Quote of the Day: "To the trail's end."

Uldren had cleaned himself up since the attack. He no longer looked like he'd taken a gut injury, but he still felt incredibly sore, and the exhausted Aur had warned him the area would be tender for the next few days. His arm still hurt tremedoudly, from both the knife he'd taken during the Tay fight, and the defensive wound from the fight with Lyse. He didn't complain. He had no right to.

He looked across the room, the makeshift med bay, at the curtained-off bed near the end of the hall. Behind that curtain was Rogers, fully conscious and in a world of agony, because all Human-friendly sedatives and painkillers had been destroyed by the fire. Aur had exhausted his Light reserves trying to ease her pain, to the point where he'd collapsed, and was now asleep on another bed. A vast difference from Lyse's refusal to heal her during the Rebellions. But even with his help, the fact remained that the burn was still deep, very deep, and part of it had stretched up to her neck. He'd caught a glimpse of her earlier; they'd had to cut her hair short so that it wouldn't scratch at the wound as much.

Faroth was also there, but in much less trouble than Rogers, seeing as the wait for more Awoken medicine involved a much shorter trip. He'd heard talk that he would need an exo-skeletal implant to save his arm, and that the burns on his face would scar him forever. Petra sat at the side of his bed, fast asleep with her head next to her friend's. Twelve other Awoken, weren't so lucky to be alive. Twelve dead, from Lyse's rampage, most of the casualties from after their encounter in her ship.

The encounter that had gone so terribly wrong. He'd thought the closest he would ever come to death would be the knife that left the scar on his throat, but as Lyse left him to bleed... that had been something new entirely. The fact he'd dragged Rogers into this made it all the worst. He felt more wretched than ever before, and now more than ever he wished he still had his father to guide him.

As if he would know what to do; he never failed this badly, not in all his years. He scoffed out loud. There was no point in wishing, nor in wallowing in self-pity like he was. But he couldn't help it. Every time when it came down to Rogers, he made the wrong choice, said the wrong thing, or gave the wrong order.

If he'd been sure to order, during the quarantine, that Rogers should be warned of the exposure before being escorted, would she have ever went AWOL afterwords? Or would she have suffered at the hands of Tay when the assassin raided her apartment? Would that child ever have been threatened? If he had realized sooner he was underestimating her, that his attempts to keep her and Lyse separate were doing more harm than good, how differently would things have played out?

If he hadn't ordered her after Lyse because she'd punched Della Tay and he thought she could handle it, if he had waited, and they had both gone ahead, together... would she be half-dead and in pain in a makeshift hospital right now?

Answers to questions that he would never know. It was too late to go back, there was no way to turn back the clock. As he sat, bitter, in the room, eyes locked on the curtains, he knew the only way to stop making the wrong decisions, was to prevent those decisions from being necessary in the first place. He wouldn't ask for another chance to lead her this time. The City wanted to confine her, and he himself couldn't be trusted with her safety. What does that say about my efforts to protect Mara? He kept wondering.

The only right choice-and he hoped it was, the right choice, this time-was to give her what she seemed to want the most. The wild. When the City asked for their Hunter back, he'd take her to Earth himself, but there was no way he was giving her back to those bureaucrats. After all he'd done to her, all the wrong choices he made, he was going to give her a chance. A chance to walk away, run away free.

He'd take her to Earth, alright. But not the City, not if that wasn't what she wanted. After all the disasters she'd lived through under his charge, this was the least and only thing he could do for her, diplomatic fallout be damned.

Martin woke to the sound of Wheatly alerting him they were approaching Earth. He opened his eyes, crusted with dried tears, and looked down at Peppermint, curled up in the crook of his bad arm. He stroked her back gently, wishing he could just go back to sleep and forget the nightmare-turned-reality he'd been through yesterday.

They found out. Variks and Petra found out. They stole the data and found out. He didn't know why Variks would do something like that, or why he would even for a moment think that he'd placed an actual bomb. That was what hurt the most. That either of them would ever think he'd actually do that, that Petra would ever think he'd put her life at risk for any kind of data.

He would never do that, even if he did have the guts for it. He couldn't even bring himself to make a fake detonator!

Part of him was tempted to call Variks and ask why. To hammer out the problem, pick up the puzzle pieces and fix the picture that had been shattered. To take the problem head-on like a man and sort things out.

Martin always had been a coward.

