DAY ELEVEN – TIME UNKNOWN

LOCATION: ?

After Snake lost consciousness, there was a period where he would drift in and out. When he could sense the world around him, he thought he could make out voices. But these voices were muffled, he couldn't make out any words. Temperatures came through in waves; sometimes his body felt very hot, other times it was like he had moved into a meat locker. His skin was slick and sticky with sweat.

He was touched by many hands. There was the sensation of being grabbed, carried, caressed, raised, and lowered. This sensation carried into his dreams. When Snake slept—as much as he could sleep—he dreamed he was piloting a raft across a vast ocean. Sometimes the waves were gentle, moving him on their wake under an open night sky. Other times he was tossed and thrown by an angry storm, hanging on for dear life for fear that Poseidon would reach up and claim him.

In the tempest, he felt his grip on the raft falter many times, but each time his weakness threatened to make him let go, there was another steady hand to carry him back to the raft. And every time the raft reached calmer waters, Snake would look back to see the one-eyed Demon following him silently in the raft's wake. Its evil, knowing stare penetrated him, and it was all that he could do to continue paddling away until he was even further exhausted.

Eventually, the raft reached waters that were tranquil enough to be completely utterly still. Snake fell back against the raft, and found that the hard wood had turned into something soft that yielded to his touch. He felt a small weight upon his body; his arms reached up from where they rested at his sides and grasped at it, finding it to be even more soft and yielding than the raft upon which he rested.

He heard birdsong. He realized that his eyes were closed and encrusted with rheum. With what felt like great effort, his crusty eyelids unstuck themselves and pulled apart, revealing the world in front of him. His first view was of a slightly cracked off-white ceiling, with overhead lights that were thankfully turned off.

Another unfamiliar ceiling, Snake thought to himself ruefully.

Framing this view was a square suspended by four posts. The four-poster bed was of a good size—a Queen, if Snake had to guess. The mattress and pillows were soft and would probably be very comfortable if he weren't so used to sleeping in foxholes, vehicles, on the ground, and in those barracks' dorm beds. There was also the matter of the wetness he felt on the pillows and sheets—he'd been sweating a great deal, it would appear. How long had he been here, he wondered?

He looked to his left. There was a small window lining the wall, near the ceiling where he could see some vegetation growing. A basement room, then. Bed was too cushy for a prisoner. Who had brought him here?

Snake tried to lean up into a sitting position, then clutched his head and groaned with the onset of a headache. With one eye open, he observed that his arms and torso were completely wrapped in bandages, and from the way the sheets felt against his legs, he imagined that his legs were similarly wrapped—he must have looked like a mummy.

He heard a small gasp in front of him. He opened his eye slightly, and saw a familiar blue-eyed, dark-haired woman sitting in a small armchair laying down a book onto an end table next to her.

"…Ellen Madnar?" Snake muttered in disbelief.

The young woman practically fell over as she leaped out of the chair and rushed over to put her arms around him. Snake tensed, not really sure how to react.

"You're awake!" Ellen said, squeezing him. "I'm glad."

Snake felt a sudden pain as the girl squeezed, and Ellen backed off, apologizing profusely. Before Snake could get a word in edgewise, Ellen ran out of the room with little more than a request to wait and an assurance that she would be right back.

When she returned, four more people had entered the room: Wikus and Jennifer Nkosi, Diane, and a second man whom Snake didn't recognize.

"Jennifer? Wikus? You brought me here?"

Jennifer nodded. "I did what I could for you back in Hopetown to stabilize you, and then we brought you to the hospital here in Kimberley for more advanced treatment. We couldn't keep you there though—too many eyes on us. Diane offered to help keep you safe."

"It was the least I could do," Diane cut in, looking sympathetic.

The unnamed man with her nodded reluctantly, though Snake could tell that he wasn't as enthusiastic about their houseguest.

Snake put two and two together. "You're Steve, I take it?" he asked, pointing to the man.

"That's right," he said. "You know, my sister's putting a lot on the line for you."

Diane put a hand on her brother's shoulder, and he quieted down.

Snake looked to Diane. "Where am I, exactly?"

"My place. Or, one of them, anyway. I use this one as a safe house for the rebellion. This here is a guest room in the basement. Safest place I could think of—away from prying eyes. Don't worry—," Diane's gaze softened as she smiled, "—you're safe here."

Snake had heard that before, in Salamander's company. He felt the paranoia rising—he had to remind himself that these people were part of the mission, and not from FOXHOUND, but enemies of Big Boss. Strangely, he felt like that made it easier to trust them. He breathed slowly through his nose and out through the mouth, trying to push down the fear and calm himself. He tried to smile, but even he could feel that it was strained.

He nodded to each person in turn. "Thank you. All of you—for looking out for me, and for keeping Ellen safe. I'm grateful."

Wikus nudged Snake in the shoulder. "It was real touch and go with you for a while. Glad to see you're alright, Snake."

"I'll be the judge of that," Jennifer retorted, putting her medical kit on the bed and putting on her stethoscope. She sat next to Snake and started placing the cold bell and diaphragm onto his back, instructing him to breathe deeply.

"You did exactly what I told you not to do, and acted recklessly," Jennifer chided. "I told you to be careful. Should I lay out the list? Concussion—probably multiple concussions; deep cuts in your arms and near your collar bone; shrapnel in your back narrowly missing your artery and spinal column; three cracked ribs; two animal bite wounds, multiple hairline fractures in your right scapula, bruising from what looks like an attempted strangulation, sprained ankle, sprained wrist, a stress fracture in your left fibula, and at least three of your toes are broken…and on top of this, many of your flesh wounds got infected, causing you to contract a fever in transit. You were sick, delirious and unconscious when you arrived here; you've been out of action for over three days now. It's taken the work of me and two other doctors to nurse you back to health."

Jennifer shook her head. "Honestly, most other people would be dead by now, or paralyzed. You shouldn't even be sitting up right now. You are very, very lucky to still be alive."

Snake but the notion worsened his headache, so he stopped. "I believe you," he said. "Sounds like I was lucky to run into you again."

"You have no idea,"" Jennifer said, lowering her stethoscope, and examining Snake's bandages. "Looks like your bandages will need changing soon," she commented under her breath.

Snake asked, "What about the two sisters I was escorting across town? Are they okay?"

"We were able to get them to safety, don't worry," Wikus reassured him.

Snake sighed in relief. "Good," he said.

Wikus looked to Snake curiously. "What were you doing in Hopetown in the first place? We weren't sure we would ever see you again after Outer Heaven."

"I was on my way to Kimberley, actually. I was planning on catching a train to Pretoria so I could get to the American Embassy and secure safe passage back home," Snake explained.

"So…does that mean the mission was a success, then? You were able to get to Venom?" Wikus asked, looking hopeful.

Snake stared at his clenched, bandaged fists. "Yes," he said bluntly. "My mission was completed. Ahab is dead, and his weapon was destroyed."

"Then, why do you look so glum?"

"Snake…?" Diane asked.

Snake's breathing was shaking. "…betrayed," he whispered.

"What?"

"I was betrayed," his lips clumsily muttered. "We were…betrayed…by my commanding officer. He led us into trap after trap. And one of my people, who I was supposed to meet afterward, was in on it. He tried to kill me…even called in the air strike early to try and wipe us all out."

Snake's shame grabbed him by the throat, glued his tongue to the roof of his mouth. Speaking was an ordeal—he couldn't raise his eyes to looks at his companions' faces. What did they see in him right now, battered and broken and weak as he was?

