A.N. Posting (very, very) slightly earlier than my usual schedule due to the festive period. Programming may be interrupted over the next week due to mince pies, baubles and wine, but normal service will resume in the new year. Thank you to everyone who has read so far. Whatever you're doing, wherever you are, and whatever you're (not-) celebrating at this time of year, I wish you a very safe and happy time. See you in 2022.

Chapter 7: A Conversation

After a restless night spent in fitful slumber, the sunrise does little to lift the clouds — both metaphorically and literally. It's one of those rare days in Southern California where the clouds linger well into mid-morning, mist creeping in from the ocean and turning the waves a dull grey. Normally Shane would welcome the break from blue skies and sunshine, but today he finds himself missing the lightness. There's something nagging at him, an anxiety bubbling under his skin — memories of reproachful brown eyes and anger as sudden as a thunder clap — but something else too. Something else the motocross racer's words have tugged from deep down and he can't focus, can't pull his thoughts away.

Letters skitter over the page; words read but their meaning immediately slips away again, like leaves caught in a breeze.

'Theory is an unproven conjecture or hypothesis that gives a tentative insight into a complex situation…'

'Theory is an unproven conjecture or hypothesis…'

'Theory is-'

Shane shoves the textbook away with uncharacteristic ferocity and heads for the door, in the hope that some fresh air and a change of perspective might shake his mood. He doesn't have a destination in mind, but his feet fall unbidden into a nearly-forgotten routine.

The skatepark has changed less than him in the years he's been gone. Some parts are more worn than he remembers, other parts are new; a couple of ramps that he doesn't recognise and a rail too shiny to be more than a few months old. But there's a normalcy to it that's comforting in a way he didn't know he needed; a physical reminder of a simpler time, before even mystical ninjas and giant zord battles, when the only thing he worried about was trying to land the newest skateboard move.

He settles onto a bench to watch, elbows on knees and chin propped on hands as his eyes follow the small group of skaters thronging the park. Slides, grinds and flips, all achingly familiar, stirring a yearning for his own board that he hasn't had in, well, forever.

"I thought I might find you here."

The intrusion is soft and far from expected. Perhaps that's why his feet had brought him here; he knew she'd find him. And here felt… if not safe, at least neutral. Common ground.

He looks up to see Tori hovering a short distance away, hair damp — from a morning surf, Shane assumes — eyes almost tired and smile not as bright as usual. Guilt surges back.

"Can I sit?" she asks and Shane nods, swallowing hard; even the thought of speaking paralysing his throat. "Blake told me what happened," she says lightly, never one to delay with niceties and instead get straight to the point. "He feels bad for snapping at you."

Shane winces, finding his voice. "I'm the one that should be apologising. I hope I didn't ruin the party. It should have been about you and Blake, not me and my stupid shit."

Tori shakes her head, brushing him off. "Nah, it's fine. Wouldn't be our family unless there was some drama. Besides-" She bumps her shoulder against his playfully "-I'm quite used to being upstaged by you boys."

Despite her words, her smile still isn't quite right and Shane's stomach clenches. He forces himself to adopt a teasing tone. "Well, we'll do our best not to upstage you on your wedding day."

"You better not. You and Dustin are going to be my bridesmaids." Shane chokes. "Well, brides-men or whatever. You, Dustin and my sister. Blake gets Hunter as his best man and Cam and Kelly as groomsmen." She pauses for a beat, a flash of what he recognises as hesitation on her face before she asks, more seriously, "If you're okay with that?"

The air ninja's response is instant and heartfelt. "Of course. You know I'd do anything for you."

"Damn right." There's a twinkle in her eyes now; that familiar, easy lightness that is the Tori Shane knows and loves, and he catches himself wondering just how worried she had been to ask him. How unsure of an answer she should never have had cause to doubt.