Taking a steadying breath, he sat up, setting Peppermint aside, the cat letting out a plaintive meow. He got up and went over to the bathroom, washing his face off as thoroughly as he could. He didn't want to talk about what he'd lost at the Reef in order to get this data. He never wanted to even mention it. And when he finally did it, cured Silverhawk, and she asked what it had cost him to do it, he would smile and say 'nothing at all'.

He would make an act, weave an illusion, so that all anyone would ever know was that he an Variks were simply growing apart with time, and that he was completely over Petra Venj. He had to let them think that, and he had to hope that the Scribe and the Emissary kept what they knew about Silverhawk to themselves.

As he erased all signs of anguish from his face, he realized that his arm still hurt tremendously from when Petra had twisted it. Someone might notice, he would have to think of a cover story for that. Meanwhile, he had to put on his 'cheerful Martin face' in a way that looked convincing.

He had been expecting Silverhawk to be waiting for him. What he had not expected was for her to come screaming in his direction like madwoman with Ryan Newton on her tail.

"MARTIIIN!" she screeched. Why did she look frightened? He jumped as she skid to a halt in front of him, arms opening as if to give him a hug, before remembering better. Another flash of bitterness passed through him.

"What is it? What's going on? Did someone die or something?" he asked frantically, fear twisting inside him as Ryan came panting to a halt next to Silverhawk.

"No, but they almost did!" the Titan said, breathless, as Silverhawk circled Martin, poking him and lifting his arms as if checking for injury.

"What happened?" he demanded.

"Della Tay tried to kill Andal!" Silverhawk blurted. Martin let out a frightened squeaking noise. Andal! Tevis' Andal? Five-year-old Andal who loves dinosaurs?! "Apparently a fellow Hunter smashed her face to a pulp and she wanted revenge! If Cayde and lord Saladin hadn't been there... well, let's not think about what would've happened if Cayde and Lord Saladin hadn't been there."

"And then, yesterday... dude, for a few moments, we thought that was you." Ryan continued. Martin looked at him, confused.

"Me, what?" he asked.

"The crazy Warlock who blew up the Reef!" Silverhawk said. Petra! Was still his first, panicked thought for some reason. "But it turned out it was some lady named 'Lice' , or whatever."

"W-was anybody killed?" he tried not to shake, but there was no hiding the fear in his voice.

"I think there were a few Awoken who didn't make it, but they haven't named any names. I think they would've if anyone important got killed, though. Word is a Guardian got injured, which, you know, freaked out a little bit because," she waved her hands in Martin's direction, "but fear totally unfounded. Pretty good, pretty good, I say."

Deep breaths, Martin, deep breaths... he tried to calm himself down. If the Emissary was killed, they would have heard about it. The last thing I did was yell in her face... even if it was a pretty good reason to yell in somebody's face...

"L-lets, uh, talk about it somewhere else, I, uh, I-I need to think a bit. And uh, sleep for real. Not a lot of sleep in quarantine." he managed to stammer. Some real food wouldn't hurt either, but he doubted his twisting stomach could hold anything down at this point.

"So then, Alan takes his rifle by the barrel, and clobbers the Fallen with it." Ryan gestured wildly as he finished his story. "And that's how you kill a Captain with a sniper rifle without pulling the trigger."

Silverhawk golf clapped, and Martin gave a snort, jerking awake from where he'd fallen asleep with his face on the table. Her Warlock friend was acting a bit... slower than normal since returning from the Reef, and he was obviously worried after they'd filled him in on the details of recent events he'd missed out on while in quarantine.

She'd been frantic ever since the news came from the Reef, that disaster had struck. She kept seeing dead Martin's in her head, and she'd been pacing expectantly in the main hangar for the whole day. What she hadn't expected... was for Ryan to join her.

"I know Martin's at the Reef." he'd said, shrugging. "I thought you might like some company."

That had been... nice of him. Weirdly nice, and it had given her a fuzzy feeling in her stomach, which was weird, because stomachs were not fuzzy, and if they were, it was something the fuzzy-stomached person might want to have looked at, because it was probably a hideous infection of some sort.

"I'm, uh, I'm going to hit the hay." Martin yawned. "Mom home?"

"Nah, went on a week-long patrol to Venus." Silverhawk waved a hand. The Warlock got up, stretching as much as his sling would allow him, walked off to the residential area of the Tower, leaving her and Ryan alone yet again. She thrummed her fingers on the table, staring at her empty plate, and he examined the surrounding in fine detail.

