Ephyran Border

10 Years After E-Day

Power is about perception. The COG thinks it's still got it. It hasn't – it's just a town with a few ships and a fraction of its old army. But it can't think small when it needs to. That's our advantage. You want to go back to the status quo, where the COG runs Sera? Where it can wipe out the rest of the world just to save its own ass? Now's the best time for the whole disenfranchised community to unite and deal with the COG.

Darrel Jacques, Head of the Lesser Islands Free Trade Association; Preparing for a new world order.

There were checkpoints at every major exit. Gears patrolled the streets, looking for Stranded who tried to sneak past the wire. She could have climbed the gate, but her shoulder still screamed in pain every time she tried to move her arm. A broken collar bone, if she had to guess.

She had no food, no supplies, and no ration card. Even if she tried to scan her ID at a soup kitchen, she would have been marked as a felon and scooped up by the MPs. All she wanted to do was go back to base, find Ace's longshot and bring it with her. Leaving it behind felt almost unbearable. It was the last thing she had that was his, and even that was destined to be ripped from her.

She was at the northern bridge out of Ephyra. The highway was closed off – concrete barricades and a squad of MPs stood between her and freedom. Ironically, she'd starve to death if she stayed in the city for too much longer. With no way to get food – barring the couple of green tomatoes she snagged off a citizen's balcony garden – her best bet for survival stood outside the wire. Stranded managed to find food somehow – she could hunt, or trap, or maybe there were canned foods she could gather…

She tried to ignore the fact that she had no weapons, no traps, and any food near the peninsula was bound to be expired or scavenged long ago.

It was early in the morning, close to oh-four-hundred hours. The darkest time of night; more shadows for her to hide under. She was crouched in a pile of rubble a few hundred yards off of the checkpoint, trying to come up with a plan. If her arm hadn't been ruined, she might have tried to climb down the steep bank, and then swim across the river. There was no way she'd manage that with one hand, however.

A convoy of trucks rumbled up to the bridge, slowing and stopping for inspection. There had been rumors that the Grubs had found a way to burrow into Ephyra, despite the solid rock foundation the city had been built upon. Gears were rolling out towards the northern border in high numbers, trying to slow their advancement. They were collapsing subway tunnels, sewer lines, any path the grubs could potentially use as an ingress.

One of the MPs had a mirror on a stick and was examining the undercarriage of the first truck. Another MP stood at the driver's window, checking ID's and chatting with the Gears inside the vehicle. Bri scanned the long row of trucks, then paused at the last truck in the fleet. For the first time in days…she smiled.

Rig 314 was an assault Derrick driven by one of the few Gears likely to help her. She eased her way from behind the shattered concrete – her legs sore and stiff from disuse – and tried to make her way around to the back of the rig without being seen. The MPs were still a few vehicles ahead of her, but they were heading this way. She had to use her right hand to heft herself up onto the behemoth, and her chest screamed in agony as she did so. Bri gritted her teeth to keep from crying out as she slinked alongside the platform to the driver's quarters.

She would recognize that moth-eaten cowboy hat anywhere.

Still, she doubted if he would actually do this for her. If he was caught trying to escort a felon across the border…she shuddered to think what Prescott would do to him. He could be executed for this. Maralin and Teresa – they'd be orphaned. She couldn't ask him to take the risk…and yet she raised her hand and knocked on his door.

"What in tarnation-" she heard him mumble from inside before opening the door. His brows disappeared underneath his hat brim in shock. "Bri?" he asked in surprise. "The hell you doing here, honey?"

She almost shrugged, but a fresh lightning bolt of pain across her shoulder and down her arm halted the action. "Please," she managed to say between her clenched teeth. She glanced back at the MPs who were now one vehicle closer.

"Get on in here," he commanded her, scarcely waiting for her to comply before shutting the door behind her. She scrambled inside and wedged herself underneath the steering column, pressed against his boots. She lifted one finger to her lips, staving off any questions, just as the rig rocked as the MPs climbed aboard.

Her heartbeat thudded in her skull as a quick rap came at the window.

Dizzy rolled down the window with the hand crank, instead of opening the door. There were still two steps up into the cabin, so the MP below had to tilt his head back all the way to meet Dizzy's eyeline. Bri suspected Dizzy had done that on purpose, to keep her hidden. Her eyes sank shut in quiet gratitude.

"Morning, officer," Dizzy greeted the MP in a relaxed tone of voice. Only Bri saw his hand clenched tight into a fist. With his other he passed over his papers.

"Private," the MP replied. Bri could hear the MP shuffling the papers, making sure everything was in order. Any time there was a large transport of munitions – like the load of ammunition and supplies Dizzy was hauling – there had to be a paper trail. Rationing was severe across the board, and there had been some soldiers who tended to take more than their fair share, or tried to sell them on the side.

"Good luck out there." The MP passed back Dizzy's papers, then motioned for his men to let them through the gates.

Dizzy rolled up the window and waited until they were past the checkpoint before he spoke. "You wanna fill me in, here?"

Bri tried to get off the floor of the Derrick, but she couldn't quite manage it without bracing her hand on the floorboards, and that movement made her shoulder scream. "Got any food?" she asked in a ragged whisper. "Or water?"

Dizzy glanced down under the steering wheel and gave her a thorough examination. The last time he'd seen her had been about a week ago, when she and his girls got together to do homework. Back then she'd been smiling, and cracking jokes. Now there was a haunted look in her dark eyes. Her face – and the rest of her – was dirtied. Her clothing was torn and too light for the turning weather. In the dimness he thought he could see bloodstains around the tears. She kept her left arm clasped tight in her right, cradled against her chest like it pained her somehow.

Dizzy dug into the center console and emerged with a ration bar and half-filled canteen. He unscrewed the canteen first and sniffed it to make sure it was water, and not something stronger before passing it down to her. She snatched it from him like a starving dog and drained most of it in one pull. She ripped the aluminum foil off the bar with her teeth and shoved so much of it in her mouth that she started to choke. She coughed, winced, and then swallowed the rest of the water down. "Thanks," she managed to say, then cleared her throat again.

"What the hell happened to you?" he asked again.

Bri tried unsuccessfully to twist the top back onto the canteen one-handedly. "Ace is…he was killed." She kept her eyes down so he wouldn't see them fill with tears.

"Yeah. Damn shame. I'm sorry sweetie – he was a good 'un."

