"You're late," came the familiar voice, the brief glow of a lit cigarette showing its position.

Jason leaned back against his car, arms folded and, in spite of everything, couldn't keep the grin off his face. He felt, rather than heard, Mark take up a position next to him on the car.

"I've got a family now, Mark. I can't just go tearing off to beat you up whenever I want." He heard Mark chuckle, and saw the glow again. "When did you take up smoking?"

Mark looked at his cigarette. "Were we fifteen? I can't remember."

"Twelve, actually. We were both sick as dogs, and Anderson thrashed us both. But you never smoked regularly."

"I still don't," said Mark. "I've had more cigarettes this last week than I've ever had in my life though. "

"I can understand that. Got another on you?"

Mark passed over the pack, and Jason helped himself. After he inhaled he too examined the lit cigarette. "To be honest, I can't see what the fascination is, myself."

"Safer than the other vices I've had," said Mark softly, his words almost beyond hearing. "Not too keen on it, myself," he said in a normal tone. "But sometimes, you just need it for comfort. Especially when there's nothing else." He dropped the butt and ground it out with his foot. "You're here for a purpose, Jason. Let's get started and not draw this out too late. I'm exhausted."

"With my wife."

That moved too quickly, thought Mark. "Pardon?"

"You're exhausted because of what you've been doing with my wife."

"My wife, Jason. But that's semantics. I've been talking with Princess. She needed to know what happened to me."

"We all needed to know that, Mark. But talking doesn't leave women with bruised lips. Or hickeys."

"She's my wife, for fuck's sake, Jason. I love her. I've missed her. I need her."

"She stopped being your wife when you walked out on us. Her. You chose your father over us, and she didn't stop crying about that betrayal for nearly five years, Mark. She nearly died."

All the frustration, anger and fear of the past years came out with that, and Jason swung his fist, sending his erstwhile Commander sprawling on the ground. He leapt after him, striking blow after blow. Taking out the anger, the fear, the loss, of the past eighteen years.

"How could you, Mark? How could you abandon us? We were your team. Your family. And you left without a word! How could you abandon me?" Jason's voice was breaking.

They weren't adults any more. Years rolled back, and they were once again children, vowing to stick together no matter what.

Jason stopped hitting and sat back, slumping against the stairs. Mark moved more gingerly. He hadn't defended himself against Jason's onslaught. He knew he wouldn't. He deserved it.

"Jase," he croaked, reaching out his hand and placing it on the other's shoulder. "I didn't mean to. I didn't choose: choice was forced on me. Princess understands what happened. I was only meant to be gone a couple of weeks. Cronus promised he'd let you know about the mission. I didn't mean to vanish – and even if I did, I wouldn't have chosen what I became. Believe me."

"And what did you become? We've heard these past six years or so about you training a Rigan team. Do you know how that hurt? How it hurt to see and hear about the mighty Eagle on Riga, but never to hear about Mark? Never to hear from you. Never to see you when we went to Riga. It was like you abandoned us all over again." Jason's voice was breaking again and he took a deep breath. "Damn you, Mark. You promised!"

Mark hung his head. "I know." He moved and winced. "You still have a punch like the kick of a mule I see."

"Why'd you take it then?" asked Jason, grinning.

"Deserved it. Knew you'd take me apart for leaving, knew I deserved it."

"Ahh. The notorious Mark-guilt coming to the fore again. Is there any reason why we're sitting on the ground and not inside?"

"Didn't want you to trash inside. We can go in if you like. You want explanations?"

"I deserve explanations. Do you have any coffee? We're out at home."

"Yeah. I put the perc on just after Princess left, so it'll be ready by now. I figured you'd need it."

"You bastard. You're still reading us."

"There's more than one reason I'm Commander of G-Force, Jason."

"No Mark." Jason stood and looked down at Mark. "I'm the Commander of G-Force now. I have been for eighteen years."

Mark stood also. "I've been reactivated, Jason."

"I know. I got the memo." He grinned suddenly. "I even read it. You're an active member of the senior team again. But you haven't been put in Command. Anderson's designated you G2."

"But…"

"Think, Mark. You're supposed to be the brainy one. You've been gone eighteen years. We thought you'd abandoned us. Your team has changed. Grown up. And we just don't trust you any more. Not like we used to."

