A/N: Hello again and sorry for the delay in the recent chapter! As many of my regular readers know, I have been on something of a break in order to focus on an audio project! If you are unfamiliar with the project and interested in the idea of Fallout Fanfics in audio form to listen to while you work, drive, or whatever, you can find the channel on Youtube with a search for the "FalloutFanfics channel." Let me know if you have difficulty finding it, but most importantly: Hope you enjoy the next chapter of Paul's story!... Might be worth re-reading/skimming the previous couple chapters if you need a refresher on where the story left off.

Chapter 36: Calm

The Day After the Others Arrived

Narrative Continued by Lieutenant Paul Young

"You sure we're safe to go in right now?" asked Parrish.

I could only tell the man what I told him before, "I'm sure. There's no way to blast open the doors, and unless you have one of only three special keycards or know the pass code, there's no way of getting in… Plus, you see anyone around right now?"

Doyle, Hudson, Ray, Licus, Parrish, both of Lt. Roth's boys, and the four techs looked around. Beyond the eroded husks of military trucks, long since pillaged and crumbled barracks buildings, and half destroyed fences around the place, I was right. There was not a man, creature, or living thing in sight. There wasn't really even any sound beyond the wind stirring the sands across the pavement of the destroyed asphalt lot outside the bunker. I could understand their skepticism though. Most guardsmen didn't even know this place existed, or had only ever gone here once before under the cover of dark with orders of the utmost secrecy. I was a bit surprised myself, much like Doyle when the Constable said it was ok to come here in the daytime even with the techs in tow. Parrish and Lockwood continued to survey the area for any signs of life and looked very uncomfortable since both had only come here on one other time. I knew they were worried mostly about things because it was daytime and we were still pretty close to the scaver communes of Provo. Still, the national guard armory at Spanish Fork was a ways off the main roads so we were sure to avoid the traffic of traders and wasters. In the end, the best thing we could do was just like with the previous two jobs along the way home : be quick about it.

Doyle even said it himself, "Alright then, we're clear. So let's just be quick about it." I nodded, had the others fan out a little and keep some distance while I approached the blast door to the concrete bunker and sent the ready code to the Constable's encrypted channel.

Under the shade of the rusty metal awning over the bunker, I slid the thick steel panel beside the door upward with a good effort, and as the numbers came in, I entered the five digit "PIN number." I pressed the "ENTER" button, the number panel clicked and gave off a green light.

After a few seconds, I heard from somewhere behind the meter thick concrete wall some mechanical chugging. Another second later and the square shaped cutout beside the number pad opened up and a terminal extended out from the wall. The old computer locked in place, the keyboard dropped down beneath the monitor, and started flashing green in the corner. I sent the Constable the second signal, and after another second, the numbers began coming out of my radio set in their coded way. Once all eleven numbers were entered, the monitor showed the word "Accepted" and I selected the "Open" option when prompted. Then, the monitor retracted back inside the structure, I closed the keypad cover, and the door released a low creaking sound as the gears lowered the entryway.

The others turned back towards me the second I faced them and with only the motion of my head, they all followed me inside. Doyle, Hudson, Licus, and the others continued surveying the surroundings until the moment they were in the darkness of the inside while the techs just approached with awed looks on their faces as they were curious to see what was inside New Canaan's most secretive place outside the walls.

Licus Messiah had never been here or heard about this place, but he was smart enough to assume what was inside based on the other two caches the Constable had us check on after the signal tower work was done. Those other caches however, were mostly just ammunition hideaways hidden in storm drains holding only a handful of weapons, or caches in a long forgotten suburb basement behind a locked door. Our other wilderness caches were not anything like what our community had in the old armory of Spanish Fork. Even we who had been here before were always surprised when we went inside and saw what was truly inside the 15x15ft bunker on the corner of the little national guard depot.

When everyone was just inside the thick blast door, I gave warning for everyone to remain in place on the platform, to not take any steps into the black, and then I turned to the monitor. I pulled the keyboard down, and just used the arrow keys to select "close." Immediately, the door began to creak closed over the space of about 15 seconds and as soon as the door was locked in place leaving us in the complete darkness, the lights along the walls turned on.

