Recast Steel: Succession Chapter 6: Enigma, a gundam wing/ac fanfic

oOo

Chapter Six

Enigma

The more you learn… the more confusing the picture becomes.

oOo

…I kinda wish I could still eat popcorn. Jack's scene runs over 8k words all by itself, and is fun in an utterly all over the place sort of way. Otherwise… I swear I meant for more to actually happen in this chapter, but Jack sorta ran off with it and now those three scenes are becoming part of chapter seven I guess. But on the bright side… We're keeping the two week update schedule, apparently? No one's more surprised than me…

24k words over 38 pages this time. Thanks again to Emily for playing beta – there were sooo many typos, not to mention a flow issue or two… Writing faster definitely leads to more of those!

Hope you guys enjoy it!

oOo

April 24th 199 – Thursday – Munich, Germany – Sarracenia

Relena took a controlled breath, eyes flitting over the documents. "Do you think it's feasible?"

BJ mostly looked frustrated. "Entirely," he returned. "Beautifully, even. Which is why I don't like it."

"I suppose, for now, it doesn't particularly matter who," the princess returned evenly. "As much as I'd like to know, the waves are all I need. Sylvia was determined to keep her own counsel before she went into her last surgery, and I'm not interrupting her convalescence without solid answers." She tucked a lock of hair behind one ear, studying the second set of graphs. "I like these numbers."

"Luke Levenstein is something of a magician, it seems," the spymaster mused, mouth quirking up on one side. "Which matches well enough if I've got his number right and we're dealing with Mark Hottenstein. A lot of records from North America are missing, but the firm he worked with longest was known for running several major elections, and he was more discreetly known as something of a fixer for soiled reputations in the celebrity crowd." He shrugged. "Though I might not be any further even with official records; it's a subtle business."

Mai lifted her brows – coming from BJ, that was damn high praise all around.

Relena seemed to think the same, given her subtle smile – she wasn't smiling for much more than cameras the last few days, so Mai would take it. "Planning a recruitment scheme?"

BJ rolled his eyes. "He's the king of his castle over there, and if the results are anything to go by, working like a madman. Much as I would like to work with him, it's off the table until your future brother-in-law enters the fold – and then it would be a cooperative effort, not a recruitment." He tapped a folder thoughtfully. "I do feel as though I should mention, however, that Mitchell's favorite journalist has been entertaining a Rubato rep on the regular since before the infamous autobiography, and Petrovitch's visits have only increased since. While it might be personal or unrelated, I'm not a big believer of coincidence."

Relena looked thoughtful. "I like that too," she mused.

"It bodes well," he agreed. "But we already knew Rubato favors Mitchell, even if they're on the fence about Soleil. Now that he's created his own political sphere and is coming back to the fore, they might be willing to deal with him directly."

The princess' mouth twisted wryly. "The one good thing about Tuesday morning is the added leverage," she agreed.

That was one way to put it. Mai had been witness to the latest phone call with Relena's brother, and while it hadn't been the loudest yet, it had certainly come close.

Relena had made a strong case for the whole scenario happening because Accords security was scattered, disorganized, and understaffed – all of which was true. Their shooter had played merry hell with the gaps between each represented power's team. If it had been handled on a united front, she would, at minimum, have only been able to manage one of her two vantage points.

If Lin or Mitchell had been running the show, they would've either kept the damn scene safe or relocated entirely due to the staffing shortage – a shortage which, due to the disorganized nature of how Shiavonne had organized security, had not been recognized until after the fact. This should have been prevented, damn it. The fact that it was entirely within the preventable range, even at the same park, was what made it burn all the worse.

When Milliardo tried to make the point that Relena should know after Amsterdam that open air speeches were stupid, it had started going downhill fast – Relena had said something saccharine and sharp about not being a despot who could negate her hostess' plans without hard evidence. Then had come the accusations that the man was happy to see her fiancé hospitalized, or at the very least, not upset, which had him backpedaling until she quoted one of the earlier post-engagement conversations, at which point he had loudly apologized in a blanket way and immediately changed the subject.

Mai would say he was learning a lot about managing female relatives in general, if not for how deftly Relena had then proceeded to manipulate him. Now the talks with Mitchell had been moved up to next week, and he'd even conceded to offering a temporary amnesty for visitation. A base in eastern Europe that had been minimally staffed was currently being emptied as a place for the brigadier's forces to legally set up in while the negotiations were ongoing, and he had promised to direct his people to handle the Libramentum situation more aggressively.

At least for the moment, they were the media favorite for the shooting – which made sense, but also still felt too direct, in her opinion. The zealous faction had shown thoroughly alarming competence on a number of fronts in the past that matched up well enough, and held no love for Sylvia… But unless they wanted to blame the noblewoman for Relena's increased association with the rest of the Romefeller families associated with the Accorded Nations, it seemed a bit much – too specific.

True, it was easy to make the argument that Relena had been actively chased out of the firing line with the first feint of violence – the competence their shooter showed otherwise implied that the low aim on the automated turret had been intentional. But there had been other officials and nobles on the stage with far murkier histories than Sylvia to make an example of, and their shooter hadn't even attempted to go for a double – she'd spent all her ammo trying to hammer through Jake.

From beginning to end, this trap had been designed specifically for her.

More than a few voices had cropped up suggesting it was a family issue; old Ventei had certainly earned the Noventas more than a few blood feuds from vicious parties before Yuy offed him at New Edwards. Hell, Jake and BJ had a list more than one typed page long of people they'd already known about that hated anyone carrying the Noventa name. Sylvia was literally one of the children BJ had set his career on fire for back when he spied for the Anti-Alliance Resistance Movement, because someone in power decided certain families should be burned out root and stem. Searching out the motives from that pool would be a needle in a haystack.

But honestly, the timing was suspect – there had been better opportunities to go after the young woman, even with the top notch security she employed. If the sniper had been less skilled, less methodical, Mai might believe it was a matter of known opportunity versus finding a gap in routine – and there was still an okay chance of that, depending on where the bitch was based, or how big her organization was. Someone with talent and an old grudge might just wait for the right opportunity to fall into their lap, and their shooter had faded out far too seamlessly to not be damn familiar with the Berlin area, and…

She hated to say it, but knowing it had been a woman more than quadrupled their suspect pool, both due to population factors and the fact that if it was personal? It was very possible that the grudge could be one only she had survived to remember, and they'd never find the motive. That said, personally? She was on BJ's team; this had the feel of a professional, which made her far more inclined to think the issue originated in the east. Not that that limited their suspect pool by much, but it at least made it feasible. Additionally, the timing of it…

Sylvia was at the heart of a lot of projects these days, enough that it was difficult to say which – if not several at once – might have pissed off their eastern neighbors. And since Sylvia only delegated the essentials and insisted on keeping a personal touch on anything that publicly bore her name, quite a few of her projects had slid to a sudden standstill as professionals worked to salvage some part of her right hand. If she had died outright, several of those projects would likely have been at a standstill for weeks, which made for an interesting set of possible motives.

Though… there had already been abundant evidence for Libramentum splinter cells, and those assholes despised the aristocracy wholesale. Even if the pendulum idiots didn't try to claim the shooter – and at this point, it seemed unlikely that anyone would openly claim credit – it could be an offshoot, like the secondary bomber.

So if nothing else, the incident in Berlin had helped speed up the Mitchell talks, and, you know. No one was ever going to say Relena's honeybunny was overreacting or being paranoid when he insisted on borderline psychotic security measures in the future. Personally, she was very happy to ride the coattails of that excuse for as long as they could.

The last time she had tried to carry a comrade off the field, he'd died before they reached the medic. So seeing the colonel mouth off after coming out of surgery had been nice. A good way to… overlay the bad associations. It would be good to see him tomorrow too, even if they were dropping a massive packet of work on his lap while they went about it.

It was Jake. If the last phone conference was anything to go by, he was climbing the walls already, even with only one usable arm. He'd probably thank them for giving him something constructive to do. Whether he'd appreciate the plan to leave their new pet empath with him after they left again was more debatable – less because Rhett was bad company, because he wasn't, but he seemed to have some kind of ADD. Keeping him occupied and focused was an exercise in frustration that her ex-CO might not appreciate.

The idea of asking him to be part of a security team had been floated, and Delilah had laughed herself hoarse. Not because they weren't welcome to try, apparently, so much as she thought her nephew would wander off in pursuit of a an interesting bug he'd seen and find himself two countries over and endear himself to a waitress desperately in need of a part timer before recalling he was supposed to be doing something constructive.

The fact that he had argued about her still holding that against him hadn't exactly wowed anyone. So while he was willing to give it a try – surprising in the first place, considering, you know, empath, even without confirming that he was apparently one of the strongest ones ever – he had severe difficulties with staying on task. Given the way he'd literally dropped everything he was holding when Dorothy came in the room to coo at her very well-concealed belly, then been positively startled when someone cleared their throat, as if confused about exactly where he was?

