Jacinto Military Base

Eight years after E-day

Sylvia would be what, fourteen or fifteen now? I'd be worrying about her dating boys. I got Maria pregnant at sixteen. Yeah, I'd be a real overprotective dad…

-Dominic Santiago's thoughts ten years after the death of his children.

"Brianna!" Ace's voice thundered down the hallway, practically shaking the very walls. Bri flinched in response and sat bolt upright upon her cot in the abandoned storage room, where she had been enjoying the adrenaline buzz from her latest accomplishment.

"Oh…shit…" Bri hissed under her breath, swinging her legs off the cot and standing. Her 'room' was little more than an outdated supply closet where Ace had commandeered a cot for her to sleep on. The rickety bed overtook almost all of the free space, making the room feel small and claustrophobic. Bri had nearly had a heart attack the first night she spent there, but it was amazing what a person could get used to when forcing themselves to face their fears.

She briefly considered not answering, but she figured he would probably come in after her. Breathing a sigh, she hefted herself to her feet and opened the door to a fuming Ace.

She blinked against the bright light cascading in from the hallway, resting one hand on the door and one on her hip. Her eyes widened innocently as she looked at Ace. His arms were above his head, braced against the door frame. He was breathing heavily in agitation, while his usually smiling face was contorted into an uncomfortable snarl.

"Hello, Ace," Bri greeted him harmlessly, tilting her head to the side as if she was confused. "Can I help you with something?"

He glared down at her, breathing heavily. Ace opened his mouth to say something but promptly closed it again; evidently too angry to speak. She cocked an eyebrow, bracing herself for the moment when he finally composed himself. He glared at her a second longer, before taking a calming breath and starting over.

"Do you know what report has been flooding command all day long?" he asked, anger boiling just under the surface.

Bri's lips trembled, fighting a smile, before she knitted her eyebrows together in mock confusion. "I have no idea. I've been here all day long."

"Then let me inform you." His voice was tight, and his hands were fisted so his knuckles popped out in white bumps. "Apparently, there have been a number of reports made by gears insisting that there are apples growing on the oak trees." Ace's eyebrows hung dangerously low over his hazel eyes. "You wouldn't have anything to do with this, would you?"

"Of course not!" she protested, stealthily crossing her fingers behind her back. Her lips trembled with mirth, fighting a smile.

Ace didn't share her delight as he pursed his lips. "It seems that they were tied on with wire," he explained.

Bri's mouth formed a small 'o' as she nodded with sudden clarity. Her eyes sparkled in the dim light with barely-contained amusement. They stared at each other in silence, communicating in that strange, unspoken language that only they could understand. It was a form of contact that transcended simple words. A quick tightening of the lips, a quirk of an eyebrow, or a slight narrowing of the eyes told the other everything. To an outsider, it would appear as if nothing was happening, but something deep and subliminal was always being communicated between the two.

"Two weeks," was all he said, finally breaking the silence and cocking an eyebrow as if he expected a fight.

Bri's jaw dropped in surprise and annoyance. "Two weeks?" she exclaimed, all hints of amusement gone from her face. "Oh, come on! I only got a week for flipping the men and women signs on the bathrooms!"

This time it was Ace's face that threatened to split into a grin. "And you're just lucky I found out about that before the Colonel or somebody walked into the women's bathroom!" He rolled his eyes, going back to the reason for her punishment. "Seriously, Bri? Apples on oak trees? You couldn't come up with something more…original?"

Bri rested her hip on the doorjamb, crossing her arms in front of her protectively. "It was better than anything Jace came up with. Of course, bouillon cubes in the shower heads is something I'll have to try…" she trailed off, as if remembering just who it was she was speaking to.

In the few months that Bri had lived on base with Ace and the rest of the gears, she had come into the habit of playing harmless practical jokes on the soldiers. She had given up her previous vices of smoking, drinking, and hanging out with gang members; seemingly having traded them for the gags. Ace was always quick to find out about her schemes, and over time, it had become sort of a race for them. She'd try to come up with new and original pranks and see if she could bring them into fruition while Ace struggled to stay one step ahead of her. The gears on base – the few who knew Bri by name – enjoyed watching the two of them struggle for power in their strange, twisted game. The few who were the victims of the pranks grouched good-naturedly while harmless bystanders laughed and even placed bets on what Bri's next prank would be – and what Ace's punishment would be.

Ace shook his head, stepping away from the door. "Go ahead, try it," he goaded her. "I hear there's a new latrine that needs dug on the other side of town…"

"Yeah, yeah," Bri groused unhappily. She stooped at the waist, picking up a toilet scrubber that had become a permanent fixture in her room. When Ace said 'two weeks' he'd actually meant two weeks on bathroom duty. For the next fourteen days – before and after school – she'd be cleaning the bathrooms on base. She didn't mind it as much as she made it seem, finding Ace's 'punishments' fair trade for food, shelter, and a bit of fun.