And despite Tori's improvement in mood, a heaviness remains in Shane's stomach, flutters of anxiety making him queasy. He doesn't want to ask the question he knows is lingering on the tip of his tongue. The question that's been circling him all morning; the one he never thought to ask before. He doesn't want to bring up the past, or bring weight back down onto the blonde, but he knows the restlessness won't leave until it's been satisfied.

He licks his lips, trying to decide, and then leaps. "Tor, what happened to Hunter, after-" I left "-We broke up?"

Tori stares at him, a flash of something — some dark emotion — in her eyes but it's gone quickly and she's asking him, "Why do you want to know?"

"Blake said things were bad after I left; I guess I just wanted to know what he meant by that."

"Does it matter?"

Shane blinks at her, confused by her unwillingness to answer, by her obvious reluctance. Tori has never held anything back from him before. Always been vocal and honest, even if he didn't want to listen.

The blonde's lips are pursed, lines furrowing her brow. "It was a long time ago, Shane. You never- You didn't ask then. Why are you asking now?"

"Because it does matter!" he exclaims, words tumbling out in an ungainly rush. "I never asked then because I thought I knew. I was so sure he was fine but Blake- Blake made me think that wasn't true- isn't true, and if it isn't, that matters. That means something."

"What?" It's harsh, demanding; a dangerous undercurrent warning him that dishonesty isn't an option.

"…It means he cared."

Tori's hand finds his, strong fingers squeezing, holding tight. "Oh Shane," she breathes, an uncomfortably knowing look settling on her face, the anger visibly draining from her, posture softening.

The black-haired man swallows hard, his focus coming to rest on his shoes; clean, unscuffed navy canvas still alien to his eyes. Not the tatty ones holed and tarmac-scraped from his skating years, or the black leather boots polished to a mirror shine. New shoes for a new start. And yet, it's to his past he keeps returning.

The rattle and clack of wheels mingles with carefree laughter and distant birdsong, the wooden bench hard against the backs of his thighs as they sit, the pause stretching out into minutes. He's slipping, sliding into that strange not-place, where his body is foreign and detached; the warmth of Tori's hand against his the only thing grounding him.

He hears the woman beside him let out a gentle sigh. "You really want to know?"

Shane gets what she's really asking; is he ready? Is he ready to hear the answer — to hear the truth?

He isn't sure.

But he whispers "Yes" anyway. He might not be ready but he needs to know.

Tori sighs, sitting up straighter and pushing her hair off her face. "Okay," she says, almost to herself and then gives a sharp nod. "Okay then. Where to start?" She pauses, gaze turned to the overcast sky, biting her lip before she continues, "When you two broke up-"

"When he walked out on me," Shane corrects and Tori glares at him.

"Do you want to know or not? Because if you do, I'm going to need you to not interrupt. I'll tell it my way or not at all."

Shane nods his agreement and, satisfied, the water ninja settles back down onto the bench.

"You know that when you and Hunter broke up, he moved in with Blake and I. It was the middle of race season; Blake was away a fair bit so I got to deal with the fallout. And there was fallout, Shane. Hunter- He wasn't happy. I know you think he didn't care and I know that's the front he put on but it was only a front. Sometimes things slipped through the cracks. I think probably it was only me that saw that and maybe I should have done more — done something then, but-" She shrugs. "He was allowed to be sad. He was allowed to hurt, to be upset about the end of a relationship; it was natural and you- You didn't ask. I figured it was best to say nothing but the truth? He was deeply unhappy. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

Her words are delivered with deliberate sharpness and the air ninja can't meet her eyes, shame burning the tips of his ears. Yes; he had wanted to hear that, to have the acknowledgement that their relationship had meant something to Hunter; that the thunder ninja had been hurt — perhaps as hurt as Shane had been at the end.

And now he knows, he isn't sure what to do with that knowledge.

Tori keeps speaking, her voice washing over his bowed head. "Hunter was unhappy, but I think things might have been okay, if you hadn't left." Shane's head jerks up at that, confusion furrowing his brow. The water ninja holds his gaze. "I don't think he expected you to leave. To actually go away completely." There's a wariness to her, twisting the ring on her finger unconsciously as she adds, "He never wanted you out of his life."

