James peeked down the hole in the barn and crouched to see how far it went. He could see maybe ten feet, but small lights cast shadows from further in. He sat on the edge and caught the sides with his hands to lower himself, dropping the final distance. The tunnel was only about six and a half feet high. The pilot ducked his head, bending to walk under thick square beams that supported the tunnel's integrity.

James moved aside and called, "Ina, you're next, then Nadia and Iverson."

Ina copied him and he caught her hand when she landed. Making sure she didn't twist an ankle or anything, he looked her over and then back up. Hunk guided Nadia over and signed, "Down we go."

Nadia nodded and sat on the edge, neglecting to lower herself slowly. Ina and James caught her arms and he nudged them further down the tunnel, nodding after the pilot. The girls went on ahead and James reached up to steady Iverson as Ryan and Hunk helped him climb down the steep step ladder.

They followed quickly behind. Last, the medic dropped down, reaching back to close the trapdoor. The light from the lion's eyes faded, casting the tunnel in claustrophobic shadows. The medic's mask brightened, nearly doubling the amount of light from the small yellow bulbs hanging near the ceiling, though he had to double over just to walk.

James straightened as much as he could and followed the girls. The tunnel went on for about thirty yards before coming to an end. He looked up in time to see the pilot take Nadia's hand and help her climb out of the tunnel. Ina followed suit and James turned back to avoid staring at her ass. Politely. Because he was a gentleman.

"Griffin, are you coming?"

James stared up at the pilot. "How do you know my name?"

The pilot reached down. "It's kind of my job."

James snorted incredulously and took the offered hand. The pilot basically lifted him without much assistance and James looked for the girls. They gazed around in bewilderment and he understood why when he saw the shelves and shelves of MREs and canned food. Dried beans and grains were vacuum sealed in stacks.

The pilot helped Iverson and Hunk out of the tunnel, standing when Ryan declined his offer. James shot him a disapproving look, but Ryan adamantly refused to look at him. James rolled his eyes and went to admire the water purification system.

"Yeah... the guy who lived here was what you'd call a 'prepper'."

James looked over to see the pilot making finger quotations as he spoke. Hunk grabbed a box of ramen and asked, "This is what those conspiracy theory people eat in an emergency?"

The pilot gently took back the box and re-shelved it. "I don't know. This place also served as his pantry."

"And not everything is strictly healthy calories," a woman commented derisively above folded arms. It would have been intimidating if she hadn't been containing an angry ball of fur. "This way, children." She turned on her heel and climbed a staircase.

The pilot reacted first, trotting after her and the hissing. The medic wove through them and then exited the basement as well. James made a mental note and nudged Ina with his shoulder. She smiled and returned the gesture.

Ryan shivered and muttered, "They're so creepy."

"They really aren't," Hunk denied. He eyed the staircase as if expecting someone to come rushing back down and motioned everyone to come closer. "I think I might know who these guys are."

"How-"

James reached out and covered Ina's mouth at the same time Ryan hissed, "Shh!" and glanced at the door. Ina shrugged aggressively. James reached out and brushed her hair back. He pulled Pidge's com-tech out of her ear and her eyes widened. He nodded in agreement.

Hunk blanched and covered his mouth. James watched the door for what felt like minutes. In reality, it was probably less than twenty seconds. No one appeared, but these galra had proven stealthy on an uncanny level. Iverson pulled his com out and thumbed the dial of the controller on his belt, then went to the door. He looked out and ducked back in, closing the door behind him.

James waited for the signal from the general with held breath. Clear. He slowly exhaled and turned off his own com, motioning for the others to do so as well. Hunk helped Nadia, fumbling until she took his wrists and made him stop. When she shut it off, she signed, "I'm good."

James tipped his chin toward the corner furthest from the door and they all huddled up there. Hunk crouched against the wall with the girls in front of him and the rest hunched over their shoulders. Nervous about how much time they had before interruption, James whispered, "What did you figure out, Garrette?"

Hunk grimaced in concentration as he signed, "The aliens are scared of... ninjas... and cats."

Nadia barely held back a snort and signed, "Really?"

Hunk gave an exasperated groan and signed back, "Sorry, Rizavi," and whispered, "Katie and I put together a theory about a recurring topic we've overheard. Someone or some people have been systematically attacking the higher ups within the galran empire. They call themselves 'mar-mora' and are assassins or something."

"Oh! Ninjas, gotcha," Ina said.

"Yes," Hunk acknowledged her and immediately went on, "I don't know any more specifics, but we speculated that the galra that imprisoned us at the garrison might be part-"

The door opened and James whipped around, drawing his pistol. Ryan copied his movement, Iverson half a second behind. One of the riflemen stood in the doorway, his weapon slung over his shoulder by the strap. "Easy, hotshot. You guys coming, or what?"

