Chapter 6

The beautiful, snow-covered valley with a far-off forest and mountain looming over that she had visualized on the canvas had turned out to be little more than a collection of paint smears. The snow was green at the edges, the forest wasn't subdued enough and the mountain seemed to jump out into the foreground. Renzol sighed and put down her brush.

"I suck at this," she said.

"But it was fun, right?" Shelly replied.

Fun wasn't the word Renzol would have used to describe the experience, but it had been relaxing. Focusing on something that was simple in its very core, something you didn't expect yourself to excel at; yes, she had definitely enjoyed the last hour or so.

Shelly was curled up in her favorite armchair with a paperback to keep her company while Renzol had tried her fledgling skills at oil painting. Brilliant April sun flooded the apartment through the wide windows – spring was well on its way.

In the months past, Shelly's apartment had grown intimately familiar to Renzol as she had found herself spending more time here than at her own. Doubts over the future and painful memories of friends gone still lingered; memories of Cell and Atlanton, of Hunterhr and Frag and Foogleman. But the pain was now just another reason for her to keep moving forward, for their sake just as much as her own.

Renzol dipped a brush into paint thinner and wiped it with a cloth. "Oh right, what about tonight? Are we still seeing Bright Nights?"

"Sure," Shelly said, never taking her eyes off the paperback.

Renzol frowned. Shelly was usually energetic, always the one talking and cracking jokes and making plans for the next days. Her subdued attitude and curt answer unsettled Renzol, and she took a closer look at her friend. Shelly was eyeing through the paperback, but her eyes seemed distant. She wasn't reading.

As if feeling the stare, Shelly sighed and laid the novel against her chest.

"Something up?" Renzol asked, cleaning her hands on a towel.

Shelly tapped the novel pensively against her knees before tossing it on the floor. "I got that grant I mentioned a while back. For Buenos Aires."

A genuine smile leapt to Renzol's lips. "That's great! Congratulations!"

"I'm leaving in two weeks."

The smile died. Before Renzol had a chance to reply, Shelly spoke again.

"Wanna come?"

"I – what? To South America? Argentina?"

Shelly shrugged. "Why not? It's not like you've got anything goin' on here. Besides, I could really use my muse."

Renzol was about to laugh the joke off, but something struck her as she met Shelly's eyes. It wasn't just a carefree wanna come, as much as Shelly tried to make it sound like one. She wanted Renzol to come.

Renzol looked for another brush to wash, but they were already cleaned.

"Give it a shot. Two weeks, no strings attached. I'll pay for the flight back."

"It's not that. I just… I need to think about it." Feeling defeated, Renzol looked away.

"Sure. But I need to know by Monday."

"And the voice… have you heard it?"

Renzol was inside Nolan's office, sitting in the armchair she had come to think of as her own.

"No, not since the… restoration." The pause gave away all her doubts, and Nolan wasn't one to miss such things.

"You'll be fine, Renzol. You're not the kind of person who'll make the same mistakes twice. Just remember to stay on the path you've set on and it'll all work out."

Renzol sighed. "I know. It's just… Frustrating. Intimidating."

"Progress is slow. Maybe one day you'll forget all about it."

"Maybe," Renzol said with a rueful smile.

"Was there something else?"

Nolan knew her all too well: she always left the reason for their meeting last, and her age-old troubles with the Box hardly counted as one.

"Shelly is moving to Argentina on a grant. She wants me to go with her."

"Will you?"

"Yes."

Speaking the decision out loud felt good. She continued, "She's right. There's nothing for me here. I need to start living my life again, figure out what I want to do. Why not start there?"

Renzol didn't really believe in the idea of new beginnings – her past would always be a part of her – but symbolically it was a nice thought. A new country with new challenges and adventures.

"Yeah, I'm going. Not just because it's Shelly, but because I want to."

Nolan's pen finished its scribbles, and the man smiled. "Well, there isn't much to talk about then. Seems like you resolved this issue before coming here."

Renzol smiled. The words made her chest burn with warm pride.

"You've come a long way in these past six months. It's really quite impressive. But don't forget: the changes only last as long as you make them last."

"I know."

"But as long as you remember that," Nolan said and stood, "you'll be fine. There's strength in you." The man offered his hand, and Renzol clasped it tight. "You have my number. Call anytime if you need help in Argentina."

Tears prickled at Renzol's eyes, and she swallowed and nodded. "Thank you. For everything."

"Thank yourself. You did all the heavy lifting."

The Sunday evening's sun hung low, casting brilliant rays across the city. The street before a tall apartment building in downtown Chicago was quiet, with only a handful of pedestrians walking by. A black Mercedes halted out front and the rear door popped open. A blonde woman wearing large sunglasses and a green coat slid out with a cardboard box under her arm. She stopped by the driver to say something before stepping away. The engine died and the car remained waiting as the woman pushed in through the front door.

