Hey! bestknight32 here! Rather than a double upload in July Ill just upload this chapter for August. I'd like to thank dahliingg for making the base of the story and Tim Baril for making this chapter you two are the best!

One more thing I got two guest reviews that were very insightful for me thank you much! I'd like to apologize to anyone who got confused by the time skip. For this fic i wanted the doctor to work at building back up to being a strategist and earning the trust of Rhodes Island and to be clear i wont be skipping the lungmen arc it'll happen promise! just not yet sorry if it still doesn't make sense. this wont be the only change that haooens tho .I have to really really have to change the summary to avoid more confusion!

Disclaimer for reviews since were here i sometimes won't be able to reply either im too shy or I dont know how i should respond so srry in advance.

Alright thats all until next time! "next + chapter = next chapter"


Hayden wandered into the mess hall, looking for something to eat, his belly hollow and growling at being neglected. He'd missed lunch—again. It was a bad habit. He couldn't seem to bring himself to take regularly scheduled breaks. He dove into his work and only came up for air at odd intervals, usually out of sync with many of the others on Rhodes Island.

The mess hall was one of the larger rooms at RI. The kitchen ran along the back wall, where patrons could see everything being cooked in the open. A long counter with glass shelves normally held dozens of dishes waiting to be picked up. About twenty large, round tables with stools filled the space, their clean, snow-white tops a nice contrast to the cobalt-blue floors and cream-white walls.

Lights designed to mimic sunlight shone brightly from above, an essential element in what was a giant metal box on wheels with almost no windows. Hayden had discovered that lack of real sunlight was a perpetual problem for many residents of the mobile city. Too many were trapped inside the bunker, unable to get any fresh air or exercise outside of the gym.

Two young men in iron-gray aprons buffed tables the lunch crowd had already left behind while several chefs tidied up in the kitchen and took a quick breather before they would have to start making dinner.

Hayden grabbed a tray and stood at the counter to examine the few covered leftovers waiting for people like him to appear late. Unfortunately, there were no meat dishes left, and it looked like he'd have to go without protein today or make an effort to get to the mess hall on time for dinner. Snagging a bowl of garlic-and-onion soup and a salad of cruciferous vegetables topped with dill and a light-mustard sauce, he turned and looked for a place to sit.

Kal'tsit, who kept hours as off-tempo as he did, sat alone at one table in her always-present lab coat and one of the green dresses she commonly wore, her eyes on her tablet even as she nibbled on a sandwich. As always, she had a cold beauty to her and a keen concentration on her work.

He instinctively moved towards her and saw one of her cat ears twitch in his direction though she didn't look up. Should he…nah. He stopped. Better not try to join her. Despite his occasional efforts to get to know her, her cold attitude seemed determined to resist any warmth on his part. So he sunk into a seat a couple of tables away, feeling sheepish at having given up and eating alone. He chided himself for not bringing a tablet of his own so that he could get some reading done while he ate.

They weren't the only ones still in the mess hall. A small crowd hung out in one corner of the room, circled around the furthest table and two people seated there. Those watching were fairly quiet but constantly whispered as they watched the action on the table.

After finishing his meal, Hayden, curious, ambled over to see what the crowd was up to.

Noticing him move closer, a few watchers glanced up. He recognized most of the people here as part of the military branch of their organization, about half from his rescue so many months ago, including Melantha, Cardigan, and Ansel. Some eyes were wary, and others blank, a couple outright hostile. Nobody moved aside to give him room.

The two seated were Adnachiel and Steward, looking like brothers with their lithe bodies and similarly short, white hair, their faces concentrated over a flatscreen about a half-metre square. The screen displayed a bird's-eye view of an urban setting with marked units in different positions. Adnachiel touched one unit and moved it to the next hexagon over.

Quietly looking around at the others watching, Hayden didn't see any friendly faces, not that he was close to very many people. His old reputation and his excessive work habits saw to that. He figured Melantha might be his best shot, so he sidled over to her.

"Afternoon," he greeted her.

She looked away from the board and offered a small smile. "Doctor Hayden. How are you." As always, her corset, skirt, stockings, and gloves were dark, matching her dark hair and the dark fur of her cat tail and ears. It combined to give her a serious, slightly melancholy air.

"Well enough. And you?"

"Alive. Well rested. Full from lunch. So I can't complain."

He nervously smiled back, then nodded at the board. "Some kind of game?"

Melantha nodded. "Yes. It's a strategy-based war game. Like freeform chess on a board that changes every game. So no two games are alike. We use it for strategy training and practicing upcoming ops."

"Looks interesting."

She gave him a knowing glance. "You want to play, don't you?"

"What? Me? Oh. Um, perhaps." He raised a brow, realizing the activity did look intriguing, though he hadn't even recognized his own interest yet. "How did you know?"

A collective groan and cheer interrupted their conversation as the game between Adnachiel and Steward came to an end, the latter victorious from the way he smugly pumped his fist while Adnachiel looked rueful.