Without any further grandeur, I led the way down two flights of stairs until we were facing another thick door. The techs looked around the door for a terminal or place to enter another code, but instead, Doyle just twisted the handle and used his entire body to push the heavy door open. Doyle led us into the room and after a few steps, the lights along the walls suddenly clicked on, illuminating the Spanish Fork Armory in all its glory.

The room was only about 40 yards long and 20 yards wide. Separated into sections all along the length of the lefthand wall were metal cages filled or half filled with crates and boxes. On the right hand side were workbenches, reloading benches, more crates, and against the far side opposite us were four suits of pre-war T-45D power armor suspended from hooks on four sets of transportable yellow maintenance cranes.

Doyle stepped further into the armory and held out his arms;

"So, what's the Constable need us to fetch from this place?"

The others, including those who've been here before just looked around in awe. All along the right-hand wall, above the workbenches and beneath the flickering fluorescent light, were guns of every description mounted on plaques telling what type of weapons were just opposite them in their prospective cages. The techs looked around too stunned to speak and just shocked this place existed, but almost everyone tended to gravitate towards the power armor frames on the opposite end of the bunker. I did this as well.

Sure, this armory wasn't the grandest or greatest thing in the world, especially by standards of the old world, but the fact a place like this remained untouched by hands other than New Canaanite hands was a marvel on its own. While everyone wandered towards the power armor suits, I caught Cindy the tech looking over the terminal by the door labeled inventory. I had to politely ask her to step away, and she did with several apologies as she hurried to join the others. On approach to the other, I looked over Bay 01 holding crates and ammunition for several dozens of old world .45 and 9mm submachineguns and rifles. Although we have occasionally taken some of the "Grease guns," 1903 rifles and old world army revolvers out of Bay 01 for trade purposes in past years, that bay remained largely untouched. Especially because there were other options provided for us by the old-world military.

It was true that the armory beneath Spanish Fork National Guard Depot was not the most up to date. A brief history of the installation could be discerned on the "inventory terminal," and it appeared that this place was essentially a place to keep stockpiles of old world weapons rendered obsolete by the American military before the bombs fell. And so, although there weren't any laser weapons, plasma weapons, up to date assault rifles here, this place of almost antiquated firearms served our community and home excellently in the 200 years since the bombs. It was almost like a place God had reserved especially for us New Canaanites since the original commander of the Depot belonged to the church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, and served as the community's first Constable post emergence. That old world general left this armory and all the ways to access it with the community he so loved. Not only was this connection to a US general immediately before the bombs a sign this place belonged to us in the present day, but it was because of the items stashed in Bay 02, the largest bay in the bunker.

Inside Bay 02 was the source of our community's signature weapons, the .45 submachine guns and pistols our community was known for. Though it was true that .45 ammunition and even the model of semi-auto pistol was fairly common before the nuclear war, almost all of the .45 automatic submachine guns you can find in this part of the world came from this armory and was carried by a New Canaanite at some point into the nuclear blasted world above. Because of that, not only did this armory belong to us for that reason, but also because it was revealed many years ago in our community archives that the man who designed the particular model of our handguns, the submachineguns, and many of the other weapons we use, was a man who, like the general of this armory, belonged to God and His temple in this part of the world.

In any event, when I reached the others gathered around the power armor suits on the far side of the bunker, I took in the same view. Two of the four suits had their thickest armor plates painted black, while white paint covered the joints and ran along the seams. On the front of the heavy black chest plate were white protestant crosses that seemed to beg one of us to enter the ancient suits of armor. Ray, who was looking over one of the rusty unpainted suits asked nobody in particular;

"When's Constable going to bust these out of storage?"

After a moment, Doyle said, "As soon as we find a reliable nuclear battery cache… Or trader… Or recharger system for the ones we already have… I think. I asked him about it a while ago."

"Just one of those projects 'I've been meaning to get around to'." I said, making everyone in the bunker smirk.

Another moment of studying the nuclear-powered armored exoskeletons passed and at last, Doyle turned to me;

"Probably shouldn't spend too long in this place, what we need to get?"

I was still wondering what it would be like to walk the wastes in one of those suits, beating the wasteland heat with the onboard air cooling system when I brought myself back to the moment and said, "Just need 5 more SMGs, 15 30rnd magazines, another parts box, three more .308 semi-auto rifles, and… He said about 500 .45 rounds and 200 .308 bullets."

