A/N: Welcome back, dear readers, to another chapter of "Reconciliation". I'm so thrilled you've all been enjoying the story so far.

Chapter Six: Forward Motion

As Isaac showered the hospital staleness, sweat, and grime off his skin and hair, he supposed that if Nicole's ghost (or hallucination) had to fixate on something, it was Marker-killing and not anything to do with Ellie. Being haunted by a former girlfriend was exhausting enough, but if Nicole had taken a disliking to Ellie, he'd hole up under a rock and never come out.

The more important issue was what Isaac would do if Ellie had gotten it in her head to start an affair or a fling with him. Nicole had been adamant that his work was not finished- -he didn't let himself go into detail about that as it continued to be too humongous of a concept- -but Cpt. Samson wanted him off and he'd agreed. Ellie should stay on Sweet Retribution whatever the case was, which made him think that starting something with her would be wrong because he'd be leaving her. Furthermore, Ellie, on principle, was taboo because she could be his daughter's age and if he wasn't feeling old already, that did it.

For the sake of everyone involved (and Isaac's sanity, if he had any left), he would consider Ellie off-limits. Easier said than done, particularly when he knew he'd be avoiding contact and flirtatiousness with her. He could put distance between them a bit at a time, and maybe, with there being a younger, sprier selection of men on the ship, she'd find attraction elsewhere. Again, easier said.

When he gazed at his reflection in the mirror, a man with haggard lines and sunken cheeks gazed back, a man who was unreadable and dangerous, bruised and hardened from diehard survival. His green-blue eyes were wiser, quieter, steadier, than he'd ever seen them. Did Ellie see what he saw? The coldness? The…unknown and lethality?

Or did she see something different inside him?

Isaac sighed, opened-closed his healing hand a few times to loosen the muscles, and rubbed his shoulder, which did not aggravate him with aching or pain. At least he was on the mend. He dressed then used his waypoint to travel to where Ellie and Samson were on the Engineering Deck. To his delight, he'd been given a high clearance code, and he passed through several areas where he'd normally expect to be delayed. Everyone must've been on lunch; not much personnel clotted the halls, and Isaac was left alone.

He came to another door set back and away from main Engineering, labeled 'Modification Workshop'. It opened to Ellie and Samson hunched over a well-lighted table in the center of the cramped room. Various tools and mechanisms bordered the shelves and hung from a track from the ceiling. Closed up along an open wall was a bench, with what looked like a dispenser for power nodes affixed to the backsplash just over the bench. Upon closer inspection, he saw his sec-suit lain out on the table, with its bits and pieces detached and set to the side.

"What is this?" he asked as he came to stand at an unoccupied side of the table. "My suit!"

Samson paused from fiddling with the stasis module. "Yes, Mr. Clarke! You are wonderfully adaptable! This suit is…is…brilliant!"

Ellie smiled. "I didn't know you could do this to a security suit!"

"Any suit," Isaac corrected. "The modifications were important to have given the circumstances. Samson…are you familiar with…?"

"Yes, indeed." Samson set down the stasis module. "Like you, I studied mechanical and electrical engineering. But this is…you've increased the charge speed, duration, and usages of this module, and incorporated both stasis and kinesis in your repertoire of skills. The suit has been improved, not to mention whatever you did to your tools at the time. Fantastic. Just…fantastic."

As Isaac gazed at the suit parts scattered around, pried apart, obviously examined for design, a premonition crawled into his gut. "Samson…you're not thinking of…replicating these changes on other suits, are you?"

Ellie shot him a fearful look. "Isaac…why would you say that? What need would there be for something like this?" She gestured to the cluttered table.

Samson carefully set aside the stasis module and spread his hands on the tabletop. His actions were a stalling device. Isaac could tell Samson had not wanted to get into any details, but his hand had been forced early with Isaac's question. The quiet must've unnerved Ellie.

"Samson"- -anxiousness underscored her words- -"what is Isaac doing here really?"

Samson nodded. "I'll tell you, but not here. No, not here. Please, come with me." He shuffled to the door.

Ellie pinned Isaac with a penetrating glare, halting him before he could follow Samson. She said, fiercely, "You know something you're not telling."

He didn't know if he should confirm or deny it, but his silence told her more than any of his words could.