Adnachiel melodramatically rested his head on his arms, the everpresent halo over his head glowing gold. "I never should have tried to take that building halfway through. One little mistake!"

Steward crowed, in a good mood. Probably because his back was to Hayden and he hadn't noticed him yet. "One mistake is the difference between life and death."

Melantha spoke up. "Hey guys, let's give the doc a go."

Heads swivelled, and more people took notice of his arrival. Conversation died.

Steward, finally noticing Hayden for the first time, scowled in the silence. "Hell no."

Melantha didn't lose a beat. She wasn't one to be intimidated by peer pressure. "Why not?"

Steward waved Hayden away. "He's an ace at it. One of the best in RI. It would be pointless."

Hayden cleared his throat. "Uh, actually, I've never played this before." He paused and looked at Melantha. "Have I?"

Adnachiel looked quizzical. "You don't…"

An awkward smile and Hayden shrugged as was a long habit at this point. "Lost memory. I don't recall this at all."

"I'll play him then," Steward suddenly challenged. "Either I'll kick your ass, or this can be another lesson to everyone about cold-hearted you are. We'll remind everyone how easily you sacrifice your pawns to win."

Melantha punched Steward in the shoulder, not lightly, surprising him. "Give it a rest, will you? Leave the fighting to the field."

Steward ignored her. He glared at Hayden, waiting.

Hayden bowed his head and replaced Adnachiel at the table.

Adnachiel lightly slapped the back of his shoulder. "Good luck." Like Melantha, he hadn't carried a grudge against Hayden since the rescue, remaining polite, if not overly friendly.

"Thank you." He looked at the board. "So, how do you play? What are the rules?"

Steward leaned forward, eyes boring into Hayden. "You seriously don't remember? Or are you trying to pull one over on us? Kind of scummy, isn't it, trying to take advantage of people half your age and experience?"

Hayden held his hands up, palms forward. "I don't remember. Truthfully."

Melantha stepped in and swiftly explained the general rules of how pieces could move, though she didn't go into any strategy about how to use them.

It was not an easy game to play, and he experienced information overload, but Hayden did his best to try to remember everything she said. He nodded as she finished and the game began.

This time, they played in a forest with hills, a river, and some ruins.

Steward came out of his side very aggressively. He had it in for Hayden and seemed intent on using this opportunity to take out his anger on the man he blamed for the deaths of his friends and others.

Hayden, unsure of how the game was played, moved much more conservatively, trying to learn as he went. He tried hard to keep his pieces alive. This was no easy task given how ruthlessly Steward went after them. Despite it being Hayden's first game, as far as he could remember, Steward wasn't taking it easy on him at all.

As the game went on, Hayden found himself slowly losing pieces as he backed away from Steward's advances.

Spectators began to comment on his seemingly unorthodox play style.

"Why did you do that?"

"I don't get your strategy; you can't win doing that."

"Why don't you attack?"

Cardigan reached forward and pointed out an opening on the board, struggling to reach because of her short stature, her blond hair draping over the table. "Look, you have a clear angle here. Why don't you strike this direction?" Her blond cat ears twitched.

Hayden, having ignored most of the commentary so far and feeling out of his depth, finally replied half under his breath. "Because I'll lose pieces." He felt clumsy at this, and he could see as well as anyone that he was doing badly.

Cardigan shrugged, confused. "That's part of the game."

Hayden's lips pressed into a line before he replied. "I don't accept that."

Steward turned angry so quickly it was as if he'd just been waiting for an excuse. "It was easy enough before. So many of us have died in the field because of you. You're trying to pretend you're different now?"

Hayden sighed and met the younger man's eyes. "I don't know who I was before. I only know who I want to be now. And I don't want to lose anyone if I can."

They continued to play. Hayden lost even more.

Steward seemingly couldn't take any more of the way Hayden was playing and snapped in aggravation. "What the hell are you doing? Are you even trying to win? Or just mocking me?"

Hayden frowned back. "What are you talking about? Of course, I'm playing to win."

"Oh yeah? Then why aren't you attacking me?" he accused.

Hayden paused. "I don't want to kill your pieces any more than lose mine."

Steward looked at him, stunned. Then he spat a curse and swept the board off the table. Only a deft grab by two spectators kept the screen from crashing to the floor and breaking.

Hayden watched Steward's back as the angry young man stalked off and a few of the crowd followed him in solidarity. He felt guilty and frustrated, both by his inability to heal things with Steward and his performance in the game.

Adnachiel shrugged and looked apologetic. "Hey, don't let it get to you," he told Hayden. "He's still dealing with stuff." He nodded at the board. "You played a tough game; made him work for the win. Nice." He gave a half wave and then strode off after his friend.

Melantha, unmoved by Steward's rage, gave Hayden a curious look. "What was your strategy?"

