WINDOWS TO THE SOUL

(A Raiden fanfiction one shot set after the events of Metal Gear Rising: Revengeance)

Raiden had been waiting there for nearly an hour, but that was all right. The last thing he wanted was to intrude upon Rose's chance at having a normal life.

When he finally arrived at his family's home in New Zealand, he thought better of simply knocking on the front door. Instead, he had peered in through one of the windows – discreetly, of course – to see Rose having tea with an older woman. A friend? A neighbor maybe? Heh, who cares? It's just great to see Rose spending time with someone who isn't a soldier or a government agent of some kind. Pulling away from the window and leaning back against the side of the house, he looked up at the hot New Zealand sun. Left to his own devices and alone with his thoughts, his usual self-loathing set in. It's my fault Rose doesn't have many friends. It's my fault she and John have to live here.

After a while, Raiden had slumped down against the wall, bending his right knee and resting his arm on it. With his left hand, he tugged at the hood of his athletic jacket, partially covering his face. This particular body looked about as human and natural as he was ever going to look, and yet he hated it. It was far cheaper than the heavily armored, weaponized cyborg bodies he needed for work. In between jobs, he often had to settle for a more standard and humanlike body, but he also used them for Rose's and John's benefit, for he knew they did not understand. Not really. It was hard to hug an armored machine, and even harder to relate to one. Stranger. Scarier. At least if I look like I'm still a person, they can be free to pretend I am one. I don't know why they want to hug me anyway. I'm not the person they think I am, or the one I should be for them.

The lifelike body he always felt obligated to outfit himself with every time he visited his family made him feel like an imposter. I'm just playing at humanity, I'm not really living it. It's a masquerade, this soft and unassuming body. In trying to look and feel more human, he ultimately ended up feeling like a fish out of water. Armor feels right, appropriate. I'm a walking weapon. A soldier with no place outside the battlefield. This soft, flesh-like biopolymer's just a sick joke. Flesh is a thing of the past for me. Raiden blinked his eyes, suddenly aware of them. Inside his head, he heard the hum of various mechanisms, the sounds of the retinal functions and the iris focusing with perfect precision… for one eye at least. Eventually… I won't have any flesh left at all.

It was always hard to return home. Most of the people he worked with were happy whenever missions ended and there was time to relax. They looked forward to seeing their families and to getting back to some semblance of a normal life, even if it was only for a short hiatus. Raiden, however, felt lost when missions ended. The phrase "mission accomplished" came to be synonymous with "no longer useful" for him. It marked the end of his purpose and the start of an uncomfortable limbo during which he did not know what to do with himself. His objectives and general desire to punish criminals kept him going. It kept his mind off of all the pain and guilt and awkwardness lying just there below the surface. When the guns were silent, the lights went out, and everyone returned to their normal lives, Raiden was reminded that he did not have a normal life. Fighting is my life, whether I want it to be or not. I'll never feel comfortable as a civilian. I'll never feel like I belong anywhere but on the battlefield. No, it's never easy to go home, but this time… has been the hardest to date.

Raiden almost considered wandering rather than going back to Rose and John. Others found joy at home. Raiden found only his demons. They lurked within Rose's awkward silences, in her slight hesitations, and in her concerned eyes. They were there in the way John sometimes stared at him, wide-eyed and slack-jawed as if glimpsing something at a carnival sideshow. Rose insisted that he was just curious, but more than curiosity lingered in John's eyes. He's scared of me. I know he is. He may not say it, or even believe it himself, but I've lived long enough in a world of war to know fear when I see it. This time, going home would be so much worse than all the others, he knew. He was returning to them a little more machine than before. A little less human.

When he heard the door open, Raiden silently jumped to his feet and pressed against the house. It was a few miles from any other house, and so he knew Rose's guest must have driven there. He waited to hear the door to slam and the car to start before he ventured to peer around the corner to the front of the house. Watching the silver sedan leave off down the road, Raiden felt his mechanical heart begin to pump faster, harder. Terrified already, he struggled to slow his breathing as thin slats opened over his rib cage and spewed hot steam into his jacket, leaving damp spots on the inside of it. His current body was lighter and more porous than the battle-ready, armored ones he usually wore, and so it did not overheat nearly as badly or as often, and yet it still needed to vent once in a while. Especially when I can't control my emotions. I can face any enemy on the front lines, endure any injury, stare death straight in the eyes… and yet I'm terrified to talk to my own wife, he thought, ashamed of himself. You asked for this, though. You wanted to feel everything.

