Author's Note: Thank you to those of you who read and reviewed the prologue. I am really surprised by how many people like this story. I am honored and very happy. You guys (and gals) keep me motivated. I did a lot of research from the different sources of cannon (the games, graphic novel, and official companion novel) to fill in the missing details between Snake and Meryl's relationship. This chapter is set a couple of weeks after the first one.

Disclaimer: Metal Gear Solid is property of Hideo Kojima and Konami.

Italics indicate a flashback.

The combination of cigarette smoke and the sweltering smog that filled air was a noxious concoction that would send even the most hardened smoker vomiting. But Solid Snake enjoyed the lingering odor as he inhaled deeply, taking the nicotine rich air deep into his lungs. At the moment, Otacon was procuring supplies in the hustle and bustle of downtown Manhattan. Snake, determined to keep a low profile, had taken up residence in Otacon's tiny flat. He rarely left the apartment, only to obtain more cigarettes, an errand that Otacon refused to run. "You're killing yourself," the scientist would lecture with a stern disapproving scowl.

Snake rarely had the opportunity to bask in his cloud of smoke, cancerous or no, so when Otacon announced that morning that he would be gone for the day to replenish their supply of groceries, and upgrade the RAM in his desktop, Snake took full advantage of the vacant apartment.

After leaving Alaska, he hadn't exactly intended to run to New York City, but Otacon was his only remaining ally worthy of any degree of trust. Sure, Campbell would always support his old comrade, but with Campbell came Meryl, and all the questions. One quick codec call was all it took, and Snake found himself on the next flight from Anchorage to JFK Airport. Of course, Otacon had just as many questions, but he also had the courtesy of keeping them contained. Snake hated questions, especially in regards to his personal life.

The Tanker Incident had proven to be nothing but a giant fiasco, but it did serve one advantage. Officially he was dead, thanks entirely to Otacon's genius in planting Liquid's body in the wreckage. The government believed him dead, and that suited Snake just fine. He had more than his fair share of the government's interference. Scowling his mind lingered briefly on the FOXDIE coursing through his veins and the scientist who administered it. Despite being officially dead, Philanthropy was alive and running, however slow at the moment. Since the Discovery sank, Snake was keeping a low profile. In New York City, procuring a new identity was as easy as buying a carton of cigarettes. A few hours and a few dollars in the right hands and he was Iroquios Pliskin. Otacon had chosen the name. It was a bit too similar to his code name, but was definitely a far cry from both David and Solid Snake.

Smoke rose from the tip of a burning Moslem in to the air. He had been a Lucky Strike man, but after Shadow Moses, Snake had taken a liking to Moslems. Not normally his style, but their bitter taste brought an unexpected relief to the former soldier. Any relief, whether it be carcinogenic or alcohol, was a welcome gift from his memories.

It was a crisp April evening at Twin Lakes, the air was chilly, but lacked the icy bite of a typical Alaskan night. As usual, Snake was awake, pacing to and fro in the spacious bedroom of his cabin. Sleep had never come easy for him; most nights were spent pouring over old books, training at midnight, or seeking comfort from his dogs. This night was particularly difficult. Since Meryl found herself at home in his cabin, Snake's sleepless nights were far and few between, but there was always the occasion where insomnia reigned supreme. Taking a seat in front of the fireplace, he basked in the few wisps of warmth that emitted from the dying embers.

Never in a million years did he expect to be sharing his home with a young woman, especially one more than ten years his junior. But at the same time, he had sworn off relationships of any type. All that brought was heart ache, useless emotions, and weakness for enemies to exploit. Sure, Snake had more than his fair share of women, one night stands, spring flings, and the occasional attempt at a relationship, but nothing worked, bringing more annoyance then fulfillment. But Meryl Silverburgh…she was a world away from any other woman he had known. Green yes, but steadfast, brave to the point of reckless, determined, with a stubborn streak to rival his own. Maybe that was why he had been drawn to her from the moment they met. Although Snake did admit, her good looks didn't hurt either.