Yeah… Rhett didn't sit entirely within their plane of reality.

Still, the kid made a hell of a warning system if he was in the general vicinity of danger, even if he was almost impossible to notice once he caught a hint of it. He wasn't literally disappearing, cameras had no issue, but he'd happily agreed to let them experiment with the ability, and so far? Unless you were in physical contact with him, it was literally impossible to notice him when he sent out a 'nothing to see here' vibe. His 'look at me!' was a little easier to contend with, though the soldiers and otherwise more disciplined had an easier time shrugging it off than the rest of the staff. Interestingly, though, anything else he tried to Push didn't seem to come through – or only as vague suggestions. He'd just shrugged and noted that it had always been incredibly niche that way, and Pushing was a rare enough variation of Talent that no one really knew the rules.

It made the fact that Robby Stanton was apparently a master of that shit somewhat terrifying. The fact that Rhett was able to fuck with her perception at all was alarming enough, but at least that was defensive – the attention-seeking version didn't rise her hackles. But having her eyes slide right over him despite knowing full well he was right there? That freaked her out. She was glad that this iteration of space heart was rare, because she didn't know where to start on allowing for it with security measures – at least Rhett was a wandering flower child that abhorred violence.

Stanton – or Wilson, whatever he preferred – was definitely not a pacifist. He had a damn good heart and, at minimum, great taste in people, but was also perfectly capable of gutting someone and watching the light drain out of their eyes. Which she wasn't exactly judging him for, because she wasn't any better, but the supernatural end of the spectrum had her second-guessing everything.

"How are we on today's media minutes?" Relena asked BJ. "We're clear enough that I can push today – any additions or subtractions?"

Right, because five days later, the internet was still flipping out over the Yuy article, and far more than just BJ's prearranged leaks had been coming up through the woodwork. The landscape on public opinion was varying wildly, and Relena was playing into it for maximum impact. She couldn't go too hard or risk overturning what she'd gained from her brother… but there was a line, and she was very intentionally toeing it.

Personally, Mai thought it was a shame she had to turn down the gundam toy thing – even if she had sourced someone who could take the heat from doing it and offered to be seen owning one in some casual fashion.

Mai was also fairly sure the group she'd passed the offer along to was maybe a shell affiliate of Jake's. She'd absolutely dropped a donation in that direction to help get it started, and Mai felt sure that Jovi had noticed at least one of those things.

"We should be good," BJ assured her.

"Good." She handed the papers back to him and stood. "Let's get going, shall we?"

oOo

April 25th 199 – Friday – Space, L2 Sigma Quadrant – Secondary Site

The moment he saw his son's face, Jack felt sure that, despite the delays he'd imposed, despite the logic, and despite trusting that Audi understood Odin best?

He had made a critical mistake in bringing her here.

There was a fire in his son's eyes that was very new, for all that it was familiar – he'd just been too premature in thinking his youngest hadn't inherited any of the family temper. A thrill passed through him, adrenaline and dread…

…And then he realized the glare was directed entirely at Audi. Which… was either significantly better or worse – but he couldn't quite see which.

The girl didn't seem the slightest bit intimidated, at least, which he took as a good sign. "I'm mad at you," she declared, raising her chin. "I have called you and messaged you and emailed you, and nothing. You don't get to do that! I waited six days, and I don't care that you had people look in on me, you are my brother and this street goes both ways!"

A muscle in Odin's jaw clenched as he stood there – well, floated – with his arms crossed, staring her down.

The hangar around them was abandoned. The Sigma site was big enough that it was probably excess space, but Jack honestly didn't know enough to say. Audi had asked for a specific senior engineer by name when they arrived – and while the man had been startled, he'd also clearly recognized her and deferred to her dismissive wave when he tried to say Jack couldn't come into this section of the old shipyard. Which… he didn't entirely know what to do with. He hadn't realized he was restricted from anywhere here, but he wasn't staff and had only come the once – and truthfully, he had no business faffing around the engineering equipment. If not for their guide's obvious hesitation, he would have just assumed it was a safety measure to keep civilians from accidently dismembering themselves.

Odin had already balanced himself out of reach of the upper gallery they'd come out on – technically with a slow downward drift, but small enough that it would take him an hour or more to touch down below. Ideal construction micro grav – low enough that you could move anything to a desired position, but with enough pull that heavy equipment wouldn't drift or bounce.

"Are you mad at me?" Audi demanded.

Odin took a slow, even breath, shoulders rising and falling in an almost relaxed way. "I am now," he decided.

"Good! Then we're even! Why have you been avoiding me?"

His jaw clenched again. "I've been busy-"

"No, why have you been so weird for the last month?" she demanded. "This goes back further than distraction central! I was waiting for you to open up – but then you decided this was a good idea instead, and it is not working, Odin! I tried waiting, and you've only gotten worse. Now we're trying something different. What gives?" When he only continued staring at her balefully, she continued. "I promised my mom-"

"I promised your mom I would keep you safe," he snapped back. "I didn't think you needed constant supervision in order to follow the rules."

"No one on your list thought it was important!" she snapped back. "What, would you rather I came out here alone?"

"Yes!"

…Oh. This… was at least partially about him. Shit. His heart sank.

"Well too bad! It's my life, and I trust him to back me up if something bad happened!"

Another slow inhale. "It's not that simple, and you know it," he informed her coldly, fire still smoldering in his eyes.

Jack wanted to be offended, but mostly… he just felt downtrodden. "I can go," he pointed out quietly.

"I am not upset with you," his son informed him immediately, gaze cooling as it flicked this way. "And I know you would try." He took another deep breath, the fire replaced by something bleak. "But you cannot keep her safe if Zechs comes for us. You lack the leverage."

…Odin had probably meant for that to mollify him, and on some level it did – but it also raised other concerns.

He'd known there was an issue with the Regime, and that it was significant. But he hadn't guessed that it was…

Better to check. "It's personal?" he clarified. Some people threw the Peacecraft Regime leader's name around as a term for the government body or its military as a whole, but Odin was usually more precise.

His son barked out a laugh. "That's a good word for it. Yes." He offered a sharp, jagged knife of a smile. "We didn't part on good terms."

Fuck.

"He took my mom!" Audi half-sobbed, the anger guttering out of her like an overflowing candle.

"Had her taken," Odin corrected.

"She said-"

"She spoke in metaphor half the time. You were upset, you didn't ask, why would he have-"

"I don't know!" she shrieked. "But we should have made her come with us!"

Spoke. Past tense. Shit. Whether or not Audi was hedging her terms, Odin had an opinion on this woman's status.

"You know why she didn't. She explained." Then he closed his eyes, and his shoulders slumped. "I'm trying," he insisted.

"You're running," she argued, wiping at free-flowing tears with one hand, cheeks flushed and blotchy. "From me! And I don't even know why! You're supposed to take me with you."

Something in Odin's face crumpled, even as he kept his eyes closed. "You…" His jaw clenched as he seemingly knuckled down on himself. "It's… you have more, now. Choices. It's good." His next breath shuddered a little. "I didn't run," he asserted. "I just… didn't want to talk about how much I screwed up."

Audi made a gut-punched sort of sound. "Odin-"

"I had options," he insisted, overriding her. "I was too stupid to see them, but I had options, and I-" He cut himself off with a sharp, bitter laugh. "I should have run. I chose to stay. I did it to myself. I can't-"

Audi let out an inarticulate shriek and launched herself off the railing at him like a missile. The collision drove them meters away and down towards the lower level of the hangar, though they ran out of momentum long before a second collision became likely. In the meantime, she'd wrapped herself around him like an overly aggressive octopus, caterwauling all the while…

…And his son was clinging right back, face buried in one of her shoulders.

Jack's heart thumped, and he found himself at an utter fucking loss. He had no idea what was going on beyond sheer emotional fuckall, but the last time he'd offered to leave-

Wait. Were they talking about Senior? The bad mentor? Fuck, it could be something else entirely, it wasn't like they fucking told him anything…

Clenching his own jaw, he took hold of the railing and crossed his legs, lowering himself down to the balcony floor to wait. Occasionally snippets of the conversation would float up to him, but so much of it was lost to distance that it might as well have been gibberish.

"-not like that, you-"

"-fix it-"

"Ridiculous! I can't-"

"-on't have to. You-"

"-fault."

"-so stupid!"

"-want-"

She was right, he decided after a while, watching them bicker and slowly spin downward, wrapped around each other in a ball of tangled limbs, never letting go no matter how their voices went up or down. He had no idea what this was about, but clearly it was important. He hadn't…

He felt reasonably confident that Junior was mature enough to know he was in love with the woman he'd bought a ring for, to know what that level of commitment meant, but his little sister was clearly a lifeline. And maybe that was how it was supposed to be? He'd never really had that. Maybe his mom, but she'd always been working, and… by the time he really understood how much she'd meant to him, she'd been dead for years. And Des was great, but even now there was always that part of him that was waiting for the other shoe to drop – knowing it wouldn't, but… also knowing that while he might sit high on the other man's priority list, he'd never rank first. Which was fine, it would honestly be weird as fuck if that wasn't the case and he wouldn't respect his friend even half as much as he did, but…

It looked nice. Unconditional. He…

It was good to see.

