Nero needed to learn to breathe without his respirator. He didn't need it anymore. His lungs had healed, now all he needed to do was rebuild his breath capacity. Even minor physical exertion left him breathless. He'd already fainted a handful of times from lack of oxygen. The real problem was the panic attacks that would trigger if he went barefaced for too long.

"I'm not sure what to do," Shalua confessed to her sister. "Vincent told me the Restrictors used suffocation as a method of punishment with Nero. How am I supposed to engage him in any kind of therapy without triggering him?"

Shelke chewed her lip as she thought. "Nero and I aren't strangers to 'tough love'. You may actually be dragging things out by catering to his comfort."

Shalua looked vaguely horrified, but nodded. "Go on."

"I think if he could see that he can survive without the mask for more than a few minutes, he'll be okay. It won't be fun, but he's used to doing things the hard way. It might help him start to rewrite a different response to an old fear."

Shalua nodded thoughtfully. "You'll have to run that by Cissnei, but you may well have an idea."

Shelke smiled a little. "I hope so."

"Why do you want me there?" Vincent asked, perplexed. "I'll just make things worse."

"That's something we're hoping to address," Cissnei explained. "We're hoping we can help Nero reinterpret this as a positive experience."

"So...you want him to recalibrate his perception of me as well?"

Cissnei nodded. "Something like that."

"Well," Vincent said, unconvinced. "If you say so."

"Try to think of him as a rookie Turk," she suggested. "What would you do per Protocol 51?"

Vincent thought about that. Protocol 51 was procedure for what to do when a fellow Turk suffered physical or emotional trauma. For some reason, he hadn't thought to apply that in this case. Nero was his son, and it was difficult to see past that primary fact. His first instinct was to gather Nero to his heart and hold him close. That might have worked on a child who had been carried and cuddled and demonstratively loved. Nero had not. Hugs were part of a new and unfamiliar language for him. Neither of them had enough history with the other for that to work.

It occurred to VIncent that he wouldn't just randomly hug one of the new recruits. He might have done it for his partner, or apprentice, but only if invited. He might put a hand on their arm, at most perhaps loosely drape an arm around their shoulders. He'd coached kids through gunshot and knife wounds, talked them down from adrenaline highs. Was this any different?

Yes, he thought to himself. He's my son.

However, Nero was also an adult, a general, a man in his own right. If nothing else, Vincent reflected, he really needed to figure out a way to treat Nero like an adult as well as family. Maybe this could be a start.

"Okay. What do I need to do?"

Vincent tried to think of this as a sort of mini op. Cissnei, himself, and Shelke would all be working it. Cissnei would run it with Selke standing support, and himself- oddly- taking point. Vincent wasn't sure he was the best candidate for this.

"I'm no good with this sort of thing," he protested.

"You just need to keep him calm and breathing," Cissnei assured him. "You don't need to psychoanalyze him."

Rookie Turk, Vincent chanted to himself. Rookie Turk…

Nero had been briefed about the exercise and sat on the edge of his bed waiting for them.

"Hey, Nero," Cissnei greeted him cheerfully. "How you feeling?"

"OKay," Nero replied. The new respirator distorted his voice far less than the old one, lending only the slightest electronic edge.

"Is it okay with you if we try some breathing exercises without your mask today?" We can reschedule. It's up to you."

Nero glanced at Vincent, then at Shelke.

"It's your choice," Shelke assured him. "There's no wrong answer."

Nero thought about that, touched his mask, looked at them each in turn and nodded. "Okay."

Taking a deep breath, Nero unlatched his mask and pulled it off. Vincent had to give himself a mental slap. Looking at Nero without his mask was like looking into a mirror.

"Nero," Cissnei said gently, "you don't have to hold your breath."

Nero's cheeks stained dark gray at the mild admonishment. Slowly, he let his breath out. He gripped his mask tightly, hands shaking. Cissnei nodded to VIncent. It took him a precious second to change gears, to try to put himself in the role of mentor, not parent.

