Charles looked at him for a moment longer than necessary. There was something frustrating about how certain Yiannis sounded, like doubt didn’t belong in his system at all.

“You ever think you’re wrong?” Charles asked.

Yiannis didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

That caught Charles slightly off guard.

“And?” he pressed.

“And I adjust,” Yiannis said simply.

No drama. No weight added to it. Just function.

Charles let out a quiet breath, somewhere between disbelief and acceptance.

“That sounds exhausting,” he said.

“It is.”

Yiannis finally sat, not far from him, but not close either. Close enough to speak without raising his voice.

The strangers settled a short distance away, respectful for now. One of them tended to a small injury on his arm. Another just stared at the ground like he was trying to remember what still made sense.

Charles watched them for a moment before speaking again, quieter this time.

“You think we made the right call?”

Yiannis didn’t look at him immediately.

“I think we made the only call,” he said.

Charles nodded slightly, not entirely satisfied, but not pushing further either.

The forest around them shifted in small ways, settling back into its own rhythm. Night was still coming, whether they were ready or not.

And for now, that was enough to keep moving forward.

Night came without ceremony, just a slow fading of light until the forest felt like it had closed in around them. No one lit a fire. No one suggested it. It wasn’t fear of attention anymore, just habit built from too many nights where light had been the wrong kind of invitation.

Charles stayed seated where he was, legs stretched out carefully. The pain had settled into something steady, not sharp enough to force him still, but constant enough to remind him he couldn’t ignore it. He kept his breathing even, more out of discipline than comfort.

The strangers settled a little apart from them, close enough to be heard if they spoke, far enough not to feel like pressure. One of them had fallen asleep sitting up, head tilted awkwardly against a tree. Another kept watch, though his posture looked more like endurance than alertness.

Yiannis stayed awake.

Of course he did.

He sat slightly apart, not fully on watch, not fully at rest either. Just positioned in a way that made it clear he was still responsible for something no one had officially assigned.

Charles watched him for a moment before speaking.

“You always like this?” he asked quietly.

Yiannis didn’t turn his head. “Like what.”

“Like you’re waiting for something to go wrong even when it’s quiet.”

A pause. Not defensive. Just considered.

“Yes,” Yiannis said.

“That’s depressing.”

“It’s accurate.”

Charles let out a short breath, almost a laugh but not quite.

“You don’t get tired of it?”

“I don’t get the option to.”

That landed heavier than the words themselves. Charles shifted slightly, wincing when his leg protested.

“You ever stop and think maybe you’re doing too much alone?” he asked.

Yiannis finally glanced over at him.

“I’m not alone.”

“You know what I mean.”

Another pause. The kind that didn’t avoid the question, just measured it.

“If I stop,” Yiannis said, “other people carry more than they can handle.”

“That’s not how responsibility works,” Charles said.

“It is right now.”

Charles looked away, jaw tightening slightly.

“That’s a terrible system,” he muttered.

“I’ve heard that already.”

“Because it keeps being true.”

That earned him a faint shift in Yiannis’s expression, something almost like acknowledgement but not quite agreement.

They fell into silence again after that. Not uncomfortable, just full. The kind that didn’t ask to be filled.

Somewhere behind them, one of the strangers moved in his sleep, shifting against the tree. A small sound, quickly swallowed by the forest.

Charles spoke again after a while, voice lower this time.

“That name you gave me earlier,” he said.

Yiannis didn’t answer immediately, but he didn’t pretend not to know either.

“What about it.”

“It feels familiar,” Charles admitted. “I don’t know why.”

Yiannis’s gaze stayed forward.

“It’s not uncommon.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

A longer pause this time. Yiannis’s posture didn’t change, but something in the stillness around him did. Like a thread tightening.

“You’re tired,” Yiannis said finally.

“That’s your answer?”

“It’s the only one that keeps you grounded.”

Charles frowned slightly.

“You’ve been doing that a lot,” he said.

“Doing what.”

“Dodging.”

Yiannis turned his head then, properly looking at him.

“I’m not dodging,” he said.

“Then explain it.”

A quiet beat stretched between them.

“I can’t,” Yiannis said.

“That’s not reassuring.”

“It’s not meant to be.”

Charles exhaled slowly, frustration building under the exhaustion.