Iverson relaxed first, holstering his weapon. "Yeah, we'll be right there."

The rifleman shifted his weight, completely at ease, and said, "Well hurry it up. We need to receive our next orders."

James waited for him to leave, but he leaned back against the wall with his hands folded at his waist. He put a foot on the bottom step at casual attention. James turned back to the group and signed, "We'll talk later," then started toward the stairs. He led his team upstairs to the main level.

A short staircase led up to a loft-style bedroom. A door to the right went to a kitchen and a hallway went from the front door to the back of the house before turning out of sight. The rifleman said from behind, "Everyone's in the living room at the end of the hall."

James followed the instructions and reached the junction. To the left was a bathroom and another bedroom. He could see a twin bed with a faded quilt on top. To the right, an open doorway without a door led to a sitting room with two chairs, a long pull-out couch, and a small table with a long dead cactus and a dry fishbowl.

The 'assassins' were spread out casually, filling space effortlessly. The galra woman who had held the kitten sat on the floor with the pilot, corralling the little animal with their legs. The woman sat between the legs of another, their hand resting on her shoulder while they watched on in amusement. 'Mama and Papa Bear' sat together on one of the chairs and the second rifleman stood beside the fish tank.

James entered and went to the second chair, but let Iverson take it. Despite the meds, he welcomed the rest and gently massaged his knee. The rest of his team hovered around the general, feeling out of place and tense compared to everyone else in the room. A minute after they entered, the galra who was in charge and the tailed one walked through the door.

'Command' looked around and the other galra straightened up. His gaze lingered a little longer on the pilot as he gathered the struggling kitten in his arms. "Agents, General, kits, we seem to have successfully passed out of the Empire's sight."

"Seem?" Iverson asked.

The tailed galra said, "The ship that transported us is faster than anything the empire has to pursue us. Only a cruiser entering the atmosphere could possibly have intercepted the lion, but almost a varga has passed since we went dark and there is no cruiser."

"We are fortunate the lion's quintessence has been hidden and that this location seems to be a dead spot, as it were. It naturally hides strong signals," 'Command' explained.

"Like the Bermuda Triangle," the pilot put in. 'Mama Bear' shot him a look and he hunched in on himself, pressed against the couch.

James raised an eyebrow, but looked back to the imposing figure addressing them. 'Command' looked to his agents and said, "We will split up and watch the property. Kit, the cadets are your responsibility."

The pilot's attention snapped from the kitten he'd been petting to the commander and he made a disgruntled noise which he immediately cut off. Thinking better, he sunk down unhappily and answered, "Yes, leader."

"We shall rest here for the remaining daylight and most of the night. Daughter," the commander said and the woman across from the pilot met his gaze, "accompany us."

The pilot looked at the woman as she stood in one smooth motion and followed the commander and the tailed galra out of the room. The rest of the galra split up into pairs. The galra sitting on the couch slid until he could rest a hand on the pilot's shoulder. The pilot took a deep breath and slumped against the couch. The couch galra patted his shoulder and chuckled.

'Mama Bear' leaned against 'Papa Bear's' shoulder where she sat on the arm of the chair and asked, "Is anyone hungry?"

James's stomach shot pangs of hunger through his body at the thought of food and someone else's stomach growled. 'Mama Bear' laughed and stood. "I'll take that as a yes. Sweetheart, will you help me in the kitchen?"

The pilot answered, "Yes, ma'am. James, can you watch this troublemaker?

James reached out and scruffed the kitten. "Sure." The pilot turned sideways to pass, but James stopped him with a hand. "You aren't going to give us that goo, right? We can make our own food with what's in the basement."

The couch galra followed 'Mama Bear' and the pilot reassured, "Don't worry. We only eat that stuff if we have to, but there's a volunteer garden I'm going to forage out of. Maybe set some snares for small game."

"Why not just use what's available?" Hunk asked.

The pilot reached into a pouch and pulled out a familiar reflective package. "We are using what's available. Here. You can snack on this while you wait." He tossed the package onto the couch.

"Honey?"

"I'm coming!" The pilot scritched the kitten one final time and jogged out of the room.

The rifleman by the fishbowl asked, "You got this, big papa?"

'Papa Bear' stretched and yawned. "Absolutely."

The riflemen shared a look and then left as well. James breathed deeply for the first time since they'd been woken up. Then claws sank into his arm and he yowled in pain. 'Papa Bear' chuckled and leaned sideways comfortably in his chair. "I'm not surprised he decided to keep that kitten."