She pushed past Ace and gave him a sour glare as she headed for the nearest restroom. Despite all the pranks she enjoyed pulling around base, she'd never do anything so dramatic as to get her kicked out. The last few months living with Ace had been the best of her life. She had sprouted a few inches – both vertically and horizontally. The extra weight looked good on her, seeing as she was much too skinny to begin with. Her bruises had healed and faded, leaving behind only faint scars that were hard to see from a distance. Bane was just a bad memory now and not a living nightmare for her. She found herself laughing and smiling often - on and off base.

For the first time she could remember her heart was full and her life wasn't empty. Barring any horrible situations, she could happily spend the rest of her life right there with Ace. She'd become a Gear and go on missions, become close friends with her squad, balance her time between combat and friends. Jacinto's military base would truly become her home, giving her the life she could only dream about before…

Mentally shaking herself, she warned herself yet again that this all could be taken from her in the next hour. Despite her absolute joy in her life, there was a part of her that was never quite comfortable in the base. Maybe it was leftover mental scars from her past life with Bane, but she was always watching, always waiting for…something. Her happiness was a diaphanous bubble; see-through and fragile. All it took was one officer demanding her off-base, one patrol that Ace didn't return from, one nightmare from her past to show up and drag her off…

She still hadn't told Ace the entire story of her past with Bane. Every time he brought it up she'd shut down, becoming hostile if he insisted on pushing the issue. It was the only thing that came between them, and sometimes the friction of her silence grated upon their friendship. She didn't know why she didn't tell him – he'd obviously seen the bruises and scars Bane had left her with – but it felt to her that if she told him, opened up and let him see her for everything she was, that he might detest what he saw. She couldn't stomach that, couldn't stomach Ace's smiling face contorted into disgust and loathing.

Her thoughts – both of the good and bad – swirled around her mind as she worked. Finally, when the sun sank low in the dirty windows and her fingers were raw from the carbonate soap she'd used, she called it quits. She rinsed the soap residue off of her fingers and stuffed the cleaning supplies in a back corner for her to find tomorrow. She headed off for the cafeteria, where she instinctively knew she'd find Ace.

The chef on duty gave her a wide smile as she propped up her tray for her serving of dinner. He gave her a light lecture about the apples-on-oak-trees prank, but he winked when he finished. Even the kitchen staff enjoyed her presence on base. They awarded her with treats and such, often doubling whatever scarce sweets they could come up with. Tonight, it was a baked apple crisp with little seasoning. She smirked to herself when the chef piled up the sliced apples onto her tray. It seemed the apples used for her prank would not go unused.

She found Ace at their usual table in the back of the cafeteria. It had steadily become crowded over the past few months, with gears piling up at the poor table. Every seat was filled, with some gears sitting on pulled-up chairs or leaning against the wall. There was only one empty space, and that was the chair beside Ace. That was Bri's spot – as it would always be her place by him. Her tray barely made a dent in the noise when it hit the table.

Nodding a hello to Ace, her attention was captured by Ian – a young gear who was currently juggling three bright red apples. "You see, Bri," he said, quickly become the center of attention, "The apple trick was a bit too obvious."

Bri, taking a bite of her dinner, swallowed her amusement. This was another part of the prank 'ritual'. The gears she had befriended always discussed her gags, telling her what she'd done wrong and what she could do to improve upon them. After the discussion there would be a judging session where the gears would award her a score of one to ten, depending on how well her practical jokes had been executed. "Okay, Ian," she said light-heartedly. "Pray tell, how could I have improved upon that little gem of genius?"

Ian, tossing the apples in the air and catching them, pointed knowingly at her. "Come on, you had to know that every gear who walked through the front yard was going to see them!"

Aaron gave him a look. "Wasn't that the point? What good is a practical joke if no one sees it?"

"No! See, everyone saw it, they laughed, and now all the apples are down, right?" Bri just shrugged, having not had the chance to return to the scene of the crime. "You should have hid them in strategic places all around base! You know, in lockers, in showers…"

"Mix some in with the grenades in the armory," Aaron added, catching Ian's drift.

"Maybe hang a few off of the Chairman's statue in the courtyard," Mason added. He got a mischievous smirk on his face. "You know, finally give ol' Prescott a pair of-"

"All right," Ace interrupted him, trying to keep the Gears' language clean around Bri. Everyone understood where Mason was going with that statement and erupted into boisterous laughter. The group continued to dissect Bri's latest prank as she finished eating, giving and deducting points off of her total score. When her tray lay mostly empty and the cafeteria had all but cleared out, the group of gears had finally settled upon a cumulative score of 'seven'.