So weak…

Jennifer's hand moved to his forearm, grabbing it. Her grasp was gentle, and Snake felt like that gentleness could snap him in two. "Snake…," she said slowly. "What happened? Where's Kyle?"

Snake screwed his eyes shut. He was too afraid of looking them in their eyes, afraid of what he might see reflected in them. "Kyle…Gray Fox…Imke, Luke, Loyiso, everyone…I tried to warn them, to tell them to get out. I heard Imke briefly on the radio, before the bombs dropped. And then…"

The room was stifled by the weight of the silence in the air. Snake felt like he was being smothered. His breathing quickened. He wanted to stop, to go back to dreaming of the ocean. But he couldn't—he had to finish it.

They had to know.

"The bombs dropped, and…" Snake paused. He could feel drops of sweat running down his forehead, and a single tear of shame and self-loathing left his eye, betraying him. He finished, "…after that, all I heard was silence. I don't know if they made it out or not. I don't even know if there would be bodies to check if they didn't. All I remember is the silence."

His grip on his sheets tightened. His breathing got even faster. He knew he was on the verge of hyperventilating, but he couldn't stop himself. He had trusted Big Boss—not just with his own life, but the lives of those who chose to follow him. They in turn had trusted Snake, and now…

"I'm sorry," he muttered. "I'm so sorry."

Wikus put a hand on his back. Jennifer leaned on him while Ellen and Diane held his hand and forearm, respectively. It was hard for Snake to ground himself. He hated himself for failing them, and he felt humiliated for them to see him in this compromised state. Yet something about their presence anchored him, and he could feel his breathing slowing down.

And yet as he shook, the only intelligible words that escaped his lips were, "Sorry…sorry…sorry…"

Jennifer and Wikus weren't able to stay, though they promised to visit so they could check up on him and to give him news with regard to the war effort. Jennifer made it clear that Snake was not to leave the bed until he recovered (excepting bathroom visits), that he was not to exert himself in any way, and not to try to change his bandages unassisted.

"Doctor's orders," Jennifer said before she left. "And if you try any funny business, Diane has assured me that she'll have you strapped down to that bed, so you won't be able to move at all."

"I'll do it myself if I have to," Diane warned.

So it was that Snake was confined to his little basement room. Throughout the day, Ellen, Diane, and Steve would take turns bringing him food, with Diane changing his bandages and sheets for fresh ones and with Ellen and Diane, both keeping him company and making conversation. Snake didn't say much, mostly just listening to Diane talk about her music career and her time with the Resistance; and Ellen talking about her father, or her ballet troupe in Russia, sometimes wondering aloud when she'd get to dance again, or when she'd get to see her father.

Snake, for his part, didn't say much. He'd nodded along and spoke enough to let them know he was listening, but the truth was that he didn't have much to say. Neither Diane nor Ellen commented on it, but he could sometimes catch their sad, pitying glances as they left the room. No doubt they talked about him when they were outside and out of earshot.

It bothered Snake. He didn't deserve their concern, didn't deserve their pity. He led Diane's Resistance comrades to their deaths, betrayed their trust. And Ellen—who even knows if her father's actually still alive? Did Dr. Madnar get delivered to American forces and get released, as promised? Or did Big Boss arrange for Madnar to get shipped somewhere else entirely, for some other sinister purpose?

Snake could see the same accusing question burning in Ellen's eyes when she looked at him. He knew she yearned to ask him the same thing he wondered, but still she kept silence. Was it out of fear of burdening him, or was it because she was just as afraid of the answer as Snake was? Then again, when Dr. Madnar left, it was in the company of Jennifer and Wikus, and they didn't seem worried about it. Maybe they knew something he didn't? He'd have to remember to ask them.

After a few days in, Snake woke up to the sound of rain showers outside. The natural light from the windows was little dimmer. Cloud cover, probably. Ellen sat in the corner chair, reading under the soft lamp light.

"Good morning. You're here early," Snake said, shifting up the pillows behind him so he could push up into a sitting position.

Ellen smiled, placing a bookmark in between the pages. "Not really," she said. "I think it's almost noon now. You slept in, if anything."

"That late, huh?"

"Mm-hmm," she hummed. "Did you sleep well?"

Snake forced a polite smile. Don't tell her about the dreams. "Yeah, I slept okay."

"Good," Ellen said. "Can I get you anything? Breakfast, maybe?"

Snake shook his head. "No, thank you. I'm not hungry at the moment. Please, don't get up on my account."

"If you're sure."

Snake nodded, then leaned back. "What are you reading?"

"Oh, this?" Ellen held up the book. "Anna Karenina. Diane was able to somehow get ahold of a Russian-language copy for me. Have you ever read Tolstoy?"

"Not really," Snake admitted. "I think I heard him mentioned in high school, but as far as Russian literature went, my teachers' tastes fell more in line with Chekov and Kafka. I had one teacher try to assign Dostoevsky's Crime and Punishment, but I think they convinced her that it would be too long to cover in one semester."

Snake chuckled wistfully. "That feels like such a long time ago. I'm not sure I can remember the last time I actually sat down to read anything, for learning or for pleasure."

"That's a shame," Ellen said. "Stories are how cultures are spread. How thoughts, memories, feelings, and values get passed down from one generation to the next. It's an important part of being human."

She brushed her hand against the cover. "Take this one for example. A tragic tale of doomed star-crossed lovers, of jealousy, betrayal, and infidelity, but of hope, also. All set against the backdrop of Tsarist Russia's aristocracy. These women were unable to choose a life and love for themselves, and yet, Anna sought to rebel against her family, society, even her own marriage for just a chance at happiness. Her circumstances were doomed to failure, but her struggle was close to my own heart…it's one of the things that inspired me to pursue ballet in the first place."

"It's also the same struggle that pushed the Bolsheviks to rebel against the tsars, even if their revolution failed to bring the peace and prosperity it promised," Ellen continued. "If I'm not mistaken, your own country was founded in the same way—revolution in pursuit of the new."

"That push for something new, something better beyond simple tradition…it's so very human," Snake agreed.

"The Resistance here is much the same, no?" Ellen said. "This country was founded on foreigner colonists pursuing power at the expense of the native peoples of this land. Eventually, the descendants of both the natives and the white colonials dared to choose something different, something new. They dared to dream of a better world, and they stood up to fight for it."

"You've been thinking a lot about this, haven't you?" Snake observed.

Ellen laid the book down in her lap. "It's a quality I admire," she said simply. "It's something I try to pursue. I just hope that in my case, it won't lead to tragedy, like may have for your Rebel friends…like it did for Anna."

Snake looked down at his hands, once again unable to meet Ellen's eyes. "I know you what you want to ask me, Ellen."

Ellen looked up at Snake with a start. "What…?"

"I said, I know what you want to ask me. So, just ask."

Ellen looked down at the book again. Once again Snake was suffocated by silence, however this time the moment did not last very long. Ellen took in a deep breath and sighed heavily. "The other day, you said you had been betrayed by your commanding officer," she started.

"That's right," Snake affirmed.

"This commander, he was also in charge of your mission here in Africa. Which means he would have been in charge of taking my father to safety when you sent him away with Jennifer and her brother."

"Right."

"Does…does that mean that my father may not be safe?"

Snake tensed. His downcast eyes squinted in pain; his brows upturned. "I…wish I could tell you the answer to that, Ellen. But the truth is…that I just don't know. What I can say is that by that point, Ahab had gotten everything he needed from him—the weapon had been constructed at that point and was close to being operational. I don't think he would have had any use for him anymore."