A girl with brown bangs and round glasses was waiting inside the hall. She perked up with a squeak when the blonde entered. Her eyes grew wide and her face paled.

She must be the friend, the blonde thought. She prepared to greet, but the girl turned away and practically raced down the hall. The woman brought a gloved hand to her mouth to stifle a laugh. She headed for the elevator, and it took her to the top floor.

She found herself standing before apartment number 904. She pushed the shades into her hair. Her pulse picked up as she rang the doorbell. Heavy strides behind the door announced someone was home. The lock turned and the door opened.

A familiar face stood in the doorway. The hair was longer than it had been the last time she saw her, and the steel cold expression had been re-forged into a mixture of anticipation and dread. A sleeveless hoodie left her augments in plain view. They were just like her own.

"Renzol!" Daishi said and stepped forward, wrapping an arm around her former sister-in-arms. Renzol stiffened for a moment before relaxing. She didn't say anything; she simply didn't have the words.

"It's so good to see you. I'm glad you're doing better," Daishi said. She pulled away from Renzol awkwardly, and their metal arms clipped together.

"Hey," Renzol finally managed, "Sorry for making you come all the way."

"Don't worry about it. I was in the State anyway," Daishi assured. Renzol stepped aside and motioned for her to enter, and Daishi obliged.

"Nice place," Daishi said as she walked into the living room, laying the cardboard box down. "You said it was your friend's? The short girl downstairs with bangs?"

Renzol nodded. "Did she give you trouble?"

Daishi's bright laughter filled the apartment. "Oh no! When you said 'obsessive fan' I was expecting far worse! I should stop for a chat on my way out."

"I think she'd like that."

Daishi looked around the apartment. It was empty but for a pair of sleeping bags and trunks in the corner. "Argentina, huh?" she mused.

"Yeah. It's just… something to do," Renzol said. Once again she felt awkward for not being able to convey her feelings.

Daishi smiled over her shoulder. "You don't need to explain yourself to me, I'm just glad you're alright. I was really worried for you. We went through so much together, and just thinking you'd end up like Wolfer…"

Daishi's voice trailed off and the smile in her eyes died. She shook herself in an attempt to rid the phantoms. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to come here and–"

"It's okay. I'm dealing with it."

The wistful smile Renzol remembered so well returned to Daishi's lips. "Me too. I don't think I'll ever be done." Daishi perked up as she remembered the reason for her visit. "That's right! I brought all the things you asked for. Medve was a darling! He hunted all over HQ for this stuff, even knew where to get the cigars you couldn't find!"

"I'll have to thank him when I see him," Renzol said, smiling as she remembered the quiet officer.

"Does that mean…"

Renzol shook her head furiously. Earth Independence Day celebrations had moved from quarterly to twice a year, and the next event in August was too soon. "I'm not ready yet. Maybe next year."

"Take your time. But I'm sure everyone is looking forward to seeing you again."

Renzol had her doubts about that. How many in XCOM had grown to resent her, she wondered. How many of them would smirk at her with glee, knowing she had never been the woman she had pretended to be?

Renzol pushed the dark thoughts aside.

Not that many. And I was who I was, and I did what had to be done. The thought strengthened her.

"Well then, I think I'll leave you with these," Daishi said, patting the cardboard box gently. "I have a flight to catch, too." To this day she refused to use a private jet, despite the desperate pleas of her managers and producers.

"Daishi," Renzol said, a new wave of anxiety in her stomach. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Daishi said, perplexed by the sudden apology.

"For what I said back then… before the Temple Ship. And for everything."

Daishi walked over to her. "You don't need to apologize."

"I do. I'm sorry."

Daishi opened her arms. Renzol hesitated for just a brief moment before embracing her former MEC sister.

"If you insist… Apology accepted," Daishi conceded with a smile. "Take care Renzol. I'll see you later."

Renzol was left alone in the apartment. Afternoon sun bathed the room in dusty golden rays. She let out a deep, shaky breath before kneeling down next to the box. She cut the tape with a safety knife and pried the lid open. Despite knowing what to expect, her heart caught in her throat nonetheless.

A letter lay on top of the packaging material.

Hey Renzol,

Here's all the stuff you requested. I hardly did a thing, most of it was down to Awo and Medve. You should thank them instead of me. Oh, Medve also found something extra that wasn't on your list. It was behind Atlanton's old locker in Charlie. I think you'll like it :)

-Daishi

Renzol put the note aside and started rummaging through the box. A smile rose on her lips. The first item was a green hairbrush with a few fair hairs still stuck to it. Renzol picked it up and ran it through her hair, eyes closed in reminiscence, wondering which of the strands were hers and which were Atlanton's.