The moment continued to prolong as the atmosphere pricked along Isaac's spine. No one moved from where he or she stood. Ellie had Isaac locked into a stare, her mismatched eyes unblinking; Samson looked on, but Isaac couldn't judge his expression. Ellie swallowed hard, her throat contracting with a click. A tear ran over her fine cheekbone, an occurrence that took Isaac by surprise when his heart rolled in his chest. She'd cried when he'd sent her away; the only time he'd seen her cry during the Sprawl nightmare.

"There're more Markers, aren't there," she stated, licking her lips. Her choked whisper carried to him her fear. "That's what this is about. The Clarke Faction. The sec-suit. Why you're so important to this ship. This about destroying the other Markers."

Shit. He crashed headlong, a bones-crunching impact, into the very idea he'd been skirting around, poking at, and his knees went weak enough that he had to plant his hands on the tabletop. "Ellie-"

She cut him off, rounding on Samson, her fury ignited. "You! You want Isaac to go Marker-hunting for you! How could you ask that of him? How could you, when you know exactly what he's been through! The love of his life died in that horror and you want him to do it again?" She swung around the corners of the table and backed Samson up to the wall. Her accent was much more pronounced. "He's not some commando from the Resource Wars! He's a goddamn engineer. An engineer, Samson! Hasn't he been through enough because of those godforsaken Markers?"

Isaac reached out to pull her from Samson, fearful she'd smack him one, but Samson waved him off then adjusted his glasses and slouched. "Dear girl, you're right. Of course you are. But facts are facts. EarthGov and Unitology have built more Markers, Markers that will cause the same death and destruction you faced on the Sprawl. No one's stopping them, Miss Langford."

They won't stop unless you stop them, Nicole reiterated to Isaac inside his mind, as Samson continued speaking. "You experienced the evacuation on the Sprawl…how very few survived it, how quickly the outbreak took over." In a fatherly gesture, Samson cradled Ellie's head with his knobby hands. Isaac expected Ellie to jerk her head away, but she didn't. "Isaac Clarke knows how to kill those Markers. He's the only one who has gone in and come out alive…twice. But if you're willing, he won't have to go it alone the next time."

Isaac understood. "You're sending a team to destroy Markers. That's why you have my suit here. You need my help designing more. And weapons."

"That's just…that's…that's unbelievable!" Ellie murmured. She tugged out of Samson's caress and wiped her tears with the heel of her hand, turning to Isaac. "Isaac…please tell me you're not considering this. You'll die if you go. You'll die."

"I don't think the Markers are capable of killing him," Samson said to her, "or he'd be dead and gone already."

Ellie huffed. "Oh, whatever! Based on what proof? And Isaac's not considering it, anyway. Isn't that right?"

Her look told him to agree with her or else. He couldn't possibly at this point, so he put his hands to her shoulders. "Ellie. Nothing has been decided. I understand what Samson and the Clarke Faction are doing, and I want to help them as best as I can because I agree that more Markers are a very bad thing."

"Isaac, please," she touched the side of his face, a feathery brush, "please, let's get out of here. I don't care where, but I don't want to stay anymore."

"I can't yet." He didn't apologize because he didn't feel sorry, but he did regret his unapologetic feelings.

Almost physically, he felt her emotions wince. She shoved him from her, out of his reach. "You selfish bastard," she spat. Then she rushed out of the workshop and clomped down the hall. He listened until he could no longer hear her running footsteps.

Isaac made no move to go after her. She'd retreat if he'd tried getting near, so waiting for her to cool and approach him on her own terms was probably best. Well, old man, he thought, you've put that distance between you and her. Good job. If she held on to her anger and hurt, he'd be free to leave Retribution without guilt.

"That could've gone better," Samson commented quietly from the side. "Mr. Clarke, I'm sorry. I didn't want it to turn out like this. I can see how important she is to you."

"The Sprawl happened a few days ago. Everything's so fresh in her mind that it's impossible for her to even conceive of a scenario like she's been through happening again," Isaac replied. He rubbed his eyes and felt the weight of responsibility heavy on his shoulders. "I'll help you with modifying the suits and equipment, but I can't promise you I'll go on your mission."

"Mr. Clarke," Samson's tone was grave, "all I ask is that you do what you can to save lives."

"Have you started reproducing the modifications already, then?" Isaac asked, more to deflect the tense mood than because he was curious. "I assume you have suits prepared."

"We do. Of course, we obtained them by illegal means," replied Samson, "but I'm sure that's of no consequence to you. The mods haven't been started," he continued as he crossed the floor to a side panel and palmed it to open a closet-area that housed sec-suits on a set of mannequins. There were five. "We wanted to wait until you were available to oversee the process. We were fortunate enough to requisition a series of top of the line sec-suits with a tougher, more durable mesh coating, but with a higher retention of flexibility. There are more in storage."