Bri found her eyes grow heavy and she leaned against Ace's warm frame as the hours ticked by. The gears relished the time to sit around and shoot the bull, and probably wouldn't retire until the wee hours of the morning. Bri knew that Ace would soon send her off to bed, which she would protest vehemently before admitting defeat and retreating to her room. Still, she enjoyed listening to the close-knit group trade stories and barbs as the night dragged on.

Just as the conversation reached a lull and Ace shifted in his seat – preparing to send her off – something caught Bri's attention. A small group of people – some wearing rag-tag COG armor, others just wearing civilian attire – entered the cafeteria cautiously. They peered around distrustingly, eyes never resting too long upon any one thing. Sticking close to one another, they headed uncertainly for the cafeteria line where the chefs were still at work. There was no telling when Gears would come in after patrols or missions so the cafeteria was open all day and night. Still, the chefs didn't look happy seeing the small group.

"Ace," Bri murmured, never taking her eyes off the group. "Who are they?"

Ace didn't have to look hard to find who she was referring to. "They're Stranded. Well, they used to be Stranded. They're all part of Prescott's Operation Lifeboat. Stranded sign up for military service, and in return their families receive COG citizenship." His voice wasn't disapproving, exactly, but he had heard stories about some Lifeboaters. All Gears had. It was another societal norm that had sprung up after the firing of the Hammer of Dawn. There were always two opinions of the Stranded, depending on who you talked to. Some thought that the Stranded were an unfortunate side effect of the Hammer Strikes. Many believed that the Stranded were a blight upon humanity. Stranded looted and stole from the COG, threw stones at passing 'Dills and APC's, and refused to join the Coalition. Ace never had any reason to hate the Stranded, and saw them as unfortunate bastards who had been betrayed by a government who'd sworn to protect them and ended up burning the entire world instead.

No, Ace could never bring himself to hate someone because of their unfortunate circumstances, even if those people cursed everything he stood for.

Bri stared unabashedly at the group, not caring about proper decorum. It was the first time she'd ever come face-to-face with the Stranded. She'd heard horror stories about them, but had never met them. To her, they just looked like half the scared civilians she'd seen on the streets. One small family caught her eyes – a man and his twin daughters. The man wore a moth-eaten, filthy hat with sweat stains around the brim. He had a full beard that was turning to a peppery grey, and the plates of his armor were covered in scratches and dings. His two daughters had dark red hair sloppily tied into braids. It was something in the way they moved – how the father gently rested his hand upon the girl's back; the way the girls stared up at him with unabashed trust; how they stuck close together while they moved through the cafeteria. For some strange reason, she felt jealousy rise in her throat like acid. She wondered how it felt to have someone like that, someone who would never leave her side.

Shifting away, she decided she already did – she had Ace. As long as he was by her side, she could take on the world, Locust and all.


The pounding in my head let me know I was still alive.

Rising back to consciousness was like swimming through very thick water, or maybe tar. I couldn't move, could barely think. My body felt weighted and sluggish as I struggled to open my eyes. I knew the pain was coming – I could feel it building within my body, neurotransmitters preparing to send lightning bolts of agony through my nerves and around my brain. I fought the slow rise of my consciousness to its' wakeful state, silently willing myself to drift back into the darkness where agony nor sadness dared exist. Why should I attempt to return to reality, when all it had ever brought me was pain? Floating through the dark waters of unconsciousness, it was as if I could pretend none of it had ever happened; pretend my life didn't hurt as much as it did.

There was a part of me, and I wasn't sure how big that part was, that didn't want to wake at all. I could see the appeal of hiding away, laying low until the environment was friendlier to emerge. I still had to deal with the revelation of my parentage, with Marcus' betrayal, Jacinto…it was all too much, too much to deal with all at once. All that, and I didn't even know who was alive and who was dead. If I had to find out…it might just break me.

Through the murky depths, a single thought struggled through the darkness, fighting for acknowledgement. It was persistent, even when I tried to push it back against the thick noise in my skull, back to where I wouldn't have to focus on it. Something that doggedly demanded my attention, that wouldn't be pushed down with the rest of my meaningless thoughts. Something….something

Sam.

With a gasp my eyes flew open, barely having time to register the frozen forest around me before the pain hit. Absolute, agonizing pain that ripped through every inch of my body and wrenched my breath from my chest. There was a heavy, pressing weight against my lungs, forcing me to fight for each breath. It was similar to the time I had a punctured lung, and for a second panic raced through me. If it was a punctured lung, there was no way I would survive this far from help.

As I tried once more to sit up, I slowly became aware of hot, heavy pants in my face. It took a second for my eyes to focus, but when they did I was greeted by the lopsided, grinning face of Sam. She was lying across my chest, keeping me warm with her furry body. When she saw me looking at her, she stretched her neck out further and began laving the side of my face with her tongue, welcoming me back to reality.

