Riley feels sick. He strokes Carver’s hair and murmurs to him, trying to keep him calm. But he can feel the fever radiating off of him; it’s getting worse, and Carver’s shaking. He’s never seen Carver like this, never.

“She’s almost here,” Shaw reports softly.

Riley meets Pope’s glare and doesn’t flinch. He holds Carver tight. “I’m here,” he murmurs. “Focus on my voice, it’s okay.”

The door clicks open. A harried looking woman in civilian clothes ducks in.