It always began like this. He would stand in front of the door for hours, motionless and silent, not venturing to knock or enter. Rose was there, he knew, just beyond the door, somewhere in the house. Just that is enough, knowing that she's so close. He could leave right now and spare his dignity. He could let her think for a little while longer that he was still someone she loved, someone she knew.

Everything he earned went directly into an account that Rose had access to. He never touched any of it. Everything he needed for himself – his bodies, their enhancements, chemolymph and synthetic blood solutions, maintenance and repair costs, weapons and tools, radar and sonar – they were all taken care of by the various PMCs who employed him, perks of being such a specialized soldier. Any additional salary he made was written out of his mind as being for Rose and John only. In this way he provided for them the only way he knew how, and the only way society will let me. I can't exactly become a sales rep with bolts in my forehead and barcodes on my arms. What did they say for that one job I tried to get? Oh, right. They were afraid my appearance might disturb the patrons and discourage sales. But money was not enough, for them or for him.

Raiden wanted to be able to come home to his family and not feel as if he was on display, like it was so rare an occurrence as to be downright shocking. He was well aware that it was mostly his own anxiety that made him feel that way, and yet there was precious little he could do to rid himself of that feeling. His work and his guilt kept him away more often than not, however, and he knew his family needed the money he provided. On another more human level, he knew they needed him, too. He did not understand why, but he knew it was true. Isn't that the definition of a deadbeat dad? One who's never there for his kid? I guess so long as I show up once in a while I won't qualify for that title. Doesn't mean I qualify for any better ones, though.

It was still early afternoon, and Raiden wondered if John was even home. At this time on a Tuesday, the boy would probably still be at school. He was still frozen by the front door, however, trying to think of what he would say to Rose. Maybe she won't notice my eye, he thought for a moment, and then steam vented from his sides again. Who am I kidding? It'll be the first thing she'll notice.

I can't do it, Raiden thought, suddenly thrown into a panic. One would never have known it to look at him, for he never moved and his face never changed its emotionless and sedate expression, but he could barely stand to be there in that moment. I can't do this to her. The two things – the only two things – that she could still use to recognize me as her husband were my eyes. "They're the windows to the soul," she always says. "So long as I can look into them and see you there, I'll know it's you underneath it all. I'll know you're still the same Jack."

Yeah, well… What'll she say about me now?

His body seemed to vibrate from the force of his mechanical heart, little more than a fist-sized generator that powered the bio-machine that cradled his spine, brain, and half of his head. Everything else is a machine, he thought bitterly. There's nothin' left for Rose to recognize. One of his eyes had already been fitted with vision enhancing implants. Now, with the complete loss of his other eye, he was well aware of how odd it looked. Eyes were perhaps the one thing technology could never seem to replicate, no matter how advanced it grew. Paintings, video games, dolls, sculptures… some of them can look incredibly lifelike… but the eyes are always wrong. Always. They don't have the same life in them. There's no soul inside. That's how my eyes look now. That's all she'll see inside. A soulless machine.

That's it. I'm gone. Seein' me this way will do her more harm than good. I'll make up some story. I got held up somewhere. There was an emergency. I was needed for a-

As Raiden began to turn away from the door, he froze to hear it start to open. Knowing he could not get away without Rose seeing him, he slowly turned back to face her.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, startled and not expecting him to be standing there. "Jack?!"

He merely stood there. Wait for it. Any minute now. His brow furrowed a little in nervous anticipation of her noticing his eyes. Instead she stared at him, too tentative to smile or say anything at first. Then a beautiful smile graced her lips, her joy at seeing him more than apparent.

Rose had given counsel to countless soldiers over the years. She had kept their morale up, talked them out of difficult situations, and given them helpful information that made it easier for them to keep going when they did not want to. Yet with him, she knew otherwise. No amount of talking was going to make it all better. Raiden was, to some extent, beyond a typical or traditional life. She helped him more by providing him with the one thing he could not receive anywhere else… emotional support.

