Pool Recreation Complex, Praesidium

10/16/17- 10:07 AM

I walked into the locker room, bag of clothes in hand. I found a spot to change, and changed quickly. My body was functioning well enough for me to walk around and do basic stuff, but there was still time before I'd be cleared for combat and anything else beyond light duty. Once in the two-piece I'd missed so dearly, I placed my clothes into the bag, stuffed it into a locker, and walked across the tiled floor to the pool.

I'd missed this - it was welcome to walk around with nothing on your feet without them feeling like someone was stabbing you. Not that my legs were one hundred percent better - they were still scarred, and would be for weeks, if not months. A small part of me felt ashamed - told me that I should feel ugly for having them.

In a way, I kind of did.

Even after getting to go back to the Barracks, where the others would inevitably see them when I was wearing shorts or changing. They had friendly nicknames for them - almost everyone did. Terms like 'Tiger Stripes', 'Battle Scars', and, my personal favorite, 'Hit Lists'. While I smiled and nodded as they welcomed me back, becoming the target of many hugs, a part of my heart twisted inside. I felt weird, unnatural.

I shrugged it off. No one's here, Dawn. Just go in the pool and have some fun.

I entered the pool, looking around as I dipped a foot in, almost shivering and sighing as the all-familiar feel of the world-class pool water on my skin came rushing back. As I sat down, putting both legs in, I hesitated, noticing something - no, someone, at the bottom of the pool. My knee-jerk instinct was to call for help, but if someone was drowning, the lifeguard SPARK would've done something.

I slid into the pool, diving under, looking at the figure. She was sitting at the bottom, cross-legged, hands on her knees. She was tall - really tall. I noticed she was wearing a swimsuit, but then quickly realized she was a MEC. I reached out with my telepathy, eyes widening as I put it together.

Sierra!

I hadn't seen her in-person in months, and I was more than eager to say hello.

Intrigued, I swam around her, realizing her eyes were closed, her hair flowing freely, standing up and waving gently as the water moved it around. Maybe she was meditating or something. I didn't question it - some telepaths did the exact same thing here, too. The bottom of the pool provided an odd yet welcoming break from the noisiness of the Praesidium.

I swam in front of her, sitting myself down in front of her, crossing my legs, and looking at her.

Won't all this water rust your gears? I said telepathically. Her eyes snapped open, skin retracting and eyes glowing red as I gave a toothy smile, waving a hand.

Hi.

She jerked back, looking at me with a cocked expression. I simply smiled and pointed up, propelling myself to the surface. When I broke the surface, I giggled, wiping some water from my face. She surfaced a moment later, skin coming back.

"Dawn," Her eyebrows furrowed, as she nodded in recognition. "Is that you?"

I grinned, shrugging. "Don't know. Is there another teenager with a Southern accent-"

She smiled, and pulled me into a hug, wrapping her super strong arms around me, getting a surprised oof out of me, hundreds of kilos of water-drenched MEC war goddess around me. I noticed she was slightly moving her legs to keep herself afloat. "You made it back!" She kept the hug going for a few more seconds, before retracting it. "I heard about what happened. Listen, I'm sorry I couldn't visit."

"Sierra, it's okay. I'm better, and-"

"Come on, let's catch up. Besides, I can't float in here very easily." She beckoned me with a tilt of her head. I followed her as she swam across the pool, getting out first and offering a hand. When I took it, she pulled me up, lifted me out of the water and deposited me feet-first. Shaking her hair, she noticed my legs and feet. "Ah, I see you didn't escape unscathed."

I awkwardly smiled, pulling my legs together and flexing my toes. "Plasma launcher. It, um, hurt a lot. Couldn't walk for a while."

She noticed my reaction. "Do they hurt?"

"Not anymore. Doctor's almost cleared me. Nothing too physical, so this is all right with them." I looked around. "Can we sit?"

"Sure! I've got plenty of time, and I wouldn't mind spending it catching up."

We sat down, dipping our legs in the water. "Sorry about my reaction. The scars, well…" I looked down. "I'm kind of ashamed of them."

She raised an eyebrow. "Why's that?"

I shook my head. "No. I've gotten nothing but compliments. I…" I searched for the right word. "I just feel kinda ugly with them."

"Dawn," she shook her head. "You shouldn't think that or be ashamed, and you're certainly not ugly."

I gritted my teeth. "But they look like crap! They look like someone…" I searched for the justification.

"Look like someone what?"

I gulped, closing my eyes.

"They look like someone got shot to death in front of me so I could live." I said quietly.

She leaned over, noticing the look of sadness on my face. "Not the scars that are really bothering you, are they?"

I pursed my lips. "How much time did you say you had?"

"However much you need."

"Good."

I gave her the run-down. Fighting the cartels and the aliens, killing Nico's uncle, the disastrous final raid, how I got blown to hell, and then...that part. I told her about it. The pain, the sorrow, watching Elijah die.

"He-he just died in front of me, Sierra. B-bullets and plasma just ripped him apart." My hands began to shake, my fists clenching. "Just like him, he just died, and-and I couldn't do anything about it."

No! No, don't fucking cry. Don't cry in front of her.

I looked at Sierra, whose expression of concern plastered on her face, one that hadn't abaited since I'd continued. "And they just took him from me, right there in-in-front-of me." My voice began to crack. "And all I did w-was just…" A tear fell from my eye. "Do nothing." I sniffled, my face beginning to turn red.

She scooted closer to me, putting a hand on my shoulder. "Dawn. You did everything you could."

"No." I squeaked out. "It was my fault! My fucking confidence killed him!" I gestured to my legs. "And now I have to wear these damn scars as punishment!"

And then the dam broke as I started to sob. I felt her hug me again, somewhat tighter than before, but at the same time feeling very compassionate. One of her arms wrapped around my back as I sunk my face into her shoulder to cry, my tears flowing onto her swimsuit.

"Shh. Shh." She softly said. "It's okay. Let it all out, Dawn. It's okay."

The memory passed through my mind again, watching him die all over again. I gritted my teeth, trying to fight it. I felt her thoughts - not directed at me, but at herself.