"Did he think I'd take it back?" Shane scoffs. "After everything… Did he think we'd get back together?"

Tori's shaking her head, lips pursed. "You really don't understand him at all, do you?" There's disappointment in her voice, disappointment and resignation and then — carefully, as if she's explaining something to a child — she continues, "Hunter always expected you to leave him; he never thought you'd leave the rest of us because of him. I think that hit him hard. Harder than even he realised at the time. Things weren't great, but maybe they'd have been okay if you were here." She takes a breath, as if steeling herself. "After you left it got worse. Hunter got worse. He was a mess, Shane. I won't- You don't need to know all the details but it was bad. Hunter was… difficult to be around. He burnt a lot of bridges, lashed out at a lot of people — including those who loved him. It wasn't a great time. And I'll be honest, it put a helluva lot of strain on Blake and mine's relationship too."

He can see the memories dancing behind her eyes, a sorrow and a half-remembered pain being pulled out of the past and into the now.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, reaching out to her.

Tori grips his hand, pressure firm and reassuring, drawing his gaze back to her. Her eyes are bright as she tells him fiercely, "It's not on you. It's not. Sure, maybe you two breaking up, you leaving, was the catalyst but Hunter- his issues ran deeper than you, Shane. It was only a matter of time." Her smile is small and soft as she adds, "He has nightmares too. Did you know that?" She carries on before he has a chance to respond. "Blake says he's always had them. But they got worse after you left. He'd wake up screaming and then run out because he couldn't face us; couldn't bear us seeing him vulnerable. And that was just the start of it."

"He never…" had nightmares with me — but the words die on Shane's lips as he remembers the nights he'd wake alone, a cold spot beside him where his lover should have been, no trace of Hunter. When the blond did return there was no mention of where he'd gone or why, and Shane wonders now if it was fear that had chased the thunder ninja from their bed. A fear he'd never shared with Shane. He draws away from Tori, wrapping his arms around himself. "He never said. I didn't- He didn't tell me about his nightmares. I didn't even know." There's irritation there too, another thing to add to the long list of stuff they'd never spoken of. "Guess he never trusted me enough with that sort of knowledge. I don't know why I'm surprised."

He can't keep the bitterness from his voice. This picture of Hunter that Tori is drawing for him jars with Shane's lived reality, with his recollections of their relationship. Hunter had apparently cared about them. But he'd never shown it. Not while they were together, not through his words or actions. He hadn't trusted Shane. He'd cared about their relationship, but he hadn't trusted him.

How can you care for someone and not trust them?

Tori lets out a sigh, a wry smile working its way onto her lips. "You know Hunter; he keeps things to himself, to protect himself." She chuckles. "Blake probably wouldn't even have known if it wasn't for the fact they shared a room for years."

He knows what she's trying to do, why she's trying to excuse Hunter, but he wishes she wouldn't. She doesn't need to around him, not any more.

"Tor, I know he's Blake's brother and you feel like you have to defend him-"

The woman's back stiffens, a blaze of anger in her eyes that cuts him off in his stride. "He's my brother too, Shane," Tori snaps. "And you- You haven't been here. You have no idea what Hunter's been through-"

"What he's been through?" It's Shane's turn to interrupt, his own anger rising to meet hers. "Sure, Hunter's got issues. He's always had issues and we've always just given him a pass, always excused his behaviour when anyone else would be held to account. What makes him so special?"

"He saw his parents murdered." Tori's reply pins Shane to the bench. "He was a child who saw his parents murdered and what they had to go through afterwards- Hunter doesn't speak about it; I only know a little from what Blake's told me and that's bad enough. And there's definitely more to it than even Blake knows. Hunter's kept so much to himself, internalised so much terrible stuff and he's never had time to process it. Never had a chance to change his mindset, his behaviour. Coping mechanisms aren't healthy, but they don't have to be — they just have to help you survive. And it was survival, Shane. Those behaviours, you don't just unlearn those overnight. And that's not an excuse for how he treated you. It isn't. But for Hunter to be better — to get help…"

"…He had to want to," Shane finishes, echoing Dr. Rasheed. It's an uncomfortably familiar sentiment.