She didn't respond. He gave her a minute to compose herself, then gently nudged her with his knee. "But that ain't answering no questions. Why the hell am I risking my goat sneaking you outta the city?"

"I screwed up, Diz," she answered thickly, the tears not quite out of her system. "I screwed everything up. And now…now I can never go back."

He guffawed. "I'm sure it ain't as bad as all that. T'aint nothin' you coulda-"

"They signed a birthing order, Dizzy," she interrupted, finally looking up at him from underneath the steering column. "If I go back…they're going to send me to Jiliane.

For the first time since Bri had met the old Derrick driver…he was speechless. She could see him imaging the same thing happening to his girls, the horrors that would await them at the birthing crèche, the sort of half-life they would be forced to live. It wasn't something he'd force on his worst enemy. "Shi-eett," he breathed. He seemed to sober up some, although Bri could still smell the lingering traces of whiskey in the air despite the early hour. "Damn, hon. I'm sorry."

"I just need to get outside the city," she said the words like she'd been reciting them for days. It was the first step of her plan. In truth, it was the only step. All she could consider was putting as much distance between her and Jacinto as possible.

"You got people on the outside? Got a plan?"

"I'll…figure it out," she said evasively. She tried again to get off the floor but the movement jostled her shoulder and she cried out in pain. "God damn it!"

"What'sa matter wit' your arm?"

"I think I snapped my collarbone when I escaped."

Dizzy's stomach did a flip. "Damn, girl. You ain't gonna last a day out there like that."

"I know," she snapped at him through gritted teeth. "I don't even have a damn rifle – not like I could shoot anything right now, anyway. But what choice do I have? I'm not going to a damn farm. I'll die first."

Dizzy didn't doubt her one bit. He sucked in a breath between his teeth and sighed. "Look'it here. I know 'bout a camp, not too far from here. They ain't the best folk, but they decent."

"A Stranded camp?" she asked derisively, like the thought disgusted her.

Dizzy nudged her again with his foot, not as gently. "You best remember you Stranded now, so get that nose outta' the air."

"Sorry," she said, and she sounded like she meant it. "And…thanks. I shouldn't have put this on you. I just…I couldn't think of any other way…"

"After everything you done fo' my girls?" Dizzy reached under the dash and helped her up onto the bucket seat beside him. "Don' even mention it. Stranded living ain't so bad – you'll see. First thing, though, we gotta get that arm checked out."

Bri rode in silence for the next mile or so. Dizzy wanted to get her far enough away from the border that she wouldn't run into any trouble. As the convoy travelled around a corner, he slowed to a stop. Bri reached for the door with her good hand, but Dizzy stopped her. He plucked the moth-eaten cowboy hat from his head and removed the sweat-stained do-rag he wore underneath it. He motioned for her to hold her hand out, and he tied it into a sling.

"Thanks," she whispered, reaching once again for the door handle.

"Here," he added, plucking his sidearm and passing it over to her. "I've gotta git going, but I'll be back for ya'." He stared her down with grey eyes, making sure she understood he was serious. "Meet me back here at sunset. I'll getcha settled in."

"Sure, Diz," she agreed, but her voice was hollow. He wasn't convinced she meant it. He wanted to stop her, to make her swear to meet him, but the radio on his dashboard crackled as the convoy leader asked why he was dragging behind.

"On my way," he answered though his mic. "Had ta' take a leak." When he turned to look for Bri, she was already gone. It felt like leaving a part of himself behind as he shifted into gear and pulled away. He had a mission to complete. All he could do was hope that Bri would be there when he went back for her tonight.

If she wasn't, he'd probably never see her again.


I sat on board the Raven, hunched in the corner. I had plucked the comm. out of my ear. I needed time to think, to figure out where I had this wrong.

Ace wasn't involved in the attack. In killing Gears – in slaughtering innocent civilians. No matter how angry he was at the COG, he wouldn't do something like this.

The radio. Maybe there was a way they could trace whoever Ace had been talking to – Baird would know a way. Track the squelch codes, or the frequency used. That could prove that the Stranded he communicated with weren't the ones who did this.

Ace also hadn't been permitted outside the base since he'd been here. There was no way he had planted any of the bombs. He had a rock-solid alibi. Except he didn't have to do the actual planting to be guilty. I winced when the thought crossed my mind.

Really, the only proof I had was that they both had used the word 'Reckoning'. It was hardly rock-solid evidence, barely even circumstantial. Ace would probably laugh when he heard my suspicions. This would be a joke someday. Remember when you thought I was a terrorist? Ha-ha, good times.

A wave of nausea passed over me again. This wasn't funny.

I noticed I was rocking slightly on the bench. I though it might have been from the sway of the Raven, but no one else was moving. It was an unconscious self-soothing tick. My muscles were already sore and exhausted, but I could still feel the urge to run. I needed the clarity that movement offered.

I looked across the cabin to the three prisoners. The one who tried to drown me was still strapped to a body board. He hadn't awakened. I wondered if he ever would, or if Marcus had done irreparable damage when he clocked him. The other two – the boy, and the chew toy – they were both silent.

They could be used to prove Ace's innocence; they would testify that they had never worked with Ace, never even met him. Or…even better: 'Ace? That asshole? He's been working against us from the very beginning. He'd never help us.' I could get them to say what I needed them to. Those who were worried about what Trescu would do to these men had no idea what I would be capable of.

I felt the bird shift below me, and the angle changed. We were landing. A wave of panic went over me. Hoffman was sure to be waiting for us when we arrived. And he'd definitely want to know why I had ordered a manhunt on a man I had begged to be allowed to go off base only this morning. Great fucking timing, I mentally taunted myself.

Marcus threw open the bulkhead door once we touched down. Above our heads the scream of the rotors whined down to a dull roar. There were medics already waiting with stretchers and rifles to transport the prisoners. "You want to go get checked out?" Dom asked me.

I shook my head. "I need to see Ace."

I did a scan. Hoffman wasn't here yet. Maybe I had time to find Ace and talk to him before they brought him in. I plugged my radio back into my ear canal and punched in Anya's personal frequency. "Anya," I said in a whisper. "Any news on Ace?"

It took a full minute for her to come back. "I put out the APB, like you requested," she said, reminding me that this was all my fault. "Nothings turned up, yet. Everyone is pretty busy."