Poor kid. She doesn't deserve this. No fucking kid her age should see that. This whole thing is fucked.

"It's not fair. Why did he have to die?" I could barely talk, my words cracking along with my voice, my sobs making me sound almost unintelligible. "All this time, just to get killed by some dumb kid."

"You're not a dumb kid. He didn't die for nothing." Sierra said softly. Her voice sounded almost motherly, layered with a mix of concern, sympathy, and kindness. "He died to protect you. Dawn, I'm sorry you had to see that."

She meant it - I could tell. No sarcasm, no mocking, no joking. It was one hundred percent seriousness.

"I-I-I-just wanted to-gah!"

More tears flowed out, her grip around me maintaining, her massive form not feeling overbearing at all, but rather a protective wall of metal and flesh. Her warm skin felt relaxing as it rubbed up against mine as I leaned into her massive form. I cried for a few more minutes before I calmed down, sniffling. My face was red like a cranberry, covered with tears.

"Are you okay?"

I gulped, nodding, still trying to put myself together.

"O-okay. You can let go now." My voice was still cracking. She let go, her hands moving to her knees, still looking at me.

"Are you going to be okay?" She said, she sounded concerned - there was an undercurrent of...something else there. Like she was evaluating, not me, but something else.

"I don't know, Sierra." I curled up my legs, resting my chin on my knees. "I just want the memory to go away." I paused. "Can we change the subject please?"

She nodded. "Do you want to talk about this later?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, that's fine. That's...fine." I gulped.

"Are you going to be okay?" She asked again.

I swallowed, shaking my head. "I don't know, Sierra. I really don't know anymore." I shook my head, coughing. Right. Changing subject. "Um, do you mind talking about Ankara?"

Sierra was clearly not able to completely switch over yet, but she smiled faintly. "Which part? Us teaming up with the Lion to kick out the Turks, or where I stood up to the Harbinger?" She shook her head, lightly chuckling at the memory. "A miracle I actually made it out."

"What was it like? Being so close to her?"

"Honestly?" She paused. "I should've been scared. Terrified, even. But I wasn't."

I raised an eyebrow, surprised. "Huh?"

"After Patricia attacked the Praesidium, the Commander and I had a conversation about why she betrayed us." She said. "He told me about her logical weakness - you know about it, right?"

I nodded. "Commander told me, too."

"Nice that he's spreading that around," she said approvingly. "Anyway, when she was right there in front of me, I wasn't scared. Instead of the imposing figure of fear and destruction she wanted me to see her as, I only saw her as what she really was - a...vessel. Just an extension of someone else."

I snorted. "That's kind of funny. Don't think I have the guts to do that or see it that way."

"Don't sell yourself short. Everyone's brave." She rolled her shoulders, stretching her legs a bit. "When these guys got torn off, it was pretty numb, actually."

I raised an eyebrow. "You're serious?"

"Optional pain receptors are underrated." She smiled.

"Really, Starscream?"

"Starscream? Funny," she snorted. "You can find a better nickname than that."

"Oh, you have a better one?"

She rolled her eyes. "Okay, you got me." She looked at me a few seconds later. "You feel better?"

I nodded. "Yeah. I kinda do."

"What do you say we ah, do more of this for a bit, then I take you to hang out with the rest? Get a bite to eat or something? Make fun of that show together?"

She clearly noticed my eyes light up. "Come on, Dawn. Let's go make up for lost time. How does eating, talking, and shooting something sound?"

"Sounds like a plan. Is it really true you guys can't drown?"

"What, you want to test that?" She snorted. "Think you can beat this Valkyrie lady at underwater breathing?"

"No. Just wondering if you've got any other MEC tricks you can show me."

"I can do this, but you might have seen it before." Her left arm's skin color shifted from white to a tanner color, then to an obsidian black, then back to normal.

"Woah!"

She chuckled. "You should've seen your face. Now watch."

She got to the wall, posed, and then charged, doing a mad dash towards the edge of the pool. As she got to the end, she jumped, her body sailing over the width of the pool. She barely made it, landing on her hands and feet on the other side - incredibly close to missing the edge. She stood up, turning around and grinning at me, beckoning.

Ah crap.

"Dawn! If you make it at least halfway over, I'll let you be an Archangel in the Dreamscape!"

I raised an eyebrow. Now that sounded fun.

"You promise!"

"I do."

Well alright then.

I walked back, placing one of my heels leaning on the wall, angling my body like a professional runner would. I looked at Sierra, narrowing my eyes before I took off, speeding. Even now, it sometimes felt disorienting to see how fast I ran, how quickly I went from zero to...however fast I was running. I got to the edge, and, just before I faceplanted into the water, I jumped up, my genetic augmentations propelling me into the air. There was no chance of me hitting my head on the ceiling- some of the diving boards were very high, and, as such, XCOM's construction workers had to compensate.

I sailed through the air, my legs and arms stretched out, droplets of water leaving a trail of the liquid in my wake as my hair flew back.

Someone take a picture.

I arced down, landing in the water with a large splash, my body sinking down to the bottom as I curled my arms and legs, briefly touching the bottom, before I propelled myself up, panting as my wet head broke the surface, Sierra on one knee from across the pool, eyeing me as I swam over to her.

"Well alright then. You did it, Dawn. C'mon. Let's stay here a bit longer, then I'll show you how to be a flying death machine."

This place never gets boring.

Medical Bay, Praesidium

10/17/17- 9:43 Am

I sat on the bed, Erica looking at her tablet as I crossed my legs under the covers, waiting for her to finish. She was going over the last round of checks they'd done on me, seeing if I was a-ok to getting back to the grind.

"So you swam yesterday, and you didn't feel any pain?"

I shook my head. "Nope, not one bit. Put plenty of pressure on my feet and legs- got nothing."

I guess getting hugged by Sierra was a good enough stress test for my body, heh.

"Hm. That's good. And any pain anywhere else?"

I shook my head again. "Nope."

"I see." She smiled, looking at the tablet again. "Well Dawn, I've got news for you. Your results came back, and you're officially cleared. You're good to go."

