[ by the time Graham arrives, it looks like their apartment again. gone is the mess she'd made earlier in the afternoon in show of sheer frustration - an outburst, like the one she'd had at the station that had prompted an awareness of her condition. she's not violent now, but she won't pretend she's fully in control of herself either. it comes and it goes, bursts of emotion and desperation that make her feel like she's lost control of her own body.

he knows she's never hurt him. she knows she'd never hurt him, yet the things she'd do in her right mind don't fully apply here. it's not just that she's deteriorating, she's a threat to his safety.] I -

[ she thought if he could see her, he'd understand. he doesn't, not if the look he gives her on the way in is any indication. she reaches for a sealed manilla envelope on the coffee table before she stands, since he doesn't seem to be in the mood to talk. might as well give him what he wants and make it quick.]

I need you to hold on to this for me.

[ there's no explanation of why, he already knows. if she doesn't make it through this mission, or the next, or the one after that, there are things she'd like to be able to say to her family. inside the envelope are a few letters, including one for him.]

I'm not planning on dying here, Graham. But I've never had to face the possibility anywhere else the way I have to now.