Her eyes grew sad as she noticed the patch over his left eye. He could not bear to see her pity him, and so he turned away. She was silent as she reached for him, gently turning his face back toward hers. It hurt him so much to see the change in her eyes. She had been so happy to see him at first, and then she sensed something was wrong.

Raiden could have chosen to purchase a biomechanical eye, but it would have cost quite a bit of money. Throwing a glass eye in there would have required him to get a biopolymer socket installed to keep it lubricated and able to move freely. Even then, it would still have looked utterly fake anyway. So why bother? I don't much see the point in it. He did see a point, but lying to himself was easier.

He did not require the bodies he used to have a head – I still have that left, at least – but that meant further repairs to the living parts of his body required outside purchases of isolated units of technology capable of being integrated into his own flesh. The last left eye he had of that nature was one he had been granted just after he officially left Maverick Security Consulting, Inc. It was a loaner, a limited time offer. His right eye had been easy enough to pay for as all it had were a few implants, but his left one had been completely destroyed. He needed an entirely new eye, retinal hookup, motorized socket, etc. Eventually, he had to either return the eye he was using, or pay for it outright. Uncertain of when or where he would find his next employment, Raiden hesitated to start spending that kind of money, especially when he knew he would be taking it away from Rose and John if he did. So he gave the eye and all associated fittings back. Or rather, he let the surgeons take it from him.

Whatever agency hired him next would no doubt outfit him with a new eye free of charge, on the condition that he return it and any other equipment loaned to him when the job was complete. Kevin had promised him that he would listen around for any work Raiden might be suited for, even though Maverick had officially cut ties with him after the way he dealt with Senator Armstrong and Desperado. Crisis averted, but his methods had been questioned severely by management. Maverick had to let Raiden go. Unofficially, however… Kevin was still a good friend, and his former team at Maverick was more than willing to aid him under the table. If Kevin could not find a job for Raiden, he might be able to find him a new employer willing to take a chance on him. Heh, he said he would, "keep an eye out," for me. That's Kev for you. Raiden had hope of that, but until then, he had no existing budget for repairs or upgrades to any part of his body.

His decision to not personally fund a replacement for his eye meant that little more than a surgical steel-reinforced socket existed where his human eye had once been. His eyelids could close over it well enough, albeit in a way that was visually very artificial. He kept it covered, knowing that most would find it upsetting to view. Especially Rose, he thought, who sadly and with tentative fingers, moved to lift the patch now and peer underneath it. What she saw made her lips part suddenly and her eyes widen a little. She was so beautiful to him – so perfect and radiant, always – that Raiden felt hideous by comparison. He looked down, ashamed. His eyes slowly closed as despair set in. She thinks I'm ugly. More importantly, she doesn't even recognize me anymore. He felt Rose replace the patch and take hold of his right hand.

He let her lead him inside the house and stood with his eyes still closed as he heard the door shut behind him. He did not venture to look at her until her warm hand grazed the side of his face, touching some of what was still real flesh.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice raspy and dry. That was all he could think to say. I'm sorry you have to be married to this. I'm sorry for being away so long. I'm sorry, Rose… for everything. He looked into her eyes for only a moment before dropping his gaze once more. It was long enough to see her shake her head just a little, to see her brow furrow in confusion.

"You've done nothing wrong," she whispered, stepping even closer to him. She cupped his face with her hands, causing him to look at her again.

"I've done plenty wrong," he whispered back.

"Not here," she said firmly.

He stared at her in silence, taking comfort in her eyes.

"Remember what I told you?" she asked him gently.

"Don't bring the battlefield home with me," he repeated dutifully. It was perhaps the one bit of counseling that Rose still offered Raiden, even if other forms of therapy had been wholly unsuccessful at helping him to manage his PTSD and depression.

"You're safe here, Jack," she said.