I frowned. "Aww. I'm gonna miss this bed."

She smiled. "Well, all of our patients give them a five-star rating. Anyway, you're cleared to resume all normal activities as of now. Working out, shooting, you name it."

"Anything I need to know?"

"This shouldn't be a problem, but let us know if your legs or feet feel any heavier. There were a few implants we put in there to help heal your nerves, bones, and flesh."

"And what if they do feel heavier?"

She shrugged. "Nothing a quick MELD treatment can fix. But it shouldn't be an issue."

"Thank you, Doctor."

"No problem. It's my job." She smiled. "I'd say come again, but…"

I chuckled. "Good one, Doc. Thanks for everything."

"No problem. Stay safe out there. Your clothes and other things are in the changing room."

I got off the bed, giving her a quick hug, before walking into the room. I took off the slippers and gown, laying it on the bench as I put my clothes back on.

Thanks, gown and slippers. Gonna miss you all.

As I put everything back on, my phone buzzed. Pulling my shirt on, I opened it. It was a text from Caelior, with a picture attached.

It was a picture of me in my new Ethereal clothes, sitting on Caelior's shoulder as he was taking a selfie. Aside from the color and size differences, they looked remarkably similar. It reminded me of that Christmas three years ago where mom got me and my sister got us these matching themed pajamas. They were kind of ugly, but there was something cute about the picture of us standing together in them in front of the tree. In a way, this was similar. The clothes were magnificent- even topping the white prom dress I'd worn in my last year of high school. But it was also a message in a way, a kind of statement dressed up in silk and alien designs.

Well - several, really.

In one way, it was a way of saying thank you. All we'd done for each other, being there for one another through all this war had thrown at us. We'd both grown in our own ways, but there was more to that. Sure, we'd learned, but learning was nothing without understanding. We both understood each other in ways that others didn't. We weren't the same, not by a long shot. But we were close enough to see the parallels with each other. His trauma, my trauma, him being abused and gaslighted, me coming to terms with...well, everything. We just clicked.

I didn't care that he was much larger than me, or that he knew more than my little ape brain ever could. In a way, he was like a giant teddy bear. He had a big heart, he had compassion, but it's been suppressed by his past life. In a way, we were both helping each other grow- I was helping him come out of his shell, and he was helping me cope with everything by relating to me and confiding in me as someone very similar to him.

But in another way, it was a statement of family. A statement of belonging.

We're family now.

You trust me and love me in your own way.

Thank you.

We're together now.

All the way back in high school, when I saw live footage of the Ravaged One rampaging through New York, if you'd told me that his kind could be so compassionate and emotional, I would've told you to get out. But now?

Well now, an Ethereal was one of my closest friends.

Times were strange, weren't they?

I put my phone away, smiling, as I put the rest of my clothes on, stuffing my phone in my pocket.

Back to the fight, Dawn.

Gym, Praesidium

10/19/17- 1:25 PM

Well, my body was feeling better, and I'd been officially discharged for good. With my body not at full operational capability, it was time to hit the gym, get these muscles flexing again. Getting back into my tried and true workout clothes never got old; sneakers from high school that I'd brought that still fit me for some godforsaken reason, gym shorts, and my high school mascot's shirt, the cheesily drawn lion that'd be thrown up whenever Leonard High had a home game.

Some days I missed high school. Never thought I'd be saying that ever, but, honestly, I was saying it a lot these days.

I plugged my headphones in, put them in my ears, and started running, my shoes pounding the treadmill as English punk rock blasted into my ears, that all-familiar rush of running coming back to me.

Ah.

Missed this rush.

Reminds me of the track field back home.

As I ran, I felt someone approach. Someone whose-

Could it be?

I paused the treadmill, slowing down, taking the headphones out of my ears as I turned around, eyes widening as I made eye contact with my German teacher.

"Geist! I-"

"Miss Conley." He said. He sounded...no. No! No, it couldn't be. He sounded pleased. He even had a small smile! "Apologies for not visiting during your recovery."

I rushed at him, pulling him into a hug. "You have no idea how much I missed you!"

He raised his hands, unsure as to how to react. "Well, I am glad to hear it. I am glad to see you are still alive. Let us continue this elsewhere."

I pulled back, not realizing we were in a public space. "Uh, sure."

I followed him outside, where we sat down on some nearby chairs. "Your first long-term mission," he said. "I trust you managed fine?"

"Yeah, I'm good now."

He narrowed his eyes at the scars around my eyes and nose. "I'm glad you've recovered, Dawn."

I smiled. "Well, I'm alright. Sort of."

"What do you mean?"

I shook my head. "Let's just say I feel good here-" I waved at my body. "But I'm not so good here." I pointed to my head.

"You're talking about Elijah, correct?"

I nodded, pursuing my lips. I didn't want to re-enact the events of earlier. Sierra was a kinder person then Geist, and the memory of her hugging me was a good one. The time I'd spent with her and her crew hadn't made up for lost time, but it was more than enough to show me that she cared. Geist, though?

Well, he was...definitely not normal.

"Yep."

"I am sorry about your friend's death."

That's all you can say? That you're sorry?

His apology ran hollow. As usual, aside from the brief flare of emotion earlier, he was back to his regular stoic self. Neutral this, neutral that. It really pissed me off about him.

What was I supposed to say? Show some fucking emotions, you son of a bitch?

He raised an eyebrow. "I may not read your mind, Miss Conley, but I suspect you are offended. If you are upset why I don't grieve for your friend as you do, it is because I did not know him. I sympathize with the pain of your loss, but I lack any emotional connection to this man. You do. I see little point in entertaining faux sorrow. I trust you understand that I am not intending to mitigate your own feelings, do you?"

Well, blunt as usual. "Yeah, I guess so," I shook my head, wanting to move on. "So um, what's been going on?"

"Training. Lots of new deployments and activity. Patricia's actions have fortunately made things easier for us. With her out of the picture for a while, it's given us some…" he wagged a hand. "Opportunities."

I raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"I've spoken with the Commander." he said. "He asked me to review your performance and make recommendations. Your actions were impressive, and you performed well. The SAS has begun growing more ambitious, and there is an operation being planned. While it is not certain, you are on the list of names being considered. You proved you could handle yourself. You will be given more assignments reflective of your skill as a result."

Now I felt surprised. "You serious?"

He nodded. "Very serious, Miss Conley. The Internal Council is pleased with your progress."

"Is that so?"

"You sound surprised. You give yourself too little credit. You listened and applied my lessons, and they helped you succeed. I can give students all the tools they need, but it is up to them to use them, and you used them well. Your education of the psions in particular was notable. I am pleased you have found your own style of teaching, and taken my lessons in new directions."

I snorted. "What, you expected me to fail?"

"No. But I was glad to hear you succeed. It is always good for a teacher to see their student use the lessons they have been taught and pass it to others. Especially when helping the Dynamo psion with the juvenile nickname."

Nice way of saying Violet without actually saying her name.

"Not how I'd put it, but yeah, I guess. She was a good person, though."

"Do tell."

I shrugged. "It's like she reminded me of what I could've been like if I grew up somewhere else then Nashville, or even America. I got a relatively privileged upbringing, while she kinda had to fight for a lot of stuff to get by even before the aliens showed up."

"So you think that due to your different upbringings, you were somehow...lesser than her?"

I shook my head. "I don't know. I guess she just woke me up to the real shit people have to deal with that I didn't. Corruption. Poverty. Drugs. If anything, I kind of wish I could go back to seeing her again."

"The reports said you two were friends."

"That's not even half of it." I slumped a little. "Is it bad that part of me wished she might be able to come back with me?"

"You were friends with her. It is perfectly normal, especially in the circumstances both of you worked together."

Still, again, that deadpan voice. Barely, if any emotion was there. Was he truly trying to help me, or was he just trying to make me feel like he cared? No, No, you really don't. I get it. You're a teacher, and you try. But you adults will never understand. When's the last time the Commander and Bronis set foot in a high school?

I did not say it, and he did not need to hear it.

But it was still something I kept in mind.

I nodded glumly. "I just want to see her again, you know? I had a connection with her, man."

He cocked his head after a few seconds. "I can sense your frustration, miss Conley. Would you like to go?"

I closed my eyes for a minute, holding back a sigh.

"Look, Geist. I just- I need to go for a bit, okay. I get it. But-" I grabbed my hair. "I just need to deal with his death in my own way."

He didn't even need to ask who I was referring to. "I understand."

"How so?"

He pursed his lips. "That is a personal matter, Dawn, but I am not a stranger to loss either." He nodded. "Take care. I will see you at the lesson in two days."

I nodded, smiling. "Yes, Geist. Yes, I think I will. See you then."

As he got up and left, I stared at the back of his head, feeling a growing mixture of contempt and anger. I felt...more distant from him, slightly repulsed, even. I respected him, yes, but all this time with him had made me see him in two different lights.

On one end was a caring man with a cold face and stature who wanted the best for me.

The other was a sociopathic teacher with barely any human connection, and (at least I thought) was partially training me just so he could use what I learned and what I created to further his own means. His refusal to show much emotion (if any) at times privately pissed me off. He came off as too cold. Slowly, I'd begun to have some (albeit minor) second thoughts about him.

Remind me to ask Yates again how this guy passed the psych eval.

Because when I thought about it, when it came to being myself, Elijah had taught me more about that than he had ever done.

Dark Star Lounge, Praesidium

10/23/17- 12:35 PM

So this was my dad's new workplace. Had to admit - it was better than I'd expected.

The 'Dark Star Lounge', as the soldiers had voted to call it, was a bar and dance club all in one. In the middle of the place was a circular bar where both humans and some kind of robot, probably operated by JULIAN. Surrounding it was a huge dancefloor, tiled purple and outline in neon lights outlining them, with disco-like lights emitting from the ceiling, all while music played in the background.

Nice gig, dad.

I walked up to the bar and took a seat on a barstool, waiting. It wasn't just alcohol - they had some basic 'fancy' food.

My my, that burger looks juicy.

One of the bartenders walked up to me. He wore an extra-fancy bartender uniform, tie, suit-jacket, and everything else.

"Welcome to the Lounge, best beer in the Praesidium. What can I-"

My eyebrows shot up as I recognized him instantly.

"Dad?"

He looked just as surprised to see me, almost dropping the glass he was holding. "Dawn?"

We reached out and hugged each other across the bar, laughing as we embraced each other for the first time in-well, a while.

"Holy fuck! I'm sorry, but-but-you look great!"

"What can I say? Medical does a good job."

We hadn't seen each other in person in a while since I'd paid them a visit. It'd been emotional, there'd been crying, there'd been hugging, and there'd been both happiness and sadness. They'd seen me in the hospital, and it wasn't really all that good for them. Seeing me butchered like that - tubes sticking out of me, burned, some of my toes totally dismembered, my legs and arms in positions that weren't natural - it almost broke them.

It hurt seeing my mom and dad cry. It hurt feeling like I'd broken my parents' hearts.

"We don't want you to ever do that again, Dawn!" My mom had said. "Every time you go out there, we don't know if you're coming back!"

"I know." I said. "But it's my choice, my consequences, my responsibility."

"So it's' your responsibility to leave your mother and sister without a daughter and sister?" She'd shouted.

I'd left the room after that.

My dad smiled, letting me go. "So, um, listen, about what your mother said-"

I held up a hand. "It's fine, Dad. She'll get over it."

"Honey, with all due respect, we've all got a right to be worried." He sighed, putting down the glass, pushing it over to me. "I didn't raise you for nineteen years just so you could get slaughtered like a pig."

"I know, Dad."

He put his hands together. "I know you chose to do it, honey. I know this isn't what we wanted for our family. We wanted the two of you to go out into the world and in your own way. You remember how happy we were when you got that scholarship?"

"I remember." I smiled. "Going to college all the way in Arizona...seems like a pipe dream, doesn't it?"