Ellen's breath stopped for a moment as she took in what Snake was saying. "Then…my father's…"

"I don't know," Snake reiterated. "Maybe, maybe not. I'd already reported to the Mission Control team that I'd gotten him out before my CO had me switch over to the radio band he used to lure me into traps. And I know that there were people outside of my unit involved in the operation—I know of at least one agent and one case officer of the CIA were involved, along with some elements of the U.S. Navy, but I don't know how far it went or how many people knew or the identities of all involved. That's too many variables to know for sure."

Snake gathered his courage and looked up to meet Ellen's fearful gaze. "I'd say…it depends on who picked him up. Did you ever see Jennifer or Wikus again after coming here, before I showed up?"

Ellen shook her head. Snake nodded to himself, thinking.

"Well, they did say they would come to visit me again," he said. "When they get here, we'll ask them to describe the parties they dropped him off with. That'll give me a better idea. I'm sorry. I know it's not a lot of hope to give—"

"But it's something," Ellen said with a sad smile. "And I'd rather know for sure than not at all. Thank you, Snake."

Once again, Snake averted his eyes. Why was she thanking him? He was the man who potentially sent her father to his death. If anything, she should be cursing him for putting her father in danger in the first place. Why? Why was she being so kind when he clearly didn't deserve it?

"…I'm still a bit tired. I'm going to try getting some more sleep," he said.

"Oh…o-okay," Ellen said. "Would you like me to leave the room?"

Snake shook his head as he carefully laid back down, turning so his face couldn't be seen. "I'll be okay. You can go back to reading, if you want."

"Perhaps…" Ellen said, before catching herself.

"What is it?"

"Perhaps you would like me to read to you?"

"…Y'know what? Sure."

"Would you like me to read in Russian or translate to English?"

"I understand either language," Snake replied. "Go with what whatever's comfortable for you."

Ellen began to recite in Russian, speaking with confidence and clear diction. She was soft-spoken, her voice soothing. It wasn't long before Snake began to fall asleep again for real.

The man crouched low, naked and prostrate before the idol; his body bathed in blood. He was surrounded by darkness, illuminated from above by a weak light emitted by a flame that threatened to be choked into ash by the oppressive darkness. In his hand he clutched a blade, dull and rough and hideous.

The idol towered over him, a crouching and ugly figure squatting in the blackness. Its horn extended from a gouge in the forehead, leaking blood and pus. Its one eye shining in the shadows, its lips pulled back to reveal a terrible rictus grin.

Between them were men and women that the man recognized, friends and allies. Brothers and sisters. Each and every one of them kneeled before him willingly, offering their flesh to him. In their eyes, he could see absolute trust and admiration. Their bodies, their lives were his to command. Through matted hair, soaked in mud and blood and human filth, the man peered through like he would through a heavy curtain.

The idol grinned down at him. Sacrifice the flesh of those who follow you, it commanded. Give unto me the blood of your brothers and sisters, who willingly offer themselves to the fires of war.

The man stood up to his full height, vulnerable and exposed to his new dark god. One by one, he approached each sacrifice in turn, stared into their eyes. He saw love, respect, admiration. Above all, he saw their fierce loyalty and trust, total, absolute, complete.

With each one, a quick swing opened their throats, letting the red life from their necks like freshly slaughtered cattle. One by one, their bodies turned to inanimate meat as they fell to the floor. The vitae that poured from their bodies flowed freely forward and downhill into a wide cistern, an open offering for the god of war and death.

Step forth, the idol commanded. Take your place as my servant, claim your throne on the field of battle.

The man did as the idol bade him and waded into the cistern. Slowly, he submerged himself in the blood of the followers he'd betrayed, and what emerged in his place was a new horned demon with pointed teeth, red eyes bloodshot and frenzied as the idol clutched him by the throat.

Snake awoke with a start, launching himself upright out of his nightmare. He was sweating profusely, his breathing shallow and erratic. He felt his neck with his left hand. He looked down at his right, expecting to find it still clutching the blade, still soaked with the blood of the Rebels and friends he'd killed.

He sprung up out of the bed, hobbled out of the room, and quickly found an open bathroom just down the hall. He turned on the light, examining himself closely in the mirror, expecting to see the blood-soaked horned Demon of his nightmares. Instead, he saw only his own reflection.

His face was sunken in, his eyes shadowed with heavy bags, but still open wide and searching. He had begun to grow a beard, and this combined with his now longer hair made him look like a wild animal. He pulled down one of his eyelids, looking, searching for any trace of the monster. He saw nothing.

His breathing slowly began to slow into a much calmer rhythm. He sighed, then turned on the water in the sink to splash his face in the basin. He opened up the mirror to look into the medicine cabinet and saw a straight razor and a can of shaving cream. He sprayed some into his hand and spread it across his jawline and grabbed the razor.

When he closed the mirror, he saw Diane leaning against the doorframe behind him. It took all he had not to spin around and attack her in a panicked reflex. He forced his breathing to remain even.

"You're not supposed to be up and about," Diane said in an accusatory tone.

"Couldn't sleep," Snake said. "Figured I'd try to clean myself up. Is that alright?"

Diane shrugged. "As long as you feel up to it. You're a grown man, after all."

"Heh," Snake grunted through a half-smile.

He opened the blade of the razor from the handle, ready to begin shaving, only to find that he couldn't move his hand. He stared at the blade. The open razor, the person standing behind him—he was beginning to feel déjà vu. He thought of the blade of the knife that submerged itself into Salamander's gut and neck. He thought of every time his knife had buried itself into the gut of an Outer Heaven soldier.

He thought of the nightmare, and the blade that slashed every friend and comrade's throat.

His hand shook. It refused to come any closer to his face. He saw Diane's reflection approach him from the corner of his eye. He flinched. Diane put a hand on his shoulder, leaning around him to look him in the face. He didn't meet her eyes.

"You don't look so good," she observed. "Bad dreams?"

"…Something like that," Snake hedged.

Diane saw Snake's shaking, immobile hand holding the razor. She put her other hand on his forearm, sliding toward the hand.

She asked, "May I?"

Snake didn't respond, but also didn't resist as she took the razor from his hand. "Come with me," she quietly commanded as she pulled him back to his room and sat him down at the foot of the bed. "Wait here."

She stepped out of the room and then returned after a few moments carrying a small basin of water and a towel. She pulled the chair to sit across from him and put the basin next to him. She held up the blade, and Snake reflexively closed his eyes.

"Sit still."

Carefully, slowly, Diane rested the length of the razor against Snake's neck, pulling it upwards to glide across his skin and rinsing the blade in the basin after each couple of strokes. Snake obediently remained still, making no sudden movements even though every alarm bell in his body was ringing. He could feel each caress of the blade as his skin was cleaned and exposed to the cool open air.

He breathed slowly, carefully, trying to maintain a sense of calm. Every nerve in his body felt like it was vibrating, demanding him to explode into movement. But Diane's hand on his arm was soft, soothing. Her presence anchored him, and he found that by simply focusing on her touch instead of the blade helped to distract him from his own impulses. Within moments, the fire in his skin receded, and his heartbeat slowed.

After a few minutes, Diane had finished her work, and she wiped the razor blade clean of hair and shaving cream before closing it, and then dabbed at Snake's face with the towel. Now at relative peace, Snake felt safe to open his eyes and saw Diane's concerned gaze looking back at him. He didn't know what he wanted to say—nothing good came to mind, and the lump in his throat kept him from voicing anything.

"Why…why did you do this?" he finally said, the words stumbling and clumsy.

"Because you needed it," Diane said simply.

"Thank you," Snake said, trying to avert his eyes again. Diane caught him by the chin and forced him to look into the pale emeralds that gazed upon him.

"You know, it's okay to put your trust in other people."