Raiden knew that was not true. Not in a physical sense, anyway. No one's safe anywhere. If someone wanted you dead, there was nothin' you could do to stop 'em from trying to make it happen. Violence can find anyone. And yet, and he saw the love in Rose's eyes and her sweet smile, he could not help but feel the very safety she spoke of. Emotional safety. You're safe at home, she always said to him when he visited her. "Home" was a strange term for their family, but he knew what she meant. Home the way they defined it was wherever she and John were, regardless of what house or country they lived in. With them – and only with them – Raiden was free of judgment, free from ridicule. He could let down his guard and know that the most vulnerable parts of his fragile ego were safe in their hands.

That was it. The one thing he needed so desperately. Anyone could goad the Ripper out of Raiden if they provoked him well enough and pushed the right buttons, drawing forth years of suppressed rage and anguish. That end of his emotional spectrum was all too easy to tease out, but Rose… she was the only one who could reach the child in him, the frightened boy who lost his innocence to a world of violence. She took that boy by the hand, comforted him, and let him know it was okay to cry. His name was Jack. Just that, and nothing else. It's what she always called him, no matter what. No other title or code name or rank or contractual obligation. Not White Devil or Jack the Ripper. Not even Raiden. Only Jack.

All too eagerly, that little boy inside him began to hope for something. She won't do it. Not today. Not this time. He desperately longed for something Rose usually did when she saw him suffering. A casual observer might have considered the act condescending or patronizing, but within the complicated context of their relationship, it was something special. Raiden never asked for it – he simply could not bring himself to – and so he relied entirely to Rose's ability to sense when he needed it the most.

The moment she started slowly combing his hair with her slender fingers, his legs suddenly felt weak, a side effect of him fighting to have a body that responded to his emotional state. Oddly enough, it was a lot cheaper to get one that did. If you wanted a total lack of pain, weakness, or stress, there're any number of top-of-the-line body sets that had the technology and internal drug delivery systems to make it happen. Raiden had forgone all of that, however, and not entirely because of the monetary cost. He preferred to feel everything, even if it hurt him. Existing in that state was the only way he felt human. What Rose did just then had opened the floodgate of Raiden's emotions, allowing months of pent-up loneliness and sadness pour through. It hurt, this torrent of volatile emotion. It hurt a lot, but it was also incredibly cathartic. He needed to feel this, to let it happen and wash his slate clean so that he could start again. Rose knew that. Years of being with Raiden had made many aspects of his personality given truths without saying. She stroked his hair and caressed his forehead until his emotion brought him to his knees. The slats in his sides opened once more and vented with a hissing sound.

"It's okay," Rose whispered, knowing what the venting meant. "Shh…" she said, meaning to soothe him, not to stop his catharsis. "Shh…"

Kneeling before her, Raiden raised his arms to hold her around her waist and laid his head against her belly as she continued to stroke him and comb his hair with her fingers. The top of his head, his hair, his cheeks, his nose, and the sides of his face were the last remnants of his human body where he could still feel her touch as a true human being was meant to. She knew how sacred those last shreds of his human self were to him. He concentrated on the movements of her hands, the softness of her shirt, and the warmth of her body as he closed his eyes and wept.

It surprised Raiden that he could still cry. His eyes were slowly being taken from him, piece by piece, and yet he could cry. Rose continued to pet and caress him with one hand as her other arm slipped around his shoulders to hold him.

It felt like they were there for hours, locked in this unconventional embrace. She combed his hair with her fingers, massaged his head slowly and carefully, and hummed lovingly for him until the storm passed, until he had no more tears left. Only exhaustion was there in place of his sadness, but inside it Raiden found some amount of peace. He clung to that peace – and to her – never wanting to let either of them go.

"I love you, Jack," she whispered after a time.

He was long in answering her. Reality was already seeping back into his small and desperate sanctuary. "How do you even know I'm him?" Raiden asked.

"What do you mean?" she asked, taken aback.

"The eyes," he said, "are the windows to the soul. You always say… that you know it's me because you can see it in my eyes. Well…" He slowly looked up at her. "What do you see now?"

Her brow furrowed so gently, her own eyes so saddened.

"Soon there'll be nothing left. I'll be just a machine. Maybe I'm already gone," he said, his raspy voice fraught with emotion.

"No. I know you're still in there, Jack," she said without hesitation.

"How do you know for sure?" he asked, frightened that she would not be able to answer him.