"No," Tori says softly, a shake of her head sending wisps of hair tumbling across her face. "More than that, he had to believe he could be better, that he could change. All he knew was how to be what he was. He never thought he could be different. And that- that took a long time. You leaving hurt him, badly, but it also confirmed what he thought he already knew."

"That he's a fuck-up," Shane murmurs, that twisting in the pit of his stomach returning.

Tori gives him a humourless smile, but doesn't voice disagreement.

A gentle warmth creeps across Shane's skin; the sun choosing this moment to reappear having chased away the clouds at last to spill bright light across the skatepark. He hadn't noticed the chill until its absence.

Tori gives herself a slight shake, tilting her face up to greet the sun, before she turns back to him. "Shane, you're my brother too and I love you. You know that. And it's because I love you that I'm telling you this." Her gaze is unwavering, piercing blue holding him in place. "Your relationship was toxic. What you had- What you and Hunter had was a car crash of epic proportions. You were both in terrible places and you never even knew it. You used each other as a distraction from your problems until your problems became each other. And when your relationship imploded you didn't have that distraction anymore. You didn't have someone else to focus on, or someone else to blame. You dealt with that by joining the marines. Hunter… didn't deal with it. With any of it."

The blonde's gaze finally drops from his, allowing him space to breathe and consider her words. She's twisting her ring around her finger again, shoulders slumping as if her anger had been sustaining her, giving her strength, and now it was gone, leaving tiredness in its wake. Shane tentatively reaches back out for her, relieved when she entwines her fingers with his.

She eventually looks up at him, her smile a small, feeble thing; lacking its usual sincerity. "I'm not going to tell you the details, it isn't my place," she continues slowly, carefully. "But there came a- a breaking point and Hunter got help. He had to reach that realisation himself and it was a godawful road to go down but he got there and… Things got better. It hasn't been easy, for him or Blake-" or me; Shane can hear the unspoken addendum to her words "-but he is getting there. He's teaching again, when he's in California anyway." Shane quirks an eyebrow at that, his obvious bemusement eliciting a burst of laughter from his companion. "He finally joined Factory Blue a couple of years ago, so tour."

Shane jerks in surprise. He knows he shouldn't be shocked by this; Hunter was — clearly still is — a good racer. Equal to Blake, if not better (not that the ex-navy ranger would admit to it; brotherly pride and all that). He'd never asked Hunter why he hadn't first got on a team when Blake had. But the memories are flooding back; that fateful, final argument when he was left alone in sun-drenched silence.

Something in Tori's words makes him blink. "Finally?" he rumbles.

The water ninja shrugs. "They've been asking him — and by him I mean bugging Blake — for years. And before you ask, I don't know why he kept turning them down-" Sudden unease grips the dark-haired man; he doesn't know either, not for sure, but he can speculate. "-and I don't know why he changed his mind but… It's good for him. It's healthy. And he's changed so much, Shane. That might not mean anything to you, and it definitely doesn't erase the past but it's true. You need to know that. Hunter isn't the person he was when you two were together."

A strange disquiet settles over the air ninja, a renewed restlessness tugging at him; half-formed thoughts demanding to be made whole, but he doesn't dare. He can't.

"People don't change, Tori," he protests, but it's half-hearted, lacking conviction.

"Eight years," the blonde replies gently. "Can you really say you're the same person you were eight years ago? Can you honestly say you even knew him at all back then?"

The feeling of disquiet deepens, a solid lump settling in Shane's chest as he contemplates the answer.

No.

No, he didn't really know Hunter back then. The thunder ninja kept everyone away for a long time and even when him and Shane first got together — started sleeping together — it wasn't anything deep. They didn't share anything, nothing important. And then Lothor was gone and they moved in together and somehow skipped the dating and just… fell into existing.

