jess?"
The thermal mug hit the floor.
"Oh my God," she gasped. "I thought— I thought you left the city with your brother—"
"Didn't make it," Ty croaked, throat raw. "I've been— I've been trying to find somewhere safe."
Josh moved quickly, stepping between them, voice low but iron-solid.
"You know him?"
"He lived across the hall from me," Jessi said, voice shaking. "Back when—back before."
"We were in the same study group," Ty added. "You used to sneak me extra soup from the rez lounge."
"Yeah," she whispered. "Jesus, Ty."
Jules eyed Josh, then murmured, low and deliberate:
"We still do this by the book."
Josh gave a short nod.
"He gets seventy-two hours quarantine. No exceptions."
--
Ty sat on the cot behind the sealed plexiglass wall, clutching a thermal blanket and sipping from a filtered straw poking through a sanitation flap. His eyes looked dull in the harsh overhead lights.
Jessi paced outside.
Josh stood at the console, watching the monitors.
"You can't just leave him in there like that," she said. "He's not some stranger off the street. He's—he's Ty. From 3C. He used to help carry my laundry basket when the elevator broke."
Josh didn't look away from the screen.
"We don't know what he's been exposed to."
"He's starving. He's sick. You've let people in before."
"Under controlled conditions before the flooding, before things got bad out there -- he could be contagious. This is the only safe way is to do this."
She stepped in front of him now, forcing him to look at her.
"You think Rosie's people would fake a bruised foot and risk hypothermia just to infiltrate us?"
"Yes," Josh said simply. "I do."
That stunned her for a beat.
"He's just a kid."
"So were some of the ones outside with bricks."
"He's not a threat."
"Neither was the scout—until he was."
His voice cracked slightly, but he held it together.
"This isn't about being heartless, Jess. It's about not being stupid."
Jules entered then, arms crossed, watching from the doorway.
"If he's clean after seventy-two, we'll reassess," she said. "He's better off than most. And you just made sure we're watching him closer."
Jessi turned to her. Her face was flushed, but she didn't speak.
Instead, she looked back at Ty behind the glass. He gave a small, apologetic shrug.
She swallowed the lump in her throat.
"He's going to think I abandoned him."
"Then make sure he sees you standing here tomorrow," Josh said softly. "Still watching. Still fighting for him. That's what saves people now."
--
The storm had dulled to a low, relentless hiss against the reinforced glass.
Soft light filtered from solar sconces. Most of the tower slept, save for the screens quietly blinking in rows — monitoring power flow, rooftop vitals, perimeter sensors.
Josh sat slouched in the main chair, eyes red-rimmed from too many hours awake. A half-drunk mug of something strong and herbal sat cooling beside him.
Jules stood at the window, arms folded, silhouetted against the city's drowned skyline. The CN Tower still stood in the distance, but barely—like a memory trying not to be forgotten.
"You okay?" she asked without looking at him.
Josh didn't answer right away.
"Sometimes I wonder," he said finally, "if I'd even still be alive without you."
Jules turned slightly.
"You probably would. Just way more anxious, underfed, and full of bullet holes."
"Still think you should've been the one in charge."
She snorted.
"I like building things. Not making the calls that break people."
Josh ran a hand down his face.
"You think I made the wrong one? With Ty?"
"No," she said, then paused. "But it doesn't mean it won't cost you."
She leaned her hip against the console beside him, eyes serious now.
"You did the right thing. That doesn't mean Jessi will forgive you. Or that Ty won't take it personally. Or that it won't hurt like hell."
Josh looked down at his hands.
"We were just lawyers a month ago."
"You were a lawyer," Jules said. "I was getting drunk on rooftops and ghosting mediocre men with startup ideas."
He chuckled softly, almost surprised.
Then:
"Thanks for staying."
"Thanks for listening when I told you to buy a bullet press."
He grinned.
"You were right about the glass coating too. That solar finish's going to keep the grid running when everything else fails."
"I'm always right," she said, nudging his boot with hers. "You're just finally catching on."
They sat in the silence for a moment — the kind of silence that came only when the worst had passed… or was just pretending to be.