"Gotcha." I pressed the disconnect button. Marcus was coordinating the prisoner transfer, Mataki was getting herself looked over by a medic, and Cole was trying to acclimate to being back on solid ground. "Dom, I need-"

"Go," he interrupted. "I'll cover for you."

A wave of gratitude washed over me and filled my eyes. "Thanks. I'm wrong about this – I know I'm wrong. I just need…I need to figure out what's going on."

"You love him," Dom said with a nod. "That means there's got to be good in him somewhere."

I popped the quick release straps on my chest and shoulder plates, and laid them down on the floor of the Raven. I couldn't stand to be weighed down any longer. I needed to be quick, if I was going to find Ace before a squad of MPs did. "Watch these for me, okay? I'll be back." I was turning and jogging away before he could answer. Sam trotted after me, but I stopped her in her tracks with a stern "Stay!"

There was enough activity in the Raven's loft that no one paid me any mind. Enough people were running around that I didn't draw attention as I took off.

If Ace was somehow involved with this, he'd go somewhere where he wouldn't attract suspicion. He'd want an alibi – so that meant he wasn't alone. He wouldn't be in the office in the garage. I had already caught him there once. The mess hall? No, too open. Too hard to sneak away if something went wrong. He just needed one or two people to be a witness…

Fuck. Praying that I was wrong with every step, I sprinted towards the barracks.


I found Maralin and Teresa's door, and pounded frantically at it like I was hammering in a nail with my fist. "Come on, open up!" I yelled through the door. "It's me – Bri!"

Finally, Maralin opened the door with wide eyes. Not bothering to explain, I pushed past her. "Bri?" she protested in shock. "What's wrong?"

Teresa was sitting on the couch. I scanned the room and breathed a sigh of relief when I saw they were alone. "Is it dad?" Teresa said in a thin voice. "Is he-"

"No," I interrupted her. "This isn't about Diz. It's about-"

"Bri?" an all too familiar voice called. The Wallin's dorm room was larger than Dom's and mine. It had two bedrooms. I'd forgotten about that as Ace walked out of the other room. I felt my heart skip a beat as he stepped next to Maralin. "Is everything alright? You're shaking."

I opened my mouth, but I had no idea what to say. I couldn't lie to Ace. He'd see through me. When had I stopped being able to see through him? Had he been lying to me this entire time? "I need you to come with me," I went with a half-truth. "I need your help to clear up some things at command."

Ace's eyes narrowed in suspicion. Damn it. He knew something was up. "What things?" he asked. I watched him edge closer to Maralin, keeping his good arm close to her.

"Just…some misunderstandings," I said vaguely. I motioned to Maralin. "Hey, come over here, please."

Ace grabbed Maralin's arm before she could take a step. "What are you talking about, Bri? You're scaring the girls. Just…calm down and tell me what's going on."

Maralin glanced from Ace's hand on her shoulder and back to me. Her eyes were wide with confusion. My instincts were screaming at me from opposite sides – one half screaming that this was Ace, someone we knew better than ourselves. He wouldn't hurt the girls. He wouldn't hurt anyone. And the other half of my instincts were screaming that he was about to take her hostage. It would take a split second for him to wrap his arm around her neck. Even with one-arm he could easily overpower her. I knew that's what he would do. That's what he trained me to do.

I drew my sidearm and leveled my sights with his skull. "Take your hand off of her." I heard Teresa's shocked scream when I pulled my pistol. Maralin was frozen into stone.

I could see Ace running a calculation in his mind, trying to figure out how to talk me down. "Bri…" he said in a voice people used to talk to spooked horses. "This is crazy. Put the gun down and-"

"Take. Your. Fucking. Hand. Off. Her." I took my finger off of register, and wrapped it around the trigger.

No one moved. One second stretched out into infinity. Would he do it – take Maralin and use her to get out of the base? Would I do it – kill my best friend? I didn't blink as I waited for Ace's next move.

"Alright," Ace said. He dropped Maralin's shoulder and held his hand up in the air in surrender. "I don't know what this is about, but Bri…don't do anything you'll regret."

"Maralin, get behind me," I ordered her. She glanced back at Ace in confusion.

"It's okay," he reassured her. "I don't know what's happening, but Bri won't hurt you."

His words were so unfair I wanted to scream. I wasn't the threat here! I wasn't the one helping the terrorists! Instead, I kept my gun trained on Ace as Maralin inched around me. Teresa went with her, and the girls huddled together somewhere behind my back. I held my gun with one hand as I keyed my radio. "Santiago to Control: I have eyes on Ace. I need a squad of MPs to the barracks, room 219."

"Understood," Anya came back immediately. "They're on their way. Is everything okay?"

"Why, Bri?" Ace pleaded with me. He took a step closer to me. "Just talk to me. Tell me what's wrong. I can help you – I can fix this!"

"Don't!" I snapped at him. I could feel the tears starting to well in my eyes. "I trusted you! I vouched for you! And this is how you repay that trust? By planting bombs and killing civilians?"

Ace's forehead creased. "Is that really what you think of me?" He took another step. "You think I had something to do with today?"

"Don't you come any closer."

"Bri?" Anya's voice came over my radio. "What's happening?"

"Are you going to shoot me, Bri?" Ace asked in a sardonic voice. He took another step. "Then do it. Pull the trigger."

"Bri?" A small, quavering voice asked behind me.

"Bri, answer me!" Anya's voice demanded.

I didn't have any answers for any of them. I didn't know what I was going to do. But, as always, Ace knew me better than I knew myself. He knew I couldn't bring myself to kill him. Which was why he lunged for me. I pulled my finger out of the trigger guard as soon as he attacked – I didn't want a stray shot to hurt anyone.

He used his good hand to gain control of my firearm. He stepped through me – like he had taught me to do so many years ago – and used his weight to knock me to the ground. My head slapped roughly against the hardwood floor and bounced with a blooming agony through my skull. He didn't have a second hand to grab my other arm, so he pinned me with his knee against my chest. He used his grip on my wrist to slam my hand against the floor – once, twice, again – until I dropped my gun.

I could have fought back. I knew exactly how to get out of this hold – Ace and I had practiced it on the beach in Jacinto. I even had a free hand to scratch out his eyes until he let me go. But I couldn't do it. I laid limply on the ground as the tears finally fell.

I though Ace would be angry, but that was just more evidence that I didn't know him nearly as well as I thought I did. His expression was filled with confusion, but also concern. "Why, Bri?" he begged for an explanation. "You know I would never hurt you."