"So..." he heaved.

"So..." she repeated.

"... Kind of like an awkward first date, huh?" he commented, eyes glinting.

"Ha!" she chuckled. "Like I'd ever date anyone! It'd be so awkward, hedgehogs would fly!"

"Oh, really?" he challenged. "Well, I once farted during a first date, and that was so awkward, we never saw each other again."

"Pfft, I could do better." she scoffed.

"Oh, really?"

"Really."

"I dare you to date me."

"What?"

"I. Dare you. To date. Me."

"...You're kidding, right?"

"Scared?"

"Your on. Terms?"

"Whoever gets us kicked out of the restaurant, wins. The looser has to pick up the tab on the second date."

"And who say's there's going to be a second date?" she asked cheekily.

"Me. Because this, is going to be blazing." he told her, waggling his eyebrows. She bit her lip. This is really dangerous, Silverhawk. You shouldn't get close to people, especially dating... But it wasn't like this was serious dating. They were just flirting.

...Weren't they?

"You're on. When and where?" she demanded.

"The fancy Chinese place just west of the Tower, eight-thirty sharp tomorrow night." he said, leaning back and taking a drink. "No formal clothing required; one of us is probably going to start a food fight anyway."

"Alright. See you tomorrow, boyfriend." she teased, getting up and turning to leave. He made a disbelieving noise, the sound of his chair shifting as he put his legs on the floor again.

"Hey! You're just going to leave me with the tab!?" he cried in exasperation. She looked back at him playfully, she could feel her eyes glinting beneath her shades.

"Look at the bright side; you can get me back if you win tomorrow." she winked, though he couldn't see it, and disappeared behind the corner. Ryan sat back in his chair, running a hand through his hair, shocked at himself.

"Did I just do that?" he asked out loud. His Ghost flashing into existence beside him.

"Yes, yes you did. What ever happened to 'keeping our distance from her'?" he chided witheringly.

"It's not my fault she's cute." he muttered forlornly, taking another drink.

Meanwhile, Silverhawk took a deep breath, trying not to panic as she shut the door to her home behind her. She leaned against it, wondering what in the good world had possessed her to say 'yes' to a date of all things!? What if he tried to kiss her? Ugh, this is all my worst nightmares piled into one... What was she supposed to do now?

Alright, first off... cool it. She took several deep breaths. Second off... panic all over again. She ran into her room, threw herself on her bed, and screamed into her pillow as loudly as she possibly could. Third off... just keep acting like it's flirting and avoid all physical contact tomorrow! Simple!

At least, that's what she hoped...

"More details tonight about the attack on the Reef. Twelve confirmed dead, and twenty hospitalized for smoke inhalation and severe burns. It has been confirmed that a Human Hunter was critically injured in the attack by what seems to be a rouge Warlock, and sources report that though her wounds are severe, she's currently stable."

"Sources also say Prince Uldren was involved with the attack, as well as Head of Phoenixsong Order, Aur Barou. It has not been confirmed that either of them suffered major injuries, and all footage of the rogue Warlock has been deleted, reportedly by her Ghost. Residents of both reef and City alike are warned to keep an eye out for the escaped 'Lyse Ravenwood', an Awoken Warlock with a Phoenixsong amulet, roughly five feet, eleven inches in height..."

Shiro looked away from the report as they continued to roll out a description of the woman. He swirled his drink in one hand. How many terrible things were going to happen the rest of the week?

"World's have gone the Hellmouth these days, haven't they Saladin?" he commented wryly, glancing up at his friend. He frowned, letting out a small snort as the Titan ignored him, helmet-covered face still tipped towards the TV. "Makes you wonder if there's any sanity left, for anyone."

The Titan stood abruptly, nearly nocking his chair over, causing several people in the bar to shout at him. Shiro looked up at him in surprise. "Drink not sitting well?"

"No. It's not." he ran for the bathroom, certainly appearing sick, and Shiro shrugged, taking another sip of his own drink, before noticing the Saladin had barely touched his, even before putting on the helmet.

The last Iron Lord lammed the door open to the bathroom, and yanked his helmet off, vomiting into a sink as he tossed the armor piece across the floor. Never before had he felt more sick in his life, as he wretched again, the words of the reporter ringing in his ears.

Lyse Ravenwood.