Just then there was a light knock at the door. Raiden heard something drive away. Instinctively, he quickly stood and backed against the wall beside the door. He then looked to Rose for an explanation.

"Oh, silly me," she said, shaking her head and covering her face with her hand. "It's John. He's home from school. I must've locked the door when we came in before." She moved to open it, but then looked to Raiden. He had not moved at all. Reaching out to him, she wiped the remnants of his tears from his cheeks. "Please stay. He'd love to see you," she whispered.

Raiden nodded once. He could feel his heart working so hard again. Time to see the fear and disappointment in my son's eyes, he thought despondently. Nevertheless, he knew that he at least owed it to the boy to try to be a part of his life. It was not that he did not want to spend time with his son, but rather that he was not sure more time with him was good for the boy. He needs a real father. A normal one. What kind of role model am I for him?

"Why'd you lock it?" nine year-old little John asked as he came inside toting a brown backpack that was almost as big as he was.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart, I was a little distracted," Rose said.

"How come?" John asked, but then he noticed Raiden. Rose lifted the backpack from his shoulders as the boy stared wide-eyed at his father. "Dad?" he whispered, looking up at him with restrained wonder.

Raiden managed a slight smile but was at a loss as to what to say. "Hey, son."

Suddenly, John grinned widely and chased Rose as she tried to carry away his backpack. "Wait!" he yelled, reaching for it.

"Okay, okay," Rose said, lowering it to the floor.

John rummaged through the pockets for a time, searching for something. When he found what he wanted, he hid it behind his back and returned to Raiden. "You wanna see what I made in art class?"

"I sure do," Raiden said, crouching down to John's height.

The boy proudly displayed a small clay object. It was carved, decorated, and covered with a shiny glaze. In a child's careful letters was painted: I love my dad!

Raiden let John place it in his hand and he turned it this way and that, finally inspecting the back and realizing that it was a magnet. He could've made anything – anything at all – and he made this. He blinked a few times, for fresh tears had begun to well up again.

"It's for the refrigerator," John said, but then his smile faded a little. "I know it's not very good, but I've never made anything out of clay before. I'm sorry it's lopsided."

Raiden looked up at John and could not help but grin ear to ear. "'I love my dad,' huh?" he whispered.

"Yeah…" John said bashfully.

"And it's for the refrigerator?" Raiden asked.

"Yeah. It's a magnet," John said.

"Well, can the refrigerator do this?" he defiantly asked the boy, parting his jacket and shirt and letting the magnet stick onto his chest, just over his heart. He knew there was enough metal underneath the thin biopolymer layer of his chest such that it would not fall off. With that done, he just stared at John with an air of bravado.

John blinked in confusion before eventually cracking a smile. "Uh-huh," he said again. "'Course it can."

"It can?!" Raiden exclaimed, feigning animated and desperate defeat. "You gotta be kiddin' me! Okay, well… Can it do this?" he asked, reaching out and messing up John's fair hair.

John chuckled and swatted at his hand. "No."

"This?" Raiden asked, tickling the boy now.

John laughed uncontrollably as he tried in vain to push Raiden's hands away from his stomach. "No!" he managed to force out between his giggles.

Raiden took his hands away and let the boy calm down for a moment, watching his happy, giggling face. "How about this?" He embraced John, careful not to use too much strength, and was pleasantly surprised to feel the boy wrap his arms around him.

"Nope," John whispered. "It definitely can't do this."

He felt John squeeze him a little. It was the most amazing feeling. "Good," Raiden whispered back, "because I'll be damned if I'm gonna let a refrigerator take my place. I know I'm mostly made of metal, but that's just ridiculous."

John laughed again, and this time so did Rose. He's grown so much since I last saw him, Raiden thought, marveling at his son. At this age, even just a couple months makes a huge difference. I can't believe how fast time's movin' along… When the two let go of each other, John glanced down at the magnet. Raiden closed his shirt and jacket over it.

"You're gonna leave it there?" John asked.

"Of course I am," Raiden said. "My son made it, and I'm very proud of him." He winked his remaining eye.

John's look of innocent pride returned. Raiden stood and glanced at Rose. She smiled gently at him, happy to see him spending some time with his son. Just then, however, Raiden heard a soft electronic tone inside his right ear. Phone call. Damn it. Perfect timing. "One second," he said apologetically to Rose and John and he pressed a small button behind his ear. "Raiden," he answered.