"The pilot?"

"I meant Kolivan," 'Papa Bear' clarified. "He's very weak when it comes to Red Leader's impulses, same as he is toward his daughter."

Ryan asked, "What's their connection?"

'Papa Bear' waved a hand and said, "That's not mine to tell."

Iverson reached for the lever to operate the footrest and pulled. The chair reclined and the general asked, "This Kolivan guy is your leader?"

'Papa Bear' yawned and nodded. "He's fought against the empire his entire life, him and his family. He calls the shots and his agents carry out his orders. Though, he's very capable as a warrior himself."

James waited for 'Papa Bear' to go on, but he didn't seem willing to share any more. So he sat on the floor and let the kitten wander. It couldn't have been over a month old, just getting confident in its exploration. The tail was still fluffed up, but the growling had stopped. Ina sat beside him and reached to untie her boots. The others settled around the room. Within ten minutes, 'Papa Bear' snored gently where he sat slumped in his chair with his head on his shoulder. A few minutes later, Iverson had fallen asleep too.

The sound of bowls being scraped by metal spoons sounded from the kitchen down the hall as well as 'Mama Bear's' tuneless humming. Someone passed the window and James looked up to see the pilot carry a tub of fresh vegetables. Considering the events that led them here, the sudden domestics was almost as shocking as their sudden appearance.

Hunk grabbed the food parcel and unsheathed the knife on his calf. James watched curiously as he stabbed through the top and ripped sideways. Immediately, a strong smell filled the room and James's mouth began to water. Even more curious now, he leaned closer and asked, "What is that? Smells good."

Hunk scowled and reached into it, pulling out what looked like cured meat, dark and heavily seasoned. He sniffed it and cut a small piece off. After chewing for a second, his eyes widened in surprise and he tossed the rest of the strap of meat to James. He said around his mouthful, "It's jerky."

James used his own knife to cut a piece and passed it on. Hunk passed the package to Rizavi and signed, 'eat'. Everyone tried it, going back for seconds until it was gone. Stomachs content for the moment, they all knew how much they needed a break. Hunk pulled one leg up on the couch and slumped against the arm. He looked about ready to crash, but James needed answers. "Hunk?"

He nodded fully awake with a startled, "Yeah?"

James looked at the door. Still clear. "I think you should tell us the rest of your theory."

"Katie did most of the heavy lifting."

Ina yawned and leaned into James's shoulder. "Maybe, but we know you, Hunk. You've lived for conspiracy theories since Sargent Miller told us about the cursed hangar when we were thirteen on our first desert trek."

Hunk almost looked offended and covered his heart. "I would never resort to eating only ramen for a theory." James smirked and twirled a finger in a 'move it along' motion. Hunk scooted closer and whispered, "I don't know how to tell Rizavi."

Ryan said as he signed, "I'll translate."

Hunk looked relieved and started, "Thanks. So, Pidge has been keeping a journal during her time listening to the wire, but about two weeks ago, we started connecting some dots. These marmora people have the galra on edge. It seemed like wild stories until..." Hunk quickly lost his enthusiasm and bit his lip, nervously wringing his hands. "Um... we heard about a cruiser that blew up. No survivors and, oh god, we wanted more information before we told you."

Anxiety twisted a knot in James's stomach as Hunk slowly crumbled before them. He coaxed, "Garrette, what happened?"

Hunk covered his mouth and took several deep breaths. Then he wiped at his eyes and explained, "The ship was sabotaged. We think those galra from the garrison might be responsible, but..." he paused to brace himself again, "Lance, Keith, and Coleen were on that ship."

Ryan stopped signing halfway through Hunk's final sentence and covered his mouth. Rizavi looked around the circle and signed almost angrily, "What?"

James couldn't breathe, couldn't think. He was suddenly back at the garrison where this all started, watching helplessly as his friends were taken away. It hit him there in the living room like a ton of bricks. And he'd known! He'd told himself, convinced himself not to grieve for them. There hadn't been time or a safe place while they struggled to survive and guide their resistance.

Now, to hear it out loud, he couldn't hide from the grief. Without thinking, he lifted the kitten close to his chest, and tucked it under his chin. Controlling his breathing took all of his concentration. In and out. Don't choke. Don't. His inner monologue did nothing to help and he stood, moving to the small table. He braced with his hand to stay upright. Idiot. He should have done more. Instead, he'd let his friends die.

The kitten started to purr. The low rumble barely passed through the bullet proof vest to resonate with his heart. He heard sniffling behind him and looked over his shoulder. Rizavi clung to Ina, crying into her shoulder, and Hunk hugged his chest, knees tight to his body. Only Ryan held his emotions in check. James hated and appreciated that about him. So stoic when need be.