"Hey, girl…" I whispered weakly, raising a limp hand and settling it against her neck. Her fur stuck to my hand, held fast by blood. At first, I wasn't sure if it was hers or mine, but upon further investigation I figured it was a mixture of both. She was happy to see me, but beneath that I could see the pain in her eyes. In spots her fur was black with blood, stained by invisible wounds. She whimpered as I passed a hand over a particularly bloody area, and she recoiled from my touch. She whined again, giving me a slightly reproachful look.

"I'm sorry," I croaked out, my voice startling as it broke through the silence of the woods. I attempted to sit up, and let out an involuntarily grunt of pain as a lightning bolt of agony flashed through my abdomen. My breath seized in my chest as I froze in place. Breathe…Ace's voice commanded me, like he had so many years ago. Don't fight the pain, that'll just make it worse. Breathe like you're blowing it away.

I attempted to follow his advice, taking short, staccato breaths that felt like a sniper's recoil in my chest. When the pain finally ebbed away slightly I let out a cautious, deep breath. "Okay," I spat, feeling the need to speak to myself in order to stave off the deafening silence of the forest. "Definitely a bruised rib. What else?"

Numerous lesions on my arms, and a lot more tears in my jacket and pants, but those could be fixed later. I raised a hand to my forehead and my fingers came back slicked with blood. Fortunately, nothing appeared broken. I almost attempted to stand, when a vicious blood stain on my thigh caught my attention.

The fight with Skorge came rushing back in almost perfect clarity, including the time Skorge's chainsaw bit down into my leg. The wound now pulsed arrogantly, as if to make up for the time my attention had been drawn away. The edges of my cargos were soaked through, with random threads of fabric spreading haphazardly away from the entry site. I gingerly plucked the edges of fabric from my pants away from the wound, wincing when it pulled the tender flesh the wrong way.

It wasn't as bad as I initially thought, but it was still pretty bad. Bits of flesh hung off of my leg in bloody clumps, with the skin around it loosely attached. It stung like hell but it wouldn't stop me from walking.

I reached inside my pack – still clinging to my body by its strap – and pulled out theonly other shirt I owned. It was clumped into a ball, slightly damp, and smelled like a mixture of old eggs and mildew. It took me a second to figure out why; it was the shirt I had washed after falling into the pit of vomit. My eyes stung for a second with the memory of Cole's worried face staring down at me, of Baird looking fucking fantastic booting in the bathroom door and coming to my rescue, of Dom and Marcus' worried face when the saw me after. I paused, feeling worry and panic close over my heart mixed with the same confusing feelings of anger and betrayal I got every time I thought about them. Were they still alive? Where were they? Did I care? Did they care about me?

I gritted my teeth and turned back to the task at hand. Tearing the shirt into strips with my teeth, I focused on wrapping my leg with the makeshift bandages. Any more advanced treatments would have to wait. Before attempting to stand, I turned to Sam and tried to assess her injuries. "Come here, sweetheart," I said softly, remembering why she had fallen off the reaver in the first place. She had been trying to save me, and it was my fault for getting her hurt. It was all my fault. Regret tugged at my heartstrings; Sam deserved better than me.

She nuzzled my face softly and whimpered. I smiled slightly before feeling my way down her body, searching for grievous injuries. She growled when I got to her left paw, and I saw why. Her paw was split open, with one of the pads of her toe ripped clean off. "Oh, Sam…" I hissed in sympathy, reaching for the remnants of my shirt to bandage her paw. For the first time, I berated myself for not carrying more medical equipment. My wounds didn't bother me so much, but I wanted to do more for Sam.

She started to chew the make-shift bandages, but stopped when I gave her a firm "No!" Now, I had to stand up. I braced myself for more pain before shifting my legs under me. My thigh protested slightly, but I gritted my teeth and tried to ignore it as much as possible. I heaved myself to my feet, grunting as my abdomen flared up again. I almost fell back to my knees, but I grabbed my sniper and used it as a hiking stick to hold myself up. Which reminded me – where the hell had my lancer gone?

I looked around the small clearing at my feet, finally noting the ankle-deep layer of snow. Sam lying on top of me was probably the only thing that stopped me from getting hypothermia or frostbite. I could see hundreds of broken branches around me from where I crashed through the branches, but no lancer. Mind working sluggishly, I finally lifted my gaze sky-ward.

My lancer was stuck in a tree.

"Oh, COME ON!" I yelled at the top of my lungs, feeling unbridled anger rise in my chest. Was this not enough? Now the Gods of the universe just had to add insult to injury and dangle my gun just out of reach. My frustration boiling over, I suddenly reached to the ground and snatched up a handful of sticks. I threw them with all of my strength at the dangling lancer, punctuating each word with a swing of my arm. "You! Stupid! Piece! Of - argh!" I growled in frustration, having run out of things to throw. Panting with anger, I stopped just short of kicking the thick trunk with my foot, figuring I already had enough injuries for one day.