"Breach!" I heard a voice yell, seconds before the door blasted open. A squad of MPs flooded into the room in a textbook clearing pattern. I heard Maralin and Teresa both screaming as Ace was pulled off of me and slammed into the ground next to me. They couldn't handcuff him, so one of the MPs pulled his good arm against the small of his back and sank a knee against his shoulders.

"Show me your hands!" one of the men yelled at the girls. They threw their hands in the air as sobs racked their thin bodies. Someone else kicked my gun away from me.

"Status?"

"Clear!"

"Clear!"

"Room clear!"

"Get him out of here," the squad leader snapped, motioning to Ace. Two men hauled him to his feet, and pulled him from the room. "For fucks sake, Garret. Quit pointing your gun at those kids; can't you see they're scared to death?"

His boots came into my field of view. "Are you okay?" When I didn't answer, I saw him kneel. "Hey, can you hear me?" Hands touched my shoulder. "Shit. Control? We need medical to room 219."

"What's wrong with her?" another voice in the room asked.

"She ain't bleeding. He didn't shoot her."

"He knocked her to the ground. Maybe she hit her head."

"What's her name? Santiago? Hey, Santiago – can you hear me? Come on, talk to me."

"She's fucking catatonic."

"And she's a Gear? One guy gets in her face, and she loses it?"

"Shut the fuck up, Garret."

"Come on, Santiago. Stay with me. You're tougher than this."

"Bri?"

"Santiago?"

"Bri!"

"Bri!?"


I had been broken before. And I had put myself back together again. No matter how much it hurt – how much the pull of thread through flesh stung – I had stitched myself back together time and time again. But this time…this time I really didn't want to come back.

I woke in the med bay covered in medical equipment and pain. Sometimes there's a brief reprieve in the dawning between unconsciousness and awakening, but I wasn't lucky this time. It hurt the whole time I was waking. Not just physically. For once, my wounds were minor and superficial. But there was a stabbing pain in my heart as if my blood had been replaced with razor blades.

I opened my eyes. There was no shifting to stretch, no groaning as I drew to consciousness. Just a single flutter of my eyelids. It took Dom a few seconds to even realize I was awake. I felt him squeeze my hand with his, but he didn't speak. I was grateful for the silence.

I closed my eyes again, not to sleep, but rather to hide the tears. They were cold as they slid down my face, as if I had been crying them for a hundred years. I wanted to ask about Ace, but I couldn't bring myself to speak his name. Instead, I let the pain distract me; I had a whole body's worth of pain. Still, it wasn't enough.

"Sir," I heard Dom speak, and the squeak of his chair as he stood. He didn't let go of my hand.

I opened my eyes again. Hoffman was standing in the doorway, nodding a greeting at Dom. "Santiago," I thought he was speaking to Dom, but I wasn't sure. He entered the room fully, taking the time to shut the door softly so it didn't slam behind him. I appreciated that. Prescott would have dove right in, demanding answers from me. Hoffman just let out a breath like he'd been holding it for years. "What a fucking day."

"Yes, sir," Dom answered.

Hoffman plucked a black, metal folding chair off the wall and sat it next to my bed. If it wasn't for the uniform, he could have passed for a concerned visitor. He met my eye before he spoke: "I know this is the last thing you want, but I need to debrief you."

"Sir," Dom interrupted. "Can this wait?"

"I'm afraid not," Hoffman adjusted himself in the chair, and motioned for Dom to retake his seat as well. "I need to know what the hell is going on here, and I need to know it now."

Hoffman's pale gaze was stuck on me. I didn't think the words would come. It was hard to break through that mental block. But I needed them to understand. I had to explain.

When I finally did speak, my voice sounded rusted over. It sounded like I had spent a hundred years in the sea. And why not? I had drowned many times these past few months. "Ace Martinez is a traitor." I knew I was condemning him as I spoke.

"How do you know?"

"I caught him. This morning, after I left your office. He was in the garage office with a HAM radio. I heard him talking to someone about the Free Trade Commission – that the members of the FTC would be free to rendezvous after Mission Reckoning."

Hoffman's jaw clenched. "And you didn't report him then?"

I shook my head, feeling my own idiocy. "He lied to me. Told me the FTC wasn't what the COG thought they were. He said he was just checking in with them, letting them know he was still alive. He said that Mission Reckoning was their operation to take down Massy's gang." I shook my head. "And I believed everything he said.

"I've been Stranded, sir." Once the words started, it seemed like they wouldn't stop. "I know they're not all assholes. I know how it feels to have people outside the wire wondering if you're okay."

"So, you trusted him," Hoffman nodded. "What changed?"

"After we captured the prisoners. The younger one – the boy – he said something. That the COG was in for a Reckoning."

"Interesting choice of words."

"It's too specific to be a coincidence. Mission Reckoning is the terrorists' codeword for the attack that happened today. And if Ace didn't help plan it, he knew about it." I closed my eyes again. "And that makes him a traitor." I struggled against the sob building in my throat. "I'm sorry, sir. This is my fault."

"Next time you see someone – anyone – on the horn with known combatants, you come find me." His words were harsh, but the tone he said them in was gentle.

"Yes sir." I sat up in the bed, ignoring the pounding in the back of my head. "Sir? How many casualties today?"

"You don't need to worry about that."

"Please, sir?" my voice straddled the knife edge of pleading. "I need to know."

Hoffman glanced at Dom before he answered, almost as if he were asking permission. "Five Gears, four Gorasnayans, and about a dozen civvies all confirmed dead. We'll see how many pull through the night."

Twenty-two. Ace had twenty-two souls to account for. "Sir?" I interrupted again as he went to stand. "What will happen to Ace? Will you hand him over to Trescu?" Gorasnaya had a reputation for their rough treatment of prisoners. I couldn't image that they had softened over the years.

"I don't know." He fixed me with a stare. "What do you want me to do with him?"

I didn't have an answer for him. I swallowed against the tightness in my throat. "Can I speak with him?"

"I don't think that's a good idea," Dom interjected.

"Please, sir? I need…I need to know why. I have to understand."

Hoffman shook his head, but he wasn't saying no. It didn't look like a conscious movement. "I thought I told you to stop asking for favors?"

I didn't have it in me to argue. "Please?" I said again, my voice small and pained.

"Oh, fuck me."


There was one building in the naval base that I hadn't been to yet – the brig. The prisoners we had captured in the woods were being held under armed guard in the med bay – ironically, very close to where I had been. But Ace, who wasn't injured, was taken to the military prison.

