Rick had quickly settled into a normal -- self-destructive, if he were honest with himself, not that he ever was -- routine. He went to work at the docks from time to time, of course, working when he could, but most of his time was spent drinking or smoking -- a new habit, one that he'd avoided like the plague before the Atlanta mission -- in his silent apartment. He'd had to move out of his old place when his paycheck started dropping, shifting to a ridiculously small building in one of the worst parts of town. No one ever visited, so he never worried about cleaning up; even Shane had stopped coming by, put off by Rick's silent blend of anger and paranoia apparent during their conversations.

It was for this reason that he jumped -- literally jumped -- as his doorbell rang, dropping his nearly-extinguished cigarette onto the floor and wincing as it seared his carpet slightly. With a sigh, he ground it out and stood, trudging over to the door and slipping on a ratty shirt as he cracked it open.

Shane Walsh -- speak of the devil -- stood on the other side, another (this one unfamiliar) man standing by his side. He was older than either of them, hair balding and gray, but he looked nervous and inexperienced despite his years. Rick looked from one to the other, hearing part of Shane's introduction -- "Hey, Rick. This is Lieutenant Gregory from the-" -- before slamming the door shut.

He didn't move from the doorway, though, crumpling to the ground as soon as he'd shut the door, leaning against it. He could hear Shane's pleading tone from the other side even as he tried to block it out. "-ick, we need to talk. You're gonna say 'I told you so.'" A half-hearted chuckle, a pause, then, "We've lost contact with the colony on LV-426."

Rick couldn't restrain an angry huff as he took in the words, slamming his fist into the carpeted floor, glad that the sound was muffled by it. Of course… of course… he'd even warned them and they still couldn't handle it. He muffled a growl of anger and surged to his feet, whirling on the door, yanking it open, and grudgingly allowing his former partner to lead the stranger into what was, if he cared at all (and he didn't), an embarrassingly messy apartment.

He listened to their plan -- to boil it down, he was to go with a detachment of colonial marines to the planet -- and he reacted instinctively. "No. No way." Flashbacks threatened to overwhelm him -- the same flashes of fear and darkness and death that filled his dreams trying to break their way into daylight -- so he shook them away, replacing fear with anger, anxiety with outrage.

Shane didn't look surprised, adopting as placating a stance as possible. "Hear me out…"

Rick didn't even wait. "You throw me to the wolves, and now you want me to go back out there? Hell no." He busied himself with a cup of coffee, ignoring the tugging in his gut that told him to go back. He didn't owe anybody, and he certainly wasn't going to risk his own life for strangers after what they'd done.

Shane shrugged. "Look, man, I hear ya. I probably wouldn't go."

Gregory spoke for the first time, then, shooting Shane a scathing look. "Look, you wouldn't be going in with the troops. I can guarantee your safety." He sounded unconvinced, his voice shaking slightly even as he professed confidence.

Shane nodded, breaking in. "Look, Rick, these marines are tough, okay, and they're packing state-of-the-art firepower. There's nothing they can't handle, right, man?"

Gregory nodded, still too eager in his persuasion. "That- that's true. We're trained to deal with these kinds of situations." He put a peculiar emphasis on the "trained", but Rick ignored it in favor of making his point.

"Then you don't need me. I'm not a soldier."

Shane seemed to know what he was going to say because it took him mere seconds to respond. "Right, but we don't know what's going on out there, Rick." He paused, hand passing over his head in a gesture that was so thoroughly Shane that Rick could almost believe that they were still partners, that his life hadn't gone horribly off the rails on his last mission. "Look, man, it may just be a downed transmitter. But if it's not…" He broke off, walking a little closer and re-emphasizing the words. "Look, man, if it's not, I want you there. You'll be an advisor, nothing more."

Rick stuttered for a response, eventually settling on, "And you? Why are you going?" Shane didn't make to answer right away, so Rick started again. "Brother, what's your interest in this?"

Shane averted his eyes, looking a little embarrassed as he said, "Well… the corporation co-financed the colony with the Colonial Administration. We're getting into a lot of terraforming… 'Building Better Worlds.'"

Rick rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I saw the commercial." Then, he turned, walking away, pretending that he wasn't at war with himself over whether to return. "I don't have time for this. I've got work." He also didn't mention that he hadn't been to work several times in the past few days.

Shane nodded, tone still jovial as he asked, "Right… I heard you were working in the cargo docks." Rick nodded. "Running loaders, forklifts, that sort of thing? How's that going for you, man?"

"Fine."

"No, that's great… I'm glad you're keeping busy, man. You never could stay behind a desk, and I know it's the best you could get. There's nothing wrong with that, brother." Rick heard it then, the same persuasive tone Shane had used to subtly push suspects towards a conclusion or convince them to testify. He tilted his head, then, aware that some of the betrayal in his head spilled out into his eyes. "What if I said I could get you reinstated as a flight officer? The Company's already agreed to pick up your contract."

Rick barely restrained a scoff. "If I go."

Shane nodded. "If you go. Look, man, it's a second chance." He paused, then added, "And it'll be the best thing for you to- to… to face this fear and beat it. You gotta get back on the horse…"

Rick almost laughed at Shane's attempt at a pep talk. "Spare me, Shane, I've had my psych evaluation for the month."

Shane moves so quickly, Rick almost wonders if he knew how Rick would respond. "I know. I've read it, man. You wake up every night, sheets soaked in swea-"

"No!" Rick was shouting again, but it was better than the pretense of rationality. "The answer is no. I'm not going back. Now, get out of here."

Shane nodded, frowning but, at least, not trying to speak again. He nodded. "Okay, man. Just, uh…" He rubbed his head again, then reached into his pocket for a translucent business card that he slid onto the counter with a hiss. "Just think about it."

They left, then, leaving the apartment comfortably empty. Or, at least, it felt comfortably empty at first before quickly turning cold and barren. Rick felt drained in every sense of the word and he stripped his shirt off again, collapsing into his bed and sleeping through yet another shift. When he woke, it was to that familiar hiss, too visceral in the silent, pitch-black apartment. He groaned, a mix of frustration and relief leaving him trembling as he lit a cigarette and rolled out of bed, staring at Shane's card where it still lay on the counter.

With a sigh, he inserted the card into his phone, waiting for Shane to answer. He was tired, groaning out a muffled, "Walsh. Wassup?" Eventually, he got a look at who was calling, seemingly shocking him awake. "Oh, Rick. Hey, man, you alright?"

Rick didn't answer his question. "Shane, you gotta tell me, man. You're going out there to destroy them, right? Not to study. Not to bring back. To wipe them out."

Shane nodded. "That's the plan."

Rick ducked his head, taking a deep fortifying breath and shaking his head at the stupidity of what he was about to do. Then, he looked up and did it. "Alright. I'm in."

Shane was about to say something, but Rick pulled out the card first, cutting the connection without a word. Then, he sat there, eyes closed in his dark apartment, trying to ignore the memories surrounding him as he prepared for a willing return to the nightmare.