Dawn jerks awake with a strangled scream caught in her throat. Her muscles tense, unable to move, as her eyes dart around trying to search her surroundings for danger.

Every shadow seems like an unseen danger before her eyes land on a familiar form less than 3 feet to her right. Oz, her brother, sleeps soundly, undisturbed by her sudden thrashing and ragged breathing.

He always did sleep like a rock and it usually worried her because of how dangerous that was in their world but right now she was grateful for it.

She takes a deep shaky breath as the memories of where she is come slowly back to her. That’s right. She’s no longer kept in those cells. Her and Oz are free. They managed to find shelter in a church for the night.

She looks around, reacquainting herself with the place now that she remembers where she is.

Her eyes are drawn to the stained glass windows that are illuminated by the moonlight. Reds, blues, and yellows form pictures of a story that Dawn is unfamiliar with but give her something to focus on while she gets her breathing under control.

Her muscles relax bit by bit and she lets her eyes fall closed. The cool night air chills her wet hairline and neck.

As control returns to her body and the shaking lessens, her thoughts drift back to the nightmare that woke her in the first place and the words that have plagued her since she heard them.

“Because we are also what we have lost”

That was one of the last things Dante had said to Dawn before the life left his eyes.

It was said tauntingly like he knew he had won in some way despite the fact that Dawn was now free and he was gone. And at first it was easy to brush it away and chalk it up to Dante’s hubris and delusion, but as the days turned into weeks and the weeks turned into months, Dawn couldn’t help but feel like he was right.

She was free and yet she didn’t feel free at all. She felt shackled to those pits she’d been forced to fight in. No matter how far she went her past still followed her with every waking hour. Even her dreams offered no reprieve from the memories.

Dawn was starting to believe that this was all that she was - a bitter, empty husk due to all that she had lost, completely devoid of goodness and happiness. But she persevered for her brother, Oz.

He was so hopeful and excited to see the world in spite of how barren it was. She was glad that at the very least her loss had made it so that he had been able to keep his wonder. That was what she tried to remind herself of on her worst days. Some days it works, but others… she’d rather not think about those days.

Those days are the worst. When she can’t keep the overwhelming anger, sadness, and pure emptiness that she feels contained and nothing is safe. On those days she’s just a vessel for destruction and everything is in the blast radius. This is when the survivor who championed the pits comes out. The cruel and brutal beast that is a permanent part of her now, a part of her that she fears may be who she truly is.

Maybe the part of her that hates hurting people and wants to help is the front, the mask the beast hides behind. Dawn isn’t sure and she doesn’t know if she wants an answer.

That beast is what filled the holes of what she had lost. Maybe that was what Dante meant. That the brutality that she showed in the pits and to him was what she was now because of what she had lost. So in a way he had won. He had succeeded in killing her because the person she was now was incongruent with the person she was before. The person she was before was dead and the beast was all that was left.

Maybe Dawn’s just being dramatic, blowing things out of proportion, but she’s alone with her thoughts right now and she tends to spiral when that happens. Well, actually she tends to spiral all the time no matter the circumstances, but it’s especially bad when she has no distractions.

Dawn looks over at the window. It’s still dark out. It probably will be for the next few hours. Well there goes doing anything that could be even somewhat productive.

She then looks over to Oz. He’s sleeping peacefully. His face is so relaxed and she can’t help a spike of jealousy from shooting through her. How can he be so at peace in this hellish world? She knows she shouldn’t be jealous, she should be glad. If anyone deserves rest it’s Oz. He’s the one who keeps them going. Dawn’s just the one who does the dirty work. If she was alone she would have given up a long time ago.

In this moment though Dawn is struck with how young Oz looks. He is young, but this life ages people and they very rarely retain their youth. And another pang hits her. One filled with jealousy, but also sadness, anger, and an aching, painful type of relief. She’s succeeded in protecting the one thing that matters most.

The ache is what finally gets her to move. She sits up very slowly, wincing while she does it. Dawn lifts her shirt to inspect the bandage making sure she hasn’t reopened her wound. The bandage is clean, well as clean as it can be, with no signs of blood. Dawn sighs in relief. The last thing they need is for her to reopen the wound or for it to get infected.

She quietly finishes getting up and takes one last glance over at Oz before heading over to the door to the building. The sun still wasn’t up, but at this point she didn’t care. She was going to do a perimeter check or anything productive to take her mind off of everything.

Would there ever be peace for her? Is there any way that she could get back, even just partially, all that she had lost? Or would the beast always remain? Dawn didn’t know, but she did know that the hope Oz held onto all those months wasn’t unfounded.

Project Babylon existed. What her and Oz had been searching for was actually out there. So maybe, just maybe, there would actually be a future. Maybe she would learn to hope again and maybe for the first time since the pits once again not be what she had lost.

And with that final thought she pushed the door open and slipped out into the darkness.