Next was a stack of pictures, the first one showing a solemn black man in uniform. Renzol pressed Hunterhr's service picture against her chest. There were no other personal belongings of his left; the original copy of War and Peace had gone back to his father. Renzol hoped she would never forget Hunterhr's soothing voice as he read the works of German philosophers to her, the voice of the man she could have easily fallen in love with had the circumstances been different. The rest of their pictures were there too: Foogleman, Wolfer, Atlanton, Ballystix, and everyone else.

The last picture was Jamball's. Tears came to Renzol as she regarded the old and crumpled photograph. The crevice running across where Cell had almost torn it in half, the gap between the smiling girl's front teeth – it was exactly as Renzol had remembered.

She's alright, Cell. She's alright. Renzol brushed off a tear and dove back into the box.

Next was a lighter, cigar cutters, and a pack of the cheap cigars Cell had loved, all duct-taped into a bundle. Renzol took the package out and cut the tape before stuffing them in her hoodie's pocket. Ready to get up, she remembered the 'something extra' Daishi had mentioned. Curiously, she reached back inside.

Her fingers came across a pair of sunglasses she had consigned lost ages ago. In awe, Renzol inspected the shades she had worn on Frag's last operation. They were a little crooked and the lenses were scratched, but they were without a doubt the same shades.

"For Frag!" Foogleman had shouted before lifting the shot glass high above her head.

The memory glowed warmly in Renzol's mind. She slipped the sunglasses on and walked to the window. She turned the handle and the pane cracked open, letting the cool spring winds inside.

Renzol worked methodically, opening the pack of cigars and slipping one out. She smacked her lips at the end, just like she'd seen Cell do countless times, before cutting off the end with the chrome cutters. Lastly, she put the fat brown roll between her lips and brought the lighter up. Late afternoon sun gleamed off its polished surface, making the copper flames along the sides dance and setting the raised Gunner's fist ablaze.

She lit up and took a puff. Too much of the acrid smoke made its way into her lungs, and she coughed violently.

Goddammit Cell! How the hell did you do this? The coughing fit passed, and Renzol placed the smoking cigar in the corner of her mouth, giving it a playful wiggle.

You know we had a platoon pool riding on you being a terminator sent back to kill all aliens!

The memory made Renzol grin. It had been after an abduction mission where she had almost died: three berserkers and a mechtoid had ambushed them in the back alley of some nameless warehouse. Cell had patrolled the parking lot with her afterwards, smoking her cigar and making it dance in the corner of her mouth.

Renzol was brought back from her memories when the door slammed open, letting in a positively raving Shelly. She bounced from wall-to-wall, gesturing madly with her hands. And she never stopped talking. Her speech consisted of incoherent squeals and yelps and of the occasional 'Daishi!' or 'ohmygoditsDAISHI!'.

"Calm down!" Renzol laughed. "Ready for Argentina?"

Shelly stopped her pacing and gave her hair one last pull. "More like ready to die! Finally. In peace." Renzol laughed again, and Shelly gave her a closer look. "You smoke?"

"You're saying you never noticed?" Renzol said and burst out laughing at Shelly's puzzled expression.

The puzzlement was replaced by a predatory smile as Shelly's eyes lit up. "I know what we need: Wine! Wine and cigars and tomorrow – Argentina! ¡Nos vamos!" Not waiting for an answer, she bolted out the door.

Renzol chuckled and faced the window once more. She had no idea what to expect from Argentina but with Shelly pulling her along, the challenges and adventures would likely rival those she had faced in XCOM.

She took another puff, and this time she managed to keep it in the cheeks. She let the smoke out slowly, gazing towards the sun. She felt at ease. She felt like a chapter of her life that had dragged on for far too long was finally coming to a close. She turned her attention inwards.

Where a dark ocean had raged and stormed not too long ago, there resided a small wooden chest. Its lightly colored surface was adorned with simple carvings, and the front clasp was missing its lock.

Whether it had been conscious or not, Renzol had one day woken to the realization that the Box was back. She had called Nolan for a meeting, half sobbing and in panic, but the psychologist hadn't been too worried about it. It was just a representation of her inner feelings, an integral part of her. As long as she stayed on the path she had set on, no demon could sway her from it.

Renzol still found herself stashing her negative emotions inside the Box every once in a while: it was an instinctive defense mechanism for her. But she never let those feelings fester. Before long she would open the Box and let it all out: even if it hurt, even if it brought her soul-crushing anxiety and heartbreak. She refused to go through it all again.

And who knew, maybe one day she would forget to put her feelings inside the Box altogether. Maybe it would just fade away, never to return.

She breathed in and let the smoke out through her nose. It tasted terrible, but she had gone through worse. She smiled as she remembered the good and the bad she had experienced with her brothers and sisters in XCOM.

The world through her shades was tinted brown, just like it had been two years ago on the day that had changed her life forever aboard an alien transport ship. She still had her regrets at times, there was no denying it: she didn't possess the emotional clarity she had before the war, nor was she as determined and strong as she had been during it. But she could live with herself again.

Perhaps that was the greatest strength of all.