"SHE SUFFERED A SEVERE INJURY TO HER LARYNX, one of you will need to give blood," Grace told them as they crowded around Allison's stretcher.

     Five was now applying pressure to Allison's wound instead of Carla, the once cream blanket now crimson with blood.

     "I will," everyone chorused.

     "No, I'm going to do it," Luther said defiantly.

     Pogo shook his head, "I'm afraid that's not possible, dear boy. Your blood is more compatible with mine."

     "Hey, don't sweat it. I got this, big guy," Klaus said, stepping towards Grace, and patting the inside of his arm, "I love needles!"

     "Master Klaus," Pogo said wearily, "Your blood is... how shall I say this... too polluted."

     "I can do it," Carla said.

Pogo eyed her for a few seconds, "I'm afraid we don't quite understand the mechanics of your blood yet, Miss Carla. We are not sure if it's safe for Miss Allison's body."

     She sighed, just as Diego stepped forward, "Move. I'll do it."

     Grace nodded, turning to pick up a needle, before facing Diego again. There was a second of pause, before the man whimpered, falling to the floor unconscious.

     "Stick him," Pogo said.

---[]---

     The sound of the tap running filled the kitchen as Carla walked in, and she saw Five standing with his back to the entrance, washing his hands.

     She coughed slightly, alerting him of her presence, and she slowly approached him, placing her hands on the kitchen counter and raising herself to sit on the edge.

     Slowly, she took off her bloodied gloves, placing them down next to her, and watched as Five rinsed the blood off his hands.

     It seemed to be clinging to him, though, sticking to the creases in his palms and under his nails. Carla noticed the way his fingers wouldn't stop shaking, and she cautiously looked at him.

     As Carla stared at Five, she saw the tears glistening in his eyes as he scrubbed his hands again and again.

     "Five," she said quietly, breaking the thick silence, "You okay?"

     She was sure Five was going to make some sort of snarky comment, but he just sniffed, before saying, "I just... I hate it."

     "Hate what?"

     "The slit throat, the blood, all of it," he muttered.

     Carla had to admit, she was a bit confused at this. He was an assassin, surely he was used to the blood.

     Instead of pushing it, her gaze drifted back to his hands, and where the skin was turning a raw red because of how hard he was washing them.

     "Hey, hey, hey," she jumped off the edge of the sink, rushing to his side and gingerly using her bare hands to yank at his blazer sleeves to pull them out from under the tap, "You're going to hurt yourself."

     Quickly, she retracted her hands, feeling a slight tremor shoot through her body at the small brush of skin-on-skin contact.

     Five sniffed again, looking at his hands as though they were still dripping blood, and he glanced up at Carla, "I'm so sorry."

     She frowned, "For what?"

     He turned away, hastily wiping his eyes, "It doesn't matter."

     With that, he teleported away, leaving Carla very conflicted. She had the same feeling in her gut from when he had held the knife to her throat. Something was definitely up, she just had no idea what.

     Carla sighed, picking up her gloves and putting them under the tap to wash off the blood. She wasn't going to play this game of cat-and-mouse with Five.

     If he wanted to open up, then he would, but she wasn't going to let him push her away whenever things started to get emotional.

     There were only a few days left before the end of the world, and she wasn't going to spend it chasing after Five.

     Her thoughts then turned to Allison, unconscious and undergoing surgery in a separate room, and she couldn't help but shudder.

     Allison had actually spent time getting to know Carla the first night she arrived. And Harold had just gone and slit her throat.

     She sighed, rinsing off the last of the blood and shaking the gloves to rid them of most of the water before putting them on and walking out.

     As she was walking down the hall, Klaus came running out of his room, "Carla!"

     Turning to him in alarm, Carla frowned at his state, "What's wrong?"

     "You won't believe this!" He exclaimed, holding onto her arms and staring right into her eyes, mouth stretched in an almost giddy grin, "Ben punched me!"

     "Ben punched you-?" Carla cut herself off, eyes widening in realisation, "Ben punched you! Oh my god!"

     "Ben punched me!" Klaus repeated, nodding, "And I don't know how I did it, but he was being a dick, and bitching at me, and I had drugs in my mouth and he just- he just punched the pills right out!"

     "No!" Carla exclaimed in disbelief, "Klaus, you being sober is enhancing your abilities!"

     Klaus grinned again, "I- I think so, yeah!"

     "Klaus! Carla!" Diego's recognisable voice called from downstairs.

     Klaus and Carla exchanged a confused glance, before heading downstairs, where Diego and Five were waiting.

     Carla didn't spare the teenage boy a glance, instead perching on the edge of a table, Klaus sitting down on the sofa and drawing his knees to his chest, "What do you want?"

     "So," Diego began, "The bastard that nearly killed our sister is still out there. With Vanya. We have to go after him-"

     "Vanya is not important," Five said simply.

     Diego shot him a look, "Hey, that's your sister. A little heartless, even for you, Five."

     "I'm not saying I don't care about her," Five explained slowly, as though Diego were an idiot, "But if the apocalypse happens today, she dies along with the other seven billion of us."

     Carla felt everyone's gaze momentarily shift to her, and she was struck again by the fact she was supposedly meant to outlive the rest of the human race, although she had no idea how such a thing was possible.

     "Harold Jenkins is our first priority," Five continued.

     "I agree," Diego nodded, "Let's go."

     "Can you guys count me out?" Klaus muttered from his place on the sofa, "I mean, no offence or whatever, it's just... I kinda feel like this is a whole lotta pressure for a newly sober me."

     Carla couldn't help but frown. She knew Klaus wanted to try and work out whatever had happened with Ben earlier, but she also wanted him to come with her. Facing Harold was something she wasn't quite sure if she could handle yet.

     "You're coming," Diego stated.

     "No, no, no," Klaus shook his head, "I mean, we can all agree that my powers... are pretty much useless. I'd just be holding you guys back."

     "Klaus, get up," Five said.

     "You can't make me," Klaus retorted.

     Before Carla could blink, a knife was embedded in the sofa, centimetres from Klaus, who had both arms up in surprise.

     He looked at Carla for a second, reading her face, and sighed, getting up, "Well, a little exercise couldn't hurt."

     Carla tried to hide her grin, instead linking arms with him and half dragging him out the door and towards the car, trying to quell the anxiety bubbling in her stomach.