"Hey, buddy! What's happenin'?!" he heard an exuberant male voice say.

"Oh, hey, Kev. What's up?" he asked.

"I think I found some work for you," Kevin said. "How do you feel about a nice, easy bodyguard gig?"

"That didn't go so well the last time, remember?" Raiden said.

"Technically you were part of an escort…" Kevin said.

"…as a bodyguard," Raiden insisted.

"Pfft! It's all just semantics," Kevin said dismissively. "This job's gonna be a lot less complicated, I promise. Probably not even necessary, but the guy's just bein' cautious. A French diplomat is headed to the Middle East for some kind of international conference. His associates think it'll be pretty quiet there, but they're not takin' any chances. They want someone to watch his back for him while he's there. Discreetly. Someone good. They don't want a whole conspicuous entourage with him, you know? The host country might take offense to that. I heard through the pipeline that they're lookin' for a specialist, so… I immediately thought of you. It'd be nice to do somethin' straightforward and simple for a change, wouldn't it, buddy?"

"Yeah, it sure would. What's the pay like?" Raiden asked.

Rose stared at him nervously while little John's expression became far sadder. Raiden could not look away from his son's downtrodden face. I just got here and now I'm leavin'. Nothin' says deadbeat dad better than that.

"It's definitely decent, my friend, and there's an added perk. I told them about your left eye. They say they're willing to fit you with a specific kind… It wasn't a brand or model I had ever heard of before, so I did a little research on it. It's top tier. State of the art technology. Night vision, infrared, temperature filter, EMF, the works. It responds to neuronal cues without havin' to actually be wired directly to your brain, which makes it a lot less invasive than some other brands out there on the market right now. Real next-gen stuff. Not complicated to install either. It's like an hour in surgery to put it in, and you're usin' it that same day. Now… here's the best part… These guys say if all goes well, they'll let you keep the eye and the service contract for it as a bonus for a job well done. Now how's that for incentive?" Kevin said.

"That's a pretty steep price to pay for such a simple job…" Raiden said suspiciously. "How long is this conference, anyway?"

"Six or seven days, I think. Eh… This guy just sounds like an anxious traveler," Kevin replied. "There's a lotta stuff goin' on in the world right now, man, you know that. It's makin' a lotta politicians real nervous. Guys like you, though… you make 'em feel safer. You put their minds at ease. Some are willin' to pay a pretty penny for peace of mind. Money's no good if you're dead, right?"

"Yeah… that makes sense," Raiden said. I never thought about it like that. I need the salary to support my family and the parts and maintenance for myself, sure, but knowin' I'm helpin' someone to sleep better at night… that makes it a whole lot more worthwhile.

"I also told 'em that it's very important to you that your charges and the general public remain safe. Some soldiers-for-hire are just in it for the money. Especially cyborgs. They couldn't care less if the job's a success or failure so long as they get paid. Times are tough, and funds are tight for everybody. These guys know that. They know you need the money just like everyone else, but if they know you care just as much about keepin' the peace and preservin' innocent life, well… that's somethin' most clients are generally willin' to pay more for. It's a respect thing as well as a trust issue."

"I see," Raiden said. That's true… Not all cyborg mercenaries have consciences. Hell, not all human ones have them either. Sometimes I wish I didn't, for all the pain havin' one's cost me, but I guess if I was in this French diplomat's shoes, I'd want someone who cared about more than just the money too.

"So what d'you think?" Kevin asked.

"Sounds like a great deal," Raiden said. "When exactly would this guy need me, though?"

"The conference is at the end of the month," Kevin said. "If you decide to take the job, within the next week or so this diplomat and his associates would like to meet you, get to know you a little, work out what equipment and weapons you'll need to do the job, start gettin' you outfitted with everything… You know, pretty standard stuff."

"That soon, huh?" Raiden said.

John's eyes dropped with heartbreaking disappointment. Raiden never wanted to make his son look like that.

"Yeah," Kevin said. "I didn't make any promises, though. I told 'em I needed to talk to you first. I got 'em waitin' on your answer, basically."