Ray patted Licus on the shoulder and motioned for the young man to follow him over to Bay 02 for the .45 weapons while Parrish and Hudson walked towards Bay 03 for the rifles. Doyle went to go search through the boxes of Bay 02 for the parts box and search for the ammo while the techs stood by. I made my way over to Bay 03 to get the .308 ammo while Hudson and Parrish cracked open one of the rifle crates. Stepping over one of the short stacks of enormous .50 caliber machineguns in Bay 03, I found the ammo and immediately broke the techs out of their daydreams about the power armor by gesturing towards them. I think we all realized why the Constable had us bring the techs with us when they found themselves getting rifles, submachine guns, and ammo boxes pushed into their hands. With the techs already carrying their tool boxes on their backs and loaded down, they begrudgingly helped shoulder the additional weapons so that us guardsmen could continue helping protect them on the rest of the trip back home.

Doyle and I were kind enough to shoulder an additional submachine gun to alleviate the techs' burden though.

Once we were all loaded up, the techs especially were ready to get going back home under the additional weight when Parrish latched the chain link gate to Bay 02 and asked;

"So, Constable needs more weapons for the new boys?"

Already leading the group back to the steps topside, I answered Parrish, "Think so. Adding to the guard has been slow, but the Elders insist on more protection for missionaries…"

"You sound disappointed, Lieutenant," said Hudson.

I shook my head and added back, "Not disappointed, just wish we weren't expanding the guard on behalf on NCR's demands."

The techs began to file past me and begin up the stairs when Doyle said, "I heard what the Elders agreed to in those demands the Constable brought up last year. I wouldn't worry about it though. That 'Trade Master' guy NCR sent up here seems to insist on using his guys… No matter how annoying he can be."

I shrugged as Roth's men and the others started filing out, "Still, I prefer a few experienced guys over fillers from town who none of us can sufficiently train to be of great use. All I can say is I share the Constable's opinion… To say nothing of Salazar's work with the Night Guard 'additions'."

Doyle's only sign he shared my thoughts was the smile he made and the pat he gave to the front of my vest as he followed the others through the door and up the steps. Before I followed, I turned to the monitor of the Inventory terminal by the door, scrolled past the sections talking about the power system, bunker status, and mission overview to select the "Inventory" option.

Halfway through my work, I heard Doyle call from the top of the stairwell, "You got 5 minutes, Paul!" and then the door topside began its metallic creak.

I had brought the inventory of Bay 02 down from 96 to 91 .45 submachineguns, the total of .45 30rnd magazines down from 302 down to 287, and left the 105 total of 50rnd drum magazines alone before subtracting the 500 rounds from the over 25K total we had in stock for .45 bullets. After the door above gave the clank of being locked open, I knew I had only five minutes, so I quickly finished updating the inventory of Bay 03 and immediately logged off the terminal. Shutting the heavy door into the bunker proper, I hurried up the steps and exited the bunker into the light of day. I figured I had about a minute left before the door would seal the bunker behind me, and it was standard policy to wait until it did. What caught my attention however, was when I saw all of the others standing in a row looking silently out at the mountains in the far east.

As I stepped up between Doyle and Ray, I tried to see what they were all looking at. Nothing really stuck out to me so I broke the silence simply asking;

"What you all looking at?"

Ray gestured his finger towards something maybe two-three miles off near a cliff before the distant base of the mountain, adding;

"Looks like a guy doesn't it?"

It was honestly very hard to see what he was talking about. Nothing really stuck out to me in the brush lining the cliff's edge or the rocks leading up. It was too far, and I squinted to see if anything might show itself. After a moment, Doyle gestured in the same direction that Ray did but added;

"See the dead tree above the boulders over there?"

I did see that dead tree, and the pile of tall boulders leading up to the ridge of the cliff before the base of the mountain. Being so far off, I still couldn't see much out of the ordinary until I think it hit me. Just beneath some low hanging branches of the dead tree looked like what could have been a man.

Honestly though, what they were thinking was a man truly could have been anything from a cactus to a darkened bush, or even a stack of rocks. Just then, Doyle started to pull up the binoculars hanging from his neck, muttering to himself;

"Wish I signed for a pair of the good ones."

