Beep, beep, beep,

"....waking up....hope..."

Beep, beep, beep,

"Mark....awake..."

Beep, beep, beep,

"Mark, I need you to wake up." Mark faintly heard a man's deep gentle voice say. It sounded like whoever was talking was yelling down a long hallway, the tone echoing but still strong.

He slowly cracked his eyes open, instantly regretting the decision when a bright white light blinded him, making him wince in pain as he forced his eyes all the way open.

"Mark, can you hear me?" The voice asked.

Why did it sound familiar? Mark thought, searching his brain for any recollection of whoever was talking. Nothing came to mind.

"Yeah." He croaked, nearly forgetting that he was asked a question. His throat was dry and scratchy from lack of use. He tried swallowing a couple of times, but it didn't seem to help.

He looked around after his eyes adjusted to the light. He apparently was in a hospital, although the walls were crumbling with debris littering the cracked white tile floor. A soft beeping noise was emanating from a machine hooked up to Mark that regulated his pulse. Tubes ran from Mark's nose to a different machine. He grimaced as he tore the tubes out, sucking in a breath of somewhat fresh air.

But most importantly, he saw Cry standing by his side, his infamous white neutral expression mask hiding his face. He was wearing a dark green hoodie with the hood pulled up over his head and a pair of ripped dirt stained jeans, as well as black tennis shoes splattered with mud.

Mark looked down and saw that he was dressed in a short sleeve black t-shirt and jeans, his light gray tennis shoes on his feet and his gray and red hoodie flung across the end of the bed he was laying on

"Look, I know you're really confused, but we need to go." He took his hand and helped him out of bed, handing Mark his hoodie.

"No, I'm not going until I get an explanation." Mark said firmly, pulling his hand from Cry's as he took the IV tubes out of his wrist, making the machine that was beeping suddenly start making a high pitched noise.

"Mark-"

"Tell me!" Mark demanded, his head spinning as he waited with bated breath for Cry to answer.

"Fine." He finally huffed impatiently, realizing how stubborn Mark was.

"There was a bombing at the convention a year ago-"

"The convention?" Mark repeated dumbly, interrupting Cry.

"You don't remember?" Cry's tone betrayed the frown he had.

"Wait...we're-we're not-" Mark rubbed his face with his hands, a suffocating panic taking hold as he held the balled up hoodie tightly in his hands.

"You okay?" Cry watched Mark sink back onto the bed.

"Where are we?" He asked quietly, dreading the answer.

"We're in Seattle." Cry answered.

"Have you seen Amy, Jack, Tyler, anybody?" Mark asked frantically, shooting off of the bed and beginning to pace, his tennis shoes scuffing against the tile.

"I haven't found anyone yet except you just now." He spoke carefully, as if expecting Mark to burst into tears at any moment.

"Amy..." Mark shook his head, fighting hard to blink back the tears that rapidly clouded his vision. She was supposed to be married to him, standing by his side.

"C'mon, I'll explain more on the way back to the shelter." Cry walked out of the room, leaving Mark no choice but to follow him.

The outside world looked disastrous.

The sky was a light gray, the sun not visible as they trudged down the broken road in silence. The air was burning hot, making him glad that he was wearing a t-shirt. He tied the hoodie around his waist in case it grew colder later on. He couldn't tell what time of day it was since he had nothing on him except the clothes he was wearing.

"Did you take me there?" Mark gestured behind them at the hospital they were walking away from.

Cry shook his head no. "I found you there."

"How far away is the shelter?" Mark asked impatiently. He couldn't stop thinking about all the moments he had shared with Amy and his friends. They were only made up memories in his head. 

"Mark, we're here." Cry's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. He had completely walked past the building Cry was standing by.

He shook his head to try and dispel the thoughts as he followed him inside. All of the window were shattered, shards of glass littering the floor as well as chunks of debris. The place looked like what was left of an old abandoned diner decorated to look retro with a jukebox lying in the corner and records hung on the wall, as well as an electric guitar. It looked exactly like Nate's.

He quickly dropped his gaze down to the silver and blue tiled floor, sorrow filling his body with every heartbeat. Everything seemed to remind him of the friends he had lost.

"I'm gonna go scavenge for food, you stay here and make sure no one steals anything while I'm gone." Cry instructed as he left.

There wasn't much to steal except a flimsy navy blue sleeping bag punctured with holes and a bunch of clothes. Mark sat down on top of the sleeping bag and looked around at the empty diner. The pain he felt in whatever that dream was still haunted him for whatever reasons he shifted around to try and get comfortable.

It wasn't long until he grew bored, wishing he was out with Cry helping find more supplies. He hated feeling useless. To pass the time, he cleared up whatever rubble he could off of the floor and dusty turquoise and silver chrome counter, finding an old rag and using it to wipe off the tables at the booths.

Suddenly, he heard footsteps approaching him quietly, as if trying to be sneaky.

"That was fast." Mark mused, thinking it was Cry. He spotted a figure, but they had on a black hoodie and darker blue jeans.

"Not Cry." Mark hissed, ducking back down under the booth he was previously polishing while hoping he wasn't spotted. There were more footsteps before the figure entered the diner, snatching a handful of clothes and the sleeping bag up before beginning to retreat.

Mark waited until his back was turned before he pounced on the person, knocking them down to the ground with a yelp of surprise and fear.