I had to leave all armor and weapons with Dom at the entrance. All I wore was a simple black tee, and fatigue pants. I even took off my COG tags at the guard's insistence. I didn't want to know why that had to become a rule over the years.

Horror shows of dilapidated prisons filled my imagination, with flooded cells and shackles bolted to the wall, but the brig was similar in shape to the other buildings in Vectes. Stone walls, high ceilings, flecked green paint. The guard escorted me into a room with a metal table and two metal chairs. All three were bolted to the ground. The table had loops to tie down handcuffs to. I shivered as I took a seat in the other chair.

My heartbeat ratcheted up with every second I waited. Maybe Dom had been right; maybe this wasn't a good idea. But I had to know. I couldn't live with myself if I thought I had betrayed my best friend…and was wrong.

The door to the room opened, and Ace entered. He was shadowed by the guard who waited until Ace took a seat. "I'm right outside," the guard said, and I wasn't sure if it was reassurance or a threat.

Ace was still wearing the same clothes I had last seen him in. For some reason I expected an orange jumpsuit, or a black and white striped outfit. He hadn't grown horns, either, and his eyes were still a chestnut brown, and not gleaming a bloody-red.

He wasn't a monster. He was still Ace. And that made this just that much more difficult.

Ace eyed me from across the table. I saw him frown when he saw the bruises circling my wrist. He held his hand out, comparing their size and shape from a distance, and winced. "I'm sorry," he finally said, breaking the silence.

"I had a gun on you," I said, dismissing his apology. "I would have done the same."

For a split second, I was certain I was wrong. A man who would apologize for putting hands on a woman was not a man who would murder civilians. But then I remembered the gut-clenching fear that had gripped me when he had his hand on Maralin's shoulder.

There had been a time, once, when I had known Ace better than anyone. But the man sitting across from me was a verifiable stranger, now. "Why did you do it?" I finally asked.

"I didn't do anything, Bri! I tried to tell-"

"Don't," I interrupted him with an exasperated scoff. "Don't lie to me. Okay? Not anymore." I leaned forward in my seat and stared him down. "Tell me what Mission Reckoning is."

Ace tapped his thumb against the table. "I told you – it was our mission to take down Massy's gang."

"Then when did the mission change?"

Ace cut his eyes to meet mine, and I knew I was on the right track. He didn't answer, but I refused to break the silence. After a minute Ace shifted uncomfortably and spoke. "It changed after I ran into you."

"After Gorasnaya threw a torpedo at you?"

He nodded. "Jacques – remember him? The man who made the deal with Michaelson?"

"Yes," I answered, repressing a shiver. Jacques was the one who had shot Cormick in cold blood. That sort of thing tended to leave an impression.

"He runs the FTC. And after the COG sunk one of his ships – and killed two of his men, and took me hostage – he reached out to Massy's gang and made an alliance. Enemy of my enemy, and all that."

"But the COG didn't take you hostage," I corrected him. "And they didn't sink Jacques' ship. That was the Gorasnayans."

"And who did the COG accept with open arms just a few weeks ago?" Ace shook his head. "You can't point fingers, then shake hands. The COG inherited the sins of the Indies when they allowed them to join the republic. And that's a long list of sins."

"Is that why you helped plant a bomb in their camp?"

"I didn't-" he sighed. "That wasn't Jacque. That wasn't the plan. Massy's gang, they went rogue. They're the ones who planted the bombs."

"That's convenient."

Ace shot me a look that was more frustrated than hurt. "Really, Bri? You think I'm the kind of guy to blow up women and children? If that's really what you think of me – why the hell are you here? Why bother?"

He had cut to the truth of it. I didn't think Ace was that guy. "Okay, then what was Jacques' plan?"

"Raiding supplies, stealing imulsion, blowing the engines on COG ships. Not saying it was right, but we weren't going to murder anyone." He clicked his teeth. "No way we could pull any of that off after bombs started going off."

"So, you're still a traitor."

"The COG betrayed me first."

"Oh, come on, Ace!" I exploded in anger. "How much longer are you going to nurse that fucking boo-boo? You think you're the only one the COG's ever betrayed? You think I signed on to be a Gear because of Prescott's charming personality? They're the only thing standing between humanity and complete obliteration. You haven't seen the state of the main land – I have! There is nothing left!"

Ace's lips lifted in a slow, sad smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "You don't even see what they've done to you," he whispered in a pained voice.

"You say the COG has a long list of sins. Maybe so. Gears aren't perfect. But I've never seen one standing over a dead child. I've never seen one rape a woman or set fire to a house with the family still inside. You've been on the battlefield; you've seen what men are when there's no one ordering them to be better. You've seen what men are when you take away the uniforms and the ranks and the order." My breath came in quick, angry huffs.

"Have you forgotten? Most people aren't Stranded because they choose to be. The COG struck a match to the rest of the world and watched it all burn," Ace's words were familiar; I had used similar arguments in the past. "Now they're here to reclaim the precious few scraps of land they haven't managed to destroy? Do you even care about how many families the COG ousted when they came to the islands?"

"They were offered amnesty."

"Why would people want to be part of a society that sees them as disposable?" Ace shot back. "You don't see it, Bri. You're too close. Your father left you for dead, and you welcomed him back with open arms. Your precious 'Marcus Fenix' walked away from a battle and let Ephyra burn behind him. That blonde dick you hang around makes an asshole of himself every time he opens his mouth, and you forgive all of it! You're an endless supply of second chances!"

He trailed off, but I had stopped listening. "How did you know that?" I asked in a small voice when he finally quit talking.

"Know what?"

"About Marcus – walking away from Ephyra. That didn't happen until after you…until after I thought you were dead."

Ace gave an awkward, one-armed shrug. "I dunno, news like that tends to get around. I heard it somewhere."

I knew Ace better than anyone else in this world. I knew his quirks, his tells. I knew when he was lying. He had managed to fool me thus far with half-truths and careful words, but I could still tell when he was hiding something. I stared at him evenly, reading the guilt shadowing his eyes. When he blinked and looked down, I finally put it together. "Did you...did you go back to the mainland?"

He wouldn't meet my gaze.

The mainland was the only place he would have heard that gossip. It hadn't been news in the COG for years now; it was unlikely that Ace would have heard it anywhere on the island. The shock settled on my already stretched nerves, making it feel far away. "Wow. When?"

