Hours days or weeks there, Daniel didn't know. Time blended together. One thing he noticed more were voices by his cell door. On one occasion a small flap opened and an eye peered in. Male voices squabbled.

Those arguments became more frequent the next time Daniel finally saw Lala again.

It was her—wearing a black helmet—and acting cold. Two men flanked her. One handed over a strip of metal for scrutiny, another pointed at Daniel while yelling.

Daniel panicked when he realized the nonsensical words weren't his imagination—he couldn't understand them.

Lala said something and Daniel's heart panged. Her words held no meaning. All events leading to now felt like a faded dream. He hadn't imagined her speaking his language. He hadn't imagined it.

The two men finally left.

Metal ground on metal as the door slid up.

"Lala." Daniel rushed in time to grab her to him. "Lala."

Body tensed, Lala said nothing. Daniel tightened his hold on the rubbery armor. Even the tepid helmet pressed against his face felt familiar and safe.

And then she held him.

It was strange and awkward at first but the grip grew stronger in time. With a flick of his finger under her chin, the helmet clicked up.

Lala hesitated but pulled it the rest of the way. Her hair was cut short again, nearly bald.

But her big brown eyes took him in and he calmed. She'd returned.

"I worried for you," Daniel said.

She didn't respond. For a split second he wondered if he'd imagined it—imagined them talking.

"Es reed," she whispered. "Es reed tut."

Daniel trembled but he forced himself to let her go and stand on his own. There was no point in being cowardly.

When he tried to take his hand back, she held it in place, pressing it against her cheek.

It was then he noticed that she wasn't breathing. He confirmed that grim discovery when she lowered his hand and put something in his grip. It was a small mask attached to a container of sorts.

Daniel pushed it back to her. "No. I do not need this nonsense. You should breathe. You should breathe and stop with this foolishness."

But she held his hand steady, unwilling to let him refuse.

So he kissed her. He kissed her to calm her. He kissed her to say goodbye because her behavior said she wouldn't come back, and although he did not understand her words, he knew her meaning.

After another soft peck, he stepped back and met her stunned gaze.

"You keep it then, Lala. And know that whatever happens...whatever happens...it's all right."

Lala took him in. "Lala da?"

He forced a smile. "You are Lala. And I am here for a reason. Maybe this is what I deserve for causing so much trouble. But I'm all right now. I'm not afraid anymore." He stole another kiss and rested his forehead against hers. "I'm not afraid anymore, Lala. So do not worry. Keep your air."

Her hands slid down his body until they came to rest on the bandage. Lala uprooted it and gasped. Daniel didn't bother looking—he was healed, he knew.

"Malace," she said. "Malace tu!"

The two men returned. Lala flinched, coming to her senses as she backed away. She turned. Whatever argument she made, it fell on deaf ears.

Daniel was unsure about the devices the men carried or Lala's upset—that is—until one man stepped in and dragged Daniel's turban loose.

Hair cascading forward, Daniel struggled to gather it up again. For an instant he panicked, desperate to get it hidden once more, but the look of dread on Lala's face made him slow then stop all together.

"Er ranche," she begged.

One man nodded and handed the device over. Lala approached but didn't advance far. The men behind her glanced at each other then asked her something.

Lala's hands shook so Daniel clenched them. Taking the device wasn't his intent, and yet, when he pulled away, it was in his hands.

The thing made a sis-sis sound. Two jagged teeth protruded from the top.

He stared Lala down when he reached up and ran the device through his hair. The first cut was painful on many levels, but by the second he felt all right.

Hair cascaded around him. Lala reached down to gather the long strands all up. She wouldn't look at him as she muttered something to the men and stepped out.

One man held out his hands for the thing and Daniel complied.

Eons passed before they shuffled out and Lala turned to go as well. She called over her shoulder at him and said something akin to a fleeting goodbye. The metal door slid down again.

Daniel collapsed to the ground, hands rubbing his bald head.

He told himself to be thankful, because while he remained alone with only sheared hair to show for it, screams came from other cells.

It must have been days before the flap at the door opened and brown eyes peered in.

"Are you all right?"

"Lala." Daniel hurried to his feet. He expected her to walk in, but instead she didn't enter.

"Daniel, are you all right?" she asked. "I cannot understand you with the new helmet, but the old one must work. Tell me that it does."

At first hesitant, Daniel said, "It does work."

Lala's breath hitched. "You're all right. I must give this helmet to the others. Then they can understand."

But when she came with others no one else shared her joy. Reluctant faces, holding their breaths, disappeared behind that helmet to no avail.

Before Five-Five-Six left, she paused to whisper to Lala, "Get a hold of yourself. Look what you risk, what you jeopardize. You are the talk of the division. Be careful you don't end up in one of these cells next. End this or I will."

She walked away, leaving Lala to stare into nothing, discarded helmet still in hand. Daniel suspected that wasn't the only reason why she held her breath.

Four touched Lala's shoulder, trying to guide her away but Lala shrugged her off.

"You cannot stay here without air. Come."

Lala refused to leave. "He talks. He can talk. Just try the helmet again. Please."

For a long time, Four watched her in sympathy. "I will not let you do this to yourself. You broke that feeding tube.... You told me the deer trampled it, but I've seen it, you ripped it apart. And now I know why. So we can come back here to save this thing. But what'll happen to you when others figure it out, too? You're being monitored as of now." Four waited then begged, "Please let this go." Her helmet faded to black and she walked out.

Still faced away, Lala watched the ground.

Though her hands shook, she put on the helmet and met Daniel's gaze. "When we first met...I must know—why did you save me? From dragging me from the river to not letting me fall...why?"

"Why would I let you fall?"

"I am your enemy."