He hadn't been able to hear anything beyond occasional hints of tone for a while by the time they pulled fully apart, and they'd reached the base level some six stories down before they lost all their intensity. He hadn't tried to track the time, but his knees and spine had both grown stiff by the time his son drifted back up and took hold of the handrail to arrest his motion, smoothly slinging himself into a sitting position by his side, legs dangling over the ledge. "Hey."

"Hey," Jack returned tonelessly, feeling just… empty, maybe? "Sorry."

"Hn. Don't be." Odin sighed. "It's fine."

"You're upset." Less now than before, but-

Junior let out another of those short, too sharp laughs. "I think I've been 'upset' for years," he countered. "Lately, it's just getting harder to ignore." Slumping his shoulders, he added, "I'd rather you always listen to her than worry about how someone else will take it, even me." His next huff was somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. "She's usually right – in the heart, if not always the words. I was…" He paused, and Jack glanced over at him in time to catch his grimace. "I was acting like my father," he practically spat. "Which is to be avoided, so." He rolled his shoulders. "Better to be done with it. I've got better options – I shouldn't let a lack of familiarity close them off before I even start. That's how you end up regretting something, and the last time…" Another too long, too deeply controlled breath. "I don't want to be there again. My father killed himself for regret, and I have his same weakness to it. I'd rather be uncomfortable over the people I love calling me out than fall into old habits. I finally like my life – I'm not giving it up now, when so much has gone right that nothing feels familiar anymore. It's just…" He gusted out an exasperated sort of sigh. "Stupid."

A hundred different emotions churned in his chest, from the heart-wrenching mention of 'father' to the sick twist of wounded relief that he'd been talking about Senior, the implied suicidal inclination – but then, to have it all wrapped up in Odin's favored childish word to dismiss a metric ton of very serious sounding issues as nonrelevant?

He couldn't help it – he burst out laughing. Then was utterly horrified, because fuck, that was not the right-

But then Junior was laughing too.

It took longer than made any kind of sense to stop, caught up by overwhelming relief more than anything else… but it was comfortable to just sit there together, after. A little surreal, but…

Sometimes, everything about his youngest felt a little surreal, and he'd only been back from the dead for six months.

He'd only met him four months ago.

Looking at him now, he… Shit. He looked like maybe Audi hadn't been the only one crying, but he wasn't sure, and one session wouldn't have made him quite so bloodshot, or put those circles under his eyes. And his cheeks weren't exactly hollow, but his face was a hint sharper than usual. That…

Hell, he'd panicked a little, and over nothing, but that extra sharpness had been a good chunk of why he'd suddenly thought Junior might pull a Jake and turn violent. But looking at him closer, now that he was relaxed?

The engineering coverall he was wearing made him practically shapeless, but he'd put money on the boy being thinner. His hair stood on end even more than usual, and was dirty – not exactly limp with grease, but he knew his own took a while to get that look, so…

Audi had been on target. He hadn't been sleeping, hadn't been eating, hadn't been washing when he usually took forever in the bathroom at home… and while on some level he could put that down to this 'deadline' business, he also wasn't buying it. Not entirely, at least.

"What?"

Caught out. "You look rough."

"I've been working for a hundred sixty-two hours," Odin returned flatly. "Everyone kept pointing out every time they needed to piss off for something like I needed some kind of shepherding along until I told them to fuck off, and now they're barely talking at all. I was going to the commissary for dinner every night, but then my favorite intern was freaking out because his cousin got on a stage with you at the scene of an assassination, and then I realized the man down was my brother." One side of his mouth twisted up in a wry curl that was definitely not a smile. "It's been a long week." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I can't go home until I get this done, and if it takes until Wednesday I might have to fly straight to Budapest, and I will be pissed. That's not how I want to start that night. So I need to get it done, but everything conceivable keeps happening just to spite me." He rubbed both hands across his face. "It's exhausting."

He looked exhausted. "How much have you been sleeping?" he tried.

"Twenty-two hours."

Twenty… He felt his face drop into a disapproving glower. Twelve times fourteen was one sixty-eight – Odin had been here for a hundred sixty-two hours. Which meant- "You've only been sleeping three hours a night?" he demanded.

"It's not that regular," his son negated.

…His children were both clinically insane. In very different ways. He almost wanted to ask what he'd done to deserve this, but also had no desire to see the itemized list.

He settled for giving him a flat look. "I have so many things to say about this that I literally cannot choose."

That got him bright eyes and a cackle, at least, which… while he'd prefer quality rest over shared humor, he'd take it as a starting bid.

To his surprise, it… worked? "I'm getting close to critical," Odin agreed. "But I wanted to get through as much as I could before…" He groaned. "As soon as I hit my bunk they're going to try to build without me, and the last time that happened I spent days undoing their fuckups, let alone fixing them." Then he made a face. "I've been gone for an hour – they've probably already started."

He wished he didn't already know the answer to this question; he'd seen Junior shut his eyes and to all appearances immediately drop into REM in any number of unlikely places. "Where have you been sleeping?"

"You don't need a bunk to nap in zero-G."

Jack groaned. "You are the worst supervisor in existence."

"I haven't made any changes or demands on their schedules," he argued. "I'm just not limiting myself to them."

He supposed that was something, but he'd also just confessed to only leaving the construction bay to piss and eat – and had stopped bothering with the latter. That did things to the people working with you.

He also knew he wouldn't get anywhere by pointing that out. "If they've already started anyway, why not min-max and hit your bunk now?" And he'd make sure there was something hot to eat once he woke back up – he'd probably been living off MREs, or something equivalent.

Odin rolled his eyes but also looked satisfied, gently pushing off to glide into a more vertical position as he stretched. "Six hours," he decided.

"Eight," Jack countered. He'd try for ten if he thought he had half a chance of winning. But he also knew his youngest was of the opinion that eight hours was the perfect sweet spot for REM to deep sleep cycles, and was therefore more equipped to defend that standard. "If they fuck something up, you'll be topped off and two hours isn't going to make that much difference on the revamp."

Odin shrugged, setting himself in a slow spin. "They shouldn't screw up again," he grumbled agreeably, facial muscles relaxing like he was just going to sleep right there. Again. "We've been over it enough. I'm just…" He growled and twisted forward into more of a somersault.

Jack watched him for a moment, but when he didn't try to finish the statement, offered – only a little sarcastically – "Just sleep-deprived?"

Odin hummed, eyes closed as he tumbled gently through the air. "Everything is annoying."

"Hungry and sleep deprived," Jack surmised.

"Mm."

He waited for a moment… then blinked, realizing the boy's face was going more lax. "Do not sleep here," he protested, never mind the how.

Odin blinked his eyes open. "Mm?"

Fuck my life. He was suddenly wondering if he should be grateful for how much of a shithead Jake turned into when he went without sleep – at least it forced him to learn some self-regulation, if only to keep Dave from strangling him during their teen years. "Come on, I think I remember where your room is." Provided he could get back out of this mostly abandoned quadrant, which… was debatable.

This place was enormous. If he understood right, large portions of Libra had been constructed here, at least in the early stages before the battleship had enough of its own bays and forges to handle its own weight. The details of that monster's construction were a bit murky, what with how no one had really known it had been years in the making before Tsubarov shot Une and took her collection of engineers to set up camp there – and it had been mostly done by then, parked out deep near the asteroid belt to crunch through resources as needed. The army of Virgos and main canon that had become Libra's hallmarks – when truthfully the ship had begun as a younger addition to or replacement for Barge – had only been started in… October, during the war?

Jack squinted, trying to remember the rest of the rambling he'd heard all of Odin's baby interns spout the last time he'd swung through here. For all that they weren't building suits here, in his experience? All engineers were mech heads, especially the young ones – in heart, if not expertise. They gossiped over stats like nurses over their patients, and…

Hell, but Jake and Lena needed to come out soon. Even aside from that kiss out by the ambulance, they had not been spectacularly subtle when she visited. Not overt either, but… Even if the EMTs had kept their mouths shut, rumors had to be circulating by now.

He stopped himself from reaching out to soothe the itch of his tattoo – part of convincing Audi to wait this long to come had been that he'd already had the appointment scheduled for its touch-up yesterday. He…

As secretive as he'd always been about it, the fact that Jake named his do-gooder fund after Rhea had always made Jack melt a little. She… Rhea had never really cared about people as a whole, only those close to her, but… it was an awesome thing, no matter the misrepresentation. And she would have loved being made famous over something; would have preened over people knowing her name. As shitty as their relationship had gotten sometimes…

Everyone was going to know his wife's name soon – and be proud of it. It made him want to sob, and he still couldn't decide if it was out of joy or grief. Jake was worried about how Junior might take news about Senior's sordid history coming out, and…

He was all for it. Truly.