James kept petting the kitten and walked out of the living room and across the hall. Ryan followed him and half closed the door. James didn't want to look at him, so he sat on the twin bed and held the purring kitten. What else was he supposed to do?

"You know we still have a mission?"

James settled the kitten in his lap and his shoulders dropped. "What does it matter? We didn't even make it five miles past the tunnels. Eastbirch was never going to happen."

"That's not what I'm talking about," Ryan said seriously.

James sat completely still to keep from disturbing the sleeping kitten, but met Ryan's eyes. Of course there was a mission. There was always a mission. And he hated that he'd needed to be reminded of it. "The admiral... do you think they lied about contacting her? Did we let ourselves get kidnapped?"

Ryan shrugged. "I don't know. There's a lot of holes and we aren't being given the big picture. If these galra are responsible for our friends deaths, we have to find out what happened." He looked down and his shoulders dropped as he whispered, "We owe them that much."

James looked closer at his friend. Ryan's fingers dug into his arm and he was breathing faster, but not harder. Understanding, James tucked the sleeping kitten into his pocket, secretly relieved when it didn't wake up, and crossed the small room. Ryan unfolded his arms to accept a hug.

Twenty seconds later, a noise in the hall was followed by the back door closing. A man said, "A word, kit."

Wide eyed, James pushed back against the wall as the footsteps, soft as they were, went into the bathroom. The door creaked, but the latch didn't catch. James felt Ryan press into his side and focused to hear the galra say, "Talk to me, kit. You've been uneasy since we arrived. Is it this place?"

"No," the pilot finally whispered. There was a slight pause before he continued, "It's actually really, really nice to be back."

James gave Ryan a look, but the older galra asked, "Then what is it?"

The pilot was silent for too long and James was about to risk a glance when the pilot admitted, "I think I made a mistake." The older galra made a noise, but the pilot rushed on, "I know our orders were to eliminate the imperial patrol. Lethal force only. But," the pilot let out an exasperated breath and lowered his voice to say, "there was a soldier... and he knew the cadets."

"Are you sure?" The severity in his voice sent chills down James's back.

"They recognized each other. I confronted Ryan about it. He's convinced the soldier won't... god, Thace, the way they looked at one another."

"Breathe, kit. Focus."

"I... I know, teacher. It's just... the soldier looked at Ryan the way... the way you look at Krolia." Silence followed the pilot's revelation and he rushed apologetically, "I know it's not my business and I shouldn't have- I should have given you more privacy, but-"

The pilot's words ended with a muffled groan and the older galra, Thace, said, "It's alright, little one. I thought I was being more subtle." He gave a breathy chuckle and added, "Though Antok saw through me instantly."

The pilot asked in that same muffled tone, "Is that why he did all that on Arus?"

"Yes. To be honest, I do not know if I passed his test. I'm almost afraid to pursue her. After all, she is the daughter of our leader... and my own teacher when I first joined the blade." There was a shift of movement in the bathroom and the voices said from floor level, "I knew better than to hope she returned my affections back then. I'd given up the idea only to have all of my feelings return the moment you entered the picture. I never dreamed she would ask me to be your mentor, precious one."

The warmth in his voice, the pride and love, almost made James jealous. Had his own dad ever spoken to him like that when he'd given his report card? When he'd taken Keith's place in his class and become team leader? Hell, Shiro gave him more respect than his old man.

"Why can't I tell them my name?"

James snapped back to reality at the pilot's earnest question. Thace said sternly, but still with love, "To protect others, you must-"

"First protect yourself," the pilot finished dejectedly. "I know, Thace, but they can trust us. I want them to trust us."

Thace sighed. "We both know what the empire has done. There is only so much we can do to repair that damage. We know they're alive, if nothing more. We can only hope they pass Kolivan's test."

The pilot groaned in acceptance, but then asked honestly, "I can't use anyone's name, I get it, but what do I call Krolia?"

Thace laughed, loud and honest. "Call her daiyak."

"She's... she's not my daiyak," the pilot denied vehemently.

"No," Thace agreed, "but it will catch her attention." He quieted down and practically whispered, "And the soldier..."

"Will the others be angry with me?"

Thace reassured, "No, kit. You completed your objective. We had no way of knowing the mission would complicate itself."

The pilot made an unconvinced moan and volunteered, "I have a name."

"We can tell Antok together after supper."

Another beat of silence passed before the bathroom door opened and the assassins left. James waited before slowly opening the bedroom door and silently approaching the corner. The hall was clear. He signaled Ryan back across the hall with two fingers before following him.