He searched for a better answer but couldn't come up with one. "I just…didn't want to lose anyone." He grimaced.

"Including the enemy." She shook her head. "You can't really win that way."

He stared at the board as others set it up again. "Then I'm not sure I like this game."

She raised an eyebrow. "Don't you play chess all the time? You take pieces in that."

"Yes. But this is different." He gestured at the board. "It's not just game pieces and theory. These represent real people and real situations. Killing the other side to win feels almost as wrong as losing my own people."

The few people remaining paid attention to his words, studying him as he spoke, though they said nothing.

Melantha took a seat next to him. "Most of us realize that losing pieces on the board is inevitable. So is losing people in real life. It's a lot harder to deal with in real life, but every warrior has to understand that."

"He's so angry," Hayden mumbled, referring to Steward. "Does he understand it?"

Melantha nodded. "He's in pain. He's lost too many friends. Most of us have. But hating life or the system around us is hard. Being angry with abstract concepts doesn't bring us any satisfaction. Turning all your pain and frustration into hate and focusing it on one person is a lot easier."

"I wish there was something I could do to help him. To get us past this."

"He has to change on his own." She nodded at the board. "Want another game? I'll play you next."

He played another game, getting the hang of the rules better the second time around. Once more, he tried his best to limit casualties as he tried to cross the board and retrieve a flag from the other side without anyone getting hurt. It reminded him all too much of his own rescue. And when he did lose units, he had flashbacks to those who'd died saving him. The experience was much more emotional than playing chess.

With no time limits, play slowed to a near-agonizing crawl as he tried to go over every possibility in his head and look into the future to prevent disaster. Whenever he was forced to kill an opposing piece, he was grim. Whenever he lost one of his own, he softly banged his fist on the table and felt a stab of pain in his breast as if he'd lost someone real.

The crowd quieted as they watched, commenting less on strategy and just studying the board—and him.

Finally, backed into a corner, Hayden had to concede defeat.

Melantha's brows rose. "You played a tough game. I'm impressed."

He was taking the loss personally and felt very sour. "I lost. Everyone would have died."

"You hardly lost any for a long time."

"Losing one is too much."

Most of the crowd began drifting away. Some of their outward hostility towards Hayden had ebbed.

Melantha watched them go. "It was easy to see how hard you were trying. How you felt when pieces died. They all saw it too." She gave him a warm smile. "That's the kind of strategist I'd like to have with me on the field. Many of us would."

His eyes widened. "I lost!"

"But you fought hard to prevent anyone from dying, even though you could have won more than once by sacrificing your pieces. And that matters. It tells those on the field what kind of person you are, that you care about people more than winning."

"If this had been a real-life situation, they all would have died. If I'd played differently, I could have won, and half would have lived. Isn't that better?"

"Keep practicing until you can figure out a way to win while not losing anyone. I mean, that's the perfect outcome, isn't it?"

He rubbed his chin and studied the remains of the game. "I can see the logic behind a more ruthless strategy. It's tempting if you just look at it like a game. But when I look at the board, I don't see pieces; I see you, Amiya, Adnachiel, and Cardigan. Even Steward. I don't want any of you to die."

She laughed. "I should hope not."

"People keep telling me who I used to be and I'm ashamed of it. Makes me glad I lost my memories sometimes. Although, it doesn't feel like I'm making much of a difference right now, having to learn everything over again. Finding a cure seems nearly impossible right now." He felt the urge to get back to his studies, a pang of guilt at having spent so long away, despite his already long hours every day in pursuit of his goal.

She rose. "We're having a tournament next week. Get some practice. Maybe if you get good enough, it'll get you back out into the field with us at some point."

He rose too, shocked. "You'd want me as your strategist? Out there? Why?"

She looked straight into his eyes. "If you can complete the mission so as many of us come home safely as possible, then yes. I'd want you in the field."

"I can't imagine Steward and many of the others would."

"They will. They might not like it at first, but they'll come around. If you give them someone to respect and believe in."

He ran a hand through his hair. "I'm a doctor. Priority one is finding a cure. I don't know if it makes much sense for me to be out in the field."

"By all means, keep working in the lab. You're right; finding a cure is our top mission. But you used to be a brilliant strategist, even if some of us didn't like your methods. If that part of you comes back too, then put it to use. It won't matter how much progress you make in the lab if we can't get our job done in the field too."

"I suppose," he admitted.

"Practice the game. Ask Doberman about reviewing training materials. Come to the tournament. Attend the briefing when we have an upcoming operation and see if you can offer some insight. Even if you never join us in the field, if you see something we don't and that helps us reach our objectives or save lives, every little bit helps."

He hesitated. "I'll…I'll think about it." He reached out a hand. "Thank you, Melantha."

She appeared puzzled, slowly reaching for his hand. "For what?"

"For giving me a chance." He nodded towards the door, where everyone else had already departed. "When not many others have. I just hope I can be worthy of it. I'll do my best."