Disclaimer: I don't own Falling Skies. If I did then the abomination called Halgie would not be happening… fact! Lol

End of The Line

Karen Nadler & Hal Mason
Rating: K+

Summary: The 2nd Mass have made it to Charleston but the place isn't exactly all they thought. Sure it's got cooks and doctors, safe zones and hundreds of survivors – but they have something else. A factory of their own. A de-harnessing facility, a treatment… and a cure. But how long will Charleston be safe now the aliens have become enamored with the 2nd Mass? And who among their ranks may be their worst catch of all?

…

The convoy moved slowly according to those eager to reach the safety of Charleston. In the front truck Weaver sat in the front seat, eyes on the road, knowing they were close. He could feel it in his bones. He closed his eyes momentarily but they were snapped open when a car horn sounded. A car horn. A cheer rose up from the survivors around him and beside him Dai, who'd been driving the main truck, pulled it to a stop. Weaver jumped out of the front vehicle as the trucks coming towards him pulled up too. He strode towards them purposely and then stopped, waiting, both for the men opposite and his own ally. Tom Mason quickly appeared at his side, a relieved smile etched to his face, and Weaver matched it when a tall, well-built man in his own Defense Forces uniform stepped out of the front truck. His deep booming voice covered the acres of trees and frozen land about them and warmed Weaver's soul instantly. "Welcome! Welcome to Charleston!"

...

Weaver settled happily into the chair at the Commandant's table. 'Commandant' was what all the people of Charleston called the large man the 2nd Mass had met on the road, though he'd introduced himself as George Patterson, so Weaver copied the sentiment. He knew what such a title meant… he couldn't help but feel proud at his own title of Captain. "Thank you for inviting us Commandant."

The man chuckled. "When I was told you'd declined Captain Weaver I was quite amused. I thought the next time I heard of you would be when someone mentioned an ambush in the hills or that you were lost somewhere in Virginia."

Weaver nodded. "It wasn't my place to decline such an offer. My men made me see sense." Though he didn't motion to them the Commandant looked back at the four men standing behind Weaver like Mother Hens – 3 adults and a teenager. All wore battle scars and their faces were tired.

He gave them a light smile. "You can stand down – your doctor, Ms. Glass, has told me I can't keep the Captain long. He needs rest after his blood transfusion."

The Captain stood at this. "Indeed I should get some." He held out a hand and the Commandant rose from his chair to shake it. "Thank you again."

The Commandant smiled. "Welcome." With that Weaver, Pope and Dai left but two remained. The Commandant gave them another smile and walked around the desk. "You are Tom Mason, yes?"

Tom nodded. "I am. And this is my eldest son Hal." The teenager nodded and the Commandant returned the gesture that seemed to be spreading among the men in the room. "We heard tell of something when we arrived. A… factory."

The Commandant merely smiled. "My men are proud of what they're doing. They're building and creating, we have our own weapons, guns with bullets that can bring down the walking machines, ground sensors that can blow up a Skitter ten clicks out, walking through the woods, thinking he's safe." He chuckled proudly. "We have power and hot water and we grow our own food." With a slight drop in his proud tone he continued. "But that's not what you want to know about."

"A de-harnessing factory." Tom said quickly. "The factory near the entrance, thick black smoke rising from it, a smell of burning flesh…"

"Skitter flesh… and the dead."

"I want to see it." The Commandant narrowed his eyes at Tom. "You have children running around out there, free children, and my son was harnessed, my middle son Ben. So I have to know what you did… and how." He paused. "And if they're… back to normal."

The Commandant nodded. "Meet me out the front of the factory in 30 minutes Mr. Mason. I'll tell you what you need to know." He walked back to his desk and Tom took his leave without saying a word.

…

The large doors at the entrance to the factory slid open easily when tugged on, an old sliding barn door style, and clanged when it connected with the far wall. The three men watched as two young men tugged it right open, waited for them to enter, and then pushed it shut behind them. Once inside the dark, wet room, the two men disappeared into the darkness and the Masons were left alone with the Commandant. He strode forward purposely towards a large furnace in the center of the room – where the black smoke had poured from. At the foot of the furnace sat piles of dead Skitters, hundreds of them, piled high and waiting to be burned. The Commandant looked at them, took a deep breath, then turned. "Charleston free settlement came to be 10 months ago, not straight after the attack as some are led to believe. No, we started out much the same way your 2nd Mass did, all West Virginians running scared and then one day pulled together by my superior – the original Commandant. His name was Matthew Collins. He was a doctor, not an army man, and when he made this place he wanted to make sure the first priority was children. He'd seen the harnessed kids, one was his own, and he set about finding a way to get hold of one and free the child from its restraints." He sighed softly. "My men, I was his 2IC and in charge of the armed forces, found a group of about 60 one month in. It didn't take long for Matthew to figure out you simply couldn't pull the harness off – that it would kill them. Still, we killed 20 trying, and then we got it. He started cutting them off. They seemed to recover… we thought it was good."

"But the aliens called them back?" Tom asked, knowing full well, since he'd seen it himself enough.