"These don't belong to you." Mark took the belongings back, placing them back in their original spot.

"Mark?" The person spoke, the accent unmistakable.

"Jack!" Mark helped Jack up off of the ground and hugged him tightly, relief flooding through him. He thankfully looked okay, his hair bright toxic green peeking out from under the black hood pulled over his head.

"How did you get here? You were in a coma in the hospital about an hour ago when I checked on you." Jack frowned in confusion.

"Cry found me and took me here. Did you take me to the hospital?" Mark asked.

"Yeah. What do you remember?" Jack pressed.

"I don't know what's real and what I made up." Mark lightly tapped a finger on the side of his head.

"The first time we came here, Signe, you, Amy, and I were here for a convention and a bomb went off, destroying everything. We stayed at an empty apartment but you were sick and my leg was broken. The U.K picked us up, fixed my leg, and diagnosed you with severe radiation, but they brought us back here a year later to try and find other survivors." Jack recounted.

"Close enough." Mark smiled with a sigh of satisfaction, glad that at least part of what he remembered wasn't fake.

"You with anybody else?" Jack looked around.

"Cry just left to look for supplies." Mark explained.

"You mind if I wait here with you for Cry?" Jack asked.

"Sure." Mark shrugged, sitting in a booth while Jack sat across from him.

"How do you feel?" Jack abruptly started examining him for any signs of injury.

"I feel like a giant walking bruise, but otherwise I'm good." Mark assured him with a smirk.

"Who is that?" Cry whipped a pistol out of the waistband of his jeans, pointing it at Jack as he entered the diner.

"Nice to see you too Cry." Jack smiled, seeming to not be at all afraid of the gun pointed at his head.

"You mind if we stay with you two? It's certainly nicer than the alley we're camping in." Jack remarked, running a hand across the table in front of him.

"Who's with you?" Cry smoothed the sleeping bag out.

"Felix, Ken, Signe, Marzia, and Amy." Jack listed off.

Mark perked up when he heard Amy's name, eager to talk to her soon.

"That's fine." Cry sighed, mumbling incoherently under his breath as he abruptly left again.

"Well, I guess that's my cue to leave to. You wanna come?" Jack invited him.

"Sure." Mark followed him outside.

Even though the sky was still fogged over with the gray haze, it looked darker, probably meaning that it was close to night time.

"So..." Jack trailed off, unsure if he should continue.

"Yeah?" Mark prompted.

"What did you see when you were in the coma?" He blurted.

Mark stiffened, but didn't stop walking as the memories he fought to forget flooded his mind again.

"I was in LA looking for survivors with you, Signe, Ethan, Nate, Tyler, Bob, Wade, Mandy, Molly, and Amy. I was captured and taken underground to some kind of demented testing lab, injected with some kind of serum that gave me regenerative powers but also insane. You were injected too." Mark paused, thinking of what else to mention.

"The Queen had bombed all of America before she was replaced, the new Queen searching for survivors and returning with a lot of my friends and family." Mark swallowed before continuing.

"Amy and I were getting married when I woke up." Mark whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of their footsteps.

Jack remained silent for a moment.

"At least your imagination's still intact." Jack joked weakly in attempts to lighten the mood.

"At least your sense of humor still is." Mark countered with a small smile.

The alley they stopped at looked almost exactly like the shelter Nate had made in LA, only it was much bigger with a rusty barrel in the center, smoke curling out of it as fire crackled from inside.

Sitting on a blue sleeping bag similar to Cry's in the far left corner was Felix and Ken, talking and laughing with each other. Amy, Signe, and Marzia were giggling about something while sitting cross legged on a rusty red colored sleeping bag.

Everything went silent once Mark cleared his throat.

"Mark!" Amy crawled out of the shelter and threw her arms around him, pressing her lips against his. He stumbled back in surprise at the sudden force before kissing back, breaking off for air after a couple of moments.

"You didn't tell him, right?" Amy exchanged glances with Jack.

"Didn't tell me what?" Mark looked between the two.

"I-I'm pregnant." She stuttered nervously, the smile falling from her face. She looked terrified as she shied away from Mark as if expecting him to hit her.

Instead he laughed a genuine laugh for the first time in months, picking her up by the waist and spinning her in a circle while she squealed in surprise. Mark finally gently lowered her back down on the ground in front of him, grabbing her hands and squeezing them comfortingly.

"Wait, the kid is mine, right?" Mark's expression turned serious.

"Yes babe." Amy promised him with a little giggle.

"How long did you know? What gender? When-"

"Hold on a second!" Amy laughed, holding up a hand to cut off Mark's barrage of questions.

"I found out a couple of months after you went into the coma, I don't know the gender, and I don't know how long I've been pregnant. Honestly, I thought I was just sick at first." Amy admitted sheepishly.

"That's amazing babe." Mark's smile returned as he briefly kissed Amy on the lips again.

"C'mon you two lovebirds, we should get some sleep." Ken suggested.

Mark and Amy crawled back under the wooden boards and curled up on the red sleeping bag together once Signe moved to Jack's dark green sleeping bag and Marzia crawled to Felix's sleeping bag.

"I love you." Amy whispered to Mark, snuggling in closer to him for warmth since the temperature dropped due to the absence of the sun.

"I love you too babe." Mark whispered back, quickly falling asleep to the sound of Amy's breathing.