Ace didn't want to answer. "When?" I repeated, my voice as cold as the water I had almost drowned in.

"About…a year after Romgar."

"Why?" I asked after a moment of shocked silence. "Why go back? Why leave?"

"I was…looking for answers." His voice was strained with guilt. "There was a classified base I knew about. I was looking…for something."

I nodded slowly. "And you looked for me," I said, as if it were obvious. Ace's jaw clenched. "I mean, you did look for me, right, Ace? Because you wouldn't sit here, accusing my father of abandoning me when he didn't even know I was alive, after coming back to the main land, right? You wouldn't do that."

The razor blades in my chest were back. My voice picked up a bitter tone. "Let's see – a year after Romgar. Where was I? Oh, yeah. On the run from the COG, living in a shit-heel Stranded camp, blaming myself for getting my best friend killed. Yeah, I was doing just great without you. Definitely couldn't have used you dropping by and letting me know that you were fucking alive."

"You didn't need me anymore," he finally answered. "And I was still figuring things out. I didn't have anything to offer you."

His words held the tone of someone who had repeated them many times until he believed them. Anger flared in my chest. "You know, all those years of you taking care of me. I always wondered why - why did you do it? Why did you do it? Why did you care? Was it because I was special, or because you just saw a scared little girl who needed help? And after all this time, I finally have an answer. It's because you were scared to be alone. You needed me, because without me you had no one to care about you. And the minute it became clear that I didn't need you? You left. You left me, before I had the chance to leave you."

He scoffed, and narrowed his eyes. "You think I needed you? You're nothing more than a little girl, hiding behind a big gun. I've had tapeworms that were less parasitic." He held up his stump of a left arm. "Do you even realize how much you cost me over the years? Not just an arm – how much time I wasted pulling your ass out of the fire? That's why you keep running back to the COG. You need someone to watch your back so you don't kill yourself with your own stupidity."

And here I saw Ace truly for the first time. Not the great man I once believed him to be, just a clever one, who was as cold and callous as the Chairman himself.

There was an extended silence that fell between us as we both came to terms with the things we had said to each other. "Well," I said after a long moment. "Thank you for the information about Jacque. It'll come in handy when we wipe his shitty little gang off the map."

Ace shook his head. "Kill Jacques, and more will come. Jacques has brothers, and his brothers have friends. If you take his life, be sure you're willing to murder the mob who'll follow after."

"Killing people is what my precious COG is good for, as you pointed out." I rose to my feet and headed towards the door. "And you've given me enough evidence that you'll never see the outside of a jail cell. You think you were being held hostage before?" I scoffed. "You have no idea."

Ace twisted in his seat. "I didn't give you any evidence," he snapped at me. "It's all circumstantial."

I tsked sympathetically, before pulling the small voice recorder out of my pocket. The red light blinked slowly, showing that it was still recording. It had been the one caveat Hoffman made me agree to before he'd put me in a room with Ace. I watched the color drain from his face. "Maybe you're not a cold-hearted murderer," I said as I placed my hand on the door handle. "But you're still a piece of shit."


I passed off the voice recorder to the guard with the instruction that it would be handed off to Hoffman as soon as possible. It was far past sunset, and exhaustion ached behind my eyelids. It felt like this awful day simply refused to end, no matter how badly I needed it to.

Dom was waiting for me at the entrance of the prison. He had changed out of his plates and into his fatigues. The effect was that he looked smaller now, like he had shrunk. He held Sam on her leash. "I fed her," he said as he passed me her lead. "Have you eaten anything?"

I didn't answer. I stepped around Sam, and locked my arms around Dom's chest, hugging him as tightly as my tired muscles allowed. Immediately his arms closed around me in a tight embrace. He was warm, and steady, and a grounding point for my frayed nerves. I felt him soothe my hair against my tender scalp before pressing a kiss to the top of my head. His gentleness after Ace's hostility was a balm for my soul. I wanted to cry some more, but I didn't have any more tears left to shed.

He didn't say a word as we stood there, nor did he pull away. He simply held me until I felt ready to let him go. "Thanks," I whispered as his arms fell away from my shoulders. "For being here."

He cupped my cheek – the one that hadn't been ground into the rocky riverbed – and nodded. "Always," he said, and I knew he meant it. His eyes flicked to the prison behind us. "Did you get the answers you needed?"

I blew out a sigh. "I don't know. I was right – he is a traitor. He's been working with the FTC to undermine COG efforts and to steal COG resources. But he says that today's attack wasn't the FTC's plan. The FTC and Massy's gang formed an alliance, and Massy's gang went rogue and planted the bombs."

He nodded slowly. "Do you believe that?"

"I don't know what I believe anymore." I answered honestly. I gritted my teeth as a ripple of pain echoed through my chest. "He's been lying to me since the minute I pulled him out of the ocean. I would have been better off just letting him drown."

"Hey," Dom's voice was sharp. "He's made the decisions he made because that's who he is. And you've done what you did because that's who you are. You couldn't have left him behind. That's not who you are."

"That's me," I agreed with a note of sarcasm. "A Santiago. Loyal to a fault."

"And don't you forget it."

A tiny smile flashed across my expression, but was gone as quickly as it came. I crossed my arms against the settling chill of the night. "Dad, I've screwed everything up," I admitted in a strained voice. "Ace was hiding with Maralin and Teresa when I found him. I pulled my gun on him – I thought he would take the girls hostage. Then the MPs came, and they pointed rifles at the girls. They've got to be traumatized."

"Dizzy's girls are tough," Dom reassured me. The corners of his mouth tightened. "He was using those kids as human shields?"

"I don't know what he was planning. Maybe I made the whole situation worse by drawing my sidearm. Maybe he was staying with the girls to keep them safe once the bombs started detonating."

"You did what you thought was right in the moment. Hindsight is a bitch that will tear you up every time. The girls are safe, Ace is detained where he can't cause any more harm, and you're alive." I saw his throat work as he swallowed. "That's the important stuff."

I felt the urge to hug him again. He cocked his head in the direction of the mess hall. "Any chance I can convince you to put a meal in your belly?"

My nose wrinkled. The cocktail of emotions I had felt always affected my tender stomach. "I doubt I could keep it down."

