Author's note: Thanks to everyone who made it this far! Particularly those of you who have reviewed.

This was a hard chapter to write, on a lot of levels, and I hope I was able to do it some justice. I actually didn't hate Other M. On the contrary, I actually liked a lot of the themes it tried to incorporate. It was simply the execution of those ideas I did not like. For instance, I've always thought the idea of Samus suffering from PTSD was a very realistic one. Stylistically though, I didn't like how the game presented it. I personally see Samus as being the type of person whose PTSD would affect her more in civilian life than on the battlefield. Anyway, it's a condition I've dealt with in various contexts in my own life, and while I've never attempted to write a character with an explicit psychological condition before, I've tried to base Samus's off of real life experiences. Not just in the most obvious fashions employed by movies, but also the way it is pervasive in her relationships and day to day life.

At any rate, I just wanted to sort of add that little disclaimer. I know that's not an aspect of Samus's character that a lot of fans like or agree with, but it's one I actually really do like and have incorporated.

Chapter 12

Samus awoke just before the sun came up, and a glance at her watch let her know she had been out about 16 hours. That didn't surprise her, though. She could practically go into a coma at times when her body needed to heal. It was the price she paid for such short recovery times.

She stood slowly, still feeling sore and very weak, but a hundred times better than she had been. As she began walking toward the bathroom, she noticed Adam had fallen asleep in a wing chair by her window, the holo-screen from his watch still running the footage from the security cameras. As quietly as she could, she walked over and turned off the screen. The poor guy needed some rest. Her first instinct was to carry him over to the bed so his back wouldn't hurt as bad when he woke up, but she realized she still lacked the strength to lift him.

Nothing felt worse to her than being too weak to help someone, even if it was only a temporary state. She didn't have much to offer to the people she cared about: She thought she had a bad temper, poor social skills, and a lackluster personality. Her strength was the one thing she had that kept her from feeling like a burden on the people around her. She really could not fathom why else anyone would want her around and always felt suspicious of people's kindness. Weakness and depending on others were the two things that terrified her more than anything. Feeling vulnerable put her on edge, and if left unchecked, it could even make her dangerous to be around. When she had been in the army, her court-mandated therapist had told her it was likely one of the many effects of her post-traumatic stress disorder.

PTSD. That phrase seemed to be getting thrown around at her again lately, particularly behind her back by Federation officials. Not that it had ever stopped, really. She had just gotten better at managing it for a while. Now she thought, when this job was over, she should really get back into therapy and onto her medication again. Her temper was flaring up too easily, and the insomnia was leaving her too exhausted. She hated the idea of subjecting herself to that again, to spilling her feelings to a stranger or taking pills just to get her through her day to day life. But she also hated the way she was becoming lately. She regretted getting nasty toward Adam on the phone the day before, and she knew she could not go on in this fashion. She knew she could not keep lashing out at people and making excuses to herself. She had a problem, and she knew that. She had been down this road before. And she knew she needed to take responsibility for her actions and find a way to get help.

Muttering a string of Chozo curses, she went into the bathroom and closed the door. There was still so much blood on her body and in her hair. She removed her clothing and bandages and studied herself in the mirror. As expected, her wounds looked as though they were two weeks old already, and she figured she could cut out the stitches before going to bed that night.

The hot water from the shower felt amazing on her body, and she could feel more life coming into her movements as she scrubbed away the last of the dry blood and emerged feeling clean and warm. In some ways, it was the best she had felt in days, and she realized she was actually hungry.

Samus went back into the bedroom quietly, trying to remember when the last time she ate had been. If it was Friday now, and they had arrived at Blackacre on Wednesday… She had eaten a bagel Tuesday morning before catching the flight to Earth. Well, that wasn't good.

After re-applying her bandages, she threw on a pair of camo-green cargo pants and a black tank top. She didn't feel comfortable wearing a brassiere given where the stitches on her chest were and felt grateful that her breasts were still perky enough to get away with that. Slipping on her combat boots and holstering her gun, she went down to the kitchen in search of something to eat. The sun was just starting to come up and she doubted anyone else would be awake.

