Young found Nick at noon the next day, sitting with an exasperated, almost irritated Eli in the Kino Center.
"Just say a few lines," Eli urged. "Tell us your name. Your birthday. OK?"
"OK."
Looking relieved, Eli trained the Kino on Nick. Nick crossed his eyes and pulled the corners of his mouth down.
"Stop it!" Eli cried, slamming the Kino back into place. "This is serious!"
Nick had the grace to look ashamed. "Sorry."
"Really? Good. Let's try again."
He put the Kino up again. "Go," he instructed.
"I'm Nicholas Rush," Nick said. He crossed his eyes and stuck his tongue out.
"COLONEL!" Eli yelled.
"I'm watching," Young said, checking his smile.
"Discipline him! Discipline your child!"
"Nick," said Young lazily. He wasn't sure whether to feel smug or strangely guilty at the wary look that took over Nick's face. "Come with me."
Seeming stricken, Nick jumped off the chair Eli had pulled up for him and padded after Young, wringing his hands and looking for routes of escape. When they stopped outside Young's quarters, he just looked confused.
"Do you know how to play chess?" Young asked. Nick's mouth fell open in bewilderment.
"Play what?"
Smiling, Young opened the door and led him inside.
It took Nick twenty minutes to get a hold on the names and moves of each piece. They played for only ten minutes after that, and it wasn't really playing. It was Young explaining and demonstrating various defenses Nick could use. The boy was slowly becoming more and more agitated.
"This is boring," he declared finally, trying to stand and leave. Young snagged him by the arm and forced him to stay.
"If this is boring, what do you call learning the alphabet?" he demanded.
"Fun."
Young narrowed his eyes. Nick just shrugged.
"I like Lisa," he said deferentially.
"Do you, now."
"Yup."
"Well, do you like me?"
"Mr. Young," said Nick, exasperated, "I can't like you. You're a boy."
There was a long pause while Young considered the best response to that - and by "best," he meant least likely to get him chewed out by TJ.
"You can like me platonically," he offered. Nick greeted him with a look of calculated horror that might have meant he interpreted that wrong. "Platonically means as friends," Young said quickly. "You can like me as a friend."
Or a Papa.
Nick nodded, but the way his eyebrows were drawn and how he edged away slightly made Young's heart sting.
"It's your move," Young muttered bitterly. Looking morose, Nick nudged one of his pawns forward. It was a strangely lackluster move for the boy who'd so far abused his knights and bishops with gusto. Young wondered exactly what he'd said wrong to make the kid react like this - or maybe it was his sour attitude.
He moved one of his own pawns in a position to be taken. Nick looked at it darkly, scowled, and knocked over his king.
"Hey," Young snapped, grabbing the kid's wrist. "Now, you know you didn't lose. Pick up the pieces. Don't be difficult."
Nick glared at the ground. Suddenly feeling useless and frustrated, Young pulled back.
"What's wrong with you?" he demanded, struggling to keep his voice at least a little pleasant. He ducked his head, trying to catch Nick's gaze. "Nick. Tell me."
"Nothing."
"Nick -"
Nick jumped to his feet and knocked the chess board over, sending carefully-crafted pieces scattering across the floor. Young watched in astonishment as the boy's features set in rage and he stomped out of the room, kicking the black king as he went.
Young heard a furious shout outside in the hallway. He stood, feeling unusually numb.
"Well," he muttered to himself. "What the hell was that?"
He found Nick sitting with Camille Wray. The boy's eyes were red and his knees were drawn up to his chest. Camille - well, Young had never been good at reading Camille. He wasn't sure what she was doing.
"Hey," he said lowly, stepping into the room. Nick curled up tighter; Camille stood.
"Colonel Young," she said, sounding surprised and - oddly enough - relieved to see him. "Thank heaven. Can I … talk to you outside?"
Young blinked. He wanted very much to go inside, actually, and find out what was wrong, but before he could voice that thought, Camille had pulled him out and shut the door.
"Nick just told me some very interesting things," said Camille. Young stared at her, eyebrows furrowed. His thoughts veered sharply away from 'how Nick was doing' as he concentrated on Camille's words.
"Are you … accusing me of something?" he asked, truly baffled.
"No." Camille shook her head. "I'll tell you later, Colonel. But right now, I need you to go in there and assure him that you didn't mean it."
"Didn't mean what?"
"I'll tell you later."
It took everything he had not to roll his eyes and/or yell.
"OK," he said through gritted teeth. "What exactly do you want me to do?"
Camille shrugged, her expression shuttered. "Apologize," she instructed. "Make sure he accepts and understands that you're not threatening him -"
"Threatening him? What the hell did I -"
"Just do it," Camille interrupted. Young stared her down for a minute; Camille gazed blankly back.
With a deep breath, Young pressed the door release and entered the room.
Nick's head was buried in his knees, and he didn't look up when Young entered, though his shoulders tensed a little.
"Nick," said Young awkwardly, shuffling into a squatting position by Nick's chair. "Um, I wanted to say that … I didn't mean what I said earlier."
Camille was crazy. This would never work - it was too vague, too obvious he didn't know what he was talking about.
"Really?" Nick said hopefully, looking up at him. Young gaped.
"Yes," he managed finally. His mind raced to remember what Camille had told him. "I, er … apologize. For what I said. It … wasn't true. I, uh, didn't mean it that way."
He tried to stop all of the above sentences from turning into questions, but he wasn't sure he succeeded. Nick uncurled slowly, sighing with relief.
"OK," he breathed, nodding weakly. Young mimicked him, unable to believe his luck. "Good."
"I'm forgiven?"
"Yeah. Sure."
Young nodded again and raised his arms tentatively, gauging Nick's reaction. The boy didn't seem at all bothered.
With a quick backward glance to make sure they were alone, Young pulled him into a hug.
"Good," he said against Nick's hair. He pulled back a little. "You had me worried, kiddo. I didn't know what was wrong."
"Sorry."
"Nah, it's fine."
They sat there for a moment; Young shifted so he was sitting in the chair and Nick was in his lap, and for several long minutes, they just chatted.
"Wanna have another go at chess?" Young asked.
"Uh-huh."
"You got kind of angry the last time."
Nick didn't respond. In the silence, Young tried to keep his mind on the present and not on whatever 'interesting news' Camille had for him.
"You wanna go talk to Greer?" he asked, bouncing Nick a little before remembering how much he had hated that when he was a child. "Or the Science Team?"
"Will Lisa be there?"
Young fought back a stab of jealousy. "Yes," he said firmly. "And if she's not, I'm sure we can find her somewhere."
"Really?"
"Sure, kiddo. C'mon."
He stood and swung Nick onto his back, gratified to hear a bubbly little laugh. It felt like days since he'd heard the kid laugh - never again would he accidentally offend the little tyke.
He set off without seeing the Kino in the corner.
"D'aww," said Volker, looking over Eli's shoulder. He smiled around at the Apple Core. "Oh, come on. That was cute."
"You didn't see when he was talking to Camille," Eli replied, frowning hard. Volker looked between the math boy and Brody, both of whom were solemn.
"What?" he asked, smile slipping away. "That bad?"
They nodded.
"What'd he say?"
After only the briefest hesitation, Eli fiddled with the remote and pressed rewind. He found the right spot and played it, letting Volker get closer to the screen.
Slowly, Volker's face fell into something just as troubled as the others'.
"Well, put it away," he mumbled, turning his back on the Kino. "They're coming down here."
Eli squared the footage away.