But it would have been nice to not get blindsided by the subject.

Just… a conversation warning him. That was all he was asking for. Maybe even one that Jake delegated to Des. He knew his oldest got weird as hell about the subject of his mom, practically like she's been a god instead of a person, and… Hell, but Jack was excited to have it out in the open.

But it wasn't as though people were going to miss the fact that he was tangled up in all that history with the Lowes too. Jake had a tendency to forget he wasn't some kind of virgin birth. He was getting better, but… they'd been apart for so much of their lives that Jack knew he was probably always going to be an afterthought. And it was fine, he was perfectly willing to settle for being included at all. But…

As much as Junior's constant referral to Senior as his father made him want to retch? Made his heart skip a fucking beat as he dropped some kind of vitriol, before his brain caught up and he remembered the kid wasn't talking about him? Jake's in-and-out game of inclusion as family, while technically milder, usually left him feeling worse. Even though it was getting better, even though the wonder of Jake actively calling him Dad was never going to get old… The unpredictability of it made him want to hide in Junior's shadow.

And then he felt like an asshole, because he knew that at least in this case, the lapse hadn't been intentional. Jake just hadn't thought about it, and they were both new to this and Jake was insanely busy, but… It still hurt.

As fucking awful as some of the things coming out of Junior's mouth could get? He always played it straight. He wasn't always good about picking up when people misinterpreted him, but… well, he'd been getting better about that too. He'd done it not an hour ago, breaking out of his tiff with Audi to reassure him, then coming back after to further reinforce the fact. There was still a lot of ground to cover, so much trust to gain, but…

He knew where he stood with Odin. Sometimes it was on the very edge of a precipice that his son was literally daring him to jump off of, like the whole Hilde accusation, but he was pretty damn clear about it.

Though… it could stand to be a little clearer. "I wouldn't let anyone take Audi from me," he pointed out quietly as they moved down the hall. No one was nearby to hear. "Even if you hadn't told me she had enemies, I would never let someone take any child from me, let alone your sister." He hadn't known that Audi's troubles were with the Regime too, but…

Well, with all the fur flying in the aftermath of the Yuy article, as much as the pilot was being lauded? People were largely being careful to not directly contrast him with Milliardo Peacecraft. There was plenty being noted obliquely about how anyone else in the kid's shoes would have probably lost it and gotten far more trigger happy than their planetary savior had, but he hadn't heard about anyone being stupid enough to compare him to the guy who tried to end all life on earth because his home kingdom had been annexed and his sister made queen of the new empire. It was very much a universal elephant in the room, but either someone had done it and been silenced hard, or the internet was collectively showing something approaching common sense for once.

Jack loved Lena; he would have loved her if the only thing she ever did in her life was make his son feel whole, but she was pretty amazing in general. But as nice as Jack had played with her brother in order to get close to Jake again post-Fall, he'd be happy to punt the fucker out an airlock if he thought he had a chance of pulling it off.

Milliardo Peacecraft was a literal nightmare of a human being. The only reason why people didn't say so was because he held the highest position in their government – a government that, in some ways, had only been a stiff wind away from collapsing on itself from its inception, and was still the only thing keeping them from invasion or all out anarchy. If anything, learning the breadth of horror that occurred in the Sahara had made people cling to the legitimacy of the Peacecraft Regime even more tightly, because if that was what waited for them?

Hell, the Dutchman was such a big deal because at the start of the Regime, everyone had been waiting for the Democratic Zone to collapse into total anarchy that the troops would have to march in on in order to restore the peace. It had stabilized by the end of that first summer, but… The gang culture that had developed there had been a warning knell of what could come next, if they lost what was left of society's structure. Even the strongest anti-Romefeller advocates had largely sat down and shut up after the first year, seeing the goddamn descent into madness in that nook of territory where Romefeller had already died out to the west – and for all that everyone liked to talk the most about the Netherlands as some kind of pit these days, it was only because no one wanted to talk about the shit in Denmark or Sweden at all.

He'd been avoiding politics for the last decade, but he'd also spent the last handful of days in Jake's circle while they argued about this or that stance, and he was hardly deaf. Not to mention the internet was still trying to explode over the Yuy thing and all the implications that could be pulled from both those facts and how other events contrasted. Rubato was right in the thick of it too, and he'd been trying to keep up, but…

Maybe it was less that the internet was trying to explode so much as his head was. It was like standing in the eye of a hurricane and trying to still catalogue everything he saw fly by.

Odin sighed. "I've been trying to keep you from getting caught in the middle of something you can't turn back from," he admitted. "It was easier to keep you close enough to stay happy but still outside the range of potential flare-ups rather than work out a protocol. The house is one thing, because if its security is broken the situation is already dire, but she's not supposed to be outside of specific safe zones unless it's with one of five people." He grimaced. "Six – Melissa counts too, but she and Kasey are rarely far enough apart to count separately. The von Kolls don't travel."

Jack considered that. He knew Audi ran off with the von Kolls, Cat, and Adam… if Odin was including himself in that number, then that left the only remaining person as the fiancée. Which made him feel slightly better, as that was the tightest Odin's circle got, but still stung. "I wouldn't choose politics over a child," he reiterated, trying to not get more upset.

Odin let out a frustrated sigh. "It's not a trust issue," he explained. "It's that all of those people are equally as screwed as she or I if it were to happen, and will have to fight for our lives – and we're all exceptionally good at that." He shook his head. "You have options, and more than that, Audi knows that, and will prioritize differently." He grimaced. "It's a situation I wanted to avoid, both for everyone's safety and because it's a scenario that will likely see her making a kill shot, and I've been trying to keep that from happening."

Jack stopped in his tracks, leaning back and grabbing onto the handrail to his right, the sheer depth of that hitting him. That…

"If you're alone with my sister when someone from a lower tier comes for her, and you have a good avenue of escape, fight," Odin continued, grabbing onto the opposite rail to arrest his momentum and turn so that they were face to face. "Do what you have to, get out, and I will follow."

He met those blue eyes, Rhea's eyes, and only just kept himself from shaking from their intensity.

"But if there's too many, or they're Regime and already made contact with a wider net? Play along, play dumb if you can, get out, and get me. And I will see her free, then see you again after we have a change of regime."

…Fuck.

"And if you can't handle that," his son finished, leaning close, eyes narrowed. "Then don't take her out of a safe zone."

Jack just met him stare for stare. Because… that was a warning.

But it was also permission. Just… a validation at the same time. And…

He had either just said he was willing to topple governments for the sake of his sister, or acknowledged that the end of the Peacecraft Regime was drawing near – and given his ties to the Insurgence…

It could really go either way.

He felt his breathing even back out as he realized… neither option particularly bothered him. No one had explained why, but Des had already said Relena would see the Regime gone before the end of summer, no matter what else happened these next few months.

His acceptance must have been clear on his face, because Junior relaxed, leaning back as his feet touched down, losing most of his intensity. "Not going to ask?" he mused after a moment, still a little predatory but not…in a threatening way.

Jack felt the urge to laugh rise again, and tamped it down. "Why bother?" he found himself asking, feeling… looser than he had in a long time. "It's not going to change my answer." Odin and Audi were his even if the hows were murky, and his son had just laid out a plan to win a war and come home to Jack afterwards if a child he loved was threatened. These were simple facts that he had no issue supporting. Even aside from this conversation, Rubato was actively courting Lena and RLTT separately. Jake and Lena wanted the Regime gone, and… He felt fucking glorious.

There was no compatibility issue here. The details were messy, but that was politics, and he didn't actually care about those. The boys still needed to sort out their shit with each other to their own satisfaction, but that… didn't actually change anything.

Could he say any of that without risking misinterpretation?

He didn't know the means Lena was toppling her brother by, and there was probably a good reason for that. He had no interest in fucking over a complex plan, and he didn't know enough to not trash it. Everything to do with the Treize angle was complex, past or present. The series of reveals on the public front to do with the upcoming royal wedding and RLTT were incomprehensible to him – he'd never had a good grasp on social bullshitting. So…

Something simple. Something true and simple and maybe even helpful, given everything he'd learned today.

"Your brother hates Zechs," he admitted, the old moniker feeling foreign on his tongue after so long of making sure he didn't misspeak and risk offending – but Odin had said Zechs earlier, and Jake had never stopped. "Has for years. He knows how to play him, makes an art of it sometimes, but that's not a complication you have to worry about." There'd been a while that he thought Jake would stand firmly by the Regime, but that had been about the world's economic stability, not personal loyalty. If there had ever been any true bond between the two of them, it had snapped when the prince tried to follow through on dropping Libra – on killing Des.