I glared at the lancer for a second more, somehow comparing its retrieval with everything that had gone wrong in my life. Every time I thought I had garnered a foothold, some other stupid situation came along just to screw me up. Well…fine. I'd show it. I straightened up and tightened my pack and sniper's straps across my back, preparing to climb the tree. I leapt for a lower branch, catching one and promptly letting ago as it bit into my hands. "Friggin' ouch!" I bellowed, shaking out the fire in my hands. I stared at the palms of my hands in shock, finding them red and angry with friction burns. It took me a second, but I realized they were also from my fall.

I would not be deterred by a friggin' tree. "Alright, fine," I snapped, reaching back into my pack for the remnants of my shirt. I'd never be able to wear it again anyway, so I might as well use the last of it. I used my teeth to tear it into two separate pieces, and then wrapped them around my hands. Tucking the ends under so they'd stay in place, I flexed my fists experimentally. Better.

I tried it again, catching the lowest limb in the palms of my hands. It still stung, but at least the pain didn't immediately make me let go. Placing my boots against the tree trunk, I struggled higher, reaching for another branch. I managed to get my legs swung around my initial branch, my injured thigh protesting loudly. Working my way up, I finally got to where my lancer was snagged by tree limbs. I crawled forward, grabbing my gun by the barrel and – taking care not to point it at myself or Sam – dragged it toward me. I checked the half-full magazine, and then let the chainsaw run for a moment to see if it was broken. Everything still worked. I had – finally – caught a break.

Looking around from my perch, I tried to identify any features that might have let me know where I was. The world sloped away from me, so at least I knew where Mount Kadar and Nexus were. I didn't want to go back up there. Nothing would ever make me go back there. Thinking of Nexus brought back thoughts of the Locust's plans to sink Jacinto, which sparked a panicky feeling in my chest. I needed to find some way there – and soon - if I was going to warn the head honchos before it was too late.

There. It wasn't much, and no one else would have even realized it was there, but I knew what to look for. It was one of Dix's guard towers, represented by the slightly suspicious arrangement of tree limbs.

The Stranded Camp wasn't exactly what I had in mind, but it was a good place to start. I carefully climbed down – I'd had enough of falling out of trees lately – and motioned for Sam to follow me. She limped beside me, sometimes walking on three legs to alleviate the pressure on her injured paw. The walk was mostly downhill which made for easier travel. Once I got closer to the Stranded Camp, I'd know exactly where I was. For now, there was nothing I could do but walk in its general direction.

I knew I was getting close when the trees started to open up. The snow became thicker and the temperature dropped, but I finally recognized exactly where I was. I'd spent many hours in these woods hunting for the camp. Sam never left my side, only whimpering when something scraped against one of her wounds.

It wasn't until I heard the gunfire that I started running.

It was coming from the camp's direction, and it wasn't just the sporadic gunfire of one or two guns. This was the sound of dozens of weapons fighting in some sort of battle. A battle of that size could only mean one thing – Locusts. My heart beat frantically when I pictured the huge, grey beasts inside the camp. Images of the horrors and damage those monsters could inflict danced through my head, spurring me on faster. The last time we'd had a locust incursion inside the community, we'd lost half the camp. And that was during Bloom. Now, with Frost so close, if the same thing happened the majority of the camp would starve to death.

The camp finally came into view, with the Locust surrounding it. The gates were still shut, but for how long? I skidded to a stop behind a downed tree, balancing my lancer on its mossy surface and taking aim. I took down two grubs before anyone realized I was there. After that, a few of them broke off from the attack and focused fire on my position. I could feel the rounds imbed themselves in the heavy oak tree I was cowering behind before I leaned out the side and shot one multiple times in the chest and the other in the face. One of the camp's guards peeked up from behind the gates and took out another two with his gnasher shotgun. Waving to him, I prepared to make a run for it.

I needed to get inside the camp and talk to Dix. The guard lay down covering fire as I sprinted for the gate. Sam stayed on my heels, running with me despite her torn paw. When I got to the entrance I turned and fired at anything grey I saw moving, waiting for the guard to activate the pulley system and let me in. The gate at my back shuttered and opened, and I fell back.

Inside the camp was almost as hectic as outside. People were running everywhere; preparing for an evac, running ammo up to the guards, or just running in panic with no particular destination in mind. I ignored them, sprinting towards the center of the camp where I knew Dix would be. He was standing amidst the chaos, dishing up orders and trying to prepare for an evacuation as well. "Dix!" I yelled, interrupting his frenzied orders to one of the younger guards. "Where do you need me?"