The suits were not the grey and navy and teal that Isaac was used to; instead, the color was black with a deep red inlay. His breath shortened when he thought of blood-red symbols carved on stone as though carved in living flesh. The colors reminded him of the Red Marker. "They look…intimidating." Gruesome. "What about the weapons?"

Samson closed up the closet. "That is a different matter. We raided an EarthGov weapons cache and discovered some new prototypes of weaponry. EarthGov loved that we'd taken them…bad press, you see…but couldn't relocate them. Eventually, they gave up searching for the weapons."

"Was it because they realized Sweet Retribution was a battlecruiser?"

A dry chuckle from Samson. "EarthGov has no inkling of Retribution. We have an amazing staff of computer geniuses and technicians and whizzes that monitor EarthGov's movements and transmissions. Even the most classified of files are prone to weakness. That was how we were able to discover the research and whereabouts of the other Marker labs."

Isaac frowned. "Makes me shudder to think of more Markers." And raised astringent bile in his throat.

"Yes, truly a horrifying idea in itself, worse to know it's true." Samson's RIGlink flicked a holovid open, interrupting them.

A fresh-faced young fellow grinned under a mess of shortish black hair. "Gramps! You coming for lunch, or what? I've been waiting forever."

"Yes, we're on our way, No-no." Samson chuckled, eyes lost in happy crinkles. "I've got someone you'll want to meet coming with me."

No-no's face went slack. "Nuh-uh! Not…?"

"Shush…you'll find out when we get there." Like Samson had done with Isaac and Ellie, he flicked off the link before further conversation could continue. "My grandson, Noah. He's Delilah's son."

"Delilah?"

Samson had himself another round of laughter. "I forget about the formality she has with her crew. The captain. Captain Samson."

Isaac nearly said 'You're shitting me,' but his filter caught the words in the nick of time. "Ah. A family affair." The captain did not seem the kind of woman to be motherly. He couldn't imagine her wiping a baby's ass or cooing a fussy one to sleep, but her motherhood made sense given her bedside demeanor towards him earlier.

"You could call it that." Samson gestured to the exit. "We should go. Noah will not be patient long, and he'll be liable to come looking for us. He is so thrilled that you're aboard," Samson continued as they walked through the corridors of Engineering to the tram that would take them to the galley. "Don't be taken aback if he pries into your personal life. He'll ask a million questions and not find satisfaction."

"I've been interrogated before," Isaac replied. They'd come to the station and stood waiting for the tram. "How old is he?"

"Fourteen and immortal," Samson said. He sighed forlornly. "Youth is wasted on the young."

Isaac agreed with the maxim as they waited in silence. If he could have the choice, he'd rewind twenty years of his own life, so he wouldn't over-think a fling with Ellie and go through with it without any qualms. Hell, if he could rewind twenty years of life, he'd be blissfully unaware of Marker technology, and have Nicole to look forward to. As though the thought summoned Ellie, she opened a holovid on his RIG. Her eyes were glassy, and she was flush, ruddy.

"Isaac! Is Samson with you?"

Isaac didn't feel any angry backlash from her through the holovid, yet he proceeded with extreme caution. "Yes, he's here. What is it?"

"Where are you?"

"We're on the tram, heading to the galley."

"I'll meet you there."

Then she signed off. Puzzled, Isaac glanced across at Samson, who shrugged. He said, "Who can tell what's on a woman's mind."

"I want to know if I should be expecting a punch to the face," Isaac said. Ellie had reason to be violent towards him. He couldn't blame her for feeling how she felt…upset, scared, helpless. "She's too hot-tempered."

"It's a good thing she vents her anger," Samson said. "She puts her heart right out on her sleeve for you to see."

Isaac wondered if Samson was waxing philosophical or if he was sharing with Isaac a clue to her true feelings. After a few more short minutes, the tram came to a stop at the station that led to the galley and a few other less important decks in the Retribution. Wherever there weren't people, Isaac discovered this was where they'd come. A steady stream of individuals wearing the usual workclothes, talking animatedly, and departing from the galley streamed in to and out of the main doors. Like a stone thrown into a quiet pool, Isaac's presence sent ripples through the crowd. The echoing murmurs quieted from where Isaac stood, as eyes and faces pinpointed him. After silence had descended, there came a heavenly sigh, escaping the onlookers' mouths.