The Commandant nodded. "They did. The children had to be locked away, some tried to escape and were shot, and others killed themselves out of madness. Voices in their heads they told us, like a radio, or a hundred of them just screaming at them." He sighed. "In the end, from the 60 we'd captured, we had ten to rehabilitate." He frowned. "For ten days Matthew sat with them and tried to fix them, and one day we thought we got through to one, a child named Haley. She was 8, one of the survivor's children, a sweet girl according to her parents. We thought we had her fixed – but then she turned feral. She attacked Matthew, she went for his eyes, and she killed him." The Commandant sighed. "We dropped our guard. And we took our hate out on her." He frowned, not at all pleased with what he was about to admit, what had happened. "We tormented her, tortured her, did the worst things mankind can ever do to a child. Because we were lost and we saw this Skitter girl and we wanted her dead." He fell silent after that.

"And?" Tom prodded for more information, though he pushed back the disgust, forcing it from his face.

"And she cracked. And something happened in her. Her eyes lost their stare and her face became calm and she couldn't remember anything – her own name, her history, anything. He'd lost it all." He frowned softly. "And then she looked up at me with soft, dying eyes, and she whispered one last thing – 'the radio's stopped'."

Tom gaped. "You mean?"

"We broke the Skitter's hold." He frowned softly. "But Haley died." He shoved his hands in his pockets as he continued. "But we had a strategy then. We knew what needed to be done – surgery, torture and then waiting for the break." He shook his head. "From the 60 original captures, one survived, and he lives on."

"Out in the camp?" Hal asked, speaking for the first time, the idea of torture having driven him to silence.

The Commandant gave a quizzical smile. "Not exactly." He turned and motioned to the pile. "These are our prizes, through there," he motioned to the far room now dark as well. "Our surgery room." He pointed to the room on their right. "And in there are the torture chambers." He said it was such a blank face that Tom almost hit him, but something else had captured his attention now, and he turned to his left.

"And in there?" He couldn't help what he'd been waiting to ask since they'd walked in, the darkened room to the left of the entrance, the soft humming from inside. It felt like something out of a horror movie and Tom both feared and wanted desperately to know what was inside. The Commandant followed Tom's eyes and, without a word, took a few steps towards it. Tom frowned lightly. "What is it?"

The man smiled softly. "It's better if a show you." Tom shot Hal a look but then both followed the Commandant into the darkness. As they passed through the door he turned on the lights and there was a flash before the massive room lit up. That was when Tom gasped. Inside were cells, rows of cells of clear thick glass, and inside sat a child on a bed. One bed, one toilet; no privacy besides the darkness. As the lights came on some children rose from the beds and moved to the clear glass walls, all dressed in the same white robes, but most didn't even flinch. Tom looked at the Commandant and he nodded. "Once-harnessed children - products of the factory, doctor testing and time." The Commandant walked down the first aisle, motioning to each child in turn. "We have a system – our latest intakes here and the older ones at the back."

"How old?" Hal asked, watching the children, the ones closest to them watching him with cold, staring eyes. "I mean – how long do they stay locked up for?"

"Forever." The Commandant answered plainly. He didn't even flinch as one of the children near him launched herself at the glass. There wasn't even a sound. Soundproof… "And bulletproof." He answered to Tom's unspoken question. Tom paused at the room of a young boy, about six, who sat at the foot of his bed just hugging his knees to his chest. "Our oldest member comes from the original 60. He understands now. We even let him out sometimes for sunshine."

"But what happens when Charleston is no longer, well, safe?" Tom answered. "When you're forced to move?"

"Then they're on their own." The Commandant was so unwavering and it hurt Tom, but Hal understood, and he nodded silently. He turned his eyes to the room beside him and watched the small girl inside drawing on the glass with her finger… but then beyond that something struck him and he frowned before he rushed away from his father and the Commandant, pushed between two glass rooms and stopped in front of a room in the second aisle. The Commandant followed, unaware why Hal reacted as he did, but guessing why correctly. "You know her?"

"Karen." Hal turned to look at his father with disgust written across his face. "How did you get her?" His eyes flashed to the Commandant quickly.

"She was with the Overlords. We got her two weeks ago, wandering alone in the forest, like she couldn't be touched." He looked at a file beside the door to her room and as he did she looked up. Hal took a big step backwards, waiting for her to sneer or scream her animalistic scream at them, but she didn't even move. She just lowered her eyes back to the floor. "She was our priority project for a week but we got her in the end."

"What do you mean 'got her'?"

The Commandant smiled. "The alien control is lifted."

Tom shook his head. "She came to us three weeks ago, tried to convince us of the same, but it's all a ruse. She can't be trusted." A slight rise of anger hit Tom's tone as he raised his hand to point at the blonde teenager. "You don't just remove the harness from her. It doesn't end that way."

The Commandant smiled. "We know." He put down Karen's file. "Do you want to test how we've done?" Both Masons frowned. "Which one of you knew her best before she was harnessed?"

Hal stepped forward. "I'll do it." Tom held out a hand to stop his son but Hal shook his head. "I can do this dad. It's simple – if I walk out of there still hating her as much as I do now, then it hasn't worked, and we have only one answer – she has to die." He nodded at the Commandant as he unlocked Karen's cell door and Hal gripped his hand gun as he walked into the room, gun pointed at Karen's head, not even flinching as the door shut behind him. "Karen." Nothing. "Karen – let's talk."