Falling in love on the battlefield…a fool's folly. 'Then I guess that makes me a fool,' he pondered. Never being one to wear his heart on his sleeve, Snake assured Meryl of his feelings in the few ways he knew how, the occasional gentle word, playful antagonizing, and an insatiable lust that never seem satisfied. He knew that would not state the needs of a normal woman, Holly proved that. She wanted his emotions on a silver platter, bringing about the downfall of their affair. But Meryl, she seemed content, happy even, in his small world of sled dogs and snow.

Their days were simple, but happy, an emotion that Solid Snake had not allowed himself since Zanzibar. Both foreign and fulfilling at the same time, Snake looked forward to each day with sincerity and optimism. Meryl brought out the good in him that lingered in his cold killer's heart. Gazing back at the bed, he drank in the sight of the small woman huddled beneath his woolen sheets. Her red hair reflected the flickering light of the fireplace, casting an orange glow on her face. She, like him, slept nude, but at the moment, she was so tightly cocooned in his blankets not a trace of skin was bared. For now, she seemed to be deep in a dreamless slumber.

Although Snake knew that Meryl wouldn't admit it, the after effects of Shadow Moses were becoming steadily more apparent each night. The light of day was a mask for her inner-demons, keeping them at bay while playing with his huskies, making fun of his atrocious cooking, or their seemingly endless sessions of sparring that quickly ignited into something far more carnal. It was slow at first, the occasional twitch in her sleep, startling easy, and jumping at loud noises. Snake knew as well as any seasoned veteran that she was suffering the effects of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, however, he respected her quietly ignore them. Meryl would have ardently denied them, creating tension in their happy relationship. He was also well aware of his own issues, always sleeping with a loaded pistol by the bed and chronic insomnia; she dealt with them with grace, and never threw them in his face.

As the months progressed, so did her nightmares. They started very slowly, but each evening progressed further and further. Unbeknownst to Meryl, she talked in her sleep. In fact, she was quite vocal, reliving her torture over and over each night. Very slowly, Snake was beginning to piece together the puzzle of what happened during her confinement on Shadow Moses. Meryl was very careful to not reveal what happened to her, her demeanor becoming defense and almost cold each instance Snake attempted to ask her what happened. 'Nothing', she'd say, and 'I already told you. They tortured me,' before hastily changing the subject. He was no fool, nor did he buy her answers. For months he'd been pouring over her words, again and again, trying to decipher the few hints she inadvertently dropped. But it wasn't until her nightmares that he learned the disturbing details.

So far, Snake learned that Sniper Wolf was the first ordeal she had faced. While Ocelot was busy with his "interrogation", Meryl had been confined to a small cell with a television monitor broadcasting his electrocution. In the middle of the room was a metal chair to which she had been cuffed. Sniper Wolf stood behind her, pulling tightly on her hair, forcing her gaze up to the television. She'd always cry, 'I'm sorry,' or 'all my fault.' Wolf taunted her relentlessly, before finally leaving her in the dark room in tears. Snake also realized that he had not been the only one to whom Ocelot paid a visit. The rounds from Sniper Wolf's rifle were still firmly embedded into her flesh, and Revolver Ocelot took it upon himself to remove them with nothing but a tactical bayonet. During those dreams, Meryl would often clench the sheets, curling up into a tight ball, her entire body shaking violently.

Each time he'd wake to her crying or shaking, Snake would simply hold her, stroking her mop of thick red curls until Meryl would either wake, or the nightmare would cease. In the pit of his gut, anger and rage would build up. Anger at everyone, at everything, and most of all himself. If he had not shown interest in her, allowed his emotions to overrule his soldier's intuition, Meryl would have escaped Shadow Moses a little worse for the wear, but torture free. Liquid and Ocelot wouldn't of had a reason to use her, torture her, using a young woman as bait. Often Snake wondered what else Meryl had endured. In REX's hanger, she had alluded to an act worse than torture. Over the past six months, his brain had agonized over every gruesome possibility, but Meryl never alluded to the event again, even in her sleep.

Realizing he had zoned out, Snake abandoned his seat by the fire place, resuming his pacing back and forth. Realizing he had a stash of cigarettes hidden in his sock drawer, he hastily retrieved a Moslem and a lighter from within a pair of thick socks. He normally reserved his smoking for outside since Meryl had moved in, but he needed the quick fix of a nicotine high. 'Maybe that will help me to sleep.'