His head snapped up as soon as I yelled, locating me immediately. "Bri!" he said, relief crossing his features for a split-second before he snapped back into leadership mode. "The north-west gate needs reinforcements! I'll be there soon!" I nodded once, taking off for the area dictated. Sam gave a small bark, looking at me.

"Go find Momma!" I ordered Sam, hoping she'd recognize the order. She watched me for a second longer before taking off. I ran to the gate by myself.

In the north-west corner, the grubs had already infiltrated the gates and were spraying lead everywhere. Screaming and gunfire filled the air as bullets found camp members. Those without weapons fled from the area, dragging the wounded behind them. Some of the shacks had already caught fire, flames spreading fast in the shanty town. Blood stained the ground red, while dead bodies flooded the bloated river.

I slammed behind cover, enough adrenaline rushing through my system to block out any and all pain. I sprayed a grub with fire from my lancer, working on the ones inside the camp first. Rounds peppered the front of my cover, forcing me to duck more often than I liked. Reloading quickly, I leaned out the side and took out an unsuspecting grub. Just as my rifle clicked empty, Dix skidded in next to me.

"What the hell happened here?" I blurted, just as he asked, "What the hell happened to you?" We stared at each other for a second, the battle forgotten momentarily. He looked stunned – and really, really pissed off.

It made me wonder just how banged up I looked.

"These assholes came down the mountain about half an hour ago," Dix answered, taking pot shots between words. "I'm assuming they're running from something the COG's doing."

The COG. "Damnit, Dix, listen to me," I said insistently, dragging out my sniper. My lancer had no more rounds to feed into it. "I've got to get to Jacinto – and fast. The grubs-"

"Screw them!" Dix answered me, ducking back as a raze of fire barraged out small bit of cover. "The COG can deal by themselves. We need you here. I need you here."

No time to analyze that for deeper meaning. "You don't understand!" I yelled above the cacophony of noise. "The grubs – they're planning to flood Jacinto!"

Dix, shooting at something I couldn't see, muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, "Let 'em drown." Fueled by anger, I gripped his shoulder and yanked him back around to face me with enough force to pull his shoulder out of socket. My eyes blazed with frustration, and something I couldn't quite identify. "Get over yourself!" I seethed at him, hand instinctively balling into a fist. "All of those people? They're going to die. I can stop it – if I get there in time. I'm asking for help, Dix. Please…do you have some way of getting to Jacinto?"

He stared at me, sweat dripping down his face despite the cold. He didn't answer for a second, warring with himself. Finally, he sighed. "I've got a junker in the back garage. If you can get there and get out of here, you can have it. But Bri-" His eyes went unexpectedly soft as he stared at my face. He took one hand off of his gun and ran it gently through my hair as I stared at him, stunned. "Don't get yourself killed out there, okay? Come back to me."

"I…" I stuttered, taken completely off guard. We stared at each other, right in the middle of hell, as thunderclaps went off inside my mind. My heart thumped unevenly as he tried for a smile, one side of his mouth lifting half-heartedly. It failed and he went back to his usual grim look. "Dix, I-"

"Reaver!" a guard yelled out frantically. I scrambled upwards, yanking my sniper off of my back. I scanned the sky, finally pinpointing the Reaver against the murky clouds. Please, PLEASE, don't let it be the Queen, I silently begged, peering through my scope. It didn't look like the one I had fallen off of – smaller somehow – but that didn't mean it wasn't incredibly dangerous. Still, something appeared off about it. Maybe it was the fact that the gunman was shooting at the locust, and not the camp. I was confused until I caught sight of the driver – complete with a full head of blond hair.

"Don't shoot the Reaver!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, clumsily lunging to my feet. Dix grabbed my pistol belt and yanked me back into cover. He gave me a slightly frustrated growl before repeating my order in a much louder and much stronger yell. I was impressed that he'd taken my word on faith, not asking me to explain why I was protecting the Locust beast. The men focused their fire on the few grubs inside the camp while the reaver circled outside, picking off grubs on the other side of the gate.

After putting a large dent in the locust force, the reaver began to descend cautiously. When no one fired at it, the reaver came in to land behind us on a pile of collapsed huts. I spun around just as Cole and Baird jumped off of it. They immediately reached for their lancers and cover, watching me closely. "Cover me," I said to Dix before springing upwards and sprinting over to them.

If there was ever a question of what I would do upon seeing Baird and Cole again, it was answered now. I felt a wave of relief that almost crushed me as I slid in next to Cole. My eyes actually went slightly damp before I reminded myself that we were, in fact, in the middle of a battle. "You guys have no idea how good it is to see you again," I practically gushed. The surprising thing was I actually meant it. It felt like a weight had been lifted off of my shoulders; like I had somebody I could split responsibility with again instead of having it all fall down on me.