Snake was arrested by her stare. "I…I can't," he whispered helplessly.

"Why not?"

"I trusted someone else, gave them everything I am. I was used and cast aside. Nothing can ever be the same after that."

Diane cocked her head. "Do you trust me?" she asked.

Snake gently pulled her hand away from his face, shaking his head. "It's not my trust in you that I'm worried about." He looked down at his bandaged left hand, noticed how still it was.

"Then, what are you worried about?"

Snake couldn't answer. Or maybe he just didn't want to.

"I can't help you if you won't let me," Diane begged.

Still, Snake didn't respond. Diane sighed, gathered up the basin and towel, and stood up to leave.

"Fine," she said.

Before she disappeared from the room, she turned back to talk to him to make one last offer to save himself.

"If you ever change your mind and decide you want to talk, you'll know where to find me. I won't be far."

With that, Snake was once again left alone. He put his head in his hands, massaging his temples. He felt exhausted. He crawled back into bed and instantly fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

This time, he didn't dream.

"In today's news, the civil war that has taken the country by storm in the wake of last week's earthquake has reached a turning point as ships and aircraft carrying armed personnel have been spotted flying over the Namibian border and ships carrying vehicles and equipment were seen leaving southern ports and were spotted off of the eastern shores moving towards Madagascar.

Representatives of the foreign private military known as Outer Heaven Incorporated declined to give a public statement with regard to these troop movements after being placed in the custody of the South African National Defence Force, however it appears that while some token forces have continued to fight in the Northern Cape, the majority of Outer Heaven forces appear to be cutting their losses.

His Excellency the President Nelson Mandela gave an address this morning congratulating the military for swiftly subduing the foreign threat to national peace."

Jennifer rolled her eyes while Wikus scoffed.

"The bastards," Diane muttered. "Never mind the fact that the Resistance did most of the actual fighting."

"What's this about an earthquake?" Snake asked, hobbling into the ground floor living room where everyone was huddled around the radio on the table.

"You're not supposed to be out of bed," Jennifer said sternly, only to be shushed by Wikus as they continued to listen intently.

The radio continued its report:

"His Excellency announced to the press that the Outer Heaven officials in custody are to stand trial for war crimes before a panel held by the United Nations in Pretoria later this week. When asked about whether the current state of affairs meant that the state of martial law would be lifted, His Excellency had this to say:

'There is still a great deal of chaos and confusion throughout the nation of South Africa, with refugees in need of housing and medical supplies. In addition, there is still a great deal of civil unrest in urban cities and rural communities. As a necessity for maintaining peace and safety for all South African citizens, martial law will continue to be in effect until such time as order has been re-established.'

The press then raised the question of what is to be done with the 'South African People's Resistance' organization that had been seen fighting against Outer Heaven throughout the Northern Cape in the days leading up to and following the earthquake. His Excellency stated in response that now that the Outer Heaven threat has been subdued, all civilian militias in the country are to lay down arms effective immediately, and that any 'illegal combatants' continuing to operate in the region will risk being met with lethal force.

Under condition of anonymity, members of various SAPR cells have stated that they have no intention to cease operations, claiming that they can protect Northern Cape communities better than the government forces. When these sources were asked if this meant that SAPR intends to escalate hostilities with SANDF, they responded that they would prefer not to continue any further violence, but that it would depend on the government's response.

Military officials have declined to comment.

This has been KNK news, providing continuing coverage of the ongoing civil disturbance here in South Africa, as it happens. And now, for the weather—"

Wikus turned off the radio, leaning over the table with both hands while Ellen walked into the kitchen with Diane to make coffee.

"It sounds like Outer Heaven's pushing the retreat," Snake said. "So why does everyone look so glum. War should be over now, right?"

"Didn't you hear?" Wikus said, shaking his head. "SANDF's taking the credit for Outer Heaven's defeat."

"So? Why does it matter?" Snake asked. "Outer Heaven's gone. We won."

"You don't get it," Wikus replied. "They want to delegitimize the Resistance so that they can manufacture a pretext to send the military into the Northern Cape. We're a civil insurgency—our very existence is illegal, by definition. In order to defeat Outer Heaven, we had to damage critical infrastructure. And that's not all."

"The 'earthquake'?"

Jennifer nodded. "The bombing of Outer Heaven HQ had to be performed with stealth because the government couldn't be seen relying on NATO for help. Mandela's lack of response to Outer Heaven the past four years has put his administration in a very precarious position, politically speaking. They need a scapegoat to keep up public approval; the violence from Outer Heaven reached its peak when we attacked their base and the runoff from the chemicals and nuclear material have polluted the area. The base was on a major river."

Snake put the pieces together in his head. "They're going to blame you for provoking Outer Heaven into war."

Jennifer nodded solemnly. "That's right," she said. "And with our forces split in half on the eastern and western halves of the Northern Cape, we're already divided. If they send in the military, it wouldn't take much to subdue us. Everyone will have to go underground or risk death or imprisonment. Either that, or we stand and fight on the defensive, and I don't know that the people would look so kindly on us fighting our own countrymen."

"Are you worried that the locals might turn Resistance members to the authorities?" Snake asked.

"We've committed to protecting our homes and our neighbors," Wikus said. "The people of the Northern Cape have seen us stand up and fight for and beside them. It's our cells in the other provinces I'm worried about. We've heard of SANDF capturing people in the Eastern Cape, and we've had all of our cells in Free State, North-West, and Kwazulu-Natal go dark entirely. It's not looking good."

"So…what will you do?" Snake asked.

"There's a meeting in the Western Cape near Galzburg in two days with all the various leaders and several high-ranking agents of the Resistance in the western region," Jennifer said. "It's there where we'll decide whether to go underground or to stand our ground against SANDF. Wikus and I will be heading that way tomorrow."

"Are you sure it's a good idea to have all these high-ranking Resistance members to meet in one place?" Snake asked. "It seems like a huge target for SANDF."

"The meeting is going to be conducted in secret," Jennifer said. "But even still, we recognize that there will be a risk of failure, and so we've set up several contingencies in place both for everyone's escape and to maintain a chain of command in the event of death or capture for the leadership. Our organization is very decentralized, and there won't be a lot of people there; it should be okay."

Snake nodded. "Well…be careful."

Jennifer smiled, patting Snake on the shoulder, before becoming stern once more. "Why are you up, anyway? You were told to stay confined to bed. Doctor's orders, remember?"

"I've been going stir-crazy lately," Snake admitted. "I needed to get up and about for once. Besides, I haven't been doing anything too strenuous. I can still do basic tasks."

"You do look like you've been healing nicely," Jennifer pointed out. "I'm surprised that you're able to walk at all, actually. I had pegged you as being out of commission for at least a few more weeks."

"Well, I've always been a pretty fast healer, even when I was still serving in my old unit," Snake said. "Though my appetite definitely has historically had a tendency to increase when recovering from injury."

"Fast metabolism?"

Snake shrugged.

Jennifer looked impressed. "I don't know what you're made of, Snake, but you are definitely something else."

"Thanks…I think? I'll take that as a compliment," Snake said.

Ellen came back from the kitchen, two cups of coffee in hand. She gave one to Snake before giving him a meaningful look. Snake nodded, turning to Wikus and Jennifer.

"I've been meaning to ask you," Snake said. "Do you remember when you drove Ellen's father out of Outer Heaven? Were you able to reach the delivery site okay?"

Wikus nodded. "We went to the coordinates you gave us, just like you asked. There was a squad of men in camouflage waiting to pick him up. They had American flag patches on their shoulders, so I assume they were yours?"