He looked out at the figure and I suddenly wished I too had brought a pair of the better optics on this trip like I did on my new men's first outing. Suddenly, the door to the bunker began to creak shut and Doyle said with his eyes pressed to the binoculars and still with that frown on his face;

"Still can't tell… Actually…"

The door was in place, and the loud locks sounded behind us when all of the sudden none of us could see the figure anymore. Doyle broke the silence;

"Definitely a person. They're walking towards the north…"

"What's he look like?" asked one of Roth's men and Doyle replied;

"Too far. Can't tell, even with these garbage binoculars."

Hudson and Ray were both holding their scoped rifles to their shoulders looking out at the cliff through their optics, also with frowns on their faces.

"Yep, too far to tell" said Hudson and Ray together.

"Local from Provo?" offered Parrish.

Doyle lowered the binoculars from his eyes at the same time Hudson and Ray lowered their weapons and replied, "Probably. Could be a traveler."

The doors were shut and the armory was locked, so I could only settle the group with what I knew, "In any event, if we could barely see them, there's not a chance they could see us… and even if they had a serious set of optics, there's no chance they can get into that bunker."

Doyle looked frustrated and tapped the binoculars with his finger like he wished they were better and at last said; "You're right Paul. Probably just paranoid… It isn't often we come to this place. Anyway, you all ready to get home?"

The techs struggling under the weight of their tools and new armament were more than ready and thankfully said, "yes" before off we went.

Along the walk north to and then through Provo, I would keep wondering if we were being watched. There was no way to confirm this, the figure disappeared in the brush along the cliffs of the far east, and we never saw anything that even looked like a traveler in that distant stretch beyond the road and before the base of the mountains. We ended up staying the night with a community of scavers in the Provo ruins to rest before taking the last 15 mile stretch to the New Canaan market that next morning. All was still well despite the feeling of being watched for a few minutes after exiting the bunker, and the whole thing was soon forgotten. After being out in the wilderness for almost 3 weeks straight, me and Doyle's men especially were more than ready to return home.

The Next Day

Narrative Continued By Carl Northrup:

…

"What's the matter, Joseph? You seem sadder than normal… I told you I'm not letting you out of my sight after what you did the other day. You should just be grateful I'm still letting you visit with Nathan."

The boy sitting on the sandbag barricade continued looking down at his feet. I adjusted my back against the barricade and was a little surprised when he said the first words he said since picking him and his sister up;

"It's not that."

"Oh? Well, what is it then?" I said to the boy. Giving a brief glance back to the girl in her chair by the Guard Shack, I could see her smiling while Ramos was playing a slapping game with their hands. John and the others continued surveying the crowds of the market just like me when the boy said;

"I had a nightmare last night. It was a really scary one too."

Seeing some men and women who looked like they were bickering in front of a market stall, I was watching to make sure it didn't escalate any further as I indulged the kid;

"That so? What was it about?"

I could see the boy continuing to stare down at his feet when he answered solemnly, "It was about that scary man by the well…"

I heard in his voice that there was more he was going to say, but the words made me automatically respond, "You too, huh? I'm not surprised. That guy gave me the freaking creepers too… No offense to him, he seemed cordial enough after you smashed into him, Ha!"

After a moment, I could hear the boy begin explaining his dream, but I saw one of the women in the refugee argument slap one of the handsome young men who took the blow and continued smiling. I didn't hear much from Joseph as I stepped forward, all senses focused on the tribals. I felt the presence of John and Savitt join my side when suddenly the group of refugees broke up peacefully and we guardsmen took a collective step back. I only caught Joseph say;

"… And then they were killed and the town was on fire."

Unconsciously I said aloud, "That's a pretty scary dream…" having apparently missed the part that had to do with the creepy guy with dreadlocks, but then, I caught a glimpse of a face I recognized before my view of it was obstructed by a group of wasters crossing the main road,

"Hold that thought, Joseph. You'll never guess who I see!"

Joseph looked out at the crowds with a look of terror on his face before it instantly turned to delight at what I saw.

"Dad!" screamed the boy, and he hopped off the barricade about to bolt for his dad when I caught Joseph by the collar. A quick turn back towards Hannah and I saw she and Ramos had put a halt on their game at Joseph's shout and the young girl was getting up when I took her by the hand and happened to notice Duncan leaning on the wall of the guard shack. I made eyes with him, knowing what she made him do and Duncan stood looking at me with a questioning expression when the feeling of being pulled towards the incoming party by the two kids was too much.