Daniel analyzed the words and finally concluded, "I had no fight with you. There's a rage about you, Lala. And we get back what we put in, I guess I wondered what it took to get all that in you."

She turned to walk away but he caught her arm—she stood trembling.

The steps necessary to exit failed Lala for some time. "I need you to understand what is happening and why and what I must do. We have an allotment to keep and I've compromised that."

Daniel listened. Each attempt he made at responding, words failed him.

"I need to know you understand what is happening, and that you do not blame me. You've been exposed to that poisonous air since birth. Do you understand? I'm doing an act of mercy by signing off on your harvest.

"I do not understand my fixation with you," she admitted. "I could break your bones and take what I want—I have before. I always have."

Index finger on his chin, she helped him meet her gaze.

"Say something," she begged. "Anything at all."

But he had nothing to say. The next time someone entered, it wouldn't be to only cut his hair.

"We can find some good organs," she explained. "They go to helping people in need. Your kind has no reason—no proper thought. Only cruelty. And you suffer in that rancid air. We're helping both you and our own kind."

She didn't sound all that convinced and the words seemed rehearsed but he let her take comfort in them—she needed to.

"We're helping."

Without answering, Daniel flicked the helmet—he'd become an expert at finding the proper latch—she ripped it off the rest of the way and pressed her cheek to his.

"I'm sorry," she said, "nobody else can understand you and I am but one person. I am sorry."

Though she kept the helmet in hand, her words were clear. He pressed his lips to hers then put their foreheads to meet again. After today she would not come back.

She dropped the helmet, or so he thought until he noticed her body shaking. He held on by instinct and was lucky to do so because she lost power. It took everything in him to keep her up.

"Lala...."

"We're too deep in this building. I'd have to steal your files to know where they put the tracker to cut it out. And then it's sixteen floors on top of this one to reach the doors. If I could steal you a suit, maybe we'd have a prayer but they take weeks to condition for one body and they aren't commissioned easily."

With each breath she took as she rambled, the pitch of her voice grew higher. After that it was less of a struggle to keep her standing, and more of one to get her to sit again.

"And I've tried. It's not that I haven't tired. Even now I've gone over the allotted time needed to examine you." She gripped his shirt. "So please don't think I haven't tried."

"Okay." Daniel guided her to the ground and sat with her. "Let's calm down."

"It's not that I haven't tried."

She turned to bury her face in his neck and he held on.

Letting go was hard but Daniel thought of one thing Four'd said—Lala was monitored and her behavior was getting erratic.

"If you are not allowed here, Lala, there's no sense in both of us suffering. You should leave."

But she didn't budge, in fact, she held him tighter. Lala intended to face the consequences head on, and so, Daniel let her.

They remained in that embrace. In truth, Daniel was in no rush to break it, but the fact that Lala sought it as well was both comforting and troubling.

This was the first time someone had taken such faith in him. She was his only human contact in years, even for discussion, as he'd told himself he needed none. And then he looked at her. Without the helmet, her eyes closed like this, she wasn't the same menacing woman who'd terrorized him for near a week. The suit started at her neck. It even covered her hands.

And he understood; this was why she couldn't let go. He'd been three years without human contact. Lala'd been longer.

He thought to put her to rest on the floor but she jerked awake, grabbing at his shirt again.

"Daniel...?"

"I am here, Lala. If you are tired, you should lie for a while."

She said nothing; she didn't let him go, either.

Eyes closed, Lala pulled him near, pressing her face in his neck.

Daniel tightened his grip.

And there they sat in companionable silence until her hand reached up to hold his face. The suit retreated, leaving her fingers bare. She guided his chin, but he turned his head to move of his own volition.

When he kissed her, her lips trembled. He hadn't noticed that until now. She rooted up his shirt to touch his bare skin.

He broke the kiss, forehead pressed against hers. "How do I get you out of this thing?" he panted.

She spent the night—she spent the night with him, and Daniel allowed himself to forget for a few hours. Judging from Lala's own behavior and inhibitions falling, maybe she was trying to forget as well. She was a wonder. What started in apprehension ended in trust.

The next morning, after she stood and dressed; she was slow to drag on her black suit.

Daniel focused on the silver attachment on the back of her neck. It controlled the suit, Lala had explained. It was the size of a walnut, and it rested...above a tattoo. The numbers: 555 etched into her back weren't all that big. Had he not known it matched her other equipment, he might have found it cute. Now, it looked like a way to brand livestock rather than a sweet decoration. The countless healed scars were the real reason he couldn't speak. Her body was littered with them, but the ones on her back....

She walked out moments later.

"They allowed me this helmet if I agreed to make this my last visit," Lala said beyond the door.

Without looking up from the ground, Daniel listened.

"Daniel...I...I'd rip the sensor for this suit out of my spine if it would work for you. But it won't. I...."

"Don't, Lala. Last night still lingers in me and it's the only thing I want to think about. Don't let our parting be any more painful."

She couldn't turn and face him though he longed for it. She closed the peep latch without looking back.

And then she was gone.

Everything leading to now, there was no reason to rehash it. He'd found his resolve and although he longed for Lala again, he was equally glad she'd left before she'd broken it.

When the door opened again not too long after, Daniel's heart leapt. It fell at the sight of who stood there—it wasn't Lala.

Daniel moved cells. He didn't get far. He heard Lala's frantic voice ages later.

"Where are you? Where are you?"

She came dangerously close to finding him but she didn't pull back the flap.

"Daniel?"

But Daniel said nothing. No good could come of this—any of it. Hollow hours came to abrupt ends with the sound of Lala's frantic searching. They grew less frequent until one day they simply stopped.

Daniel's heart stopped with it.