Foraging through the refrigerator, Samus came across a big pot of beef and vegetable stew. That would do it. Something hot and filling sounded perfect, and she was truly ravenous by this point. It didn't even bother her that someone else had made it. After microwaving a bowl-full, Samus sat down at the table and began eating. Her body was screaming for nourishment at this point, and once she wolfed it down, she made herself another bowl.

She was about to begin eating when she heard footsteps and glanced over to the door, her hand automatically reaching for her gun.

"Samus?" Morrigan stepped into the kitchen, already dressed in a black wool sweater and matching ankle-length skirt. Her long gray hair was loose and fell to her mid back, and Samus noted it was still very thick given her advanced age. "What are you doing up already?"

"Eating." Samus didn't know what else to say to this woman, and she was self-conscious because her tank top didn't fully hide the bandages that wrapped around her chest and right shoulder. "I helped myself. I hope you don't mind."

"Oh no," Morrigan said, sitting across from her. "Please, Make yourself at home. If there's anything else I can do for you, please let me know. I'm just surprised to see you up and about so soon considering… yesterday."

"I heal fast."

"So it would seem…" Morrigan was at a loss for words. The woman before her was ice, but she wanted so desperately to get to know her. "Thank you again for saving Marjorine. I owe you more than you can imagine."

Samus stopped eating for a minute and placed her spoon on her napkin. She thought for a moment, and then finally made eye contact with Morrigan. "One of your children was murdered. You hired me to make sure your last descendant would not meet that same fate. I performed my duties, nothing more."

Morrigan stared at her in silence, an unreadable expression on her face.

"You talk as if you didn't think," Samus continued, "that she and I would end up in such a lethal situation. You never thought that when you hired me I would end up taking bullets for her and killing five men in an afternoon. That's strange, given my reputation. I only take the most dangerous jobs. I never count on the assumption that I'm going home after any of them. So why hire someone like that if you didn't think the threat rose to that level?

"You're paying me twice my rate. You see how that also seems strange? And this level of hospitality you have shown me… I don't understand it at all. Assuming I'm just a bodyguard. No, you wanted me here for a different reason, didn't you?" Samus and Morrigan locked eyes. "I saw the graves while I was patrolling. And the memorial. You lost three people in the K-2L massacre, and I think the reason I'm here has something to do with that."

"And what would that reason that be?" Morrigan asked softly.

"You know I survived that massacre. Maybe you want to know if I knew your people, just like I want to know if you knew mine. Maybe we both just want closure."

Samus realized that, in spite of her calm demeanor, her body had begun trembling as she spoke. She was familiar with this feeling. It wasn't fear, but adrenaline, that caused it. It was the feeling that often preceded her anger episodes or her… more embarrassing episodes. She focused on her breathing and tried to slow it, aware that it had become slightly more rapid. Talking about her past, particularly K-2L, did this to her sometimes, and it was something she had learned she needed to accept and deal with rather than trying to fight it because fighting would lead to a panic. She closed her eyes and touched her forehead as she tried to center herself and continued breathing deeply until she felt her heart rate decreasing.

"Are you all right, Samus?" Morrigan asked, started to reach her hand out toward her.

"Please stop talking."

Morrigan withdrew her hand and watched Samus in silence for several minutes until the adrenaline spike began to ebb.

"I'm sorry," Samus said eventually, opening her eyes and focusing on the table. "I have a… condition I have to deal with sometimes. Talking about… that planet flares it up sometimes. It's not you. I'm actually… I'm actually happy in a weird way right now. Even if you never knew my family, even if I never knew yours… I've just never met anyone else who had a connection there."

"I knew Rodney and Virginia."

Samus's head snapped up and she starred at Morrigan like a deer in headlights. Her heart had begun racing again. More adrenaline. Too much adrenaline. Her breath quickened as she saw the outline of her parents' faces flash across her field of vision. She couldn't recall what they looked like exactly, but snippets of images began to flicker in and out of her vision like static on a television. And the faster her heart began to pump, the clearer the images became until they were accompanied by sound bytes from long ago.