Narrative Continued by Lt. Paul Young:

It was so good to be back. Looking left and right, I could see the exhaustion on the faces of Doyle, Parrish, Licus, Hudson, and Ray in particular. We had been gone for a little over three weeks and I probably don't need to tell the reader how crazy those weeks were, especially the return trip. The techs and Roth's boys looked exhausted for their own reasons as they still struggled under the weight of those weapons, tools, and munitions they carried from our cache objective.

A little more of the midday market crowds parted and beyond the hustle and bustle of wasters, traders, and refugees going about their ways, I could see what looked like Carl coming towards us with two children in his grip. I couldn't help but smile when I saw the boy getting restrained by my guardsman's grip on his collar, and then saw the girl holding his hand as they got closer.

I thought of my two children, then my wonderful wife waiting at home, and then my beautiful daughter Michelle. The scene of my kids coming towards me and those metal gates beyond them and the crowds was always such a sight after a trip like the one I was just now returning from. I thought of my men who already returned with the survivors of the Sevieri tribe, remembering how I passed them on our way past the refugee village, and then I thought of Nathan… How blessed was I to have not lost a single man on such a dangerous and chaotic trip.

As soon as I realized how blessed I was, I felt my eyes drift towards the west. I could not see the hidden little brush patch outside the walls and market where Graham lived most days now; there were several buildings in the way of that, but I thought of Graham on this trip, about the expedition, and then the crowds parted once again where I could still see my children coming. I thought of what Graham and I had talked about on so many occasions in the past week, then the past months, and as my thoughts led me to nearly tear up once again at images of my family, I was just about to think about something I set out on this scout to avoid. Although I would have preferred being saved by those children now maybe 50 yards away, unfortunately, I was saved from having to think about the new addition to my family by the sound of my name getting called by one I did not like.

The voice of the NCR trademaster was calling out from somewhere in my rear, "Paul! Paul!... Paul! Are you ignoring me!?"

I was. I truly thought that I passed the NCR Tradepost between the refugee village and market without getting seen by him.

Finally, the voice was close enough that I could not feign ignorance, and at Doyle's look, I unslung the extra .45 SMG from my shoulder and handed it to him as he silently agreed to take the rest of our group inside while I deal with this.

The NCR official stepped up to me amidst the passing caravans and traders as I turned around, catching his breath as if he was evidently running to catch up. He breathed deeply and put his hands on his hips in his pristine jeans and cowboy boots, dusty blue blazer jacket, and wide brown hat! I silently looked him over, obviously annoyed, and watched him collect himself for a few seconds before meeting my eyes behind his shades and asking me;

"I've been trying to find you! Or someone who can help. Please! Tell me the Constable has some news about Riley's caravan!"

I could feel Carl and my kids getting closer as I silently looked him over. I could see the trademaster's eyebrows raised as if he was actually waiting for me to say something. I answered him with more silence, patiently waiting for him to put two and two together. After a second or two, I decided to help him along by adjusting the grip on my dusty automatic still in my hands. After another second, I patted some of the dust off my even dustier pants. After two more seconds, I rubbed some of the dried blood off my arm with my gunpowder-marked fingers, and after two more seconds I pulled an empty shell casing out of the admin/map pouch on my vest and flicked it to the ground in front of the trade master before he asked;

"Well? Have you heard anything or not?"

I could hear my kids calling my name from behind when at last I told the man, "No."

The voices of my kids got closer and I could hear Carl telling them to settle down when the trade master oblivious to anyone but himself said, "Well why not? They've been gone two weeks now and they never checked in with Crother's boys."

I was just about to tell him that I've been gone for even longer than his "Riley caravan" when I felt Joseph slam into me. Immediately, I forgot the trademaster's presence, crouched down, and embraced my boy, then girl as they fell into me just off the caravan road. I asked them all sorts of questions about how what they've been up to, how their mom was, if John and Carl and the others had been taking good care of them, etc. I met the eyes of Carl who stood by with a grin and I thanked him. Carl started telling me this and that, how good the kids have been, and still hugging my Hannah and Joseph, I was about to ask Carl how Nathan was doing when the trade master asked from my rear,

"Do you think they got ambushed by White Legs?"

