As they reached the stairs, Sophie's legs burned. There wasn't anywhere near the nourishment in her body as there should have been, much less for this kind of stress and exertion. She looked down the stairs and winced. There was no way she could make it down them. A thin layer of sweat filmed over her forehead. She certainly looked unwell, and her fingers curled even more into Ryan's clothing. She'd been about to tell him that she couldn't go any further, when he picked her up. He must have been able to tell.

Part of Sophie hated that he'd had to pick her up. She wasn't some damned damsel in distress. She could take care of herself. She always had. Until Ryan. She wouldn't forget that he was the reason she was here in the first place. Yet, she was too weak to really grow angry over it. In fat, she was growing so weak, that it was hard for her to focus on any of the following events, as they moved faster than her brain could currently process.

The sirens wailed and hurt Sophie's ears, and she grimaced. They would never make it out of here. Especially with Sophie only weighing them down. Why had he taken a risk like this? He was going to end up killed here, or captive just like her. She kept her face against the white haired wonder, gasping lightly as someone knocked into them in the stairwell. She clung to him as he leaped down the stairs in that next moment, bullets pinging off the walls. At the bottom of the next set of stairs were more guards, wielding more guns. This was it then, Sophie thought. She flinched as they opened fire and squeezed her eyes shut.

Somewhere in the madness, Sophie was moved over a shoulder. She was holding her hands over her ears, and it wasn't until she realized she was actually still alive, and that they were backing through a door, that she opened her eyes again. There was chaos everywhere. Guards were streaming out of doors, machinery hummed and whirred, rising from the ground. She closed her eyes again as she was shifted from his shoulder, feeling weaker than ever. If this kept up, or if they were caught, it would certainly be too much for Sophie, and she would lose consciousness for sure.

Sounds of gunfire and the sight of a burning flame shooting overhead; it all sounded and looked so far away, in a dreamland. Or a nightmare land rather. Perhaps it was just another of Sophie's drug and trauma induced nightmares. Yes. That made much more sense. It wasn't until they came crashing over the other side of the wall, that Sophie opened her eyes again. Had they really, made it? No. This was a nightmare. Nightmares never ended well. Soon, Ryan would turn into a zombie or the lab coats would surround them. Any moment now...

But those things never came. As they reached a car and Ryan dropped her onto the ground, she slumped over. She was really in bad shape. And she couldn't even find the strength to be angry at that, or at Ryan in general. She moved to try and stand as he hurried her into the car, basically shoving her inside. She clung to her bag. She never thought she'd see it again. In fact, as she watched out the window, she never thought she'd see the outside world, or worlds, again.

Sophie couldn't even hold herself up in the car. She leaned against the door and drifted into a short slumber while trying to figure out everything that had just happened. It was when the car stopped, that Sophie's tired and red-rimmed eyes blinked open unwillingly. It hadn't been real sleep, she hadn't had nightmares. For that she was thankful. Ryan plucked her off her feet again, and for that she was also very thankful. Could she call it that? Thankful for Ryan? This had been his fault after all.

She blinked hazily at their surroundings. It looked like the ghetto, or slums of worlds. More than likely a good hiding place. When he set Sophie down, she leaned her back against the wall beside the apartment door. She was still breathing abnormally and her heart was still beating quicker than it should have been. Her eye lids still hung too low, and her movements were slow and sluggish. She stepped inside carefully when he opened the door and looked around. It looked like a fancy hotel room compared to where she'd been living recently. If she could call it living. She quite looked like she was dying at the moment.

Sophie sat gratefully in the chair. She looked very out of it, and didn't seem to realize he'd gone and come again. When he removed the collar, she reached up and felt the flesh of her own throat. It felt almost strange, not wearing the damned thing. Damn it. She frowned, with what energy she could manage. She still hadn't spoken in a quite a long time, and even though she'd initially been about to thank him, she certainly stopped herself before venturing that far.

Taking her clothes gently, she held them in her lap. Could she even find the energy to change? She watched Ryan, cleaning and bandaging himself. He looked pretty beat up. But, "At least, you're not a zombie," she said. It was the first thing she'd said since she'd breathed that she couldn't go any further in the halls of hell. Her voice was weak, almost raspy, yet somehow so very Sophie. Of all things to say.

"Why did you come back?" she wanted to know.