He nodded glumly. "So...how are things?"

I shrugged. "Good. I guess. How's everyone?"

Dad shook his head. "Your mom got her certification for working on MECs. She got assigned to...damn. What's the one that can fly? Valk-a-whatsit?"

"Valkyrie." I said without hesitation. "My friend has that one."

He raised an eyebrow. "You-never mind." He shook his head. "She's really seven feet tall?"

I shrugged. "You get used to it. She's a hell of a soldier."

"I can hardly believe it myself. I mean, it's all stuff I'd thought wouldn't be mainstream until after I was dead. Weird glowly alien energy stuff? Lasers? Cyborgs? Space energy from another dimension?" He shook his head, giving a little smile. "I am happy my daughter can do it, though. Makes me wonder if me or any of our ancestors were powerful psions, eh?"

"I've heard it's genetic, being passed down and all that." I raised an eyebrow. "You haven't gotten tested, have you?"

He shrugged. "I really don't see the point. Besides-" He gestured to the bar. "I have my job back! Now, what can I get you?"

"I don't know, bartender. What's your recommendation?"

He put on that cheesy 'fancy' British accent he did when serving people- it was hard to believe how many people actually thought he was British sometimes. "Well, if you're looking for food, young lady, I think you might find the double-stacked bacon burger with cheddar jack cheese familiar."

My jaw dropped as I recognized it on the menu. "No way! Is that-"

He nodded, beaming with pride. "I had a hand in the menu. Let's just say the person in charge approved of a lot of the meals I served back when I was running my own place."

It didn't stop there- he'd served the stuff at home so many times it was like second nature for us. Never let it be said in the Conley household that my dad wasn't a great chef.

I grinned. "Well, then, good sir. I'll be taking the Conley Special with a side order of curly fries."

"Should I skimp on the ketchup?"

I rolled my eyes. "Are you trying to starve me?" I snorted.

"Very well. And is a drink in order for you, miss?"

I pursed my lips. "How about...something alcoholic, but not too strong. Needs a little bit of a kick, though."

"Ah, we've got just the thing. How does the 'Dread Lord's Bane sound? Little bit of it won't hurt, but a whole pint of that's strong enough to put tits on a Cobrarian. Not sure why you'd want that, but it's there."

"Yeah. I'll have a sip."

He nodded, waggling a finger. "Not too much now. I don't want my supersoldier daughter getting drunk. How does a soda sound?"

"Fair enough. One order, coming up!"

As my dad walked through a door, probably towards the kitchen, I sat back, stretching my legs and arms, finally glad to be free of that damn hospital bed. It felt good to walk around and be myself again.

Nothing like this in the world.

My drink was delivered a moment later, in a clear glass. I shook it lightly, seeing the bubbles rise to the top of the orange liquid as ice cubes clinked against each other. I sipped the drink, that familiar feeling rushing down my throat.

This is the life.

A woman sat down next to me, turning her head to look at me. She was clearly of Asian descent, Chinese maybe. I didn't recognize her. Was she new here?

"Nice place, huh?" I decided to start off the conversation. "Never thought the Commander would let something like this happen, but here we are."

She raised an eyebrow. "I'm sorry, I don't recognize you. You're…"

"Dawn. Dawn Conley. Currently XCOM's youngest soldier and resident teenager with attitude." I extended a hand. "And you are?"

She took it reluctantly. "Shun Anwei, longtime veteran. Got back from Vitakar a while ago."

I raised an eyebrow. Now this was interesting. "Vitakar? Working with the Nulorian, I guess?"

"Yeah." She shook her head. "Not exactly pretty."

"So I've heard. Heard their leader's got a hell of a racial superiority complex."

"To put it lightly." She took her drink, taking a sip. "Think I heard about you from somewhere. You're...a biopath, right?"

I nodded. "Yep. Sorry if I come off as a little off-putting. Almost no one's expecting someone like me to be here."

"Trust me, this is far from the most 'off-putting' I've dealt with," she snorted. "Meeting Quisilia is a bit more memorable than a teenage psion."

I almost dropped my drink. "What?"

She snorted. "Well, that's kind of a lie. Wasn't as much of a standoff, as it was me and the rest of us getting saved by the Chronicler."

"Always count on him to save the day. You see what he did in Ankara?"

"Oh yes." The way she said that sounded as if she was very satisfied. "About time that bitch learned she wasn't invincible."

"Hear, hear." I shook my head. "I don't know how she lives with herself. I mean, I saw the Ramstein footage. How do you open a Rift on top of a daycare and think you're the good guy?"

She shook her head. "I prefer not to think about it. Oh, I think your food's here."

My dad walked up to me, carrying a plate of fries and the burger. It was beautiful - a hunk of meat sandwiched between two layers of bacon, covered in smoking hot pepper jack cheese and onions-all drenched in dad's personal style barbeque sauce. Add to that two buns of some French bread I couldn't pronounce, and that completed the absolute beauty in front of me.

"Here you go!"

"Thanks, Dad!"

"Aytime!" He winked and walked away.

Shun cocked her head. "That's your dad?"

"Yep! Used to be a bartender before he came here. Mom's a MEC mechanic."

She raised an eyebrow. "Is working in XCOM a family business?"

"Man, I wish." I took a bite, almost moaning in reaction to how good it tasted. There was just something about the bread, cheese, sauce, and meat blending together like it was melting in your mouth. See, this was the kind of thing I missed from the food here. Sure, it was good. Sure, it bested what I ate back home. But there was something about the food being made with parental love.

Swallowing it, I closed my eyes for a moment, enjoying the food. Anywhere else, it'd be a second thought, something I could always buy or put in the fridge for later. But with everything else going on, it meant something more to me.

A moment of clarity, if you would. Reminding me of home. Way back when. When I didn't have to do this.

"You okay?"

I looked at her. "Yeah. Yeah. I just…" I gulped. "I was just remembering before."

"Before what?"

"Before-"

My phone buzzed. I pulled it out of my pocket. My eyes widened.

Mary.

"Uh Shun, I'm sorry. Gotta go." I turned to one of the robots. "Bartender! Box!"