His oldest might shed a few tears over regrets when Jack died by any circumstance, but if Des went violently? If he'd gone down in the Fall? His son would have gone on a rampage. He couldn't even be mad about it – it simply was what it was. And even though it hadn't happened, even if Jake had found himself in a situation where he decided he would need to fully accept and support Milliardo Peacecraft for the rest of his life? The memory of the attempt was something that Jake would never let go of.

He was sure there were other reasons too. But that alone would have been enough to make the Lightning Count acceptable collateral on the negotiation table of what was to come.

There was something feline and deeply reminiscent of his older brother in the languid way Odin relaxed at that news, head tipping to one side. "Good to know."

What else was easy and safe to say? Jake was in the middle of some kind of long series of talks with Cat over email under the auspices of RLTT, and he didn't even know the beginning gambits there, let alone the latest. Too many landmines. But…

He touched his arm without thinking, and the itch of his tattoo shifted to a soft burn.

Jack licked his lips, debating, but… he would have felt better with more warning, and every time the brothers talked the air was charged. "I'm pretty sure," entirely positive, in fact, "that some degree of Senior's history is going to make its way into public knowledge soon."

Technically, the truth had been leaked a long time ago, but only to select parties, and the issue today was a matter of not being able to unring the bell. Senior's profession had been a poorly kept secret among the upper echelon of OZ after he left its ranks, and the rumors had grown exponentially after Jake was accepted into the Academy. It had been a long time since anyone had cared to talk about him, but with Jake coming into the open as the RLTT proprietor? Left alone, it was a potential powder keg – better to light the fire under controlled circumstances and direct the angle of the burn for maximum lift. Relena was too important of a figure to risk keeping that skeleton hiding in the closet.

Odin blinked, then looked thoughtful for a second… and shrugged. "Alright."

…Huh. Jack smirked. "Your brother's been in a tizzy for weeks trying to figure out how to bring it up."

Odin blinked again, then raised both brows in a purely judgmental expression. "That's stupid."

Jack barked out a laugh and brought both hands up to cover his face. When he had control of himself again, he tried to explain. "He wants to get ahead of it and control how it comes out, manage the media spin, but was worried that it might affect you adversely." At Odin's latest slow blink, he corrected, "That it might affect your career and Rubato overall adversely, at minimum." Odin himself kept a low profile beyond having his name on the group's founding charter. He was gaining a reputation in engineering circles at an alarming rate, but frankly, they were the lot who practically worshiped the Mad Five.

"Odin died when I was a child," Junior reminded him, looking entirely nonplussed. "Not to mention the fact that he was never caught out, and not even I have any idea who our targets were." He rolled his eyes, mouth settling into a determined line. "My history with Odin is the least of my worries. Tell him to feel free to use the intel however works best. I really don't care." Then he tilted his head. "Are there any old enemies of his I should watch out for, since I am using my name these days?"

Eh… "Nothing current," he decided. "The Bartons won't kick a fuss now that the old man is dead, and I want to say the rest of Dekim's colleagues from his heyday are all gone too. But I'll check."

Junior shifted back, blinking again. "The Bartons?"

Jack gave him an incredulous look, smiling a bit, waiting for the punch-line. But… Nothing.

Does he… not know?

That was… entirely absurd. He'd been assuming that Junior had to have ducked and dodged like mad to avoid the megalomaniac's influence while apparently living primarily in space and doing an engineering apprenticeship, not to mention the clandestine shit he wouldn't currently acknowledge, but…

Had he avoided the noose by pure dumb luck?

"You're joking," he announced, starting to feel… a little numb.

But Junior was just staring at him – beginning to look a bit bewildered, if anything.

He licked his lips and brought a hand up to grip the top of his head, feeling a bit lost himself. Holy shit. Where to even start? "Odin… Dekim had it out for Senior since 175. He put a hit out on him before your mom and I even got married." Though on so many levels, that had been genuinely hilarious – at least in the early years, all of the hit men he'd tried to hire had actually been pseudonyms Senior employed for differing factions. It had been a little more touchy after Jake was born, when they realized the man's hatred was only growing stronger with time, but mostly a nonpoint. "As far as I'm aware, he never went after your mother because she married me and the Barton Foundation had a standing non-aggression pact with all three iterations of the L1 militia. But after I got put away…"

Dekim might have been one of the original reasons why Senior had never left the boys with anyone, the way he had while raising Rhea. "I don't know when his first attempt on the two of you was, but by the time I got out of prison I know that it had happened more than once, and there were large swathes of space that Senior wouldn't even pass through on commute, trying to avoid his influence. Even with that…" He swallowed. "There was a gig I backed him on, the October before I started the custody battle," because making the seven-year-old babysit when Senior needed cover fire was better than letting him put a gun in Jake's hands again, "and on our way back to where the two of you were sleeping, Odin's descrambler for nearby radios picked something up and we found a fucking sniper with a bead on your window."

He didn't know if they'd found the agent shortly into his outpost and he'd just finished setting up, annoyed the boys' bed wasn't in line of sight, or if he'd been lying in wait for Senior to come back – he hadn't wasted time before blowing a hole in the guy's head. But the fact that Senior had only wanted to pick up and go instead of looking into it had been the final goddamn nail in the coffin of their working relationship. He'd started pulling together resources to pin him down in court the next day.

Junior's eyes were a bit wide but he didn't say anything, so Jack continued. "Once we separated… I didn't know until after, but Dekim sent a fucking kill squad after me and Jake – he waited three months after I cut all ties with the militia and… I don't know where Odin stashed you during or if he just put a rifle in your hands, but he picked them all off before they made it through my door – left a huge goddamn mess for everyone to find the next morning." He clenched his jaw, remembering when he opened the front door and realized just how close it had been – not to mention the fucking nightmare in the stairwell. "I guess that worked as deterrent long enough for Amarianna to line up her con and snatch Jake back out from under me. The one upside of all the shit she filled his brain with was that she handled the next few attempts with equal ardor." Including the one in Tivoli while he was at the Noins. "I don't know if he finally got sick of throwing away men or she did something more insidious to make him back off from more than intermittent attempts over the next few years, but there was a price on your brother's head with regularly updated pictures as soon as he turned nine – the last one got posted the day before that last job in 188. Then Dekim himself came out of hiding, and… Word is that he bragged long and hard about being the one to fire the bullet. Took a gut shot that was sure to clip the liver and left him to bleed out."

He met his son's deep blue eyes, still wide and almost blank, remembering what Junior had said about that day. Left him for you to find. Before Junior came back he'd always assumed it had been the other way around, but…

Had Dekim really cut a deal with Senior, and agreed to stop going after the kids?

Had Senior been stupid or desperate enough to believe he'd actually follow through? The fucker had been in the middle of starting a violent coup on the home colony of his daughter and only grandchild. Dekim hadn't cared about anyone, even blood. He'd never retracted the contract out on Jake, just let the payment offer lapse.

And Junior had just been gone.

Jack swallowed, looking away. "The hit on Jake expired before the new year, at least, but your brother's always known to stay out of immediate range; just because the Foundation claimed they weren't actively hunting anymore didn't mean Dekim would pass up an opportunity." He knew Jake had palled around with Leia for a couple years as often as not after he gave up the hunt for Junior, but Dekim had fucked off by then to focus on the gundam projects, busy pretending he'd never had a daughter – and all those visits had been done under a believable pseudonym. Not one that would have held under heavy scrutiny given Dekim's long obsession with Senior, but either he hadn't cared enough to look or had stopped caring about Jake completely by then.

He met Junior's eyes again, and, still getting that blank stare, blew out a breath and shrugged helplessly. "You vanished in the aftermath, and your brother spent the next year chasing any hint of a lead for where you'd gone; I didn't even know any of it had happened until someone showed up at my door because Jake was a few days shy of being declared a missing person." David had been brusque, but in a business-like way, and kind enough about the whole mess despite the circumstances – and more importantly he had caught up to Jake before he disappeared into Barton-controlled territory entirely and watched his damn back. Swallowing again, he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before forcing himself to meet his son's eyes directly and bite the bullet. "I thought he was chasing a pipe dream," he admitted. "Senior's body was left out like a taunt, with his true passport in one pocket. When you didn't turn up, I figured he'd taken you first, to force Senior into the right position. Before Christmas rolled around, I'd made my peace with your ashes having long since been scattered." Mostly he'd just hoped it had been quick, but… Dekim.

He'd tried to not think too hard about it. Then or later.

He looked away again, trying to gather his nerves. Junior wasn't the type to condemn him for that, but it still fucking hurt – the resignation as much as the angry horror, made worse by the fact that he now knew he'd given up when he should have kept going and fought to find him.

But he'd never even tried. Not until the History for Tomorrow Database called and said they'd had a match.

He hadn't even known Jake included his information on the contact profile.

"I didn't know."