As warmly as I could, I pried the kids off me for a moment, and stood myself up to face the trade master who CLEARY couldn't take the hint that now was not the time. He still stood there with his eyebrow raised as I said cooly as I could for the amount of annoyance he's caused me and the guard ever since the tradepost was established;

"Leonard. Listen to me very closely… I do not know what happened to Riley's caravan. I did not even know they went missing. I have not been home, or seen my family, or anyone I love beyond those gates in over three weeks. I have been on a scout in case it wasn't obvious by how much I'm covered in dirt. I do not know what kind of situation you're dealing with, what the Constable has said to you about it, or anything, and I frankly don't care at this moment… Do you understand?"

I glanced down at the kids who were still hugging me, but looking at the trade boss, looking almost as annoyed as I was. At last, the man said,

"Do you know how long it will take the Constable to gather some guys to investigate? What's his usual plan for stuff like that? This is serious."

Just barely able to keep myself from going off, I began slowly turning away as I told him in only a frustrated near shout;

"I don't know! Find someone else! I can't handle your problems right now. I wasn't even here so stop talking to me about it. Plus, everyone's been telling you to avoid the north Great Salt Lake Region for months, so don't blame us if you sent them that way and got them into a White Leg ambush!"

I began walking towards the gates and the trade boss said again, "This is serious!... Fine, walk away. Are you all even doing anything!?... You know what? Fine!..." Then, he presumably shouted at nobody in particular, "… If New Canaan won't help me, I'll find someone who will!"

I didn't know what he was talking about in the end there, and I really didn't care when he was out of earshot and I was able to talk to the kids and Carl, then eventually the other guardsmen at their stations.

The rest of the day went just as amazing as any other return from a scout. I ended up spending a bit of time around the gate station with the other boys who all asked about the trip, had plenty to say about the state of Nathan. With the remainder of my detachment there at the station, they said the kids were even more excited now that I was back, and I thanked John for checking up on my family and taking care of the kids before he admitted that he actually had Carl take care of most of that while he was busy with his own wife and kids most of the time. I understood and thanked the two of them all the same, and then I took the kids to visit Nathan. Along the way, we passed Duncan Schmidt and I told him that Doyle was back in case he didn't know, and we were about to start talking about his mission when he said it would have to wait as he was running a message for Doyle's men on patrol.

I'll keep the visit with Nathan in Dr. Franklin's clinic short since I will have much more to say about his condition over the next few days. In the end, the kids and I ended up spending around an hour with him before it was time for me to finally head on inside and begin the return of scout equipment and report drafting for the assigned elders.

The kids ended up getting taken home by Hudson and Ray when I was done with the gear issue and we had a bite to eat at the Polson's café. The sun was beginning to set when I joined Doyle and some of the techs in the lovely home of Elder Rockwell to draft our reports at his kitchen table. Normally, reports were drafted in the Temple Sect's offices just north of the Temple itself, but the sign on the Elder's office door told us to come to his home and he and his wife were very pleasant company as we filled out the reports despite how dirty we made the cushioned chairs at their dinner table by our dirty selves.

Not long before the reports were done, the Constable entered the Elder's home, and we caught him up as best as we could while we worked, and I was about to tell him about the gear we obtained from the armory, but he said with his cheery smile to just hold the thought and we'd talk about it later.

There's not a lot more to say about this afternoon, but when we were done, the Constable urged us to return to our homes for rest, "and more importantly, to clean up!" He was right, and when I exited Elder Rockwell's house and stepped onto the streets with Doyle, he said he was going to go home to clean up. He wished me a good night, and I was just about to head back home as the sky became more pink when I found myself frozen in place as Doyle's footsteps went further into the distance. A few people passed me on the streets and greeted me. I did likewise, but I wondered why I couldn't move. During any other return from a scout, after all the turn ins and reports were done, I normally just headed home to rinse off, but I couldn't… and I really didn't want to think about why.

At last, and before I even thought of it, my legs were taking me towards the south, towards the single boys home or barracks. I hadn't showered in the guard barracks since I was a single young man just before my wedding, and it was there I thought of her, and my family, the expedition, the chaotic few months, and Michelle as I watched the dirt get washed away. Seeing all that filth of the past three weeks and past months while Michelle was pregnant go down the drain, I thought of my emergence from the waters at the oasis in the wilderness, felt the sun beat down on me, saw my sons sitting atop those rocks, and then the wrapped man standing in the shallow waters. The short and distant past caught up to me in a flash, and I shut off the water, and just then realized why I was showering in the guard barracks. I was scared of the return to my family.