"What happened?"

"Personal business."

Barracks, Praesidium

10/23/17- 12:41 PM

The look on my friend's face said it all. It was nice to see her again. It wasn't in the flesh, but it was the best we could do right now.

"What the fuck happened to your face?"

I sat on my bed, phone lodged so my friend could see my face. Clearly the scars from the busted helmet left their mark.

"Operation, Mary. Look, I'm sorry. I got hit by a plasma launcher. Long story. Look, I know you're mad that we haven't talked, and-"

She shook her head. "Dawn, you were doing important shit. I'm not going to ask what you were doing, even though people are speculating y'all used some kind of weird teleportation tech at Ankara."

I raised an eyebrow. "No comment."

She rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Look. I um, I got my first kill."

"Shit, really?"

"Yep. Vitakara. Got 'em right in the head with my rifle. Enemy patrol got a little too close to us."

"Oh. I see." I didn't really know what else to say. "Anyone get hurt?"

"Shields, remember?" She waved a hand. "Anyway, scan said an enemy patrol was getting a bit too close for comfort. Used some snowy hills for cover, and bam. My first firefight."

I did a small clap. "Hey, I'm proud of you!"

She smiled. "Yeah. probably nothing compared to what you've done, though."

"Hey, don't be like that! Different standards, remember?"

She nodded. "I know." She pursed her lips. "I just...is it bad of me to want to be there with you?"

I looked almost flustered. "No! No! No, that's-that's not bad at all! I-I'd want that, too."

"I know. After you left, people were talking about you left and right. They kept asking me what I knew, like I knew something they didn't. I-I miss you. I want to see you in person again. I want to hug you again, damnit."

"I know. I miss you too. Damn this war."

"Yeah. You remember when it was visiting day and you met my parents for the first time?"

I snorted. "How could I not? I almost embarrassed you when I answered the door in my pajamas with my hair all messed up and those huge bags under my eyes and acting like I was stoned out of my mind! They said I looked like a hobo!"

She raised an eyebrow.

"It wasn't my fault the Magister let me sleep in after controlling five people simultaneously for an hour! Do you know what that does to the mind? And all the Tylenol I had to take to keep myself asleep? I was like a zombie!"

She laughed. "Those were good times. So how are things there?"

I shrugged. "The usual. Fighting aliens, training, downtime."

"Oh, don't make me jealous!"

I smirked. "You saw what footage there is of Ankara?"

"Yep. Everyone's been all over it."

"Hell of a thing, huh? Trask getting the what-for? Feels great, right?"

"Yeah." She muttered. "But people are asking questions. Lots of questions."

"Like what?"

"Like how the city's entire population got teleported to Damascus. Some people think it was God. Other people think it's some teleportation technology ADVENT or you guys cooked up." She shrugged. "You all or ADVENT haven't said anything. I mean, no one's complaining, but-"

"And what do you think?"

"Me? I think...well, I have bigger things to focus on right now. But something about it doesn't feel right, you know?"

I simply shrugged. "Beats me. Oh hey- check this out."

I pulled my medal out of my pocket, placing it in front of the camera. "Have a look."

The look on her face said it all. "Congrats!"

"I mean, it was for getting injured in the line of duty. Didn't really take much."

"Fair enough. I think they're going to move me soon. Not sure where."

"What makes you think that?"

She shrugged. "Don't know. Just heard a lot of talk from the higher-ups. Maybe I'll finally see some real combat."

"You sure you're ready?"

"Course I am. You sound worried."

"Of course I am! You're my friend. I just...look, I've been in combat before, okay? It's not all the recruiting posters say it is. It's messy, there's a lot of loud sounds, blood, gore - I've literally punched someone's head off."

Her eyes lit up. "What brought that on?"

I shrugged. "I'd tell you, but I'd have to kill you. Look…" I gripped my feet. "Just be careful, alright. I...I lost someone recently who I was real close to, and I don't want that to happen again, alright?"

"Fuck. I'm sorry. What happened?"

"Almost died. He pulled my ass out of the fire only to get shot to shit. It wasn't pretty."

"I'm sorry. Do you want to talk about it?"

I shifted my legs. "I felt like I could've done something. It was my mistake that I got shot."

"How's that?"

"It's complicated. I got hit hard, but I'm feeling better. I got fixed up, I'm talking to my therapist, so things are getting better. It's just nice to see you again, Mary. I just wish we could see each other more, you know? I know in-person's not possible for obvious reasons, but I just really, really want to see you again."

"I get that feeling. I haven't gotten a hug in months."

"Yeah." I sighed. "I'll make it up to you someday, I promise."

"Do you want to finish this later? It sounds like you need some time to yourself."

"No." I muttered. "No, I didn't wait this long for us to talk so-"

"No. You're not alright now, Dawn. I can see it from here. Promise you'll call me when you're feeling better. I'll leave you to it for now. Okay?"

I sighed, resigning to the truth. I didn't want to say it, and she didn't want to say it. But it was true. I wasn't okay.

"That's alright. I...take care."

"Take care."

The connection cut a moment later.

Nice job, Dawn. You alienated her.

This whole South America thing had been one big shitshow. First me killing my nemesis' uncle, then getting a good friend killed? Come on. I could do better.

It's all your fault.

It's not right.

I shook my head, gritting my teeth. No! Stop thinking about it!

What the hell was I doing? Why hadn't I talked to Yates yet?

C'mon Dawn, deal with this.

You have to.

For him.

Armory, Praesidium

10/25/17- 1:45 PM

I looked at my armor, the suit hanging in my locker, all cleaned up, not a scratch on her. I took the helmet, cradling it in my hands.

Missed you, old girl. Back from the beating, ready for another fight?

If the armor could talk, I knew it would say hell yes.

I stared at the visor, cleaned and replaced. It looked brand new, like she'd never been touched in the first place. I ran a hand over it, feeling the smooth obsidian-black metal. It was a beautiful thing - nanites, alloys, psi-tech, and what have you, all condensed into a single work of art, a suit outclassing anything my uncle could've ever dreamed of back in the War on Terror.

