I gasped and quickly reached out to clasp Roger's hand. We both sat tensely on the edge of the bed, staring at Cora.

Leon subtly shook his head and frowned slightly, his gaze flicking to me. The gesture was small, but the meaning clear: I absolutely must not disturb Cora's state. As a precaution, I raised a hand to my mouth, knowing I might involuntarily react to what I was about to hear.

Roger squeezed my other hand tightly as Leon continued.

"Cora," Leon said, his voice curious. "I'm intrigued by this priest. Can you tell me more about him? What details do you remember?"

"It's…hard," Cora said, her brow furrowing. "He…he didn't want me to remember."

"That's frustrating," Leon continued, his voice smooth as honey. "Just tell me what you see."

"He's tall," Cora said, her frown deepening. "He has pale skin and dark hair…he's not old, but not young. His robe is black." She shrugged and sighed through her nose. Her frustration was evident, even in her hypnotic state.

"That's all right, Cora, that's wonderful detail," Leon said soothingly. Roger's mouth popped open, and I snapped my head toward him, but Leon held up a finger, begging for patience.

"What happened next, my dear?" Leon asked.

"He told me," she said, sighing, "to destroy the sample in my hand – to wash it down the sink and discard the vial. Then," she sighed, almost peacefully, "he had me go to the other freezer – the one with the shifter samples – and take out number 7285692. So I did. I prepared it, tested it for motility, and when it was ready," she shrugged, "I went into the exam room and helped Ella."

"Thank you, Cora," Leon said smoothly, smiling at her. "That's wonderful detail. You've remembered it all beautifully." He turned to Roger and nodded, giving him permission to take over.

"Cora," Roger said, releasing my hand and crossing his arms. "Can you hear me?"

"Roger?" she asked, her eyes still closed. "What are you doing here in my lab?"

"I'm just…visiting…" he said awkwardly, clearly ill-suited to the role-playing Cora's hypnosis required.

"You're not allowed to be back here," she frowned.

Roger scoffed, remembering her lack of protest towards the strange man in black robes who had apparently controlled her will, switching sperm samples before inseminating me. I nudged him sharply with my elbow and gave him a stern frown, clearly communicating that he needed to be kind to my sister. This wasn't her fault.

Roger sighed and nodded, agreeing. "Cora," he continued, "what did the priest say to you before he left? Did he ask you to forget anything? Or do anything special with the sample?"

"No," she said, turning her head and considering. "He simply…took my hands before I left, and there was a white light…and then he was gone."

"And then you took the sample," Roger asked, "and you didn't know to whom it belonged?"

"No," she said, folding her hands, looking almost bored. "I thought, at the time, it was the right sample. I thought it was the donor."

"Very good, Cora," Leon murmured reassuringly. "You're doing wonderfully." A small smile touched her lips.

"Cora," Roger said again. "Did you ever see the priest again after that day?"

"No," she said simply, shrugging. But then, a darkness clouded her face, and she frowned. Leon sat up, peering at her closely, then looked at me, worried.

"Cora," I said, sensing Roger had stumbled upon something important but perhaps asked the wrong question.

"Ella?" she said, her voice slightly scared.

"Yes, Cora, it's me," I said softly, quickly standing and moving to her side, sitting on the bed and taking her hand. I was probably blocking the investigators' view of Cora, but I didn't care. My sister was more important.

"Oh hey, Ella," she said, her voice wavering.

"Cora," I said gently. "You said you don't remember seeing the man in the black robe after that day…but did you ever see him before?"

"Ella," my sister said, her lip trembling. She turned to me, her eyes unfocused, and grasped my hand tightly. "Ella…"

"Cora," I said, worried, glancing between her and Leon.

My sister went rigid with terror, her eyes flying open. She tilted back her head and screamed. Again and again – her screams were unending, barely pausing for breath.

"The antidote!" I shouted, throwing myself across her, trying to hold her down. Leon, clearly startled, fumbled with the syringe, his hands shaking. But Roger snatched it from him, leaning over and injecting Cora in the arm where Leon had administered the first shot. All the while, she screamed, a sound of pure terror.

Roger leaned over Cora, reaching for her face, calling her name. Slowly, her screams subsided, and she returned to us.

"Cora," I said, raising my hands to her cheeks as tears streamed down her face. She looked at me, panting, beginning to sob.

"Ella," she cried, reaching for me, and I wrapped my arms around her, climbing onto the bed to hold her close. Roger, panting from the anxiety, watched for a moment before the door burst open and Sinclair entered.

"Is she… is she all right?" he gasped, rushing into the room, his team of investigators behind him.

"She'll be fine," I murmured soothingly, hoping desperately I was right. My sister looked at no one, her face buried against my shoulder as I rubbed her back, rocking her gently. I made quiet shushing sounds, the same I used for Rafe on difficult nights. It was all I knew to do – to be soft, quiet, and create a safe space.

"I'm… I'm so sorry," Leon said shakily, "it must have been a traumatic memory."

"It's all right," I said quietly, to both him and Cora. "It's no one's fault – it's okay."

Sinclair placed a hand warmly on Leon's shoulder, a gesture of understanding. He then nodded towards the door, inviting Leon to leave, which he did with a shaky nod. I watched them join the investigators in the hall. Sinclair closed the door behind them.

"Cora," Roger began, hesitating. He placed a hand softly on her shoulder, a gesture that made her flinch, but she didn't pull away. Then, he pushed. "Cora, what did you see?"

Cora gasped and curled tightly against me, her body rigid as she recoiled from the memory.

Clearly, she wasn't ready to share.

"Go, Roger," I growled, holding my sister tighter.

"But we need to—"

"Go!" I snapped. It was unfair, I knew, but when my sister was this upset, I wouldn't let anyone push her.

"Ella," Roger said warningly, frowning.

He was desperate, I knew. It was his job, I reminded myself. He was trying to help—to answer important questions that would help me protect our child. I forced myself to be more composed.

"Just…give us a second, Roger," I said, meeting his gaze steadily. "Just a minute, okay?" He sighed, then nodded. "All right. I…I hope…" He sighed again, shaking his head. "I'll give you two a minute." He left, and I held my sister until she cried herself out.