Rick was seething by the time he finally tracked Shane down, dead asleep mid-sprawl in one of the chairs nearby. Somehow, Rick's loud, hurried footsteps didn't wake the man up; he didn't even stir until Rick's hand clenched around his arm and, by then, he was being dragged down the hall and into one of the nearby rooms.

Rick released him as soon as they were inside, slamming the door shut behind them. He was distantly aware of his shove sending Shane stumbling into the thick glass window at the back of the room, but he didn't especially care. He had just done his own research - he wasn't yet ready to fully trust the word of a synthetic - and with what he just found… his blood might literally be boiling.

For all the time he had to plan an answer as he stormed through the hallways, it still took him a few minutes of staring at Shane's confused face to speak. Even when he did, it was a fragment. "You said you'd wipe them out." It was a fragment, but it was all he had to say, and understanding dawned on Shane's face. "Wipe them out. Not bring them back, not study them. You remember that?" Shane didn't speak, looking like he was going to stay quiet, so Rick took a step forward, head tilted. "Speak, brother." This time, the word was vicious and barbed and he knew it, hoping it still meant enough to have weight.

Shane didn't even bother with deception. "Look, man, those two things…" He paused, shaking his head before passing his hand through his hair. "Those things are worth millions to the bioweapons industry. If you're smart…" Rick couldn't help bristling at that, but Shane didn't notice. "...We can both come out of this heroes and - listen, Rick - we will be set for life."

For the first time in a few days, Rick actually focused on his old partner. They'd been so busy with the walkers - "xenomorphs" simply hadn't caught on, so the marines had made up the new name and Rick had followed suit - that he hadn't noticed the agitation and tension in his stance, the way his mouth was hanging open, the hands impulsively sliding through his hair every few seconds. He especially hadn't noticed the violent gleam in his eye, chocolate brown marred by greed and anger.

It was like looking at a stranger, and Rick felt as though he'd lost something far too dear to him with one glance. "You're crazy, Shane." The words felt heavy, falling into the room with a quiet combination of sadness and resignation, anger temporarily draining from him. "You know that, right? You really think you could get a dangerous specimen like… like one of these things through ICC quarantine?"

Shane shrugged, careless in a way that irked Rick, setting a little bit of annoyance back into his head. The words that followed, though, made the anger flare back in a rush. "How can they impound something they don't know about?" Those words held a daring quality, as though tempting Rick to say something against them.

So he did. "They will know about it Shane, because I'm gonna tell them." He scoffed, taking a step back and shaking his head. "You think I was going to hide it? To hide that you're responsible for the deaths of one hundred and fifty-seven colonists here? That's a hundred and fifty-seven lives, Shane.

He looked ready to deny, voice already spilling out with a, "Wait a second-"

Rick interrupted. "You sent them to that ship."

"You're wrong-"

No. Rick wasn't going to let Shane take control - not now, not again - so he kept talking. "I just checked the log." And that was the end of Shane's resistance, rocking back on his heels as his mouth clicked shut. Rick could feel the adrenaline singing through him as the way the woman had looked trapped in the wall, the deaths of so many people, of the marines, everything rushed back to him… "Directive dated 6. 12. 79, signed Walsh, Shane. You sent them out there and you didn't even warn them."

And, all of a sudden, the fire dropped away. He was still angry - he could feel his fingers clenched, white-knuckled at his sides, even if his words were calm - but it was muted, distant. The blood pounding in his ears faded away, and only silence remained. "Why didn't you warn them, Shane?"

It was nearly painful to watch the man fumble for a response, to bluster - and Rick knew how the man blustered well enough to know that he was - and pretend that his actions were justified. "Look, man, what if… what if that ship didn't even exist, you think about that? I didn't know." He closed his eyes, nodding his head like he was even trying to convince himself before opening them again to continue. "I didn't know, man. And if I went in and made a major security situation of out it... " He clapped his hands, the loud a shock in the quiet room, timing it with a, "Bang, everyone steps in. Administration steps in. And there's no exclusive rights for anybody." He shrugged, still unconcerned, anger flaring up again in an aborted motion as the words continued. "Nobody wins. So I made a decision and it was…" He trailed off, stuttering lightly. "...wrong. It was a bad call, Rick." He sniffed, shaking his head. "That's all it was, man, a bad call."

The crescendo of anger building in Rick's sternum finally erupted and he charged forwards, hands tangling in the starched color of the man's clothing and slamming him backwards. "These people are dead, Shane! Don't you get that? Do you have any damn idea what you've done here?" He pushed harder, ramming the man he once viewed as a brother against the bricks behind him. "I'm gonna make sure they nail you right to the wall for this. You're not gonna talk your way out of this one, Shane." Another shake. "Right to the wall."

With that, he let his hands drop, fingers unclenching from the cloth and dropping as though burned. He stumbled as he tried to take a step back, shaking his head in a mix of disappointment and disbelief. Eventually, though, he turned, starting to walk for the door.

Shane's voice stopped him, his name in that familiar voice breaking into his attempt to leave. "Rick…" Slowly, he turned, head tilted and an eyebrow raised. "I… Look, man, we both know there's nothing easy about taking a man's life no matter how little value it might have… But, when you get it done, you have to forget it. You can't just be the good guy anymore. It aint hard; the right choice is the one that keeps us going. I expected more from you, man. I thought you'd be smarter than this."

Rick shook his head. "I'm not the good guy anymore, Shane. What I've lived through, what I've done…" Memories of the Atlanta and everything that went on there rushed through his head all at once. He couldn't deal with that right now, so he simply shook his head and moved on. "I'm happy to disappoint you."

It said something about how well he knew his ex-partner that, as he turned and walked away, he could tell what Shane would be doing behind his back. He didn't even need the rustle of clothing or the rasp of skin on skin to know that he was nodding and shaking his hand, hand running through his hair once more before falling to his side.

It said something more - something worse, dark and treacherous and nerve-wracking - that, for the first time in his memory, turning his back on the other man didn't feel natural. Instead, he could feel the hairs on his arms standing upright, a chill running down his back. He couldn't even stay in the room, hurrying out of there as quickly as possible to dispel the sensation.

He was out of breath by the time he reached the common area, his lungs aching from holding it. The cerebral part of him knew it was irrational, that holding his breath wouldn't do anything to prevent…. whatever he was worried Shane would do, but he couldn't stop until he was surrounded by the quiet presence of the marines at the ready, Shane nowhere in sight.

And then the alarms went off.