Bracing himself, he straightened his shoulders and looked back at his son… and didn't know what to make of the somewhat lost look on his face. "None of it?" he asked, feeling a little lost himself. Because sure, there hadn't been a specific hit out for Junior, but a good chunk of that had probably been because no one had a picture of him. Lu had gotten that one during the whole… anti-aircraft missile snafu he tried to not remind Des about, but Jake had kept that shit under lock and key, and no one had known to even check her suit's security logs for a glimpse of it until after they'd IDed Senior's corpse.

Junior let out a broken, incredulous sort of laugh. "No. Absolutely nothing."

He'd realized already that his brother-in-law was more than a little fucked in the head by the time he died, but it still hit like a fucking hammer every time he turned over some new piece of evidence. "Fuck."

His child was still alive today due to sheer fucking luck. Maybe Dekim had assumed he'd offed him during that coup and hadn't actively been looking for him, riding the afterglow of murdering his self-assigned nemesis? But what the everloving fuck had Senior been thinking, not even telling the kid who should be avoided?

His stomach sank again as something else occurred to him.

Junior had said Senior tried to abandon him more than once before that day. Had he… been laying a trail to nowhere for Dekim to follow on the boy?

…Had he not, and been trying to abandon him in Barton territory without a single fucking clue that people wanted to hurt him?

Every time he thought he'd maxed out on just how much he hated Rhea's brother, he found some new goddamn low the man had sunk to. Just… Fuck!

Why?! If he was truly that far gone he could have just… dropped the kid on Amarianna's doorstep, or… or anywhere other than deep in enemy territory.

He closed his eyes. Jake had always insisted that Senior had been broken after the custody battle. That he'd been growing worse every time he made contact with him after.

He'd never imagined it had gone this far.

But it had.

His ears were thundering, and when he reached up to rub his nose, he wasn't too surprised to realize his cheeks were wet.

Junior started laughing.

Jack scrubbed at his eyes, trying to clear his vision, but they just kept streaming and all he could clearly make out was that Junior had his back toward the wall. The sound was boiling out of him like a broken teakettle – full-bodied and endless and more than a little bit helpless, like he just couldn't stop. Which was weird, but-

After the first few seconds, the sound twisted. Just as loud, but more desperate than disbelieving, until it came out almost deranged – like someone was ripping it out of him, and Jack's eyes wouldn't stop so he reached out blindly-

The way Odin clutched him back was strangely gratifying even as it made him want to shit his pants out of sheer dread. Because Junior wasn't shy about physical contact, but he never… not with him. And it was as though something in the boy was broken, and he didn't have a fucking clue where to start with this son he had no legitimate right to at all, this transient miracle of Rhea's that he'd never been allowed to cling to, that kept threatening to disappear again and he couldn't-

He couldn't breathe.

He wretched, gasping for air, then flailed as the motion jarred Odin enough in the low gravity that he started to bounce away and reflexively wrapped his arms around him, not caring how awkward or maybe unwelcome or fucking weird this was. Just… floating in a goddamn hallway on the ass end of nowhere, clutching Junior around the middle like he was a plush bear and curling in close like a child in the middle of a panic attack.

…Maybe that was what this was?

Fuck if he knew. But Odin wasn't trying to squirm away and the godawful insane asylum laughter was dying down to wheezes, so he just shut his eyes again and refused to think too hard about it.

He was here. They… they were both here, and whatever the fuck that had been about… They were both here, so it couldn't be insurmountable, right? It…

He didn't know what was happening, but, you know. He wasn't going anywhere, so it was a moot point.

It was fine.

After what felt like forever, Odin groaned and went limp… and either made some sort of long, inarticulate sound of exhaustion or was speaking in something Jack had zero reference for.

Either way, he one hundred percent agreed.

Another long moment later, a hand tentatively settled on his head, and his son made a confused sort of noise… then sighed and hunched over to drape his head and shoulders over Jack's upper back.

He almost started crying again. This fucking kid. Jack had his arms wrapped around him just below the sternum with his head tucked low and the rest of his body in a curl around Odin's back until his knees came close to his head in some kind of wrestling move turned fetal position, and instead of calling him out, Junior just went with it.

He tried to gather himself, and didn't think it was all that long, at least, before he managed to ask, "Are you okay?"

Odin didn't answer for a long minute, and Jack found himself wishing that he knew something better to say… but he didn't try to pull away either. So…

It was enough, really. It had to be.

Eventually, Odin shifted slightly, stretching, and said, "I'm tired."

Of fucking course he was tired. He'd been refusing to sleep for a week even before the emotional shitcan of a hurricane hit him today, and… Jack was tired, and it was only early afternoon on a normal schedule for him. So…

…He had no idea where the hell they were. He supposed he could start off in one direction until gravity started to ramp up and play hot/cold until he recognized something, but Odin presumably didn't need to guess at it. Which they both knew, so there wasn't much point in saying it.

So instead he loosened his grip enough that the kid could pull away if he wanted, reaching one hand up to rub his face again – dry, but crusty from the saline – and said, "That's relatable."

Odin hummed in a neutral way and didn't budge.

Fuck it. "Lead the way, huh?" He'd napped in his son's 'bunk' – he was the boss, it was really a suite – and he could do with a kip on his couch, after all that.

Odin's hum was happier this time, and as he pushed off with his toes in a gentle launch forward? He grabbed onto Jack's arm to keep contact.

So that was another thing he didn't need to cry about. Really.

oOo

Berlin, Germany – Hildegard Medical Center – Intensive Care Unit

"Well, the quarterly is better than I expected so far," Jake mused, setting the papers aside and reaching up to scrub a hand over his face. "I'm not going to complain. Da Capo is still waiting until they get more meaningful statistics on the agricolonies before making their next move, but the Lotus integration there has been smooth enough so far." One shoulder shifted as if he was going to shrug, then abruptly stilled as he aborted the motion and leaned back into his pillows instead. "The media angle is something I have next to no experience with, but I like what I've been seeing. The forums in particular are a little wild."

"The speculation is getting a little intense," BJ agreed. "But at this point, no one is trying to tamp it back down – I think the Regime is hoping it'll just run its course. Neither Yuy or Barton are current figures, so I think they're hoping to just let it burn itself out."

"Do you have a plan to elongate it?" Jake made a face, hand still over his eyes. "Not that we need to if it's not helpful, but the spin has been good so far."

"One or two," BJ admitted. "But I think I'd rather take the cue on that from the Revenants, given what else Lluvia has implied."

The hand dropped, and Jake blinked a few times as if to clear his head. "Oh?"

Relena stepped close to him again and ran her fingers through his hair. She'd backed off because he couldn't seem to concentrate with her so close right now and they'd needed to finish sorting this out, but they were in the final set and she'd wanted to say this one personally. Still… "Are you okay?"

He leaned into the touch as she scraped her nails along his scalp. "I've been better," he admitted. "I think I get why Junior made the gears analogy, but I mostly feel like something is trying to chew on me. Really slowly. Constantly. I'm going a little bit insane."

She bit her lip. "I don't remember that."

His grin was wry. "Apparently only a small percent of the population notices the feeling at normal doses – and everyone feels it systemically at higher ones, even with full nerve blocks. It's limited there, but… something about the block handling the pain from the damage, but the drug is in the bloodstream?" He groaned softly through his teeth. "I feel like I'm going to vibrate right out of my skin. If anything, I almost want to have them stop renewing the blocks because it feels so lopsided I want to shake like a dog, but I got a lecture about ethics and not trying to be Heero Yuy when I suggested it." He grimaced. "I'm shedding like a lizard and I talked a nurse into helping me shave before you got here because it was insane."

"I did notice your hair is longer," she admitted, pulling lightly as she carded her fingers through it – he hummed happily in response. It hadn't occurred to her that facial hair would respond to the Remalene the same way, but… well it should have. She wanted to say he had nearly two inches of grow-out, but they hadn't been outside as much lately, and she couldn't remember how dark his roots had been before the shooting. They never stayed dark for long, and even the newest growth was still blonde, if only just. His hair was generally so sun sensitive that even at the scalp, it wasn't so dark as now.

"My hair is also driving me crazy," he admitted, eyes closed as he dropped more of his weight into her hand. "I feel like I could lose a small army in it, or at least a handful of spare change. It has a fucking life of its own."

Relena bit her lip, trying to reign in her smile. "I think I might like it," she offered. "It has character."

"I love you, but I am cutting it as soon as enough Remalene is out of my system as to make it not an act of futility. I have a mullet."

He… did, actually. Smiling more openly, she reached back and carded her fingers through that too and he practically purred. "The mullet goes," she agreed. "But I'm going to play with it until then."

"Mm." He seemed to think about that for a moment before dropping the subject. "What happened with Lluvia?"