Hunk looked up, face blotched with red. "James? What-"

"Quiet," James signed. Hunk stuttered to a stop, drawing Ina's attention. He knelt at the edge of their circle and Ryan knelt at his shoulder, glancing at 'Papa Bear' still asleep in the recliner. James nodded and started signing, "We overheard the mother load."

It took about half an hour to tell them what happened in the bedroom. Most of which was Hunk getting worked up as names fit into his theory. There were less or more holes now. It wasn't clear. Hunk rubbed his temples and signed, "So... These galra, the 'blade' or whatever they call themselves, they're testing us? Why? To what end?"

Ina put her chin on her knees. "Who knows? If they're separate from the empire, who knows what motivates them."

James looked at Ryan, half afraid to mention what the pilot had said, but he still needed answers. "Kincaid, is it true what the pilot said? Did a galra soldier recognize us?"

Ryan scowled and clenched a fist before slowly signing, "He recognized me. I... I stupidly thought... I'm such an idiot. The pilot was right."

"Ryan? You're not stupid."

Ryan closed his signing hand and refused to meet anyone's eye. Hunk bit his lip and whispered, "Tretok." Ryan flinched and Hunk continued by signing, "He had us pinned down while the pilot was occupied. Ryan distracted him long enough for the pilot to catch up and incapacitate him. But Ryan," Hunk reached out and rested a hand on Kincaid's arm, "the pilot didn't kill him. Whatever you think of him, we don't, um... judge."

James raised an eyebrow in Hunk's direction. Had the pilot's words held merit? James changed the topic by mentioning, "Krolia and this Antok person are the children of the leader. Thace and her are in a relationship, and the pilot cares for both of them."

"She's his mother," Rizavi signed.

Ryan lifted his head in shock. "How-"

Rizavi glared, lips puckering to an angry narrow line. "He's how that bitch convinced Coleen to leave us. He's as much responsible for their deaths as they are."

"But why would he want our trust? Why would he think we would trust them if he knew what they did?" Hunk tried to maintain an optimistic outlook. James respected that, though he couldn't see the bright side of their situation. Then Hunk sniffed the air and asked out loud, "Does anyone else smell chocolate?"

James physically stuttered to a standstill, incredulous and slightly worried for Hunk. Then the smell hit him too. Warm and sweet, a promise of what was to come. Curious once again about their strange hosts, he led his friends through the hall toward the kitchen following his nose. The sizzle of something searing in a pan clashed with the sound of running water. James crept into the doorway and his friends crowded behind him to see.

The counter was one of those wrap around styles to separate the cooking station from the dining room. 'Mama Bear' stood at the stove gently stirring the source of the sizzling. The pilot sat on the counter facing away from them. He braced sideways on one hand, a spatula in the other. He lifted the spatula, presumably to lick it, and froze.

A timer went off on the fridge and the pilot hopped off the counter, abandoning his treat to look into the oven. 'Mama Bear' shifted sideways for him, the motion well practiced, and he grabbed the tea towel to pull out a cake pan. This was where the smell came from.

"How's everything coming, mama?"

James jumped as 'Papa Bear' spoke from within his group. The others all moved apart. 'Papa Bear' chuckled as they allowed him past into the kitchen. 'Mama Bear' swatted his hand with her own spatula when he reached toward the cake pan and chided, "Dessert's ready, but wait until it's cooled or you'll have the pan gone before the others even get a chance at it."

'Papa Bear' shook out his hand in false pain and asked, "Is the milk in the fridge?"

James cautiously entered the room and went to the table. Leaning into the edge, he asked, "You guys know what milk is?"

The pilot put his burden on the table to cool and leaned against the wall with his arms folded. "Of course. Kalteneckers have been taken to almost every part of the universe because of their nutritious byproducts."

"Sorry, Kalt-what-its?" Hunk asked.

The pilot laughed and shook his head. "Sorry, cows. The greys call them Kalteneckers." 'Papa Bear' went to the fridge and pulled out a tall metal canister and started placing all the cups on the counter. The pilot said, "There's an old dairy operation about half an hour away. I milked a few willing cows for a couple days while we waited for the intel we needed."

James smirked. "A galra milking cows? That's something I'd have to see to believe."

The pilot's chin tipped up smugly. "I'll give you a lesson sometime."

"Hunk, dear, don't- Hunk!"

James looked over in time to see Hunk waver and reach out catch himself on the counter. 'Mama Bear's' exclamation in alarm only warned the pilot fast enough to intervene. He darted past and caught Hunk under his arms. "Easy, big guy. I've got you. I've got you." He adjusted Hunk's weight against his chest, one hand holding his head to his shoulder to keep him from hurting himself. "Breathe. Just breathe for me."