Well, that was promising, Snake thought. FOXHOUNDers wouldn't wear standardized uniforms in the field, nor would they have any insignia denoting nationality. Still, Snake had to make sure—he'd been lied to once already, after all.

"Right…" Snake said. "Were you able to see their faces? What did they look like?"

Wikus shrugged. "They didn't leave much of an impression, to be honest. A few men of different ethnicities, but they all spoke English and Afrikaans. They simply asked us to hand over the doctor and then they left."

Snake frowned. "Did any of them have black hair?"

Wikus shook his head. "There were a couple of blond men one with blue eyes the other with green, three with brown hair—one of them had brown eyes, I didn't see the other two, and two black men, one with a shaved head and the other with a moustache. All stocky, well-built, armed with rifles."

"What about identifiable facial features? Did any of them have any scars on their face? Or perhaps a missing eye?"

"No, nothing like that. No, wait—one of the blond men had a scar on his chin."

Snake sighed. He nodded to Ellen, the tension in her shoulders melting into relief.

None of the men that Wikus described resembled anyone he knew from FOXHOUND. With a Naval battleship sailing out west, they were probably either SEALs or CIA paramilitary operatives. At least, that's what Snake hoped—it wasn't a hard enough confirmation to be certain, but it was as close to it as he was going to get.

"Why are you asking this?" Jennifer asked curiously.

Snake explained, "I mentioned last weekend that I was betrayed by a member of my own group—two, actually. I wanted to make sure that we hadn't accidentally delivered Ellen's father right back into Outer Heaven's hands."

Jennifer and Wikus both looked spooked at the idea. "And did we?" Jennifer asked with concern.

Snake shook his head. "No—at least, I don't think so. None of the men you described are men I recognize from my current unit. From the way they were dressed, they were probably standard US military or US operatives from outside of my organization, both possibilities are people I feel like I can trust with Madnar's safety, moreso than my group, anyway."

Jennifer and Wikus both seemed to relax slightly.

"You don't sound completely sure though," Wikus pointed out.

Snake nodded. "Unfortunately, it'll be impossible to say with one hundred percent certainty until I get back home. But I do feel better about it now after what you've told me."

"The fact that you feel better puts my mind at ease," Ellen said with a smile.

Snake frowned. Even now, someone was willing to put their trust and faith in him, even after he led people astray.

"Right," he said, noncommittally. "Uh, listen, I'm starting to feel tired. I'm going to head back to bed, if you don't mind." He started walking back towards the stairway to the basement.

"Wait," Jennifer said.

Snake turned back just in time for Jennifer to wrap her arms around him in a hug. He looked down in surprise. "Thank you again," she said, "for bringing my brother back to me."

"This could be the last time we see each other for some time," Wikus said. "Possibly for good. We wanted to make sure we gave you a proper goodbye before we left."

Wikus smiled, extending a hand. Snake shook it, forcing himself to smile slightly.

"Good luck, you two," Snake said.

"To you as well," Wikus said. "Rest easy, my friend. You've done enough—let us take care of the rest."

"Don't do anything stupid while we're gone," Jennifer scolded him.

"Don't worry," Snake said, looking over to Ellen and Diane. "I'm in good hands."

Having said their goodbyes, Jennifer and Wikus headed out of the side door and across the yard to make their way away from the house before separating and disappearing out of sight of the window.

Steve popped his head out of the adjoining hallway. "Are they gone?" he asked.

Diane rolled her eyes. "Yes, Steve, they're gone. You can come out of hiding now."

"Good. Hopefully that's the last we'll see of them for a while."

"You don't mean that."

"I do," Steven said with a glower. "I know they're your friends, Diane, but every minute you interact with the Resistance puts a target on our backs. Isn't it bad enough that we're harboring an escaped prisoner and a fugitive?"

"Fugitive?" Snake cut in.

Diane ignored him. "Ellen is our guest," she insisted. "And with Outer Heaven getting pushed out of the country, she's completely safe. As for Snake—"

"What was that about me being a fugitive?" Snake demanded.

Diane sighed. "There have been whispers among my contacts in the Resistance that the government is looking for an American male. They haven't said for what reason, but there have been reports of American tourists and nationals getting detained driving through military checkpoints and refugee zones from Cape Town all the way to Johannesburg for questioning."

"You mean they're looking for me."

Diane nodded. "Probably," she said.

"Definitely," Steve cut in with a glower.

Snake was confused. Why would the South African government be looking for him? How could they have possibly known of his existence? There must have been an intelligence leak somewhere. He frowned—this was a new complication that he didn't need.

"Was there a physical description given?" Snake asked. "Height, weight, hair color, anything like that?"

Diane shook her head. "Just an 'American military-aged male.' Like I said, they've been detaining every foreign national they could find, whether they be Outer Heaven, immigrant, or tourist."

Snake sighed, nodding. "They don't know who I am or what I look like, then."

Steve looked at him sharply. "How do you know?"

"Description's too vague, the net cast is too wide. They know there's one or more American agents operating on their soil, but they don't know who they are or where to find them. I've already run into one CIA agent since my escape from Outer Heaven who mentioned his handler working at the Embassy. They could be looking for literally anyone—it might not even be me they're after, not intentionally, anyway."

Snake looked to Diane. "Is there any reason SANDF might have to come and search this place?"

Diane shook her head, but Steve butted in, "Except for all the Resistance people she keeps parading in and out of here." Diane gave him a sharp look in rebuke.

"Steve's got a point," Snake said. "It would probably be best if we don't have any more Resistance members coming by here anymore, at least for the time being. Jennifer and Wikus's departure was pretty good timing, all things considered."

"I suppose you're right," Diane conceded. "I'll be more careful."

Snake nodded, turning back to the stairway. "Alright, I'm going to rest. You mind waking me up for dinner?"

"Of course," Ellen said.

Snake waved behind him as he slowly made his way back down the stairs.

Snake woke up one night drenched in sweat, breathing heavily. This was becoming an all-too-common occurrence now. He placed a hand over his face, realized there were tears on his cheeks. He cursed under his breath. Was this just going to be every night from now on? He realized his bandages were damp—they were going to need changing again soon.

"Another nightmare?"

Snake jerked upright at the voice, saw Diane in the doorway again. He fell back onto his pillow with a sigh, feeling disgusted with himself for the mess he no doubt appeared to be.

"How long have you been standing there?" he asked, his voice croaking as he lay in the moonlight, forearm covering his eyes.

"Not long," she said. "Long enough to see that you were suffering."

Snake sighed heavily. Again, with this.

"I'm fine," he insisted.

"We both know that's not true," Diane admonished. She pulled a wooden chair up to the side of Snake's bed and sat down, watching over him.

She can't figure out when to leave well enough alone, Snake silently complained. This woman is going to be the death of me.

There was a moment of silence as Diane watched over her guest. When it was clear that Snake wasn't going to say anything, Diane chose to break the silence first.

"So," she said. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not particularly," Snake replied, his tone annoyed.

"Why not?"

Snake propped himself up onto his elbow. "Why are you so curious?" he demanded.

"Why don't you want to tell me?"

Snake fell back onto his back, rolling his eyes. "You come here to interrogate me?" he asked sardonically.

"I came to check on you," she said. "Because I was worried about you. Ellen is, too. But if you're going to be an asshole, I can always just leave."

Snake sighed. Dammit. He exhaled a begrudging, "Sorry."

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Look, I just, don't want to talk about it, alright?"

Diane's gaze softened. "Okay, Snake," she whispered.

Her eyes lit up with a sudden idea. "Say, Snake."

"What?"

"I just realized—that's not your real name, is it?"