Hunter never let him in.

Shane isn't sure he ever really tried to make him.

Tori bumps him with her shoulder, bringing his attention back to the now; her expression sad and understanding in equal measure. "He has changed, Shane. So have you." She purses her lips, gaze searching over his face before she adds, "Perhaps it's time to move on. Leave the past where it belongs."

It's a gentle rebuke, disguised as a suggestion, and they both know it.

The words hang in the air; both of them seizing the chance for some earned quiet, for a welcomed break.

It's Shane that's the first to speak. "He came to see me. When I was at Wayward Pines."

"I know."

"It didn't go well," he admits, running a hand across his short hair. Not quite military-short anymore, he's allowed it to grow; more soft curl than rough stubble. Feeling more like hair again.

"I know." Tori's smile — more real, more normal than any other today — widens at his puzzled expression. "Hunter talks now. To Blake and I at any rate," she amends. "He communicates. For the most part." Her voice softens, "I told you; he's changed." A thought seems to strike her and she lets out a laugh, eyes lighting up. "He even took up surfing, if you can believe it."

And that is a surprise; Shane can't imagine Hunter surfing. It was never something the blond had showed any interest in, not when they were Rangers and not in the after, when he was with the air ninja.

"Seriously?"

"Yup," Tori replies, popping the p. "Takes himself off all over the world now when he's not racing or teaching. Makes me so jealous. He- He's in a good place."

Shane isn't sure if those words are an invitation or a warning. And he decides he isn't ready to find out for sure.

"I take it you had a hand in that?" he says instead, giving the water ninja a sideways glance.

It isn't quite a question; he can sense Tori's influence all over the changes his ex has apparently been through. Tori was always good with Hunter, better than anyone else on the team, until he and Shane actually started dating. Maybe even still then. The two of them were always close. Shane had always put it down to Tori wanting to make Blake's life easier, by making room for his brother, but he isn't sure it's just that anymore. Isn't sure it was ever just that.

He's my brother too.

He'd assumed she meant because of Blake, but it's deeper than that. Tori cares for Hunter, in his own right.

And that realisation is a lightning bolt in a cloudless sky.

Tori shrugs one shoulder; a careless gesture that he knows is meant to deflect, to minimise her role in this. "I guess." She keeps her eyes fixed on the skaters dropping into the park, gaze following them along the rails and edges. "He needed something to distract him, to fill space in his life. I offered to teach him and it stuck." There's more there than she's letting on, Shane can tell, but he doesn't get a chance to press the blonde; she's speaking again with a slight shake of her head, "He took to it a lot better than Blake ever did. Think he was spending more time in the water than me at one point. He's made a good group of friends. Even helps out now at mom's surf school." Her grin widens, practically glowing as she adds, "This might shock you, but he gets on scarily well with my mom."

"Yikes, Blake has no chance."

"Blake has all the chances, because Blake is adorable and loved by all."

The thunder ninja loudly announces his arrival, dropping onto the bench beside Tori and sliding an arm around her shoulders, all his attention on the blonde; Shane suspects deliberately so. Blake's question is definitely only directed at her as he says, "You spoke?"

"We spoke," Tori confirms, lacing her fingers through his and brushing her lips against the back of his hand.

Despite the lightness of his tone, Blake's eyes are somber when he turns them on Shane. "We good?"

"Yes," Shane replies, mouth dry. He knows what he has to say, what he owes the younger Bradley. The words he could never say to Blake's brother. "I'm sorry, man. Guess I just got stuck in my own head and never thought how what'd happened effected anyone else."

Never thought Hunter cared.

Blake holds his gaze, expression Bradley-brother inscrutable, and then snorts. "Yeah? Well you're not the only one. Seems to be a feature with our family." His words are an eerie echo of Tori's; the two of them always so in sync they reflect each other perfectly. The racer holds out a hand. "I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have got mad. Friends?"

Shane clasps it warmly, without hesitation. "Always."