She opted to not stop her ministrations. "I point blank told him I wasn't entirely comfortable with building off someone else's trauma for my own benefit," she explained. "He said he agreed that doing so without permission was highly unethical – then immediately moved on to how they thought they might escalate the current online dialogue into relevancy in order to establish a set of rules or boundaries for prisoners of war through an Accords ratified document." Though frankly, she'd been horrified when she realized that the last one of those on record only had signatories from a quarter of the countries now laying claim to the Accords.

She'd known people were doing horrible things during the war, but… she'd thought they were breaking the law to do so.

Jake's eyes looked sharp, finally. "So they are claiming contact."

"The phrase 'we're trying to make something good come out of it' was said more than once," BJ noted, flipping through a new folder without looking up. "As well as 'it might as well be worth something.' Whether these are assumptions or quotes is difficult to say. The extent of just what is being thrown about is…" He wrinkled his nose. "Dirty."

Her fiancé narrowed his eyes at the man. "And you still don't want me to read this?"

"The summaries that I know you did read are more than sufficient without punishing yourself to no gain," BJ insisted, looking up to fix him with a determined glare. "I wish I hadn't. So long as it didn't cause damage beyond Remalene's scope, consider it done." His mouth twisted. "They didn't rape him. Those are about the only highlights. Knowing the minutia isn't going to help anyone."

"I read the main article for tone," Jake defended. "I trusted you about the rest, didn't I?"

"Please continue to do so," his suspicious glower shifted to Relena. "Both of you."

"I have no interest and have said as much, publicly and repeatedly," she reminded him. "Even if I was intent on it, I find it easier to deliver the right tone when I'm not lying, and I stand by what I said. Heero always struck me as a private person – it's cruel for it to have come out like this. I think it's bad enough when this sort of information is released posthumously, and Heero is only what, eighteen?" She shook her head. "If I see him again and he says something, that's one thing, but as far as I'm concerned, it's none of my business."

BJ sighed. "I wish more people had that dignity. The darker end of the web is discussing the feasibility and odds of some of the shit he survived. Some psycho is going to try replicating it, and I don't even want to imagine the fallout."

He'd brought up this point already, and they'd at least talked about some possible ways to allay the worst, if not solve the issue of base stupidity. "Have you had any luck on the team of physicians?" If they could push the angle of how detrimental it had truly been-

"None that have made it all the way through and spoken to me again," he replied grimly. "But it hasn't been a full week since the article appeared, so I'm not too concerned. Someone will want to take a stand on a soapbox against this – they just have to gather their nerves first." He shrugged, selecting five distinct sheets from his folder that were heavier, with a different heft than the rest. "Leia still isn't talking to anyone other than her baby daddy, and I'm going to treat her as standard for this – not that we could rely on her in this case either, as she's currently persona non grata." Coming closer, he held out the sheets – the photographs? – out for Jake to peruse. "In unrelated news, however, I saved the best for last."

Relena blinked, then frowned down at the picture of… Hilde? It was one of the most recent shots, taken in northern Italy. "You didn't mention anything to me," she noted, shifting away from Jake enough that he could take them from the other man without stretching.

"You're only going to care about this because he might, so I thought you could share," BJ offered in a dry tone, setting aside the folder he'd pulled the photographs from and starting to tap at his tablet again. "Something about the most recent images of Schbeiker bothered me as soon as they came out, but I wasn't sure why until I spent far too much time pawing through old footage last night."

She considered that, looking over Jake's shoulders as he flipped through the pages. All were of Hilde, all but the most recent taken from fairly low resolution surveillance cameras. She tended to smile as if she knew someone was watching, but… Well, that had seemed to be a core part of her personality even back when they had first met on Libra. Several were face on, but one was from the back, and two from the side – and other than the latest, it was two or three pictures per page.

Jake said it first. "Okay, I'll bite. I'd say there are some minor differences, but I'm mostly sure this one is from 196, and she's Relena's age. It's hard to tell without a stricter perspective, but I'd expect some increased height at least. What am I missing?"

"Nothing, yet," BJ returned smugly, handing over the tablet. "But let's see if you can catch what everyone else has missed. These are some of the closest analogues I could find for camera angle and position. You've been looking at subtle details – look again."

Jake gave him a dubious look, but handed Relena the photographs… then grunted in frustration when he realized he couldn't hold it and navigate with only one hand. He started to scoot further upright and raise one knee to balance it against, but BJ had taken the moment with his hands free to bring the bedside tray around the left side so they could prop the slate on its stand. "Thanks."

"Look through once, then side by side," BJ insisted.

At first, Relena truly didn't follow. The resolution on the tablet photos were all frustratingly low, but it was all very similar. Even the outfit was nearly identical from one shot to the next, excepting the Italian picture. She was about ready to shrug and ask for a more straightforward explanation when Jake tapped one of the printouts. She frowned and focused harder on it, then the tablet photo he had drawn up… and blinked. "Is she twisting?" It didn't look like it, but how else would you explain-

"No, she's not. Look at the rest of her body, in both." He looked up at BJ. "What's the time difference between these?"

"Two weeks," BJ returned, looking smug. "And before you ask – I have more pictures showing the first proportion returning at a later date."

Jake let out a low, delighted laugh. "How did you catch that?" he demanded.

"Subconscious niggle, followed by the fact that they've used this tactic elsewhere already – or technically, after they'd been doing this a long while. Heavyarms. Check back against the sunglasses one."

"What am I seeing?" Relena demanded, not enjoying being left outside the loop.

"The distance from elbow to hip jumps from this picture compared to this one, then goes back," Jake explained, laughter coloring his voice. "Here, look: the outfit masks the difference somewhat and their height is the same or close enough to not make a difference, but her," he stabbed at the physical photo, "torso is longer, or at least, her natural waist is lower. She's not twisting – this woman's elbow just doesn't come as close to her hip as this one's, and… shit, but their reach is different too."

"The full footage is long gone," BJ added, reaching over to flick through the tablet's pictures until he settled on the one where the Insurgence agent was wearing a ridiculously large pair of sunglasses. It was taken from an angle, more profile than anything. "So I don't know if they got an image of her lower face at some point and dismissed it because they had better ones of Hilde's face, but look – the jawline is sharper here, and the cheekbone is partially hidden, but different. I think there's a difference in shoulder width too, but that jacket conceals it." He leaned back, shaking his head. "It's subtle, the two of them have very similar builds and they've done a damn fine job of obscuring any disparities, but the Regime's version of 'Hilde' is distinctly two separate women." He reached forward to gesture at the tablet photo again. "And like I said, the video is long gone, but whoever analyzed it noted that Chang was far more deferential to her on this run that they usually see – Schbeiker and Chang have a history of literally bickering in the middle of a fucking hallway like the three stooges, I swear to God. And I can't lock down every incident to one or the other, in part because they either haven't kept all the files or someone was erasing them out of the Regime database, but at least in 196? There's a definite skill gap between them, with her," he gestured to the tablet again, "coming in first place by a mile."

Jake just laughed again, bringing one fist up to his mouth. "Holy shit."

"The sunglasses incident was the closest she ever comes to showing her face," the spymaster continued, "and even then, I don't have much. She's good. But given how smoothly she slips in and out of place with Chang, they train together." His lips twisted into a smug smirk. "I might even wager that she's his boss."

Oh! Relena looked again, but, well… the picture was just as grainy as before. If this was her future sister-in-law, it wasn't much to go off of – aside from general badassery, of course.

Mm. It was still nice to have something to reference, though. Even if they were wrong, it was a decent placeholder.

Jake laughed harder, and didn't seem to care even as he grimaced, dropping his fist to his chest and pressing hard – but his face was nearly incandescent with joy. "BJ!" he exclaimed. "You're being nice to me?"

"Get well soon, shithead. It won't last."

Jake only laughed harder.

oOo

Paris, France

"Prisbrey, you've got a call on line three!"

Shel slumped, willing herself to not groan out loud. It was literally fifteen minutes to quitting time, and she had her hands full already. She wanted to holler something back about having voicemail for a reason, but….

Well, she wasn't the only one fifteen minutes from heading out the door, and there was no reason to be a bitch about it. Someone had asked for her, either by name or article – and that could be dross or jewels. Most of this sort of call had been bullshit or things she couldn't use since her big break on Brigadier Mitchell, but you never knew. And just because her favorite leprechaun was giving her all sorts of interesting morsels didn't mean she had any intention of depending on him.

She picked up the phone. "Rachelle Prisbrey speaking," she greeted, not making an effort to be perky; she wasn't in the mood. Not that she let her tone drag either – maybe let them think she was a little bit tired, if not spun out. It was the end of the work day.

"Hello, Ms. Prisbrey," a relatively deep, cheerful voice greeted. "I hope I haven't caught you at a bad time? I could call back later, but I was unsure about how to reach you over the weekend, and Monday seemed like short notice."

Huh. Either reception had made a pointed comment before transferring the call, or more likely, he'd had to argue against being shunted to her voicemail. Possibly called back after being shunted to said voicemail and pushed.