Jason paused. "There was a time when I would have followed you into hell, Mark." He laughed. "Shit, I did that plenty of times! I argued with you, and I challenged you, but I never disobeyed any direct order you gave. At times, I worshipped you. You were all I wanted to be like, and never could be. But then you abandoned us. D'you know what it's like to discover your idol has feet of clay? That they're really only human? Kye hates you. He watched what happened to Prin, and had his own idol crumble. I'm not even sure he'd answer any question you asked him, let alone follow an order you gave."

Mark started up the stairs followed by Jason. "I didn't think," he said. "Thought that it was really only me and Prin affected. No. I knew that the team would suffer, but didn't think that…." He rubbed his hand through his hair. "Yet another error of judgement on my part. No wonder Anderson wouldn't reinstate my leadership. I've made too many of those over the past years. I'm no idol Jason. I never have been. And now… Well, let's just say that I've more than feet of clay."

"Your first mistake was when you decided to keep your mission a secret. You shouldn't have done that, Mark. Not from her. Not from any of us. Always five, remember?" He followed Mark into the cottage, and looked around. "You know, Prin kept this place up for you. She wouldn't let it go. Wouldn't live here, though. Even when she had nowhere else, she wouldn't live here. No. Couldn't."

"What do you mean, nowhere else to go?" Mark turned sharply.

"Mark, after you left, she was a mess. She couldn't function. She only managed to go on missions because she thought that she might find you. She was so depressed, she just didn't function. She let everything go. Stopped going out. Didn't eat much. Stopped paying all the bills. She just stopped caring. But she didn't tell us that then. We had to find out the hard way. She got kicked out of the apartment for not paying rent. Wouldn't go to anybody. Kye found her sleeping in the park. That's how we found out."

"Shit! What…"

"She nearly went mad, Mark. Your leaving destroyed her completely. She only started to get back together when she found she was pregnant. At least, that's when she moved back in with Anderson. For a time."

"Pregnant! You know, I never thought of that. We never…"

"She's not nice when she's pregnant, Mark," said Jason accepting the mug of coffee and liberally adding sugar and cream. "Think of Princess in the worse mood ever and double it. Then double that again."

"Oh good god!"

"Yeah. Forget all that glowing impending motherhood shit. We had one perpetually pissed-off Swan. It wasn't easy, Mark. Both times, pregnancy was really bad for her. With Chris, though, it was worse. She spent the last three months in bed. She nearly lost the baby. I think that it was her sheer willpower to keep your child that got her through it. She'd lost you. She wasn't going to loose your baby."

"She didn't tell me. I never knew. If I'd known, I never…"

"Mark, she didn't know at the time. She suspects – no believes – that Chris was conceived the night you left." He paused, smiling wryly. "You made quite an impression, apparently."

Mark smiled in reminiscence. That night. Their last night together, had been one of his sweetest memories. "So did she."

"But you still left. You still didn't tell her."

Mark looked at Jason. "You're gonna need more coffee, Jason. Anderson was wrong when he said that I should tell Princess first. I realised that when I was telling her. I should have spoken to you both. You'll understand as well as she does."

"Mark, you're rambling. It's a bad habit of yours."

"Sit down Jason. I'll give you a précis of what happened to me. Then, come back tomorrow. I'll tell you both the rest."

"Can you? I mean, Prin was pretty upset when she got home."

"I'm sorry. I can, Jason. Telling Princess first helped. I'm sorry it upset her so much. Another reason why you should have been here too. We'll need to edit it for the others, though."

"That bad?"

Mark looked him in the eye. "Jason, think of as bad as you can, and then think of worse. I never contacted you when I was able, because I couldn't. I've been involved and done things that have made me hate myself. What I became. And I'll need your help, Jason. "

He looked down. "I'm a drug addict, Jase. I've been trying for eight years to get clean. I'm nearly there now. It's the only reason I came back - because I'm nearly clean. I smoke because it's better than shooting up." He looked up again. "But that's not the worst."

Jason put down his coffee and leaned forward, for the first time really looking at his friend. For the first time, he saw the grey strands in the dark hair. Saw the small lines around Mark's eyes. Saw the gauntness in his face. Then, he looked into Mark's eyes for the first time in eighteen years.

Once, those clear blue eyes had been innocent. Even through all the horror, they had held an innocence that was quintessentially Mark.

That was gone. They eyes were still wide, still that clear, blue, the blue of the sky that was the Eagle's preferred home.

But now, they were old. In them, you could see the reflection of horrors that had changed the man irrevocably.

Jason moved and sat next to Mark on the couch.

"Tell me, then."