"They're waiting on me? That must have been some good pitch you threw at 'em, heh," said Raiden.

"Oh, no, I was real humble about it," Kevin said. "All I told 'em was… you're the best."

"Yep, real humble," Raiden said, chuckling. "Okay. Tell them I'll do it. Monday."

"Monday?" Kevin asked.

"Yeah. I'm on another job right now. I won't be free 'til Monday."

Little John's eyes lit up. He gasped and smiled excitedly, bouncing up and down. Rose drew him to her and idly smoothed his hair, motioning for him to stay quiet while his father was on the phone. John dutifully obeyed, struggling to stifle his brimming enthusiasm.

"You're with your wife and son, aren't you?" Kevin asked knowingly.

"Heh. You callin' me a liar, Kev?" Raiden asked.

Rose smiled.

"No, I just know you better than you think I do," he said, laughing. "All right. I'll tell 'em you're in for Monday. I'll call you back with the details Sunday night."

"Sounds good," Raiden said.

"You take care of that super important job you're on, you hear?" he said.

"I'm doin' the best I can," Raiden said, grinning at Rose.

"And say hi to your boy for me, okay?" said Kevin.

"I will," Raiden said. "Thanks for tossin' this my way. I really appreciate it."

"No problem. We're buds!" Kevin said in his usual animated fashion. "But uh… if any higher-ups from Maverick ask… officially, you and I never had this conversation."

"Heh. Right," said Raiden. "Bye, Kev. Talk to you Sunday."

"Over and out, my man," Kevin said, ending the connection.

"Kevin says hello," Raiden said to little John, pressing the button behind his ear again.

"Are you…?" the hopeful boy started to ask right away. "Are you really gonna stay until Sunday, dad?"

"Yep," Raiden said, nodding. "I can't let that refrigerator upstage me."

Rose giggled sweetly.

"Great!" John said, already overstimulated. "We can do so many fun things together!"

"Homework first," Rose said, with just the right amount of a stern yet kind motherly tone.

"Aw, come on!" John whined.

"Your mom's right. It's important," Raiden said. "You need a good education."

"But it's fractions!" John protested in a tone so dire as to suggest the world was ending. "I hate fractions! Who needs them, anyway?"

"Everybody needs fractions," Raiden insisted.

"Everybody?" John asked skeptically. His little nose scrunched up. "When was the last time you used a fraction, dad?"

Raiden met Rose's uncertain gaze for just a second. Her eyes were begging him to say something encouraging.

"I use 'em all the time, actually," Raiden said.

"You do?" John asked with intense interest.

"You bet. Almost every day," he said.

"Ohh… But I don't understand fractions!" John complained. "I always get the demominators wrong…"

Raiden grinned at John's mispronunciation. "Go get set up," he said, pointing to the kitchen. "Get your books and things out. I'll be in to help you in a minute."

"Really? Okay!" John said, grabbing his backpack and running to the kitchen table.

"Every day, hmm?" Rose whispered, folding her arms and smiling.

Raiden turned to her. "Hey, it worked, didn't it?" he whispered back.

"That's how I know you're still my husband," Rose lowering her voice even more.

"How?" he asked.

"That," she said, pointing in the direction John went. Parting his jacket and shirt, she touched the clay magnet. "And this. Everything just now. That's how I know. I can see you clearly, Jack."

He simply stood and stared, no longer so ashamed to look into her eyes. He wanted to thank her, to yell out how much her words meant to him, but instead he found himself frozen in thought. He sighed slowly as Rose stepped closer to him. She brushed his nearly white hair from his remaining eye.

"Windows to the soul," she mused. "Maybe they are, but you don't need windows if you can open a door."

"Heh. Is that the counselor talking, or my wife?" he asked.

She answered him with a warm and lingering kiss on his forehead as she cradled his head with her hands and drew it down to her height. Raiden could not help but smile.

"Are you really going to help him with his homework?" she asked.

"Yeah, absolutely," Raiden said.

"I'll start dinner, then," she said, starting toward the kitchen. It was not long before she stopped and turned back to him. "Welcome home, Jack," she said sincerely.

"It's good to be home," said Raiden, "and be welcomed."