“You keep saying things like that,” he said. “Like I’m supposed to just accept it.”

“You are.”

“That’s not how people work.”

Yiannis held his gaze for a moment longer than necessary.

“It is when the alternative is chaos,” he said.

Charles shook his head slightly.

“You don’t get to decide what I can handle,” he muttered.

“I’m not deciding that.”

“Yes, you are.”

That made something tighten in Yiannis’s expression, subtle but real.

“You think I’m trying to control you?” he asked.

“I think you’re keeping things out of reach.”

Silence dropped again, sharper this time.

Yiannis looked away first, back into the dark.

“Some things don’t help you,” he said.

“You don’t get to decide that either.”

A faint exhale from Yiannis, controlled but not entirely smooth.

“Not everything needs to be opened,” he said.

Charles stared at him for a second, something unsettled building in his chest.

“That sounds like an excuse,” he said quietly.

“It’s experience.”

Charles shifted, then immediately regretted it as pain flared through his leg again. He swallowed it down.

“You talk like someone who’s been doing this forever,” he said.

Yiannis didn’t respond.

“That’s what bothers me,” Charles added.

A pause.

“Why,” Yiannis asked.

Because it feels like you already know me, Charles thought. Because it feels like you’ve decided things about me I haven’t even lived yet.

He didn’t say that.

Instead he said, “Because I don’t know what I’m missing.”

Yiannis looked at him again, and for a moment there was something almost unguarded there. Not soft. Just… less controlled.

“You’re not missing anything,” he said.

Charles frowned slightly.

“That sounds like a lie.”

“It’s not.”

The conversation ended there, not because it resolved anything, but because neither of them pushed further. The forest held steady around them, and for a while, even the tension seemed to settle into something quieter.

Hours passed like that, uneven and broken. Charles drifted in and out of a light, uncomfortable rest, never fully asleep. Every small sound pulled him back up again.

At some point, he woke to find Yiannis no longer where he had been.

He sat up slowly, scanning the dark.

“Yiannis?” he called softly.

No answer.

The space where he had been was empty, but not disturbed. No signs of struggle. Just absence.

Charles pushed himself up despite the protest in his leg. Pain sharpened immediately, but he ignored it. He looked toward the others, still mostly asleep or half-aware, then back into the trees.

Something in his chest tightened.

He took a step forward, then another.

That was when he heard it.

Not a voice this time. Just movement, deeper in the dark. Controlled. Intentional.

And then Yiannis spoke.

Low. Close enough to hear but not meant for everyone.

“Stay there,” he said.

Charles froze.

Then he saw him.

Yiannis stood just beyond the edge of their small clearing, facing someone Charles couldn’t fully see yet. His posture had changed. Not tense like before. Something more contained. Focused.

The person he was facing shifted slightly, and the moonlight caught part of their face.

Charles felt his breath catch without understanding why.

Because for a split second, something about the shape, the presence, the familiarity of the situation pressed against his memory like a door he hadn’t opened in years.

Yiannis turned his head slightly, just enough for Charles to see his expression.

And in that moment, whatever he was about to say didn’t come out.

Because Charles had already stepped forward.

And everything was about to change direction again.

The figure at the edge of the clearing didn’t stay long. There were a few quiet words Charles couldn’t make out, a brief exchange that felt practiced rather than tense, and then the stranger slipped back into the trees like he had never been there. Yiannis stood still for a moment after, watching the dark where the man had disappeared.

Charles didn’t move closer this time. He waited.

When Yiannis finally turned back, his expression had settled into something neutral again, like whatever passed between them had already been filed away.

“Who was that,” Charles asked.

“Scout,” Yiannis said. “From a nearby unit.”

“That didn’t look like a casual check-in.”

“It wasn’t.”

Charles crossed his arms loosely, ignoring the pull in his leg. “Then what.”

Yiannis stepped back into the clearing, lowering his voice. “There’s a regroup point two days from here. Organized. Better supplies.”

“And?”

“They’re pulling survivors in.”

“That’s not new.”

Yiannis held his gaze for a second. “They’re prioritizing who they take.”

Charles felt something shift before he even heard the rest.

“Based on what.”

“Utility,” Yiannis said. “Medical, combat… and reproduction.”