"It's Isaac Clarke," some anonymous person said.

Hairs stood on end when individuals repeated his name until 'Isaac Clarke' vibrated the air- - many lips speaking a broken hymnal or prayer in a vaulted cathedral. Intensity ratcheted up a notch when someone had the bright idea to stomp on the metal floor. His name became a cheer; people clapped, stomped, whistled. Everyone joined in, and Isaac, uncomfortable with the heightened attention, stomach in knots, wanted to escape as the noise became raucous to the point of painful. Uncertain with the sheer amount of people, he glanced for help to Samson, who sported an amused smile.

Samson closed his hand around Isaac's wrist and raised his arm over their hands. Here he is! A thunderous applause and cheer rolled a huge thunderclap over Isaac. His ears rang. Samson lowered their arms, and, keeping a guiding hand on Isaac's shoulder, nudged him forward into the human sea. Beautiful, living grins greeted him, hands patted him amiably on the shoulders, and the same 'Is it really Isaac Clarke?' touching proceeded as he swam through the crowd.

"Gramps! Mr. Clarke!" Noah Samson waved over heads and shoulders. The kid wore a neat black jacket with an off-set silver zipper, zipper pockets, and plain matching pants. Not faded, Isaac noted. "Over here!"

With his eye on a fixed point, Isaac began walking forward to Samson's grandson. People stepped aside, but even then, if it hadn't been for Samson's hand, Isaac was sure he'd be overwhelmed. The amount of people he brushed past seemed infinite, but at long last, he broke through the crowd line into the galley, which seemed to have vacated due to his arrival. The galley was set up so that there were different food lines around a central dining area and numbered vid-screens flashed with advertisements, news, and sitcoms that people could link audio to and watch while eating.

"Are you ready, Mr. Clarke?" asked Samson in Isaac's ear. He barely had time to register the question before he was caught in a verbal onslaught.

"Wow, Isaac Clarke," Noah said. His color was high as he offered his hand to Isaac, who shook it. "It's an honor! I'm Noah. Noah Samson. My mom's the captain."

"It's good to meet you," replied Isaac and wanting room from the crowd, said, "Should we eat?"

Noah's grin looked ready to crack open his face. "Sounds great! You sure generated a gathering, Mr. Clarke. I don't think I've seen these people so happy in a long time. When did you arrive? I'd heard rumors that it'd been a few days ago, but Mom said to mind our manners and give you your privacy, else I would've totally come and met you then." They'd come up to the order window. "How long have you been in mechanical engineering? Did you always work for the CEC? What outfit did you work for?"

And so on. Noah, exuberant, asked questions and continued on a stream of verbalized consciousness that rarely paused long enough for Isaac to answer the questions posed in a logical order. When Isaac glanced over at Samson, the older man's shoulders shook with suppressed merriment. They'd gotten their lunch- -a saucy, noodled mess, bread, peas, what looked like a brownie, and a beverage- -and were sitting, when Noah's conversational train abruptly came to an end.

"Whoa," he said, his eyes on the galley's entrance, and if ever there was a moment of love at first sight, Isaac witnessed it at that moment, "I haven't seen herbefore."

A fresh crowd had entered, and among the group of people at the entrance, Isaac saw Ellie standing on her toes glancing about. Isaac set his tray on the table and began crossing the floor to her position, was halfway there before Ellie spotted him. She released a generous smile as she rushed over to him, and when he expected her to stop her forward motion, she didn't, and ducked behind his guard to wrap her arms around his waist, clutching him into her soft curves. Not good. Arousal was quick to kick him in the gut.

Her face turned into his neck; sensitive skin attuned to her warm breath. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for being angry and for causing a ruckus, and I want you to know that whatever decision you make, I'll support you a hundred percent."

"Okay, Ellie. It's okay." His arms kept her wonderfully close. Her presence was so necessary. "You don't have to apologize."

"But I needed to. I…I got to thinking that if I continued to be angry and ill-tempered, that you'd decide to go through with some bad idea and I wouldn't be around to save your ass." She drew away to gaze up at him in seriousness, her lovely lips and smooth skin so near. "Your ass needs saving, Isaac."

He laughed. "You're right. It does. Constantly."

"Do you forgive me? And promise to tell me what's going on in your secret meetings?"

"I forgive you, and yes, I promise," he told her. He peeled out of her embrace to cool his jets and to hopefully avoid a kiss, if she felt inclined to share one with him. "We've got our lunches. Have you eaten? You want to join us?"