Snake opened his eyes to look over at her. "Why do you ask?"

"Just seems like a strange name."

Snake decided to humor her. Anything to change the subject. "It's a code name," he said. "Something for my superiors to call me so that my and their identity can't get revealed to…well, to people who aren't supposed to know about us, I guess. The whole thing is very need-to-know."

"So, you're not actually CIA or military?"

"Can't tell you that," Snake said with a smirk. "Well, I guess I can say I'm not CIA. Doesn't really narrow it down, after all. Though I have worked with them, obviously."

"Do you even work for America?"

"Now, that would be telling," he chuckled.

"Ha, got a smile out of you, at last," Diane joked. She leaned back into a stretch. "Well, since your mission is complete, I don't suppose you'd have to be so secretive that you can't tell me your name, right?"

"Does it matter?" Snake asked, the smirk not leaving his face as he propped himself up onto his elbows into a sitting position. The sound of crickets could be heard from up through the glass of the room's ground floor windows.

"Of course. Names are important. It's part of your identity; marks you as a human being, instead of an animal."

"Heh, well…you're not wrong there," Snake said. "My, uh, CO…he told me once that it wasn't labels and words that defined people, but their actions. He went by a code name too, and he said that it didn't fit him when it was first given to him, but that over time he had earned it through his actions. I guess…I'm the same way. After a week out here, the name I was born with just…doesn't feel like it's rightfully mine, anymore—it feels meaningless now. 'Solid Snake' just feels…right. For better or worse."

"This is the same man who betrayed you?"

Snake glared at his hands. Always back to that. That anger, both for Big Boss and towards himself. That…guilt.

"…Yeah," he exhaled.

He didn't want to say anything. He didn't want to think about it. But he couldn't stop himself, and before he knew it, his mouth betrayed his mind.

"But I guess his wasn't the only betrayal."

Diane pulled her knee up to her chest. "Are you talking about the other man from your unit? You mentioned there were two traitors."

Snake shook his head, pulled his arms closer to himself, hugging his torso. He stared at his knees.

"Kyle trusted me," he said. "He trusted me to get his people out of there. I led them into trap after trap all to get to Venom, and they fell, one by one."

Snake spoke in a hushed whisper. Once the floodgates were open, he couldn't stop himself. His eyes became unfocused, and his speech sped up, became rushed.

"I was trusted by Kyle to lead them. I was trusted to help make sure that they and all the other Resistance members at the HQ would all get out of there alive. They're all dead because of me. They're all dead because they trusted me. Because I trusted a man who lied about his own identity from the day that I met him, who turned out to be a monster."

"You couldn't have known that," Diane said softly.

"But the fault was still mine," Snake insisted. "They trusted me to be in a position of leadership, to safeguard them. Kyle, Gray Fox, Loyiso, Trevor, Imke, Mbali, Petrus, Mandla, Willem, Vusi, Luke, Sibusiso, Tagger, all of the other Resistance fighters whose names I don't even know…their lives were my responsibility. And now they're gone…they're all gone. My fault, I killed those men and women. It's my—"

"Stop."

Diane climbed over Snake's legs to sit next to him in the bed, leaned over so that she could look him in the eyes. She put a finger to his lips, and Snake was silent.

"Listen to me right now, Snake. They all knew the risks when they chose to fight, each and every one of them. Their deaths are not on you, do you understand?"

"You're wrong."

She took his face in both of her hands, shaking him slightly. "They are not on you."

Snake's eyes were wide, less like a predator and more like a scared, cornered animal. They began to focus on her as she stared into them, as if seeing her for the first time. Snake started shaking. He wasn't sure if he was about to be sick or break down sobbing. He felt pathetic and humiliated.

He didn't want to be seen like this.

Diane drew him into an embrace, and his body followed limply, apparently deciding that tears were the option to go with. On impulse, without meaning to, Snake returned the embrace, clutching at Diane for dear life as if she were his sole lifeline cast out to him at sea.

"Please stay," he pleaded, so quiet that Diane almost didn't hear him.

"I'm not going anywhere," Diane whispered, running her fingers through his hair while he shook.

"I'm not going anywhere."

Steve sat alone at the dining room table with his head in his hands, in shock from what he had seen just moments ago.

He knew his sister had gone to check on the American in the night. He didn't expect to find them both sleeping next to each other in the basement guest room's bed. They appeared to still be dressed, but the fact that they had gotten so close meant that the worst had already happened, as far as Steve was concerned.

Steve believed that the man must have manipulated her somehow. That American was a danger for everyone, surely, and now he'd managed to seduce his sister with his charms. In all of his years of knowing her, Steve wouldn't have thought that Diane of all people would fall for the wounded puppy routine.

He wracked his brain. What could he possibly do? Diane wouldn't listen to him when he tried to explain how dangerous the American was. If he demanded for Snake to be thrown out, it would only start a fight. He couldn't turn Snake into the authorities without bringing trouble to Diane for working with the Resistance. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place.

A noise behind him caused him to look up and back to see the American in question slowly climbing the stairs out of the basement with a yawn, limping over to the kitchen to pour himself a cup of coffee (Even helping himself to our fucking coffee, Steve angrily thought to himself). He stepped out of the kitchen and regarded Steve.

"Good morning," he said.

Steve grunted, non-committal.

"Something wrong?" Snake asked.

"You tell me," Steve said in a low voice, folding his arms. "Slept well, I take it?"

Snake sighed to himself. Steve had been somewhat petulant and passive aggressive since the very first time they'd talked over the radio, and his antagonism didn't end when they first met in person. Snake didn't know what the guy's problem was, but he was beginning to get tired of the attitude, and his own morning headaches weren't helping.

"Alright," Snake said, facing Steve properly and leaning back against the wall. "What is it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Clearly there's something you want to get off your chest," Snake said. He motioned with his coffee mug. "Say what you need to say."

"I saw you. With my sister."

Snake sighed to himself. "Shit," he muttered.

"Yeah. 'Shit' is right."

"Alright, look—"

"Don't bother saying 'it's not what it looks like,'" Steve said. "Don't insult me. Be a man, take responsibility."

Snake looked into his coffee cup, took a drink. It is too early in the morning for this bullshit, he thought to himself.

"What do you want from me?" he asked.

"I want you gone," Steve said bluntly. "I want you to be on your way. I want you to stay away from my sister. Every second you spend here is a second you put her in danger. You realize that, right?"

A guilty shadow passed over Snake's eyes, his brow furrowed. He thought once more of those who followed him in the siege of Outer Heaven. In spite of Diane's reassurances to the contrary, he still carried the weight of that guilt and shame. And in the face of Steve's accusation, Snake felt he couldn't argue.

He stared down at his empty hand, made a fist. Snake was growing stronger every day. He probably wasn't going to be fit for combat anytime soon, but he was beginning to feel more like himself, and each day he felt himself growing more and more restless. If he kept his head down, kept a low profile, he could probably get to Pretoria safely without drawing too much attention to himself.

It had been over a week since he'd arrived at Diane's place. There really wasn't much of a reason to keep staying here, and he knew it. In another day, maybe two, he should be good to go. He looked up to Steve and nodded.

"I understand," he said.

Steve's eyebrow raised. He hadn't expected the American to be so agreeable. Snake's face looked downcast at the idea of leaving, but the finality of his tone showed resignation. Good. Steve almost felt bad about forcing Snake out, but he reminded himself that it was for his sister's own good. The sooner they got out of this Resistance business, the better.

"So, you'll leave, then?" Steve asked, just to be sure.

"I'll need a day or two to make preparations," Snake said. "But yeah, I'll go. It's about time I moved on, anyway."