The last word sat wrong the moment it landed.

Charles didn’t react immediately. He just stared at him, like he was waiting for the sentence to correct itself.

“It’s about rebuilding,” Yiannis added, quieter now. “They’re trying to—”

“I know what they’re trying to do,” Charles cut in.

His voice didn’t rise, but it sharpened.

“And where do I fit in that,” he asked.

Yiannis didn’t answer right away.

“That’s not a hard question,” Charles pressed.

“They prioritize women,” Yiannis said. “Alpha or beta. And omegas. Male or female.”

There it was.

Charles let out a short breath, something hollow slipping through it.

“Of course they do,” he said.

“It’s not personal.”

“It feels personal.”

“That’s not how it’s meant.”

Charles laughed under his breath, but there was no humor in it.

“Yeah,” he said. “That makes it better.”

Yiannis watched him carefully, like he was trying to read where this was going before it got there.

“It’s about survival,” he said.

“It’s always about survival,” Charles replied. “Doesn’t mean it’s not messed up.”

A pause stretched between them.

“You’d be safer there,” Yiannis said.

Charles shook his head slightly, eyes dropping to the ground for a moment.

“Safer as what,” he asked. “A medic. Or something else.”

Yiannis didn’t respond.

That was enough.

Charles let out another breath, longer this time.

“Right,” he said. “Got it.”

“That’s not—”

“No,” Charles cut in again, looking back up. “Don’t. Don’t try to fix it.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

Yiannis’s jaw tightened slightly.

“I’m telling you what it is,” he said.

“And I’m telling you what it feels like,” Charles shot back. “Those aren’t the same thing.”

Silence settled again, heavier now.

“They’ll expect things,” Charles went on, quieter but steadier. “Even if they don’t say it outright. You know that.”

Yiannis didn’t deny it.

“They’re building a system,” he said instead. “It’s not… clean. But it’s structured.”

“Structured,” Charles repeated. “That’s one way to say it.”

He shifted his weight, wincing slightly, then pushed through it.

“I didn’t make it this far to get sorted into a category,” he said. “I’m already doing what I can. That should be enough.”

“It is,” Yiannis said.

“Not to them.”

“No,” Yiannis admitted.

That honesty landed harder than anything else he could have said.

Charles looked away again, jaw tight.

“I thought…” he started, then stopped.

“What,” Yiannis asked.

Charles shook his head. “Nothing.”

“Say it.”

“I thought it would be different with you,” Charles said finally. “That’s all.”

Yiannis’s expression shifted slightly, something sharper cutting through the calm.

“It is different,” he said.

“Doesn’t feel like it.”

“It is,” Yiannis repeated, more firmly now.

Charles met his gaze, something unsettled moving under the surface.

“Then why does it sound like you’ve already decided I should go,” he asked.

Another pause.

“Because I know what’s coming,” Yiannis said.

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only one I can give right now.”

Charles let out a quiet, frustrated breath.

“You keep saying that,” he murmured.

“And you keep asking the same question.”

“Because you’re not answering it.”

They held each other’s gaze for a second longer than either of them seemed comfortable with.

Then Charles looked away first.

“Forget it,” he said. “We’ll deal with it when we get there.”

Yiannis didn’t push further.

Morning came slower than expected. The group moved again without much discussion, the decision already made even if it hadn’t been agreed on out loud. They were heading toward the regroup point. Whether they stayed there or not was something no one said.

The strangers followed without question. They had even less reason to argue.

The path ahead felt heavier now. Not just from the terrain or the injury or the constant threat of something going wrong. It was something else, something quieter that settled into the spaces between words.

Charles kept his distance as they walked, not far enough to separate, but enough to feel like he had some control over where he stood. Yiannis didn’t close it this time.

They moved like that for hours.

At one point, one of the strangers spoke up, voice low.

“You’ve been there before,” he said to Yiannis. “The regroup point.”

“Yes.”

“What’s it like.”

Yiannis didn’t answer immediately.

“Organized,” he said finally.

“That’s it?”

“That’s enough.”

The man nodded slowly, like he wasn’t sure if that was reassuring or not.

Charles didn’t ask anything.

He already had a sense of what organized meant now.

And it didn’t sit right.