"It's okay," Vincent began, doing his best to keep his voice low and even. "Can you take a breath for me?"

Shelke had edged into Nero's personal space a bit; not touching him, but letting him know she was within reach if needed.

Nero's knuckles had gone white, but he obediently inhaled. He sucked in a shallow breath and held it.

"Good," Vincent told him. "That's good. Can you let it out again?"

Nero exhaled, letting himself deflate naturally. His face was becoming dark.

"If your chest hurts, don't hold it," Vincent said. "Breathe in. The air's not going to hurt you."

"It does hurt," Nero gasped and promptly began coughing. At once he clapped the mask over his face, heaving panic breaths.

"It does?" Vincent asked, edging a bit closer himself. "How?"

"It burns," Nero panted. "The air's hot and dry. It feels like...like…" He shuddered, throat convulsing, and Vincent worried he might be sick.

"This isn't punishment," Cissnei reminded him. "Nobody did anything. This is just a muscle you haven't used before. It hurts sometimes after you work out, right?"

Nero nodded.

"This is the same thing. You're exercising, and you're going to be be a little sore until you build up your strength."

"I know," Nero mumbled. "It's just...hard to remember."

"Yeah," she said kindly. "Ready to try again?"

Nero nodded.

"I want you to try something different this time," Cissnei went on. "I'd like you to give your mask to Shelke. If you feel short of breath, try this instead." Reaching, she handed him what looked like a rescue inhaler.

"Max and Shalua customized this inhaler. It will spray a fine mist of dark mako. Use it if the air feels too hot and dry and you're struggling to breathe."

Nero took it and used it once under Cissnei's instruction. He put his mask back in place to comment:

"That's pretty close to wearing my mask."

"Ready to try again?"

Nero took a steadying breath and nodded. "Okay."

No one had to prompt him to inhale this time, but the breaths were excessively slow, shallow, and deliberate. It wasn't that Nero didn't trust those gathered, but his body had been unable to accept plain air his entire life. It couldn't be easy to fight back the reflex. He managed a handful of breaths before fumbling for the inhaler.

Nero looked to Shelke, who held his mask on her lap.

"It's okay," she told him evenly. "I know it hurts, but I won't let anything happen to you. We won't let anything happen to you."

Vincent wanted nothing more than to reach and rub Nero's back with one hand. In his own mind, it was a calming gesture, deep rooted from the time he was an infant. However, it would only frighten Nero more, so Vincent clenched both fists in his lap.

Nero used the inhaler again, as if trying to draw air through it. He managed a few gasping breaths before he began to cough. His face and throat were rapidly staining black. Shelke stood, mask gripped in both hands, but stopped short and looked to Cissnei. The former Turk nodded and Shelked lunged forward to press the mask over Nero's nose and mouth.

She stayed within his reach as he struggled to recover his breath. Unable to hold back, Vincent got up and sat down next to Nero as close as he dared. Hesitantly, he stuck out one elbow until it touched Nero's arm. Nero didn't seem to notice. He was coughing so hard he was shaking. His throat spasmed and he tore off the mask long enough to retch bile onto the floor.

"I'm sorry…" he stammered, still heaving panic breaths.

"It's okay," Cissnei assured him. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pushed you."

Shelke was quiet, a slightly guilty look on her face. This had been partly her idea, and was therefore partly her fault. The last thing she had wanted to do was cause Nero more pain. Shock-and-awe might work in Deepground, but Nero shouldn't have to keep suffering.

"What if...what if we could modify the mask?" she said, even as the idea formed. "You could dial down the mako flow little by little until all you're pulling in is plain air. It might be easier to gradually get used to it rather than try to do it all at once."

Nero didn't respond, but edged a bit closer to her. Shelke obligingly leaned closer until their bodies touched.

"Does that sound good?"

Breathing finally approaching normal, Nero nodded.