Snake looked over to the hallway that led to the ground floor bedrooms. He motioned with his mug. "What about Ellen?" he asked.

"We can continue to take care of her until the heat dies down," Steve promised, sounding relieved at the prospect of Snake's imminent departure. "Diane's right, with Outer Heaven gone, no one's going to come looking for her. It's only you that they're after."

Snake pondered this silently to himself. It did sound like the easiest option. Danger seemed to follow him wherever he went. It's possible that Ellen could be safe here, if he entrusted her to them. She may be better off.

Salamander's words echoed in Snake's head: the only thing you can trust, with absolute certainty, is the mission.

Snake winced. The last thing he needed was to be reminded of the other traitor. He looked up to the ceiling.

Ellen Madnar's safety and freedom was part of his mission. He had promised Ellen that he would ensure her safe return back home to Russia, and that she would be reunited with her father. Could Snake guarantee that promise would be fulfilled if he left her here? Could he really call his mission complete?

It was stupid, he chastised himself. Selfish. Deep down, he knew that the real reason he was conflicted was that he wanted some kind of absolution; he wanted to prove to himself that he was still capable of saving someone.

In any case, it wasn't his decision to make, but hers. There was only one thing to do.

"I want to make sure I talk to Ellen before I leave," he told Steve.

OPERATION INTRUDE N313

DAY EIGHTEEN – 1030 HOURS

KIMBERLEY TRAIN STATION – ROVOS RAIL

"You're sure you're up for this?" Diane asked from the driver's seat. "There's still time to change your mind, stay and rest some more."

Snake nodded, feeling a little uncomfortable in his brand new somewhat starchy long-sleeve button down shirt. He could already feel the sweat forming on the back of his neck in the uncomfortably humid weather.

Diane nodded. "Alright. Just to be safe, let's go over it one more time."

"Diane—"

"Just humor me, alright, Snake?"

Snake groaned. Ellen patted his arm sympathetically.

"Your name is Thomas. You're a white South African businessman who had immigrated to America only to return with your newlywed bride on a trip to introduce her to her new in-laws before the civil war broke out, only to find yourselves trapped in the country when martial law had set in. Your hands and arms are bandaged because of an accident while out on safari, and after getting medical attention you both decided that it would be best to return home as soon as possible."

Snake nodded. "A businessman with a decent amount of wealth to his name, hence why I'm able to afford to ride on the Rovos line."

"Right. Speaking of, I already bought you your tickets," Diane said, handing them to Snake. "And your identification papers."

Snake and Ellen collected their fake IDs from Diane and put them into their pockets.

"Don't lose them," Diane warned. "Keep them stuffed inside your shirts so they rest against your skin, in case of pickpockets."

The pair did as they were instructed. "The train has private cabins, but you'll likely be expected to attend dinner in the diner car. Dress code is formal wear. You'll find what you need in the suitcases in the boot of the car. Make sure you dress appropriately, so you can blend in. Outside of that, I'd recommend staying in your cabin and not crossing paths with any other passengers if you can help it.

"It's customary to tip the room service and train staff—I've left a red envelope in your bag with the amount you'll need, no need to think too hard on it; you can just pass it off to the conductor when you leave the train. I've also included some travel and food money separately in a wallet stashed in each of your suitcases, just in case."

"How do you know all this stuff about these ritzy train cars, in terms of dress code and dinner etiquette?" Snake asked. "Weren't you a punk singer? Isn't the whole idea of punk being anti-capitalist and anti-establishment?"

"Well, aside from the fact that being a punk singer doesn't mean I was dirt poor, on account of Thin Wall's playing live concerts," Diane said dryly, rolling her eyes, "I grew up with a rich older relative and had to pick up certain things whenever I was made to visit."

"I see…"

"Anyway, if I may continue?"

"Sorry, sorry. Go on."

"I've also packed more practical clothes for after you arrive at Capital Park Station in Pretoria. Once you disembark, stick to the crowded public streets. Don't make any unnecessary detours or shortcuts. Keep your wits about you."

"I know how to navigate an unfamiliar city and spot a tail, Diane," Snake said. "Don't worry, I've got this."

Diane bit her lip, still looking anxious as she nodded. Ellen looked similarly nervous and grabbed Snake's arm for support.

"Alright," Diane said, parking the car. "Let's get you to the train."

They quickly exited the car, with Snake retrieving the two small travel suitcases from the trunk, handing one to Ellen. Together, they walked over to the train and spotted the conductor hanging out of one of the train carriages' doors. Diane pointed him out.

"Okay, they haven't called for boarders yet, so we can just sit tight here for a few minutes," Diane said. She fidgeted nervously, looking unsure of something. "Snake, I…"

"What is it?" Snake asked.

Diane smiled and shook her head. "It's nothing." She quickly leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "I just wanted to say, 'good luck.'"

Snake felt a little bit of warmth in his cheeks and nodded. "Thanks, Diane. Good luck to you, too."

Diane took both of Ellen's hands. "It's been lovely having you here, Ellen. I hope I get to see one of your recitals someday, when things are…well, when things are better."

Ellen nodded, teary-eyed. "And I would love to see you perform live in concert, as well. I promise you I'll write often when I get back home to Russia."

The two women embraced. "I'll hold you to that," Diane muttered.

There was a call for boarding, and Diane let go. "Go on," she said. "Time for you two to start heading home."

Snake nodded with a smile and held out his arm for Ellen. Together they headed to the train's entrance and gave one final wave to Diane before handing their tickets to the conductor for examination.

"Mr. and Mrs. Steyn, if you'll follow our attendant, he will guide you to your cabin," the conductor said, handing their tickets back.

They thanked the man and obediently followed the train employee to their private cabin. "Here you are," the man said as he opened the door. "Will you be joining us for lunch this afternoon?"

"No, thank you," Snake said. "We ate before we got here. We've been traveling for a while and are very tired. We'll probably skip teatime, too."

"Very well, sir. Dinner will be served at 19:30 in the dining cars. Dress is formal wear."

"We'll be there. Thank you," Snake said.

"Very good, sir. I will leave you both to it, then."

The usher excused himself, leaving Snake to close the door behind him so that he and Ellen could properly survey their room for the night. The suite was rather nice; stained red wood finish with a sofa that unfolded into a bed, with an en-suite bathroom and shower as well as a small bar fridge and a safe. There wasn't much room off the bed on the floor for Snake to sleep, so they would have to share the bed, but since it was only for one night, neither of them really minded.

Snake unfolded a small writing desk and motioned for Ellen to sit down. "So," he said. "How do you like it?"

"It's very nice," Ellen said, smiling lightly.

Snake nodded, more to himself than to her. "It is…"

Snake looked to the door before leaning forward closer to Ellen. "We should probably plan on staying in the cabin for the majority of the trip, just to be safe."

Ellen nodded.

"If I leave this cabin separately from you for any reason, keep the door locked, and don't open for anyone unless you know for a fact it's me, okay?"

"Right." Ellen straightened up in her seat, paying close attention and hanging onto Snake's every word.

"When we travel, you stay close to me, move only when I do, exactly as I do. That being said, plans always have room to go wrong, so we should probably have some kind of plan in case we ever do get separated. Agreed?"

"Okay."

"Good, now listen carefully." Snake pulled a map out of his suitcase and laid it on the desk. "Train station is here. The United States Embassy is here. Roughly four-and-a-half-mile difference. At a walking pace, that's about a little less than an hour and a half on foot, since we won't have a car. We'll have to account for the fact that the whole city's going to be under SANDF lockdown, so might take a little longer than that.