"Whoa. Wha... I... I feel strange," Hunk breathed weakly.

The pilot shifted Hunk and guided him to a chair at the table. "Just rest, cadet. I've got you." Turning to the door, he shouted, "Teacher! We need help!"

Loud footsteps in the hallway were followed by Thace sliding into the doorway. "Kit! What's wrong?"

"Hunk needs help. Ulaz!"

"I'll find him." Thace vanished as fast as he'd come.

The pilot knelt beside Hunk, reaching up to brush Hunk's bangs back, and asked, "Is this the first time you've collapsed?"

James stood at Hunk's other shoulder and answered, "Yes, that we've seen, but Katie spends more time with him. She would know."

The pilot groaned and shook his head. "We've gone dark. There's no way to contact the base."

"Kits, what's happened?"

Thace grabbed James by the arms and physically moved him aside to allow the doctor in. The pilot sprung up from a crouch and landed silently on the table. He knelt and rested his hand on Hunk's shoulder. He gently rubbed small circles and said, "He's been struggling since we found them. I honestly don't know where he found the energy to keep going. His focus has been less than he's portrayed and his pulse and peripheral blood pressure are elevated. Ulaz," the doctor looked at the pilot with what was surely severe because the pilot tried not to shrink back, "I thought we had more time. I'm sorry I didn't ask for you earlier."

Ulaz knelt on one knee beside Hunk and said, "I should have noticed earlier in the lion." He reached up and touched Hunk's wrist. Hunk flinched and when the medic pulled back his hand, he lifted his arm and smeared a single drop of blood along his gauntlet.

The pilot shifted around to Hunk's side and instructed, "Lift your arm, cadet." Hunk almost mindlessly followed the command and the pilot caught his forearm, quickly reaching into his pouch and withdrawing a small vial. He depressed the top and a familiar mist sprayed his arm. The pricked hole instantly stopped bleeding. The pilot wiped the small trail away and copied the medic by smearing it on his own gauntlet. "Hypoglycemia."

"Yes, and his hypothalmic levels are agitated as well." Ulaz examined Hunk closer and started, "Insulin-"

"He's not diabetic," the pilot interrupted. "Stress?"

The medic nodded and muttered, "Most likely. If indeed diabetes can be ruled out."

"His great grandfather suffered from diabetes and high cholesterol, but it was behavior in cause. Not genetic."

James stared at the pilot shaking his head. How did he know that? Who the hell was he? He clenched his jaw where he stood at Thace's shoulder. His questions would have to wait until after they'd helped Hunk. Because they seemed freakishly determined to do so.

The pilot and Ulaz had some kind of silent standoff before Ulaz took Hunk's hand in both of his. "Kit, do you think you can stand? Walk?"

Hunk miserably shook his head. The pilot hopped off the table and faced off again with Ulaz. "I'll handle it." Ulaz tilted his head in a reproachful way, but the pilot lifted his chin. "Kolivan left them in my care. It's my responsibility."

Before Ulaz could reply, most likely to rebuke the pilot, Thace said, "He's right. Kit, how can we assist?"

The pilot straightened up under his mentor's approval, but Ulaz turned his gaze on Thace. He exhaled with a low groan and said, "Get him prone and comfortable. Reduce the stress on his nervous system. I wish I had my full medbay at our disposal, but we can supply triage for the time being."

"Yes, teacher," the pilot said to the doctor. Then Ulaz jogged from the kitchen.

"That was very disrespectful, sweetheart."

The pilot winced at 'Mama Bear's' disapproval where he had managed to hold up beneath the doctor's scrutiny. Thace clicked his tongue and said, "He will apologize later. I'll make sure of it." The pilot shrunk further, looking at his feet, but Thace added, "Your analysis was impressive, though. Concise. Now, cadet," he turned to Hunk, "we can't help you here. Are you sure you cannot stand?"

James stepped back up on Hunk's other side. "I'll help the pilot carry him."

"Very well," Thace instantly approved.

The pilot gave a small gasp, eyes burrowing into James behind his mask. James reached for Hunk's arm and said, "I'll take this side. Wouldn't want to squash the upstart in my pocket." He patted the bulge on his vest where a grenade was supposed to rest, but where the kitten slept.

The pilot stifled a snort and took Hunk's other arm. "Alright, soldier. On your feet." He and James pulled Hunk up, his weight swaying until they found his balance. "How you doing, James?"

"I've got him. You lead."

"Affirmative." The pilot started forward, the other cadets moving out of his way. "Thace, grab the chocolate chips." James waited to question the pilot, adding the strange request to a quickly growing list. They walked slowly down the hallway back toward the living room, but turned to the bedroom. "On the bed. Help me lay him down."