This armor was part of me now. It was like another piece of clothing for me, like my t-shirt or pajamas. It was hard to describe to someone who didn't wear it how it felt - the feeling of power and superiority, the fluidity of walking around in it. It made the Priest armor I wore practicing feel like papier-mache.

And now it was truly time to make it my own.

Carrying the helmet, I walked over to the aptly named Armor Customization Station. If you wanted to give your armor a shiny look or different color, no problem. With over 200 unique and Internal Council-approved designs, it was more than sure to give you a little pep in your step.

Jeez, I sounded like an infomercial.

I placed the helmet in, pushing a few buttons as the door closed and the nanite reconfigurers latched onto the helmet. I typed in the instructions- a simple design. It wasn't the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, but it was good enough for me.

The robotic arms traced a thin purple line down the front of my helmet. It didn't cross the visor, of course, but, aside from that small break, it went right down the front of the helmet. The machine pinged when it was done, the glass door opening, and I took the helmet out gingerly, looking at the fresh purple strip running down the front.

Nice.

This one's for you, Violet.

It'd be a testament to her- she'd helped me in more ways than she could imagine, and in exchange, I'd helped to become something more.

I put on the helmet for a moment, cocking my head while looking in the mirror.

Not a bad look.

Not a bad look at all.

Now it was time to take this into the field.

I had a feeling I'd be taking this onto the battlefield sooner or later.

Better be ready, then.

Therapy Office, Praesidium

10/27/17- 3:36 PM

I found myself in Yates' office again, choosing to lay back on the new brown leather couch, looking up at the ceiling. I didn't say anything, I didn't telepathically project anything, I just...stared at the ceiling. I didn't want to be here - but I knew that I had to. You didn't disobey your boss and expect nothing to happen- especially when said boss was the Commander of XCOM.

"Thank you for coming, Dawn."

"Always." I said glumly.

"You're troubled." She said. "Is it about South America?"

I nodded. "I don't really want to talk about it."

"Are you sure? I know you are-"

"I'm a lot of things when it comes to that." I said. "You'd think that I'd feel better after all these people tell me it wasn't my fault. But I feel like it's more than that?"

"Is it about your relationship to him?"

I shrugged. "I guess. Elijah was a lot of things, but he felt more...human than a lot of the people in XCOM. More down-to-Earth. He felt, well, I don't know. He just felt more…"

I paused, gulping, not sure what to say next. I knew what I wanted to get across to the good doctor, but I didn't know how to express it. What should I say? Normal? That word died the moment the invasion happened. There was no 'normal' anymore.

"He just felt more relatable?" Yates suggested.

Not the word I thought, but I couldn't think of a better word. "Sure. There was something about him that made him feel more grounded, down-to-Earth. He was oddly happy, considering everything he'd been through. In a way, he's kind of what I wished Geist was like. Kind. Caring. Understanding. I mean, Geist is like that, but I really wished he showed it more. Hell, Caelior's shown more emotion than him. Caelior! An Ethereal!" I raised my hands, shaking my head.

"But there's more."

"Oh?"

I pondered what Elijah said.

The Cursed City, dead twice over.

Once in the Caliph's purges, and once again in the Commander's bloodthirst.

What he'd said when I'd asked him about this 'Commander'.

Far, far more than anyone will ever know. Charming, charismatic, convincing, manipulating, all the same, a human monster.

What is dead cannot die.

And the truth is often hidden in plain sight.

Monsters have a habit of returning to haunt men.

The fuck did that mean?

And then there was the Commander's reaction when I showed him the Lion pin - someone who had been very involved in the War on Terror. That look, only there for a second.

Genuine. I've not seen one of these for a long time.

The legacy of that pin is complicated to me.

"There are rumors that the Commander was a member of that Commander's inner circle, no?"

"Yes, he is."

"Thank you, Yates." I raised a hand. "I just think there's more to this, you know?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're aware of my family's military service, right?"

She nodded. "I understand your uncle's service in the Middle East has a substantial impact on your family."

I scoffed. "Substantial impact my ass. It was more than that. Pretty much broke the family apart. Extended family barely spoke to each other. My uncle damn near killed himself a few times. The Conleys just…" I slammed a fist into an open palm. "Broke the damn family like a mirror."

"And you think it's the Commander's fault?"

"My uncle served in some of the worst parts. He saw what the fucking monster did. Crucifixions, executions, massacres, Damascus...need I say more? That son of a bitch wrecked the entire family - and I had to watch it all burn. And did I mention his little 'destroy Islam' scheme got my best friend and her family run out of town because some racists sent them death and rape threats, all because they prayed to Mecca?"

"You can't blame him directly for-"

"No, but I can blame him for ramping up the hate." I cursed under my breath, shaking my head. "I don't know. After him meeting me in the hospital, something about him rubs me the wrong way. You know what I think?"

"What?"

I grinned. "I think he and that Lion pin are connected somehow. That's what I think."

I sensed something from Yates's head. Her face was a calm, collected mask, but I felt a spike of surprise from her, just for a second.

One that spoke oh shit.

Hm.

I almost snarled. "I just...I don't know anymore, Yates. I just don't. I just feel like something's there, you know?"

She nodded. "Yes. Yes, I understand that feeling of not fully knowing something you're thinking about. The desire to discover, to find meaning in things. It's common for people your age."

I shook my head. "I don't know."

Time to play dumb.

"I just feel confused. Like there's this haze around my mind. Like just seeing him die like that messed me up, you know?"

"Do you think you've recovered?"

I shrugged. "I'm having less bad dreams now." Thank you, Caelior. Ethereal hugs really do help. "But I don't think I ever can. If you're asking if I can fight, I'm pretty sure I can. But I don't think I can ever forget. What happened is a part of my head now. I can't remove that."

Not usually, of course.

She smiled. "That's good, Dawn. Recognizing the problem is the first step of many."

I nodded. "I do have some good news, though."

"Oh?"

I smiled. "It's about Caelior. We've...well, things have gotten better between us. Much better."