It really occurred to me for the first time in full clarity since the talk with Graham why I went on that expedition in the first place when I remembered who else was waiting at home for me. Who else was part of my family awaiting my return. I stared into the drain, watching the last of that dirt swirl away and out of sight with the cleansing water as I began to hear the day shift guards returning to their home just outside the shower room. For the briefest moment, I felt very sad watching the final streams of dirt disappear when at last I saw myself drying off in the sun beside that oasis. I felt the water dripping off me in the heat of that day, and remembered those words;

"You know you can find that part of you… It isn't gone from you, just hidden."

Getting dressed in the clean uniform that Castaneda behind the armory cage gave me, I exited the shower rooms, briefly greeting the boys of the day shift and their confused looks at me as they turned in weapons and amused themselves in the common room. I got plenty of "What you doing here, LT?"s as I exited the barracks and was soon looking at the door to my home, seeing the light through the curtains as the evening had turned to night.

After another short moment outside the gate to my front lawn, I had mustered the courage, ready to walk through those doors and boldly accept the responsibilities I tried to avoid by going on the expedition… It didn't go exactly how I planned in my brain on the walk over when I finally opened those doors… Not that I was greeted with hostility or anything, I just wasn't expecting a young man at the table.

Despite the young man, Isaiah Albright being at the family dinner table, my kids and wife still got up to hug me the second I came through the door. It wasn't a big deal he was there, not really anyway, especially because he said he was just there to drop off some baby clothes he said his mother kept. My wife invited him to stay for dinner, and he did… I only really wished he wasn't there because I planned a big moment where I'd greet the family, they'd all cry, and I'd then look that infant next to Michelle and…

Anyway, I think I've mentioned before that things almost never go according to how we personally plan them. In the end, the presence of the young man made me focus my attention on him instead of the infant I was going to force myself to grow to accept. The young man was kind, I knew his dad pretty well, but I still barely heard him or his stories about his first mission when I could only think how his presence was ruining the evening… I still couldn't even put a firm point on how or why exactly.

In the end, he of course stayed well into the night to help us all clean up the table, and I couldn't help but think that the return from my extremely dangerous three-week-long scout would have been more impactful if he wasn't there. Again, the young man was alright. He was fine. He was kind. It's just that, I found myself fighting hard to suppress the wicked thought that it was all the infant's fault that the young man unintentionally ruined how I envisioned the return to my family after the shower.

This mental battle impacted me so much that long after the table was cleaned up, long after the young man had left, long after Michelle took her baby and the other children to bed, and long after my wife shut off the rest of the lights before telling me to not be out here to long, I was still sitting on the couch beside the front door in the dark.

I can't say how long I sat in that dark, but the second hand on the clock above the hall went around many times before I had finally managed to stand myself up. I wanted to show my whole family that I was ready to stop leaving for the wastes every time my feelings were too much, but Isaiah ruined that. Now, it was just me in the dark, knowing my wife would wait in our bedroom with the light on as long as I was out, but still not strong enough to go to her. I couldn't go to her, or go to bed, not until I did what I needed to do. Perhaps it wouldn't be the way I wanted it to happen, but perhaps I could show I was ready to be there with them, sins and all. Perhaps what I needed to do didn't need an audience, perhaps I just needed to do it.

I stood myself up, legs shaking as I approached the hall. I passed the closed door to the room of Hannah and Joseph, then passed the room of my wife still with the light on beneath the door. Then, there I stood in that doorway to Michelle's room. Her Bible sat open on the nightstand, and although she looked like she was in a coma, I followed her arm to the hand she had in the cradle and my heart again froze before I mentally forced it to beat again and stepped forward.

Lifting my angel, my first angel's hand out of the cradle, I brought it to her chest and turned her over before pulling the covers up over her. She had passed into sleep rocking the cradle till she couldn't anymore, and there in the dark I looked down at this product of such a horror, hearing those words in my mind one last time as the memories of the world out there flickered in my mind.

