Help Lina to the couch, find her something to wear, and begin setting up the lab equipment from the duffle bag.

I kneel beside Lina's trembling body, her naked form **** on the hardwood floor. The slick fluid between her thighs has formed a small puddle beneath her, and her chest still heaves with exertion. Her dark hair is splayed across the floor, damp with sweat at the temples.

"Let me help you," I say softly, slipping an arm beneath her shoulders. Her skin is hot to the touch, almost feverish.

"Sorry," she whispers, her voice ragged. "Didn't expect... to collapse like that."

I lift her gently, supporting her weight as she struggles to find her footing. Her legs buckle once, and she falls against my chest, her naked breasts pressing through my thin shirt. The sensation sends an unwelcome jolt of arousal through me—this is Jane's sister, for God's sake—but I push the thought away, focusing instead on guiding her to the couch.

She sinks into the cushions with a grateful sigh, her limbs arranged haphazardly. The nakedness that seemed so purposeful when she was in diamond form now feels painfully exposed, ****. Her thighs are still slick with that strange, clear fluid.

"I'll find you something to wear," I say, averting my eyes and moving toward what I assume is her bedroom.

"Second drawer," she calls weakly from behind me.

The bedroom is small but tidy—a single bed with a purple comforter, a dresser, and walls covered in photographs. Most feature Jane and Lina together, their identical faces making it impossible to tell them apart. I pull open the second drawer of the dresser and find a collection of sleep clothes. I select a pair of gray sweatpants and another oversized t-shirt—this one black with a faded university logo across the front.

When I return to the living room, Lina has managed to sit up slightly, her legs drawn beneath her on the couch. I hand her the clothes without looking directly at her.

"Thanks," she murmurs, pulling the shirt over her head. "Just leave the sweats there. I'll put them on in a minute when I can feel my legs again."

I nod and turn my attention to the duffle bag she brought back. Unzipping it reveals a treasure trove of laboratory equipment—everything I'd asked for, meticulously collected. The equipment is high-grade, likely from the university's advanced research facilities. There's even a portable fume hood, essential for working with hydrofluoric acid safely.

I begin setting up a makeshift laboratory on the kitchen counter and dining table. The beakers go on one side, the digital scale on the other. I arrange the chemicals in order of use, mentally recalculating the formula as I work. The process is soothing, familiar—a scientist in his element, even under these bizarre circumstances.

Behind me, I hear the soft rustle of fabric as Lina finally puts on the sweatpants. There's a long silence filled only with the quiet clink of glass as I arrange the equipment.

"Well," Lina says finally, her voice steadier now, "I normally don't ask permission for this... but can I see your memories again? I need to see all those happy faces of her."

I freeze, a beaker halfway to the table. The request sends an uncomfortable shiver down my spine. The thought of Lina rifling through my memories again—including the intimate moments with Jane—makes my stomach clench. But the desperation in her voice is palpable, the need to connect with her lost sister in any way she can.

"Just don't fiddle too hard with my squishy brain," I joke weakly, setting down the beaker. "Or I might puke all over your fancy stolen equipment."

Lina's expression softens with relief. "I'll be gentle," she promises, her eyes—Jane's eyes—meeting mine across the room. "And I'll try to skip the... private parts."

But we both know she won't. Can't, maybe. The connection between twins runs too deep, the curiosity too powerful. And in a strange way, I understand her need to see Jane through my eyes—to witness her sister alive and happy, even in the most intimate moments.