"We should assume since they're looking for and detaining Americans that SANDF will be monitoring foot traffic heading to the Embassy, so we'll need to keep an eye out for any tails. Good rule of thumb, you don't want to let on to the people following you that you know that they're there. A good way to catch a tail without letting on that you're on to them is to check reflections in windows and mirrors. Do this often, look for any faces that start to be familiar after a few blocks.

"If you find out someone's following you, start looking for groups and crowds of people, try to lose them in the crowds, slipping out at the first opportunity. Look for alleyways, door alcoves, local businesses you can slip inside of for exits. If you can't find a group of people to obscure you, vary your route. Make unexpected turns, switch your path often while being careful not to turn into any dead-ends. Pay attention to road signs, don't take blind turns. Always think multiple steps ahead about where you're going."

Ellen nodded again. "What should I do if I get caught or get attacked?"

"Chances are, you'll be smaller and weaker than your attacker, but there's a few things you can do. First things first, since you won't have muscle or size advantage, don't even try to overpower them with brute force. Instead, aim for the soft spots on their bodies. Here, make a fist for me. Fingers nice and tight, thumb wrapped around outside-good. Now—"

Snake stood up with Ellen and held up an open palm.

"Strike my hand as hard as you can, try to hit me with the front two knuckles."

Ellen did as she was asked, and Snake shook his head. "Don't rear back with your shoulder. It's a punch, not a baseball. You're just going to lose energy and power to momentum, and by telegraphing what you're going to do, you're going to leave your opponent room to counter you. Watch me, and I'll demonstrate—what you want to do is go straight out and rotate your torso into the strike. Jab, cross, uppercut."

Snake slowly went through the motions. "See?"

Ellen nodded, following along.

"Okay, now, strike me in the palm again. Again, hard as you can."

Ellen struck Snake's palm, much harder this time. He caught her fist, nodding.

"Better. Now, do it again, but this time when you strike, don't try to think it as hitting my hand and stopping, try to punch through my hand. Imagine an invisible dot behind my hand. Aim to hit that dot, rather than my palm."

Ellen obliged, and Snake felt the recoil up his arm as he blocked her. He tried to keep himself from wincing—he didn't want her to worry about exacerbating his injuries.

"Very good," Snake praised her. Ellen looked pleased with herself.

"Vital points with soft tissue to aim for: neck, temple, nose, eyes. If you're close enough, you can swing an elbow—like so—instead of throwing a punch if you think you have the reach. If it's a man—which it most likely will be—you can also aim for a straight kick to the groin. If you have a blunt object you can use as a weapon to swing at them, that would be even better than trying to go for hand strikes."

Snake sat back down on the sofa, Ellen following suit.

"You know a lot about hurting people, don't you, Mr. Snake?"

Something about that question stung, coming from Ellen. Snake shrugged. No use in denying it. "It's my job," he said simply.

"But hopefully it won't even come to that," he continued. "They're looking for a man, not a woman, so even if we get separated, all you'll really need to do is just head straight to the embassy and they should take care of you."

"What do I tell them when I get there?"

"Tell them you're a Russian national seeking sanctuary and political asylum. When they ask you who you are, tell them your real name. There's an APB for you and your father through INTERPOL, so they'll be expecting you."

"I see…"

The carriage rumbled as the train lurched into motion. Ellen watched out the window as the train exited the station and moved into the South African countryside. A moment of uneasy silence filled the space between the two as they watched the landscape roll by.

"Snake…"

"Hm?"

"How do you do it?"

Snake looked over to Ellen, who had a curious and anxious look on her face.

"Do what?"

"All of this. Just throwing yourself into dangerous situations over and over again, without a second thought."

Snake shrugged. "I just focus on the mission. I find it's easier for me to get through life when I have a task I need to complete. At the end of the day, it's the one thing I know I can trust completely."

Ellen looked down at her hands folded in her lap. "And what task is that? I thought your mission was to destroy Metal Gear and kill Ahab."

Snake leaned forward, taking Ellen's hand in his. "Right now, my mission is to get you home safe and sound, and hopefully reunite you with your father. Everything else is secondary to that. I promise you, Ellen, as long as there's still breath in my lungs, I will not let anything bad happen to you. Okay?"

Ellen nodded, not quite able to meet his gaze. "I wish I could be brave, like you. To be completely unafraid."

Snake put his other hand on top of Ellen's. "Who says I'm not afraid?"

Ellen looked up at Snake in surprise.

"Ellen, bravery isn't the absence of fear—it's knowing that you're afraid, but still choosing to move forward anyway. You knew this trip could be dangerous, but when I asked you to come with me, you still chose to accompany me regardless. Ellen, you're one of the bravest people I know."

Ellen stared into Snake's bright blue eyes, and for once didn't see the cornered starveling creature she witnessed in at Diane's home nor the battle-hardened predator that had saved her from her imprisonment in Outer Heaven, but rather just a simple, unguarded and desperate sincerity. It was the first time since he had first woken up from his brief coma after arriving at Diane's place that she was able to witness Snake's humanity.

It almost made her want to weep.

It was in that moment, Ellen knew, that this man could lead her to the ends of the earth, and she would still choose to follow him. It was in that moment that she knew she could trust him with her life without a second thought.

A/N: This one took me way less time than I thought it would, considering it's one of my longest chapters to date-was able to knock it out in two solid days of continuous writing. I suppose it helped that I pretty much knew exactly how I wanted this one to go the moment I had the idea of expanding the characters of Diane, Ellen and (to a lesser extent) Steve like I did with Jennifer. I remember reading that in Diane's last CODEC call it's supposed to be implied that she fell for Snake and stopped just short of confessing feelings of love to him before the final battle, and I wanted to play with the idea, given that the line is so vague and she never shows up as a character or even as a reference again in the entire rest of the Metal Gear franchise.

At first, I toyed with the idea of implying a sex scene for this chapter between Snake and Diane, but I ultimately decided against it for two reasons. The first is that I didn't buy that she would have enough time with Snake to really develop much in the way of romantic chemistry and the second is that I didn't think that Snake, in his emotionally vulnerable state from the onset of his PTSD would be likely to go for it either, as in MGS1 he kind of struck me as more of the closed-off type (his moments of mild flirtation with Mei Ling and Naomi aside). So, my next idea was to make it more of a strong platonic relationship with the hint of a possible romance that would tragically never get to develop because of Steve telling Snake to keep away from her (a throughline inspired by his final CODEC call in the game as well). I liked the idea of the intimacy shared between Snake and Diane being more of an emotional bond than a physical one, which is why the scene is written the way it is. However, I intentionally left it vague with regard to Steve finding them in bed together so that there's enough there such that if you wanted to interpret them having a sex for solace thing, it would be a valid reading of the scene (though again, not to my tastes nor what I was personally going for).

I also really liked the idea of Snake personally escorting Ellen out of South Africa himself, to sort of give him a personal path to redemption and assuage the guilt he feels from not being able to save his allies. There's a parallel between Snake and Big Boss I'm trying to draw where they both went through similar betrayals and tests of loyalty, but ultimately reacted to it in opposite ways, that I'm hoping I'll be able to touch on as we get closer to the end of this story and may also be expanded on further in the first sequel I have planned.

I plan on taking a little bit of a break before I start on the next chapter, which will focus mainly on Snake and Ellen's attempts to make it to the US Embassy and Snake trying to secure safe passage out of South Africa. By my count, assuming I follow my plot outline to the letter, there should be either three chapters to go, or three chapters and an epilogue. Thank you once again for reading this far, and I hope you will continue to enjoy as we inch closer to the ending of this long undertaking of mine.