"You know you can find that part of you… It isn't gone from you, just hidden."

Kneeling beside the cradle, I looked inside. That child, David, was wide awake, but calm. There in the dark I could see the face of his father, the young man I shot, and before I could bring myself to say anything, I heard my girl stir sleepily on the bed next to me.

I felt the tear run down my face as I looked at that quiet baby, thinking about my perfect daughter, and about the horrible awful world out there that somehow and miraculously brought this kind of innocence into the world.

"I-. I don't know what they- your mom, your grandma, or them told you about me… I know you probably got no idea what I'm saying or what have you…"

I saw all that death out there, all the men I killed, all those I let down just past that baby's face in the darkness of the crib. Still, that baby looked at me quietly as I felt another tear I tried to fight go down my cheek, and my throat was just so dry.

"… I-uh. I don't know how to, how to be a good grandpa to you… and… and I'd honestly be lying if I said I wanted to be one for you…"

That part of me was still there, it was just hidden, but I think I might have caught a glimpse of it after the kind of year I had constantly going into that death out there. And still, that baby stared at me quietly in the dark,

"… Your dad…" I could see that man's lifeless face again in the baby's eyes. Again I heard Michelle adjust her head on the pillow, still dreaming, "… What your dad, what he did to your mom... He was so bad…"

I stared that man in the face right there in that crib, feeling more anger and sadness fill me as I battled that terror outside the walls head-on, "… I'm so sorry to tell you this, but… if I could go back, even now…"

The baby cooed, and just for a split second, I could see the baby in place of that lifeless young raider; "… Even now. I'd kill him again…. I'd do exactly what I did again and again, and again…"

Just then, I heard Michelle make a sound into her pillow and I remained eyes locked on the baby. The face of that young man I'd kill a million times over was gone, and in the eyes of that baby I could see the young woman on that bed now five years old as the young mother said into her pillow.

"I'd love some tea… thanks daddy."

I couldn't help but laugh for a split second before I caught it and felt a few more tears as I saw Michelle even more in the eyes of the baby. Images of her and so many other times I caught her sleep-talking played in the darkness of the cradle;

"… There's no reason you have to turn out the way your dad did…"

I wiped my face, looking back at those eyes in the cradle.

"… You already have a pretty amazing mom… and she has lots of help…"

The baby cooed and I felt myself begin to rise;

"… There's gonna be lots of times where I'm pretty bad at being a good grandpa to you…"

I gulped, wondering why my throat was still so dry. Michelle muffled more sounds into her pillow, and still the quiet eyes of the baby looked at me as my eyes went briefly to that open Bible on my daughter's nightstand.

"… please forgive me when I'm not a good one… I'm still-… I think I'm going to try my best anyway though… He's done so much for me. He's gotten me through so much. I think He'd like me to try my best for you in spite of what happened… I owe Him that much at least… That's what He'd do… That's what your mom did…"

The baby made that same soft sound and quietly watched me as I stood myself the rest of the way up, leaving the infant with the words, "… I'll tell you about Him later… You sleep tight for now and try not to wake your momma."

I stepped into the hall and shut Michelle's door behind me feeling even more exhausted after that than I felt after three weeks in the dangerous wilderness. Leaning on the door to collect myself a little more, I could see the light beneath my wife's door was still on. I looked at that light all the way till my hand was on the doorknob, and feeling so much lighter, but more exhausted than I thought possible.

When at last I was looking at my wife with her open Bible in the lantern light, she was staring back at me with tears of joy on her face and it was in that look alone, despite the friendly dinner with Isaiah, these past weeks had been Hell on her. She looked about ready to spring out of bed and fling herself onto me when I took a single step into the room and immediately heard in a whisper from behind me,

"Dad, I can't sleep. I had a nightmare last night and I don't want to have it again."

I glanced back, seeing my son standing in the doorway across the short hallway standing there in his pajamas looking genuinely tired but frightened. After a moment, I turned back to see my wife on the bed, our shared married mind told her without a word.

"Sorry honey. One more thing I know, it'll be quick."

Dani's tearful eyes and lovely smile said as she nodded, "I know. I'll be here. You take care of him,"

And I went to sit with Joseph for a while to help him sleep.

A/N: It has been quite a while since I've written a full chapter, so I might have been a bit rusty. Either way, I thank you so much for reading!