Baird and Cole were staring at me with slightly incredulous looks. "Damn, baby," Cole almost whispered, eyes wide and as serious as I ever saw them. "Are you alright?"

There was a sudden sinking feeling in the pit of my chest. So Marcus told them after all…I thought dejectedly. For some reason, the thought depressed me. I wanted to pretend a while longer that it wasn't real, but if Cole and Baird knew...that would make it so much harder. "Don't mention it, okay?" I practically begged, not liking the way my voice seemed small just then.

"Don't mention it?" Baird snapped, still staring at me slack-jawed. "How are we supposed to 'not mention' the fact that your face looks like you lost a boxing match with a berserker?"

Caught off guard, I stared at him. This was…about my wounds? Cole let out a sigh, shaking his head slightly. "Always good with the ladies, huh, Damon?" he asked sarcastically before examining me closer. "He's right though," Cole continued, voice noticeably missing his usual joviality. "You definitely took a beating somewhere. Wanna share?"

Still reeling from the fact they didn't know, (They didn't know?) my voice was deadpan when I spoke. "I…I fell off the reaver."

Baird looked like he was still waiting for the punch line. "You fell off the reaver," he repeated, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. When he recovered, he was looking at me like I'd lost my mind. Who could blame him? There were times I looked at myself the same way. "She's so small, but she gives me the biggest headache…"

"Hey!" I snapped before Cole could offer up a rebuttal. "We're wasting time! The Locust! They're planning to-"

"To sink Jacinto, yeah, we know," Baird said, his jaw tightening.

I stared at them both before exploding in a rage of righteous indignation. "Then why the hell are you here?" I snapped. "Why didn't you go straight to Jacinto? We need to start an evac!"

This time neither answered, although Cole looked at Baird expectantly, eyebrow cocked. Something in his expression told me it was Baird's idea to divert to the Stranded Camp. I rolled my eyes and got to my feet, keeping my head low. "Well, let's go!" I ran around to the other side of the reaver, where I noticed something…off. Yes, this reaver was smaller than the one I had fought Skorge on, but that just meant there were only two seats on the saddle, with nowhere else to sit. The storage compartment Sam and I had hidden in was notably missing. There wasn't room for me.

Baird leapt up onto the driver's seat, gripping the reigns tightly. The fighting was mostly outside the camp now, so he wasn't in much danger of being shot. Cole ducked around to my side of the reaver. He gripped the saddle before looking at me. Somehow – either by the look I shot him or the hesitation in my stance – he realized what was wrong. "Here, lil' sis," he called, stepping back and lifting a hand. "Sit between us. We'll make sure you don't fall off again."

The saddle had a slight rise between the two seats where I'd sit. "Deal," I said, grabbing his hand and trying to jump aboard. I didn't quite make it, only managing to get half-way on, but Baird grabbed my other arm and lifted me up behind him. I straddled the saddle precariously as Cole leapt up easily and settled in behind me. "Yo, lil' sis," Cole said behind me, like something had just occurred to him. "Where's the dog?"

Sam. "She's with Momma," I answered. I hope… I scanned the camp worriedly as the reaver prepared to take off. Smoke from burning buildings stung my eyes, but that didn't stop me from seeing Dix running towards us. "Oh, shit…" I whispered, feeling guilty for leaving when things were so obviously going to hell in a hand basket.

"Oh, look," Baird deadpanned. "It's your resident asshole."

Dix was yelling something, but I couldn't hear him over the sound of something exploding. "Baird, c'mon!" Cole yelled, grabbing his lancer and firing at the grubs, who were slowly making their way back inside the camp. "We gotta go!"

The reaver jumped into the air, leaving behind a great gust of wind that made Dix's long, black hair tangle and flutter. "Sam!" I yelled to him, hoping he could hear. "Take care of Sam! I'll be back for her!" Then, as we got further away my shouts turning into a desperate promise that I prayed I would be able to keep. "I'll be back….I'll be back…"


The ride was short but tense. It felt that no matter how fast we went, it would never be fast enough. I started out with my hands on Baird's shoulders, lancer lying across my legs, but the wind bit into my exposed fingers. In a compromise, I reached down and hooked them into his belt, where they rested against the warmth of his lower back.

He shifted slightly, and called over his shoulders, "You could have just held onto my back plates."

I leaned closer so he could hear my answer. "Do you want me to move my hands?"

"No!" he replied with just a tad too much enthusiasm. Facing front, he said, "Not even a little."

Choosing not to look too closely at that, I examined the world beneath us. We were about halfway to Jacinto, although it felt like we were on the other side of the world. Searching for something to distract me from the shit-storm inside my head, something finally occurred to me. I turned to Cole, who was scanning the skies for any other enemy reavers. "Hey, how did you know I was in the Stranded camp?"

He looked up at my voice. "What's that?" he hollered back.