"Samus?" Morrigan called out to her. "Samus?"

She knew she was still in the kitchen. She was still aware of everything going on around her, but the sounds explosions of the raid and images of the flames had become like a song stuck in her head. And she could see the faceless outlines. Her parents, the people around her. Until those outlines were enveloped by the outlines of the flames and their voices enveloped by the explosions.

"Samus!" Morrigan had taken her hand, and as Samus looked at her, she felt more like she were in the flames and that the image of Morrigan was the memory. "Samus look at me!" The old woman squeezed her hand firmly but gently. "Look at me, Samus! It's okay. Samus!"

Samus was breathing so rapidly that she couldn't get in enough air to speak, but she gently squeezed Morrigan's hand back to let her know she was still with her. She stayed like that for a long time, eyes locked with the other woman's, trying to communicate with her even though she could not speak. She gripped onto the present with every ounce of mental strength she could muster and was grateful there was someone else there to help ground her. Samus knew Morrigan understood what was happening to her, and after several minutes, her breathing began to slow, and she eventually choked out a very breathy "I'm sorry."

When she finally came back more, Samus looked down and closed her eyes, still holding Morrigan's hand and painfully aware the other woman could see her.

She hated this. She hated the way her mind would glitch up sometimes and turn her into this… mess. And she hated people seeing her like this. The rage episodes were one thing. If anyone saw those, people looked at her in fear, but… at least she had not cried this time. She hated when people looked at her with pity. She hated when people used these things against her, as proof that she was somehow incompetent.

But then there were others, like Adam, who understood, either because they were the same or because they had seen it before. And it was how she and Adam had ended up becoming friendly years ago. He never treated her like she was weak or a burden. He had always simply accepted her.

And when she finally looked up at Morrigan, she was met with that same understanding look Adam had sixteen years ago when she had blacked out completely and ended up hurling a two hundred pound steel conference table through a third story window. Fortunately, no one had been hurt, but that was when the court-mandated therapy began.

"I'm sorry, Samus. I had not realized—"

"It's okay. You didn't know." Samus sat up straight and let her hand go. "Thank you for not freaking out on me."

"I went through some similar things after my daughter was killed. I can't imagine what you go through, having been there. I don't know how you do the things you do or even how you go on with despite everything you've been through. I think if Virginia were here, she would be amazed by the woman you've grown into."

"Heh…" Samus's face turned red as she smiled grimly. "You don't have anyway way of knowing that. But thanks for trying to make me feel better."

Morrigan came around the table and sat beside Samus, placing an arm on Samus's uninjured shoulder. "Actually, I knew Virginia quite well. I know how proud she was of her child, her Samus. She would send me pictures all the time. Samus, Virginia was my—"

"I know." Samus smiled at her wistfully. "Don't say it. I already figured it out. There aren't a lot of women over six feet tall, and I started putting two and two together a while back."

Morrigan smiled back, her eyes beginning to water, and Samus didn't even try to resist as the woman pulled her into a hug. She didn't need to fight right now, and for once she didn't want to. As she rested at last in her grandmother's embrace and felt her fingers running lovingly through her hair, she finally allowed herself to break. And she cried for the first time in years, burying her face in the other woman's shoulder. And it wasn't beautiful. And it wasn't dignified. But it was raw, and it was the much-needed unbridled release of thirty years worth of pain. And for once, she didn't care who saw; she just hurt so badly she needed to release it all at once and to allow herself to feel it. She knew she was tough. She didn't have to prove that. She had spent her lifetime being tough, but now the dam had burst open and every bit of Samus spilled forth, and she didn't care.

She had come home from so, so far.

When she finally broke out of Morrigan's embrace, the two women just sat looking at each other for a while, three decades worth of catching up to do.

But that would be for another time. Samus stood up and wiped her face, regaining her composure as quickly as she had lost it.

"What are you going to do now, Samus?" Morrigan asked, standing beside her.

"What I do best," the bounty hunter replied with a smirk. "I'm going to find the son of a bitch who put a hit out on Maggie, and I'm going to track them down and kill them."