James did as asked, guiding Hunk's shoulders while the pilot lifted his legs. Hunk groaned as his equilibrium was disturbed again. He tried to shift his own weight and James pressed firmly on his chest. "Take a breather. Captain's orders."

"His vest."

The pilot started stripping Hunk's lower gear off of him down to his boxers. James handled his torso. "Arch your back for me?"

Hunk managed to move enough for James to pull the vest out from under him. When he finished, the pilot had lifted the covers to preserve Hunk's modesty. Thace set the mostly empty bag of chocolate chips on the small dresser and asked, "Can I help with anything else, kit?"

The pilot shook his head and rested his hand on Hunk's. "No. Ulaz and I will watch him from here."

Thace left and the pilot took a deep breath. After a moment, he reached for the chocolate, but James touched his arm. "Hey, can I have a word?"

The pilot looked from James to Hunk, but Hunk seemed lethargic though calm. The pilot sighed and relinquished, "Yes."

James tipped his head further from the bed and faced away. The pilot mirrored him, one arm folded to hold his other bicep. James scrunched his face, trying to figure out what took priority. Finally he whispered, "Hunk? Is he really-"

"I promised to take care of him," the pilot reassured. "Yes, he's a little unwell, but we will do what we can and he will recover."

"Which begs the question," James slowly broached. "How-"

"Did I know his family history?" the pilot finished. He glanced back toward the bed and answered, "I wish I could tell you. I really want to, but it's not my judgement. I'm sorry, but I can't."

"You made your own judgement about Tretok," James countered. As expected, the pilot's attention snapped back to him. James kept his breathing level and said, "You want to help us. I know. Just... give us a reason. Something, anything. How do we know we can trust you? What makes you different from the empire?"

The pilot stepped back, leaning into the wall with his head down. "He's right," he whispered, completely detached.

"Who?" James reached out and grabbed the pilot's hand. "Please, I'm scared for my team. Help us."

The pilot looked at the ceiling and shook his head. His voice trembled with emotion as he pulled out of James's grip and replied, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, but you have to learn by yourself. Knowledge holds power and all the answers you're looking for... they're right in front of you. You just have to learn how to see them, James. I know you can... but you've only got a few more hours to do so. Hurry. Please."

The pilot's pleading brought tears to James's eyes and he stepped closer, half pinning the pilot between himself and the wall. "One last question. My friend, Keith Kogane. He was taken from us by the empire and," the pilot tried to retreat, but James rushed on, "we don't know what happened to him. If you know something-"

"James, I can't-"

"Please! Please, I-"

"Children, is everything alright?"

James jumped and stepped back from the pilot, wiping at his eyes and clearing his throat. He quickly maneuvered toward the door, hiding his face as much as possible, and went back to the living room doorway. He watched on in concern, both for Hunk and the pilot as their conversation replayed in his head. Ulaz, the same medic that had been their handler at the garrison, hooked up some kind of IV bag to Hunk's hand. The pilot moved about the room as directed, placing the needle under Ulaz's supervision.

James went through the last few minutes, repeating every instant from the time they'd entered the kitchen. The pilot had noticed more than any of them had... for possibly days? Weeks? He really didn't have any idea what he was looking at, but Hunk's condition couldn't have happened overnight. And the pilot had recognized it as soon as he saw them! Maybe that was how he'd reacted so quickly in the kitchen. In fact, James had no doubt of that. It was a slap in the face in hindsight. So if he couldn't see what was right in front of him, how did the pilot expect him to look past all the smoke?

Time passed quiet and calm. Ulaz gave the pilot some final instructions and gathered his things to leave the bedroom. James heard the pilot whisper, "I'm sorry about earlier. Both for my behavior... and for allowing his condition to deteriorate so far. This is my fault."

Ulaz simply put a hand on the pilot's shoulder, his hand falling as he walked away. He glanced at James in passing, but said nothing. James folded his arms and quietly approached the other hallway again. He stopped three feet short of the bedroom doorway.

The pilot looked Hunk over and asked, "Are you comfortable?"

Hunk whispered, "Yeah. What did he give me?"

The pilot sat in the small chair, a child's chair, and grabbed the chocolate chips. "We are administering a solution through your venous system to boost your glucose levels back to a normal saturation."

"That's... that's a lot of medical jargon."

The pilot chuckled and simplified, "Sugar water and a strong painkiller are being pumped into your bloodstream. Your blood sugar and several other things are a little out of wack because of the stress you're under."

"Oh," Hunk said slightly looped up on drugs. "That sounds lovely."

