Jared

I'm more surprised than anything else when the new guy taps me on the shoulder after breakfast a couple of days after we return from the most recent raid. Mel didn't even have to say anything for me to know that her conversation with Henry went poorly last night; she came back to our room spitting mad and raring to go. When she finally did relay what was said between them…. Well, none of it shocked me. From the first second I saw the kid standing with Jeb, I could tell that he wasn't going to be ok with Wanda; he held himself too tightly, ready to spring forward with all the aggressive righteousness of a one-man war. It isn't something that will ever allow him to be at peace sharing the caves with Wanda, not unless he learns to let it all go. He reminds me of the way Kyle used to be, before Wanda, and ultimately, before Sunny.

I remember what it felt like to carry around those feelings in my own chest, nestled up close to the pain of having Mel ripped away from me and entangled with the fear of losing Jamie. It was a tangible awful thing, the weight of it.

It was horrible to feel it then, just as it's awful to think about now.

So, I guess I'm motivated by more than one reason to bring this guy over to our way of thinking. It's not just for Wanda and Mel, or Ian and Eamon, or even to prevent the disharmony that I know will erupt in the caves if we have someone hateful or frightened in our midst. We just got Maggie and Sharon to shut the fuck up, for Christ's sake.

I want to help because I see so much of me in him.

When he panicked at seeing Wanda, his words shot a horrible, hot sickly bolt of shame down through my stomach; I know what it is to hate that much, to fear a thing so intensely that it just gets bigger and bigger, mutating into something ugly and dangerous. I held on to those feelings for a lot longer than I should have, because it was better than the complete and utter nothing I felt without them...without Mel. I didn't want to give them up, to take the chance that Wanda was telling the truth, if it wasn't going to somehow work out in the end. When I eventually worked my way through what I was feeling – when I truly embraced the implications of what Wanda was trying to get me to understand – it was a weight I was glad to shed like a dead skin, allowing me to breathe deeply for the first time since I had lost Mel.

If Henry does not have to make my same mistakes, then he shouldn't have to.

He drops down in the chair across from me, and when he introduces himself, I must startle him by smiling widely when I greet him.

"I take it you haven't seen many friendly faces?" I ask, not trying to hide my smirk.

He shakes his head and shrugs his shoulders, seemingly unsure how to respond. He clears his throat and says, "I mean, Jamie was pretty nice." Thank God for the kid, otherwise Mel would have probably scared this guy off entirely. He clears his throat again, stumbling over his next words. "But, um – I met Melanie yesterday…. Your – um…?" His voice rises at the end of his almost-sentence, begging for me to toss some grasp of assistance his way.

I can't help but chuckle, because it seems that Mel has scared the ever-loving shit out of this kid. "My girlfriend? Yeah," I reply, nodding to let him know he's got it right. "Or wife or partner or whatever you want to call it. She's mine and I'm hers; I'm not really hung up on labels." Not like some people – I mentally roll my eyes thinking about how O'Shea doesn't hesitate to correct anyone who deems to call Wanda by the wrong title.

He clears his throat yet again, shifting in his chair this time. "She's um…. She's…."

"Intense? Unpleasant? Slightly unhinged?" I ask, grinning so as to soften my words. His eyes widen comically; he seems unsure whether to confirm or deny what I've just said. "Oh, I am very aware that my girlfriend is a fully terrifying human being," I reassure him. I can't help but add, "She was much much less dangerous when she was possessed by an alien."

Poor Henry proceeds to spit out his water, managing to get it all over the table and down his front. "What?" he sputters, brushing down his shirt while I laugh softly at the mess he's made.

I shrug, because it's one hundred percent true. Wanda is somehow still appalled at much of the shit that comes flying out of Melanie's mouth, which is astonishing considering she lived in Mel's head with her for the better part of a year. Even with everything she has seen, Wanda is still shocked at how quick Mel is to violence; when I picture the expression on Wanda's face after I kissed her and Mel slapped me…. I could easily detect the difference between the two of them, even then. Wanda had been aghast, while Melanie had been out for blood.

They're still the same, those girls.

"Wanda's harmless," I confirm, waving off the poor guy's befuddlement. I know what I said about Mel could be taken as distasteful, but no one who actually matters to me would hear those words and get offended.

I realize a moment too late though that anyone inclined to hurt Wanda could interpret what I just said as a reassurance – a blessing – to take advantage of her unwillingness to hurt others. Henry's looking too thoughtful at my words, examining them for meaning or permission that I certainly would never give. "She may be, but I'll only warn you once; if you ever so much as look at Wanda funny, Mel will have no compunction whatsoever with burying you alive in the desert." When Henry snorts out a soft laugh, assuming I'm being flippant again, I add sharply, "And I'll help her."

That shuts him up.

Good.