Panting, he looked up into the mirror, looking for answers in his own eyes.

Lyse Ravenwood.

How could it be possible? After all these years?

Lyse Ravenwood...

His greatest failure. Both as an Iron Lord, and a friend.

And she was back.

Wee, more mystery.

That moment when you're crossing the road... and the perfectly-disguised mound of dog C*** that somebody just left there breaks your perfect record of never having stepped in poop before in you entire life. Worse; I'm wearing my Merrells and I can't wash it out from between the cracks. Seriously! Who lets their dog take a dump in the middle of the road!? Sure, it could have been a wild animal, but this is definitely dog poop!

You know, this is why Humans are doomed as a species. Not because of global warming or nuclear war or any of that conspiracy theory stuff; it's because of people who don't have the courtesy to watch where they leave their C***.

alienraptor: Tay has never used the Light, nor will she ever. Don't know where you got that idea. But if you really meant Lyse, then yes and no; yes she is kind of an ex-Guardian, no, she is nothing like Matteo's Messenger. The Messenger was all Dark; Lyse Ravenwood is here walking a very fine line between Dark and Light.

jsm1978: I never really bother with the alerts thing, I don't really check my email that often anyway. Don't worry; this is the last horrible thing I'm going to do to Rogers; she might give us some more scares in the future, but she won't be horrifically injured. Most of what's happened to her so far is to drum up Uldren's guilt, and this new lack of confidence he's experiencing. Almost all three of the original Dysfunctional Fireteam have undergone some kind of character change at this point, even when gradual: in Heartbusters, we saw Martin's core self come to light, a very self-sacrificing young man who would do anything for his sister, and we've seen more of that here. After Wolfsbane, and Martin's injury, Silverhawk is a bit more paranoid, protective, and may just be taking things a little more seriously than she used to. Now, it's Uldren's turn to evolve as a character, and Sierra Rogers is my main tool for doing that. As for drama... like you wouldn't BELIEVE!

Order and Chaos: Yeah, certainly, future encounters with Lyse will be very tense, indeed, after this. Yeah, sacrifices had to be made, but hopefully Martin can do this. Yes, Zavala's going to give him a proper chewing out. I'm not going to confirm or deny your suspicions, I'll just let Saladin do the talking.

This Is Sarcasm: Don't worry, I'll sew the Reef Trio back together... eventually, but not in this installment. Not in Twilight either, though. Aww, it's good to see at least one person expressing pity for Faroth. He does have it rough. Hey, I was actually thinking 'Princess Bride' when I wrote that!

Fan of Variks: More has been written. ^^

Guest: Yes, the Reef Trio are quiet popular.

Furious Titan: Yes, I've noticed several people complaining that Alerts haven't been working lately. The River was actually the guy who sanctioned the Deathtouch operations in the first place, if you remember from Fever. We won't be really seeing him again, and I don't even have a proper name for him. As for Lice, the buildup to her true unmasking is gaining way, and as for Martin's quest... well, he's a smart boy, he'll figure it out. As what I said to jsm, every 'torture' I've put her through is to seed this doubt in Uldren. The other two Originals have undergone a few changes, but since Fever, he's really been the same guy; an arrogant, overprotective jerk. LoL, I can't even remember what point I made that reference at...

As for last chapter, it had to happen. It's going to be a while before we skip on back to the Reef, it's time to spend some time in the City with the other Originals. I'm going to be introducing a new character soon, both to fix Martin's lack of another friend after last chapter, and to fix the fact that Ryan is the only Titan I have in here so far. He's going to be a very down-to-earth swell sort of guy, and though he's not going to play too major a role, I hope people like him. Little bit of a hint; he's from the nineteen sixties era, and I'm having a little too much fun researching terminology of the age.

And while we're at it, I'd like to finally clarify something; I know I keep mentioning courtyards on different floors of the Tower, and I't never occurred to me to mention that, for this fic, my interpretation of the Tower has always been the Concept Artwork by Jesse Van Dijk. It's not as blocky and, quite frankly, it looks better, and more in line with a place that people would live in, as, Like Ghost says, this isn't just a command center; this is where our Guardians live, for the most part. It's home, and Dijk's art just seems to capture that more than the version that made it into the game.

Plus, it make more sense to have WAY more ship hangars than just the one.

Next Time: Silverhawk and Ryan bring down the house, and it turns out more was going on in chapter 4 than we realized...

Cheers!^^