"We want you to get better, so I need you to relax and try to take a nap. Let the cocktail do its work. But first, can you do me a favor and eat a few of these?" He poured a small handful of chocolate into his palm and leaned forward over his knees. "Pretty please?"

Hunk moaned and gave a short giggle. "Yeah... but you might have to feed me."

"I can do that." The pilot placed a few chips against Hunk's lips and he opened his mouth. He ate a few morsels before the pilot asked, "Need a break?"

Hunk nodded and took a few breaths. When he was ready to continue, he turned his head and asked as the pilot raised his hand again, "You won't tell the others, right?"

"Not a word. Promise," the pilot whispered conspiratorially.

James smirked and leaned against the wall. He continued to listen in, watching as the first bag of ambiguous 'solution' slowly emptied and the pilot replaced it. Hunk fell asleep shortly after the pilot's promise. James knew the pilot's mask was lowered as his long black braid fell from the hood. Low humming filled the small space and the pilot reached out to brush Hunk's hair back. The notes rose and fell in patterns. The pilot was singing!

The pilot's beautiful song brought calm. He rested his hand on Hunk's forehead, thumb gently rubbing. James couldn't be sure, but he wanted to believe Hunk's expression relaxed beneath the pilot's ministrations. He was in good hands.

James turned to leave when the pilot whispered, "He's past the worst of it. Glucose is no longer dangerously low and his blood pressure has normalized. I promised I'd take care of him, didn't I?"

James pursed his lips. After a moment, he whispered back, "I asked for a sign I could trust you. I never offered you anything in return. That was wrong of me. I'm sorry."

The pilot sighed in relief. "Thank you. There's hope for you yet."

James chuffed a laugh and nodded. "I hope you're right. I have a lot more questions for you."

The pilot's head tilted and James took the silence as him being dismissed. He was going to return to the kitchen and paused. The pilot had resumed singing. Just another thing to add to the list. He backed out of the hallway determined to solve the riddle of the pilot... straight into Iverson.

They both startled and James hissed, "Sorry, sir."

Iverson held his shoulders as Thace had half an hour earlier. "Ease up, kid. What happened? Is everyone alright?"

James followed Iverson's gaze back to the bedroom and led him halfway down the hall. "Hunk passed out." He felt Iverson's eyes land on him, but the guilt made him look away. "I should have seen the signs. I never should have brought him with."

"James, Jamie, slow down." Iverson said. He placed his hand on the back of James's neck and asked, "What's wrong? Is Hunk going to get better?"

James took a deep breath and hugged his chest. "The pressure got to him and his body couldn't compensate any longer. The pilot noticed and stepped in. They hooked up an IV and he's resting. God knows he needs it."

"Okay," Iverson murmured as he processed the new information. "So Hunk is compromised at the moment. What about you?" He emphasized his question by tightening his hold on James's neck like he used to back at the garrison. "It's not like you to sit and watch, James."

James rolled his lips and shut his eyes. He was so far out of his element and it had jarred him worse than he'd thought. There may have been a mission, but he couldn't see a course of action. He shrugged and answered honestly, "I don't know, sir."

Iverson groaned, "Come here, kid," and pulled James into a hug. "We all compensate and break down. You just took longer than most. I'm proud of you."

That same warmth he'd heard in Thace's words to the pilot filled the general's voice. James swallowed a sudden sob and hugged him back. "Thank you, sir."

"You can use my first name, James."

James sniffed and whispered, "I know... but it means more to me if I don't."

Iverson squeezed harder and cleared his throat. "Damn, kid, you know how to hit an old man's heart. Come on. I smell something good from the kitchen."

James felt his pocket start to squirm and stepped back. He wiped his eyes and agreed, "It did look good. I think they made a cake."

Iverson's good eye widened and he clapped James on the shoulder. "Really? They know how to bake?"

"Yeah," James answered and looked over. "Mama-" He froze and stared past the general at the wall. How blind was he?

"James? Jamie, what is it?"

James shook his head and reached out. His fingers touched the glass of a picture frame. A familiar picture he'd seen everyday in his dorm at the garrison. "All the answers are right in front of me."

Iverson pulled James around by his shoulders and forced him to meet his eye. "What are you talking about?" Then he looked at the picture and cursed, "What the hell?"

James grabbed the photo off the wall and quickly tucked it into his vest. "When I figure it out, I'll tell you." Then he grabbed the sleeve of Iverson's jacket and pulled him toward the kitchen.

Remember when I said there wasn't much left to the story? I regret that infinitely. Confession? This and the last two chapters were supposed to be a quick little note before full on rebellion... We'll see how long it takes to get there. Review? Pretty Please?