A few moments fill up with uncomfortable silence, but I refuse to backstep on this. I wronged Wanda time and time again in the past, and I'm still trying to claw my way back to being the decent person I once was – the Jared that smiled and joked with a careless ease that drew Mel and Jamie and Wanda to me in the first place; that Jared protects Wanda instead of hurting her. That's the man I strive to work my way back to being every single day. Even if she doesn't need me to do that for her anymore.

"Jeb said you mentioned some interest in joining the raiding parties?" I eventually allow, conscious of my tone. Mel and Wanda both say that I tend to shift into business-mode when I talk about raiding; their description is usually accompanied by twin rueful teasing smirks – one that fills me up and follows me, and one that haunts me as it drifts away, because even if I occasionally want to, I cannot follow where it goes.

I mentally shake off these thoughts as I remember to remain inviting to Henry; he needs help, not scorn from me.

He nods, and proceeds to ask about the things we collect while out on the raids. He wants to know how long the stretches are that we travel for, how we move unseen; as I answer his questions, I'm struck by how drastically different our circumstances are from what they were during the first year or so that I was here. I'm told it was even worse before I arrived.

I need to make Henry understand – in this, if nothing more – that we are blessed to have Wanda here with us. I remember the echoes of the people we used to be, our shadows inhabiting the spaces where our bodies should have been. We were the remains of the human species instead of our true selves.

"Things used to be a lot tougher," I begin, trying to determine how to effectively communicate this to him. "Raids were hard; we could really only travel at night, so we were gone for weeks and weeks at a time to make it worth the effort. We'd break into stores and pass out in the trucks, barely sleeping and never showering to stay under the radar. It was…," I pause. "It was hell," I say, emphasizing the word to make sure he gets it. "I lived on the run for years before I found Mel and Jamie, and then had years out in the world with the two of them, and not one moment in all that time was as hard as it was during my first year here in the caves. We were always running, always looking over our shoulders, ready to die at a moment's notice to keep the group safe. That's still the rule, by the way," I inform him as an aside. He needs to know if he decides to raid with us. "You get a pill, and you have to be prepared to take it rather than let yourself be taken. We can't ever let the larger group's location be compromised." Henry looks a little pale, but he nods hastily in agreement. "We all know the risks, we all prepare ourselves for it, even Wanda."

At this revelation, Henry looks like I just told him the sky is yellow and aliens never took over the planet. "Wouldn't it be fine?" At my raised eyebrows, he rolls his eyes and says, "She – wouldn't she be fine if the group was captured by Seekers?"

I think of Wanda, and the night we were pulled over by Seekers at the tail end of her first big raid. She was ready to die to protect us then; I think of Ian, of Mel and Jamie, of Eamon, and appreciate all over again how much Wanda risks losing each time she goes out on a raid. Ian told me once that if she was caught, they wouldn't kill her like they would us; but they would ship her off-world with the hope of providing her with an attitude adjustment. She would wake up to the knowledge that we were all long-dead, and that there would be nothing she could ever do about it. Imagining Wanda without Ian or Mel or Jamie or Eamon, or even Jeb or me…. I know she would choose death every time.

"Wanda would lose more than most of us if we got caught," I say simply, leaving it at that. "Wanda changed the raids for us. She's our Trojan horse – she goes in, camouflaged in plain sight. She can get us all the food we need and books us rooms at hotels with actual beds to sleep in without anyone ever being the wiser. She showed us where to hit for medicines and cryotanks…. We're alive – hell, we're living – because of her."

I remember that first night I smuggled her out of the caves, the night we took off into the desert to save Jamie; we were both half-crazed and completely frantic, racing the dawn and desperately hoping to defy the odds…. I was a mess, but she was incredible. It was the first time I ever really saw Wanda; she was no longer the creature of my nightmares that was wearing Melanie's skin, but someone else. Someone worthwhile.

"Wanda is a core part of the raiding teams," I tell him. He'd best get used to the idea, if he wants to go out with us. "Mel steps in if she's needed, because she knows everything Wanda does, even if she doesn't have the benefit of those silver eyes to back up her knowledge." Henry tilts his head, poised to ask a question, when I tap one finger against my temple in explanation. "They shared a brain, so Mel can navigate pretty well out in the world." Ian refuses to let Wanda go without him, even now with Eamon waiting for them. I can't bear to think of Mel out there with me, so I cannot hold it against him. That kind of fear never truly leaves you, especially once it's already come to fruition once before. Now Jamie has started raiding with us as well, much to Mel and Wanda's chagrin. I think the two of them would prefer if he remained a kid forever, staying behind in the caves for the rest of his years. But he can't – he can't – and I'd rather have him in front of me and within my grasp than running off with another crew so he can feel like he's getting to stretch his legs. He may not be mine by blood, but I'd rather let the Seekers have their way with me than lose Jamie Stryder.

"We can always use more hands when we go out, but you'll have to be good with Wanda. She'll never say anything about it if you aren't, but Ian may kick your ass." I smirk, thinking of the one thing worse than a solid right hook from O'Shea, awful as that may be. "And I'm sure you can imagine what Mel would do; she's certainly more creative in her rage than Ian."