"Then here," he said, reaching into his pocket and coming back with a foil-lined ration bar. "Hold onto it in case you get hungry later." I tried not to grimace as I accepted it. Ace's accusation about me always being a burden was going to play haywire with my trust issues. How long until Dom got sick of pulling my ass out of the fire? Or Baird – or Marcus? Cole? Would they all get sick of me too? Was faking their death worth it to get away from me?

I gave myself a mental slap. Ace said what he said because he knew that was the quickest way under my skin. He knew exactly where my buttons were, and what to say to press them. The things I said to him hadn't exactly been kind either.

"Are you heading back to the barracks?" I asked him in an attempt to hide my mental battle.

He nodded. "I'm going to try and rack out for a couple hours." He examined my face. "Are you?"

I glanced between him and the barracks. "I…I don't think-"

"You need some time alone, right?" Dom asked. He was getting used to my coping methods. "Go to ground for a bit?"

I was relieved I didn't have to explain. I adjusted my grip on Sam's leash and nodded. "I'll be back before sun-up," I promised.

"Here," Dom said, pulling my pistol out from the small of his back. "I've got your plates and rifles back in the room. Be careful, and watch yourself. There might sill be bombs planted out there somewhere. Radio if you need anything." He leaned in and scooped me up in another embrace. "I'm here if you need me."

Dom turned and walked away into the night. I tucked Sam's leash away in my pack and let her walk off-leash for a while. I didn't like wearing my uniform all day, so I couldn't imagine that she liked being tethered to me all day. She started to trot after Dom, then realized I wasn't following and returned to my side.

It was late – far past Prescott's curfew. I wasn't getting out of the main gate unless I was heading out on orders. I headed towards the southeastern gate, which was usually less crowded. I got within fifty meters of the gate and saw that the guard had been increased. I diverted, and headed towards a spot where the wall was lower. I hadn't had to use it yet, but I had noticed it as a potential spot where I could hop the fence.

Damn it. There were Gears on the wall. No, not just Gears – men in Gorasnayan military dress were keeping watch. That explained why there were so many extra guards out tonight. No one was taking a chance with all of the attacks today. Hell, a few more bombs and Prescott might have the fully unified military force he wanted.

I sighed and headed down the hill. There had to be a way out of base without being seen. I'd head back to the main gate and work outwards until I found it. I saw a Gear coming up the road I was on, so I quickly diverted into an alleyway to let him pass. It wasn't until he was closer that I recognized him.

"Baird!" I hissed, just loud enough to grab his attention. His blonde hair glowed slightly in the moon light. I waved him over into the alley.

"The hell are yo-" I didn't let him finish before I was pulling him into my arms. He was still wearing full plate, so it was a little awkward. "Fuck. Hey, you okay? What's wrong?"

"Get me the hell out of this base," I begged him, letting him go. "I'll explain later."

He eyed me warily. "You didn't like…assassinate Prescott, right? Nothing I can be tried for as an accomplice?"

I shook my head. "Just had the worst day of my life. I need…I need to breathe."

"Alright," he finally agreed, motioning me to follow him. He cut back the way he had been coming, and took me westward. There wasn't much over there that applied to me – communications building, munitions storage, the MP headquarters – so I didn't know this half of the base as well. He headed to the munitions storage building, skirting the entrance and heading towards the back of the building. He stopped in front of a buried cellar door with a padlock. "Repaired an artillery gun in exchange for the code," Baird said as he twisted the dial first clockwise, then counter.

I shook my head in unsurprised amazement. Damon Baird could single-handedly bring down the COG empire in an afternoon, should the need strike him.

"Come on," he urged me, heading down the stairs. There were no lights. It felt like crawling into an E-hole. I bit my lip as I weighed my choices: creepy-ass tunnel, or staying here. I gingerly followed Baird down the steps, clicking my fingers for Sam to follow. Baird turned and closed the cellar doors behind us, cutting off the fragile beams of moonlight and casting us into complete darkness.

It felt like being buried alive. A slight whimper of fear escaped my lips as I reached blindly into the darkness for the wall. It was further away than I thought; I couldn't reach it without walking into the black. Sam wasn't panting, so I couldn't even trace her though the darkness through sound. "Baird?" I whispered, not sure where he was.

There was the sound of a match striking, the smell of sulfur, and a blissful flood of light. He was closer than I thought. I felt the sharp intake of air he breathed when he saw my face for the first time. The bruises had plenty of time to develop into full color, and I could feel the uncomfortable heat where it was swollen. "Shit…" he muttered, reaching gently for my chin and turning my face to the side so he could get a better look. "The hell did you do?" he asked. "Use your nose as a battering ram?"

"Part of that bad day I mentioned," I said, letting him hold my face still to get a good look. "Some asshole slammed my face into the riverbed a few times."

"Why'd he do that?"

I shrugged. "Well, he was trying to drown me at the time. So the face-smashing might have been an accident."

Baird's eyes were darker than normal, even when I accounted for the flickering matchstick. "How come every time I turn my back, you're finding some kind of trouble to get into?"

"Part of my charm, I guess," I tried weakly for a joke. "Why are you back?" I asked. "I thought you were stationed on the drilling platform for a few more days."

"Hoffman ordered everyone back to base." The match shuddered close to his fingers, and he dropped it, cursing. It hit the dusty, paved floor of the tunnel and died. I took a deep breath, trying to convince my limbic system not to freak out. Underground, unarmored, and in the dark was not my favorite place to be.

Baird's hand trailed down my forearm until he found my hand. He took it, tugging me gently into the dark. "Come on," he said. "It's paved, so there's nothing to trip over. Just stay with me."

It was like walking through the caves again. Up ahead I could hear Sam's toenails on the cement. "What is this place?" I asked Baird. He hadn't let go of my hand, and I allowed him to blindly pull me forward.

"Old supply tunnel. They used to haul shipments from the port to the base through here. This will spit us out by the pier."

"Do we need to worry about it flooding?" I asked him. The pavement had been dry so far, but I knew high tide was coming in soon…

"Believe it or not, they built it above the flood zone," Baird answered. I could hear the smirk in his voice. "I guess those naval types are good for something after all."

"How'd you find this place?"

"What, you think you're the only one who needs a backdoor out of the COG?" he asked. "I'm not just a pretty face, you know."

"No, you're definitely not that," I teased. I felt him give my fingers a squeeze in response. "So, how much for the code to the lock?"

"Oh…I'm sure I'll think of something. Alright, stop walking. We're here."