"Thank you! I haven't eaten yet. Oh, I see Samson over there." Ellie waved back at Samson. "Who's the kid?"

"That's Noah Samson, Cpt. Samson's son."

Her eyes widened. "You're shitting me. I can't imagine anyone calling that hardass woman Mum."

"You're in for a treat," Isaac said. "Grab some grub and meet us over there."

They separated and Isaac went back to the table where Noah and Samson were sitting. He took a seat, the corners of his mouth twitching, and waited for Noah to act on his teenage love. When Issac passed along a knowing and amused look to Samson, Samson had similar twitching mouth-corners. Noah didn't disappoint.

"Mr. Clarke, I mean, Isaac," Noah whispered. "Do you know her?"

Isaac barely contained his smirk. There should be a law against finding enjoyment out of a teenager's crush on an older woman. He twirled some noodles on his fork as a distraction. "Hm-hm. I'll introduce her when she gets over here."

"Is she eating with us?"

"She is."

"Oh, my God."

Noah said it quietly, to himself enough that Isaac was sure Noah hadn't meant for him and Samson to hear it. Quiet eating ensued. The conversation had lulled, mainly because Noah concentrated hard on Ellie as she strolled over with her tray and sat across from Noah beside Isaac. Hey, kid, take a picture…it'll last longer, Isaac thought.

"Ellie, this Noah. Noah, Ellie. She came in with me from the Sprawl," Isaac said, and enjoyed the hearts that exuded from Noah's eyes as Ellie smiled. "She's a Class 4 heavy equipment pilot."

"Hello, there," she said. "Nice to meet you."

Noah flushed from his collar up to his ears. "You, too."

Ellie seemed to have a silencing effect on Noah, who hardly said a word as Ellie carried the conversation between the four of them through lunch; she'd even apologized to Samson, who dismissed her outburst as nothing unusual given her situation. As they cleaned up their table, Noah received a holovid from one of his friends, and as teenagers do, he hurried the clean-up to go meet with the other youth for a Zero-G Basketball tournament.

"Good kid," Ellie said as she, Isaac, and Samson watched him depart through the galley's doors. "Seems nice."

Isaac snorted. "He had a million questions to ask me, but he clammed up around you."

"Such is young love," Samson replied.

A beat of silence. Then Isaac said, "When do you want to start mods on the suits?"

"No time like the present," said Samson. "Ellie, you'll join us?"

Ellie shook her head. "I'd love to, but Greggs called me and wanted to meet me, I think to ask a favor. I'm not sure."

"Whatever it is, good luck with it," Isaac told her. "Samson and I'll be-"

"In the Modification Workshop, I know," she said over him, with a laugh. "And don't worry about dinner. I'll bring something to you in the workshop."

Isaac agreed and Ellie went off to meet up with Greggs. Together he and Samson had exited the galley when Samson's RIGlink accepted a holovid of Cpt. Samson.

"Dad, are you available?" she asked. "And is Mr. Clarke with you?"

Samson kept Isaac back with an out-slung arm. "Delilah," he said, "Isaac and I are going to start modifying the sec-suits. We need to be uninterrupted, please."

"Dad-"

He cut her off. "Uh-uh-uh. You'll get your turn after I've had mine. He'll contact you when the modifications have been completed. Goodbye, dear." Samson thumbed the turn-off button to the RIGlink, and spoke to Isaac as he looked distant. "Mr. Clarke, my daughter doesn't want us to interact. She thinks you'll use me. I think you're the one solution to the Marker problem. Don't let her convince you that you're unnecessary." The old man's hand gripped Isaac's forearm. "You're very necessary, do you understand that? You're the key to Unitology's downfall."

Isaac didn't like the idea of being fought over by two influential people. Cpt. Samson wanted him off; her father wanted him to stay. Which was the right choice? With other Markers lurking around- -too near, for his liking- -would there be anywhere he could run to avoid what Nicole said was his duty? The duty of which she spoke seemed to Isaac like teetering over a large, unfathomable void, where he could see utter blackness and no end to falling. He had no safety net and no defense against that void.

He couldn't possibly trudge forward under that yoke of duty Nicole wanted him to bear.

A/N: So much drama. I hope the character interactions aren't throwing any of you off. The Necromorphs will come soon, I promise. Let me know your thoughts and criticisms. Expect another chapter Sept. 15th. Until then!