Any semblance of blood left in the kid's face drains away immediately. Oh, Mel would be mighty pleased to hear she's had such a paralyzing effect on Henry.

"Can I ask you something?" I finally ask. Henry nods, but doesn't even try to meet my eyes now. "Why do you want to stay?" At his incredulous expression, I snicker quietly. His face practically yells at the top of its lungs, Are you fucking stupid, man?

And for the millionth time and for the thousandth reason, I wish this guy wasn't so afraid of Wanda. I know that's a tall order; that it's something that would never be possible outside the magic of what has happened in these caves, but if it had – if only it had – I think Henry would be welcomed into the fold of this place, cared for and accepted without question. I can see him in my mind's eye, sassing Mel and playing soccer with Jamie, talking with Ian while Wanda fusses at me as I try and hold Eamon correctly. There is a real chance of having a full life in this place, he just has to want it, and to let go of what he believes stands between him and the rest of us.

"For Mia," he murmurs eventually. "I'd do anything for Mia."

I nod, acknowledging this, because I understand. I came to this place in the grips of a furious hope that by keeping Jamie safe, I could somehow pull myself out of the devastation I was drowning in after I lost Mel.

What I got was so much more, eventually. I got my heart, my Mel back, and my wish for Jamie. I gained friends and was given the chance to love again; I have learned about the worlds beyond my own and made peace with what has happened to mine. I have found stability and a role in a thriving community. I'm slowly piecing the bits of me back together that shattered as I read ten words scrawled haphazardly across a scrap of paper; Not fast enough. Love you love Jamie. Don't go home.

I found hope, because I wanted it, and because I decided to take a risk in trusting Wanda.

"She'll get everything she needs here, I can promise you that," I assure him. "If you can let yourself believe it's possible, I think you will too."

His face snaps up at my words, and he presses his mouth into a flat line. "Can I ask you something?" he asks. After being encouraged to go ahead, he says, "Jeb said you held the doctor at knife point when Wanda wanted to die. Why didn't you just let her? You know, when she wanted to?"

The events of that night have always sat in my mind like a boulder in the middle of a river; unmoving, as the rest of the world rushes past. I knew Wanda was up to something, and as soon as O'Shea took his eyes off her for five goddamn minutes, she went and proved me right. I would let the whole world burn to get Melanie back in my arms; but in that moment, in a dark hallway of an underground cavern, I didn't want to let her captor leave us – to leave me. I couldn't bear it. I craved Mel, but I'd come to care deeply for Wanda; I couldn't let one go for the sake of the other, no matter how absurd it seemed when I took a step back. I just couldn't. My chest had split open when Wanda asked me to let her leave Mel on her own, but whatever was left was promptly torn to shreds after I followed her and the full meaning of her words to Doc became clear. Let me stay with Walt and Wes. Wanda...dead in the ground beneath our feet, never to laugh or fear or tell stories or love fiercely ever again.

No. That was the only thought that screamed out in my head as my brain slowly, stupidly pinned down what she was saying. No no no. NO.

"Because I didn't want to," I finally tell Henry, my voice rough, a solid ugly thing living firmly in my throat. "I didn't want her to go."

And with that I know I can't do any more for Henry. Spending time with these memories always stirs something sharp and jagged within me, something uncomfortable I don't like to take out and examine. I would die without Melanie; I know that from experience now. I became a ghost of myself, a memory of the Jared Howe I once was. I was numb with grief, a creature without awareness of the parts of himself that made up a whole person. I existed as that thing for so long, until I was unrecognizable to both the people around me and to myself. Feeling is coming back though, slowly but surely as the time passes. I am once again a man set apart from the powerful anguish that once defined me. I love, and I live. I chase away the numbness, and I feel. But when I let these memories wrap me up in their hazy tendrils, they threaten to drag me back, and I don't know if I can afford to ever become that man again – the one who wears his apathy like a shield.

So I push myself up to stand, gathering my dishes like talismans against the darkness that hovers in the corridors of these caves. "If you do decide to stay," I say. "You should ask Wanda how she got the name Rides the Beast. She's a great storyteller, and…," I let my words get lost in a memory, just for a moment. It's one of the few I have of only Wanda and I, where it really felt like just the two of us, even though she was looking out at me through Mel's face. It still stings a bit, the thought of that night. No Mel and no Ian there to soften the words exchanged between us or to distract from the feelings that they elicited, no matter how unwelcome or unappreciated they were. Wanda took my breath away when she told me that story about her previous name; I remember how it felt when I realized it, like a lightning strike in my chest – it was breathtaking to feel loved by someone so impressive. But I have never doubted my love for Mel, not for one single second since I kissed her on that first night she came screaming into my life, and that night with Wanda was a long time ago.

I clear my throat, blinking away the shadows of that night, and say, "And it's one of her better stories. I hope you stick around to hear it."