I obediently came to a halt. There was some muted scuffling noise, then a creaking as Baird forced open the exit. As the door shifted, I caught the scent of saltwater blowing in on the fresh air. The moonlight was scarce, but I was grateful for it after the pitch darkness of the tunnel.

Baird stuck his head through the gap in the door, watched for a moment for any patrols, then waved me through. He was right; we were close to the pier, but nestled high in the hill and well camouflaged. I hadn't even noticed this doorway on my many patrols. The COG might not have even known it was down here, if the original blueprints of the base hadn't survived the years.

The woods swallowed us immediately, and I felt my heartrate slow with every step I took. The feeling of being trapped in a corner faded from my system as my anxiety and adrenalin drained away. Baird was taking a different route than I usually did, but I recognized where we were going long before we showed up at Baird's little cabin in the woods.

It looked different in the dark. The firepit was dark and cold. Baird unlocked the door, then left it open behind him for me to follow. He lit another match, then held it to the wick of an old oil lantern. Warm firelight chased the darkness out of the corners of the cabin, and I shut the door on the night outside. A feeling of safety warmed me from the inside out.

"Let me help," I said as Baird started removing his armor plates. By now my fingers could find the release pulls by muscle memory. It was a little harder helping someone else out of their armor; everything was backwards and flipped, like looking in a mirror. He rolled his shoulders, adjusting to the lack of weight, then started checking the plates for damage before stacking them in a corner.

I stepped around Baird and looked in the singular cabinet for a dish. I emerged with an old plastic mixing bowl. I dumped half of my canteen into it, then set it on the floor for Sam. She took a few long, sloppy gulps before laying claim to one of the woven rugs on the floor. She tucked her nose under her tail and was asleep within moments.

It was nice, these little routines of domesticity. I could have gone through the same motions in the barracks room I shared with Dom, but that place was tainted now with the memory of my armed standoff with Ace. I wouldn't have been able to sleep under the same roof as Maralin and Teresa, knowing they blamed me for the destruction wreaked on their home. I fought the guilt as it tried to wash over me. I could worry about them in the morning. For now, I took a few deep breaths and sat on the bed as I started unbuckling my boots.

Baird set the lantern on his workbench. He started fidgeting with the broken parts of some machine or other that he was repairing. He wasn't ignoring me; he was giving me time. It was funny; as well as I knew Baird's habits and quirks, he knew mine as well.

After a few minutes, my stomach rumbled. I reached for the ration bar Dom had given me earlier and started unwrapping it. The sound of foil crinkling caught Baird's attention, and he turned to see what I was doing. "Hey!" he said suddenly. "Were you raised in a barn? Don't eat that in my bed; you'll get crumbs everywhere."

I cocked an eyebrow at him. "You're really kicking me out of your bed?"

"Unless you plan on stripping naked and eating that off of my chest – yes!" He kicked at the bottom post of the bed. "Get off! Use the table."

I rolled off of his bed, but I didn't go to the dining table. I stood behind Baird, watching over his shoulder as he worked. Gears were known for being brutish, blunt weapons. They had to be in the field. But Baird's hands were delicate as he manipulated tiny electronic pieces around some sort of machine I didn't know the name of. I smiled at this brash and scarred man, who was so gentle with the things he loved.

I stuck the ration bar into his field of view. "Want a bite?" I offered.

He glanced between me and the offered snack, then reached for the bar. Instead of grabbing it, however, he grabbed hold of my entire hand and used it to pull me into his lap. He brought my whole hand to his mouth before taking a bite. "Thanks," he said, mouth full. "Needed that."

I laughed, which of course was the point of his absurdity. I took another bite of the bar, then passed him the last little bit. I sat perpendicular on his lap as we chewed. He rested one hand on the small of my back, and the other on my knee. After he swallowed, he gave my knee a squeeze. "You ready to talk about this 'worse day of your life' yet?"

My mouth twisted, and I stared down at my bare feet. "Okay," I agreed quietly after a moment. "But just…you don't get to say 'I told you so', alright? I…I can't deal with anyone's gloating."

Baird raised his right hand in the air. "Scout's honor."

And so, I told him. I started at the beginning – the garage office, the HAM radio. Chasing the bombers through the woods, putting it together when I heard mission reckoning. The armed standoff with Ace in the barracks. Then, finally, getting the truth out of him in the prison.

I don't know who I was angrier at right now - him, or me. "I should have seen it…I-" I closed my eyes and balled my hands into a fist. "I was a fucking idiot."

Baird was silent, which was the loudest thing he could be. When I opened my eyes, he was staring at my forearm. He took his right hand and wrapped it gently around my wrist, applying almost no pressure. He slowly rotated my arm, closely examining how his fingers and the bruises there aligned almost perfectly. "What a fucking asshole," he muttered. I could hear the anger and disgust churning under the surface of his voice.

I pulled my hand out of his grasp, and ran my fingers through his hair. "Thank you," I said quietly. "For listening…for being here." I pressed my lips to his, then winced backwards as the pressure cracked my split lip. "Ow."

"Later," he promised. "When your face doesn't look like ground beef."

I smiled, which again pulled on my scabs and caused me to flinch. "You're such a dick," I informed him, but there was laughter in my voice.

He smirked. "I guess I better get you back to Dom, before he makes my face match yours." Then he squinted: "Tries to make mine match yours, I mean."

My smile faded. "Well…" I hedged, suddenly uncertain. "I told Dom I wouldn't be back until dawn. I don't really want to be in the barracks right now."

"You want to stay here?" he offered immediately. I could see he was as intrigued by the idea as I was. "Are you done eating?" he asked. When I nodded yes to both questions, he scooped me up in his arms and deposited me back in the middle of his bed. I twisted for a moment, tucking myself underneath the age soft flannel blanket, before sliding over near the wall. I left a large expanse of empty mattress next to me.

Baird turned and blew out the lantern, casting us into darkness. This time, however, I wasn't afraid. I could still see the moon and stars outside the window next to me. I felt the mattress dip as Baird laid beside me. There was only one pillow, which I let Baird use. Instead, I rolled closer to him and rested my head on his chest, keeping the scraped and bruised side aimed towards the ceiling. His arms cradled around me as he rubbed my sore back. I fell asleep almost immediately, breathing in the comforting scent of the man I loved.


Author's Note: Man, I grin like an idiot the whole time I write anything with Bri and Baird. They're so adorable together!

Remember to tip you writer on your way out – please leave a review! As always, thanks for reading!