He was such a fool. He loved Meryl, and although he hated admitting it, it was the cold truth staring him in the face. Solid Snake cracked the small window in his bedroom just a hair, enough for the trail of smoke to escape the room. A few dazed minutes later, Snake observed as Meryl began to toss here and there on the bed. Her brow was clenched down and she was beginning to whimper and moan, softly but steadily getting louder. Snake grimaced; she was dreaming again, and this was how her nightmares always began. He'd witnessed dozens of them, each tore a new hole in his gut. He was supposed to protect her, and how he had to watch her relive the terror every night. What good was being a solider if he couldn't protect the ones he cared about?! Extinguishing his cigarette, and flicking it into the woods outside his window, he slowly walked over to Meryl and very gently began caressing her cheek. Upon a closer inspection, he realized that she was soaked in a cold sweat and trembling from head to toe. "It's only a dream," he whispered to her, his voice barely audible.

Meryl's chest started to heave up and down as she hyperventilated, a panicked expression flashed across her face. "No...please, no…" she muttered in a small voice, defeated and forlorn. Snake began to run his hands through her hair; that usually would be enough to jolt her into the living world. However it wasn't working, as Meryl continued to heave. "I don't have the card key. Please, don't," she continued to plead.

This was a new flashback, Snake realized. He knew every scene that she was forced to relive, every painstaking detail of everything she endured. But this was new. He had never seen her break out into a cold sweat, nor had he heard her beg. Meryl was not that type of woman. Her stubborn pride refused the mere notion of begging. Every flashback she would scream and swear up a storm, cursing her captors with every breath she took. Never before had Snake heard her so devoid of fire.

Worse…his mind wandered.

Was this what she was reliving? He listened intently at Meryl's words, while cupping her petite frame against his chest. A small trail of tears began to form at the corners of her eyes, which were firmly shut. Beneath them, he could make out the faint movement of her eyes beneath her lids, darting across the room. "You're not Snake. Get away from me," she murmured.

Even as a war hardened veteran, it was impossible to prevent the waves of nausea that rose in his throat. Liquid. Snake was well aware that Liquid was responsible for a large part of Meryl's torture. The words his twin cackled at him inside REX's hanger echoed inside Snake's head. "Poor girl, kept calling out your name. Stupid woman. Falling in love with a man who doesn't even have a name,". Things were starting to make sense, and although what he long suspected what Meryl endured, watching her relive the ordeal months after was a giant slap in the face.

"Get off me! Someone please, help me."

Snake drew her closer into him, enveloping her body in his, as if to shield her from the world.

"Snake, please, help me…"

BAM!

Otacon slammed the door of his apartment closed with a loud bringing Snake back into the present. The middle-aged scientist was laden with white plastic bags dangling from his arms, a stern look plastered across his face. "Snake, put that out! I want you stinking up this apartment," Otacon lectured.

Mumbling, Snake tossed the remaining half of his Moslem out the window. He grabbed the bags from Otacon's left arm, emptying their contents onto the countertop. It was the standard fare, eggs, ramen, cereal, the typical food a man with no prowess in the kitchen. Bland, but well enough to eat. "Did you find what you needed," Snake inquired.

"You mean the parts for my computer? Yeah. It took a while, not many places carry the correct RAM needed for Macintosh machines," the scientist replied. "Actually, while I was out, I received a call from an old friend of mine."

Snake perked up, listening intently. Their tip off about the Discovery was due primarily to some of Otacon's old comrades in the scientific community. "Anything of note?" Usually the leads were nothing but dead ends and scrapped government projects, but occasionally a reliable source would surface with information on the newest incarnation of Metal Gear.

"Actually, yeah. An old colleague. We worked together before I was transferred to Shadow Moses. He was recruited by an American scientist to work on a covert project in Nepal."

"Nepal? That's a strange place for the U.S. to be working."

"In the Annapurna region, the middle of the Himalayans. According to my friend. He mentioned work on a state of the art bipedal weapon, capable of deploying nuclear weapons…" Otacon trailed off.

Solid Snake nodded, in understanding. The story of his life. "Metal Gear…" he muttered.