XCOM Profile 2231

Authorization Level: The Commander of XCOM

Subject: Dawn Conley

Threat Level: Mitigated (Even if the Manchurian Restraints didn't exist, she is a literal child. Spare me this useless field)

Assessment Author: Haley Yates, XCOM Psychologist

Approved By: The Commander of XCOM

SECTION 1: Physical Characteristics

Hair: Brown (Chestnut); shoulder-length

Eye color: Brown

Skin color: White

Height: 5'8"

Weight: 187 lbs.

Scars or markings: None

Physical Condition: Prior to her modification, ADVENT records showcase that Dawn was in good physical condition, though not above average for a woman her age. Since her joining XCOM, she has been physically enhanced far beyond a baseline Human, especially in her age group. She remains outmassed against most soldiers, but this limitation is mitigated through her enhancements and armor.

SECTION 2: Psychological Assessment

Dawn Conley is a teenager in XCOM.

This obvious factoid aside, it is a critical one that needs to be stressed and repeated. She is not a soldier. She is not a fighter. She is not a killer. She is a teenage girl who is in a situation she, frankly, has very little comprehension of, and has primarily reverted to a mindset that prioritizes survival and following orders.

I am aware of her unique talents, however, it is deeply questionable if XCOM is the best place for a girl of her talents. She is not even twenty years old, and it is almost certain she will now experience front-line combat. ADVENT would have likely insulated her behind the front lines, which will not be the case in XCOM.

However, I have raised these concerns, and have been overridden. It is thus necessary that you understand Dawn Conley so that you do not accidentally traumatize her.

Dawn Conley has a conformist mindset. In effect, that means she is extremely susceptible to ideas, beliefs, and ideologies, should the person delivering them be friendly, persuasive, and assertive. She has a deep need to be accepted by those around her, and she will try and alter her views and speech based on what she believes will allow her to be most easily accepted by the dominant group.

This is not to suggest that she does not hold beliefs of her own, but that she lacks a strong ideological core outside of a few red lines, and it is likely that even those could be worn down with enough persuasion. She will aggressively assert her views if she believes she is right and she judges that the environment for doing so is friendly. She is not a diplomat, but will engage in conversation, though rarely for the purposes of persuading others to her side.

It should be stressed that Dawn is not atypical. There are many people of her age that are still trying to determine their own beliefs, now that they have been removed from the influence of their parents and communities. Do not think that she is especially unique in this regard - but you must be aware of it because she is with us now.

One of the areas where she is notably resilient is that she is fiercely loyal to those she considers her friends - friends are one of her mental red lines. In nearly every situation, she will side with or defend her friend, even if it makes her personally uncomfortable or wary. She curiously gets along well with most people who largely align with her worldview, though only has a small number of close friends. I have not determined what needs to qualify for her to consider them a close friend.

Her social views are firmly left-wing, and centered around tolerance. She is extremely disdainful of all forms of bigotry and discrimination, which are another red line - though interestingly, this primarily concerns Human racial dynamics. She is more hesitant on challenging individuals who voice anti-alien sentiments, likely because she assesses that it would hurt her ability to integrate into XCOM.

Nonetheless, this is notable due to coming from a fairly conservative state of Tennessee, and she is very supportive of initiatives such as the AEGIS Division. Her views on aliens have become slightly warped due to this view - ADVENT propaganda has been effective. She has a very black-and-white view on the conflict, without a strong understanding of the political dynamics.

Dawn primarily prefers to view the world in simple terms. ADVENT good, Collective bad. When the positives of the Collective or concerns in ADVENT are pointed out, she will typically acknowledge the point, though it will not be enough to radically alter her worldview. It is unlikely she will break this mentality until she matures further, as I will remind you that she is still very young.

In some ways, this is actually a benefit. Dawn is far more willing to make friends among aliens than other adults, and her perspective leads her to ask questions that others may not consider. She is an intelligent girl, that much is clear, but one who I fear is out of her depth. Many of her views, including on ADVENT, the Collective, aliens, and her own role, are half-formed or based on shaky foundations.

There will come a point where she is forced to critically examine each of her views and assess their accuracy. What she concludes will greatly depend on the value set she possesses, which remains minimally developed. XCOM has been entrusted with the molding of a young girl into a young woman, and we must treat that carefully. With that in mind, here are some recommendations.

The first is that she be fully trained before she participates in any combat operations. She should become accustomed to the feeling of killing in a controlled environment so we can account for any potential stressors and concerns. The Dreamscape is ideal for carrying this out.

The second is that you and I should begin pressing her to think about these questions, and induce an internal reflection on what and why she believes what she does. You would be surprised how effective it is to force them to ask these questions. Patricia is a good analogue to use, as she was someone influenced towards the wrong end, though Patricia's personality is vastly different from Dawn's.

Finally, I am uncertain how to phrase this, but we should not crush her innocence through the realities of war. I understand some of this is unavoidable, but she is a girl, and it is wrong to turn her into a cynical killing machine. She is excited to be here, and has expressed a child-like excitement that few others here have expressed to me was surprisingly uplifting. I fear that will be ground down over time.I would suggest that we allow her time to find herself and her place here. Let her make friends, let her learn at her own pace, encourage her to maintain contact with her family and friends (within regulations). Be there to support her and answer questions. Keep her from the worst operations, and likely keep her from the Labs and Prison Cells, if possible.

I am not concerned with her becoming another Patricia, despite her malleability, that is not where the fear lies. My fear is that she can easily be molded into an unthinking soldier and killer, and XCOM has enough of those. Frankly, she shouldn't be here, but, since she is, we have a responsibility to take care of her.

And in the long-term, Commander, this is what we must do to take care of her.

A/N: Next chapter begins the next arc of New Blood: The three-parter Desert March. With editing help from HailToTheKing, Dawn goes to Africa in an adventure that will push her to her very limits, and perhaps farther than she ever anticipated. While shorter than my previous arc, I promise you all that it will be as enjoyable as the first, with plenty of action, emotion, and tension.

Hope you all enjoy it.

To be continued in:

Operation: Sekhmet