"The camp!" I yelled over the wind. "Last time you saw me I was onboard the Queen's reaver. How did you know I'd be in the camp?"

It was Baird who answered. "Well, unless you were cleverly disguised under the Queen's tentacles, you weren't on board the reaver anymore."

Confused and in no mood to play games, I turned to Cole. "Wanna fill me in on what the hell he's talking about?"

"After we hit up this ugly mother," he slapped the saddle, indicating the reaver, "the Queen and Skorge attacked us. We made sure you weren't still playing little-miss-hijacker before taking them out. The Queen managed to get away, but Skorge – heh, he wasn't so lucky."

I stayed quiet, digesting that. So they were able to take out Skorge from a distance, but I couldn't manage it even when we were on the same reaver. Aside from an ego bashing, it didn't really matter. "What about…the other half of Delta?" I posed the question to them both, trying to remain inconspicuous.

"They're already at Jacinto, making plans with Prescott and Hoffman," Cole answered, scanning the ground anxiously. Familiar road marks were starting to pop up, letting us know we were getting close. "By the way," he added, "I've been meaning to ask you something. What happened down in Nexus? Did y'all just get separated, or was it more than that?"

I averted my gaze, trying to think of a way to answer that honestly. "It was more than that," I said vaguely, not meeting his eyes. A hell of a lot more than that…"But, right now, I just don't want to think about it."

Baird tensed, like he wanted to pursue the subject, but Cole just shrugged and accepted my hesitation. The wind was starting to sting my face, so I hid it against Baird's shoulder, just beneath his armor plating. I closed my eyes and tried to let my mind go blissfully blank. The only thing that mattered was getting to Jacinto and evacuating as many people as possible..or at least that's what I kept trying to tell myself.

Baird's arms flexed underneath me and the reaver banked, following his tug of the reins. I sat up straight as the distant sound of gunfire met my ears. The familiar sight of Jacinto's skyline came into view. The locusts were already here, fighting the COG. The evacuation was already in progress, streams of frightened civilians fleeing the city in droves. Many were leaving via the harbor; in boats, dinghies, ships and anything that floated. Some braved the broken highway on trucks and cars. Emergence holes propped up interminably on the jam-packed highway, spewing grubs out of the ground. They immediately opened fire upon the helpless civilians, creating a wall of fire that was practically impenetrable until a pair of Ravens showed up and started fighting the Locusts back. Smoke lay thick in the air all around where the city burned.

It was like watching a mosaic made from bits of Hell.

Baird maneuvered the reaver around the battles, deftly evading the streams of bullets aimed our way by both the COG and Locusts. Cole called into command, demanding that they call off their guns before they shot us out of the sky. Apparently it worked, because the skies cleared enough for us to land in the courtyard outside command. The reaver slammed into the ground, landing heavily upon its six legs. Cole jumped off first, with me landing right behind him. I had forgotten about the deep slice in my thigh until it pulsed with fire as I landed. Grunting in pain, I grabbed Cole's arm before I could fall over.

"Hey, Lil' Sis," Cole said gently, grabbing a hold of me. "You sure you're up for this?"

I nodded, although I didn't quite let go of him, my leg still protesting the sudden activity. "Yeah, I'll be-"

I trailed off, my breath seizing in my throat. My eyes grew wide and then narrowed as I caught sight of something – or more precisely, someone. There was a rushing noise in my ears that blocked out any and all other sound as I trained my sights upon the only person who mattered at that moment. He had his back to me, wide armor plates covering all of him except his neck and head. His tanned skin was dirty and sweaty, but for the first time, I noticed how similar the coloring was to my own. Cole was saying something, and while I couldn't focus enough to make sense of the words, it garnered his attention.

Turning slowly around, he met my stunned gaze.

And, for the first time in fifteen years, I stared my father right in the eyes.


Author's Note - I am so, so, sooo sorry this took so long to get out. Hopefully Sam and Bri being alright is enough to keep people from wanting to kill me...

Anyway, thoughts on the chapter? What did you think about little Bri's pranks, and Ace's punishments? Or how about Bri's lancer in the tree? And especially Bri's conversation with Dix - what do y'all think is happening there? Respond and let me know!

As always, a huge thanks to rockforthecross74 for beta-reading this! :D Also, anyone a Star Wars fan? Her and I are co-authoring a story call 'Gears of the Old Republic'. What would happen if an ex-sith lord named Xana Dakari crash landed on Sera, running into Bri and Ace? Utter hilarity/drama, of course! Check it out when we get it published here! :D

So, I got really great feedback to my last question, so I figured I'd give it another shot. The Hammer of Dawn strikes were a hot topic in the games; do you agree or disagree with Prescott's/Hoffman's/Fenix's decision to 'pull the trigger'? What would you have done differently?

As always, remember to review and tell me what you think! Thanks for reading! :D