That… could still go in any direction, really. But she was glad she hadn't snapped at whoever was manning the desk today – they'd had a few new hires lately, and she couldn't seem to keep track of the rota of names. Too many part-timers.

"Well, you've got me on the phone now," she returned, smirking a little. "Nice lead with the urgency to spark my interest. May I ask who I'm talking to?"

He laughed, the sound just a touch wicked, like a naughty schoolboy caught out. "My name is David Mitchell." He made an amused sort of hum when she didn't immediately respond, then added, "I could add the titles, but I think you actually wrote out a couple I'd forgotten over the years, and I'm not in the mood to embarrass myself. Thanks again, by the way."

…Shit. She hadn't said anything yet because her mind was racing. Her first, visceral response was a jolt of panic – but no, the brigadier's amnesty had been officially granted at… something like noon today? And of course, he'd have had all sorts of correspondence to immediately tend to, but…

Her heart damn near skipped a beat. The Accords negotiations with the one-time Strike Force was slated to begin in Berlin on Tuesday. If-

"I'm aware that it isn't strictly your scene," he continued in a conversational tone. "But with the limb you went out on for me, I thought an invite to the press section was the least I could offer." He made a thoughtful, mildly frustrated sound. "It… probably would have been a lot harder to get to this point without your article, and taken a lot longer to boot. If you were looking into an in for that genre, I figured this might be a decent leg up."

Shel licked her lips. He wasn't entirely wrong, exactly, but he wasn't quite right, either. That said, especially given what Ardith had begun sending her way… whatever the borders on her genre that she'd had last month? This was the flavor she was gunning for anymore, for all that she hadn't sorted out her endgame.

It would continue to dovetail neatly into the intrigue she was getting otherwise too.

But Mitchell was known for being friendly and talkative, and she had him to herself for a minute, all of his own volition. "And if I said the negotiations weren't up my alley?" she asked curiously. They were, but truthfully, if she went, a lot of her focus would be on the human angle, keying in on the speakers at the event, instead of a strict recitation of the points covered. That didn't make it any less worthwhile – plenty of others would be focused on the nuts and bolts of the talks.

She wanted a better idea of where he stood though, and he wasn't the type to be offended by this kind of probing.

"Hmm. Well, I'd still invite you to come out this way if you wanted an interview," he decided. "I know I confirmed the broad strokes of a lot of your claims when I went public, but if someone wants to know the details of what went on since, I figured you deserved first dibs. People are going to ask, and I have no intention of hiding more than what is strictly necessary to keep people safe." Another thoughtful noise came through the line. "After that… well, I don't know the exact timeline, but by the time the negotiations are through I suspect RLTT should be ready to make a big announcement or two."

Her heart sped up as adrenaline kicked in, because oh, but that was a neat trick. Claiming to know the RLTT proprietor was a bold move, though difficult to prove or disprove in either direction, so possibly safe. "Is that so?"

He chuckled a little, clearly reading into what she hadn't said. "Who do you think floated me after I went off the reservation? Well, starting in March, anyway, after tempers had cooled and I'd already gotten a ways downstream on shit creek. He's got a thing about respecting neutral ground, even when the legalities are touchy – it was like Peacemillion on steroids."

"So you're a candidate now too?" she tested, even as that felt… wrong.

"No." Then, just as she'd taken a breath to say something sarcastic and cutting, he added, "Just an old friend in need."

…Motherfucker. "Is that so?" she found herself repeating, throat suddenly far too dry.

"It wasn't really under RLTT auspices," he admitted. "That has too much political clout to not get messy. But he's not quite ready to put his personal name out there yet, and I don't have another easy way to reference him to you, so… yeah."

And there was that word that Ardith likes to throw around – yet. Not that there hadn't been a few glimpses and suggestions in the last six months or so suggesting this direction, but the brigadier was in a talkative mood, and she might as well see what she could get. "He's planning on going public, then?" The idea had been bounced around a few times, particularly after Relena's projects kept expanding into other realms with tertiary involvement like the Pacific Reclamation, and the way she stayed close with the Lotus candidate. Not to mention the stir after she had made the arguable slip about the proprietor being a… man… that she knew…

No… She wanted to gasp and cackle at the idea, and she knew it had been thrown around a bit, but it wasn't a theory she'd bothered to invest much in, given the shadowy nature of the person behind RLTT. But…

It checked off a lot of the boxes rather neatly, looking back. A connection through Mitchell as well was something of a surprise, but… well, he had worked with Relena for a long while, been to and from her little German estate frequently even since starting the legal version of the Strike Force, and if anyone knew the secrets of the princess' love life, it would be her Guard. Even if it was an entirely loveless marriage of convenience, they would know, and Mitchell would have had an in, and-

"Let's just say he's aware that he can't stay anonymous if he wants to marry royalty."

Jackpot! At least, so long as this wasn't an elaborate ruse – but the truth would out soon enough if this didn't hold water. She wasn't the type to publish on one man's word alone; there would be a lot of research and hopefully an interview or two before she went anywhere with that.

"That does seem like a necessary step," she acknowledged cooly. She might be a goddamn maelstrom under her skin right now, but he didn't need to know that. "I don't suppose there's an option number three on the table, where I accept your invitation for all of the above?" Again, he didn't seem the type to restrict access, but better to clarify. For all that she had researched him and written what was essentially an abbreviated biography on the man, people could surprise you.

She would pick if she had to – though at this exact moment, she wasn't sure which. She might need to write out a list of pros and cons. But between either option and the facts Rubato was feeding her?

"I don't see why you can't have your cake and eat it too," the man returned agreeably. "If you give me your email, I'll send along the paperwork and details for your pass. And if you've got a pen handy, I'll give you my personal number now that it's online again. I'd rather you didn't clutter it, I prefer email, but it's good to have if any issues come up."

"That sounds excellent," she decided, snatching up a pen. "You first."

It took another minute to exchange contact info, and goodbyes went quickly enough… and she found herself staring up in dismay at the clock, realizing that not even ten minutes had passed.

Less than ten minutes, for her world to go topsy turvy again – and in all the best ways. Rearranging her overarching plans for the next week would take a bit of finagling, but… she felt confident that she could maintain both pipelines.

She liked Ardith, and she liked what work had been implied thus far. She was very interested. But she also liked to stack her deck when possible, and for all that the man might be annoyed when he found out she'd run after a bigger story, he would also get over it. And anyway, the last time she'd done that, he'd only wanted to snuggle in closer.

Rubato and the princess are already negotiating secrets, with the Insurgence an unspoken elephant in the room while no one trusts each other enough to make waves. RLTT is actively trying to seduce Stanton into a stronger alliance. Mitchell and Relena both know that Stanton founded Rubato and have pointedly made friendly overtures.

And now Mitchell is claiming a personal connection to RLTT… and also claiming that the man behind RLTT is Relena's mysterious fiancé.

…There were entirely too many Rs in that mix. But aside from the consonance, that last statement clicked in neatly for both logic and completion. It could still be a bogus feint, but the possibility was very interesting, and the proof could very well be in Berlin.

…Fuck, but housing was going to cost her an arm and a leg at this point; she might have to suck up the extra hours and commute all the way out from freaking Potsdam. This was the opportunity of a lifetime.

If I get Josey on board, it'll be cheaper. She usually wanted Josey along for the ride for anything with major travel to it anyway, both for security and to man a camera, if the occasion was right. Shel preferred most of her work to be written, but she wasn't half bad at the reporter on scene schtick when needed. And she could probably get the company to foot the bill for lodging, if she did at least half of this under the company's title. Her boss was cool with letting her freelance when the urge took her, but the Strike Force negotiations were a hell of a big ticket. Karter Danser's agency, while technically international in its scope, was far from being the big kid on the playground.

This… could be more than just Rachelle's big break.

Not bothering to pack up her things – she was going to be here late after that conversation – she stood and headed for Karter's office. If she wasn't still in, then Shel had a few phone calls to make.

oOo

April 26th 199 – Sunday – Space, L2 Sigma Quadrant – Secondary Site

"Oh, hey! Jack, right?"

Jack turned back, about to go left from the rec space and found… the blonde intern that had 'adopted' his son on the last visit. What was his name? "Hey." The irrational annoyance he felt for the boy faded a little in the face of how uncollected the young engineer looked – a bit sallow, and definitely nervous, when he'd been all smooth confidence before.

The fact that Odin happily let everyone but him claim him as family at the drop of a hat still stung a bit, but it was hardly this punk's fault. And, well… they were working on that.

The kid made some kind of nonsense gesture with one hand low, wrist clasped in his other hand – precise enough that it looked like something for the deaf, but also foreign to Jack and looking entirely absentminded, even reflexive. "I wanted to…" He made a face. "I only got the barebones," he announced apropos of nothing. "I'm mostly out of the loop up here. But whatever was going on physically, Rhett would have been lost to that crowd. So I wanted to thank you, and see if you knew how he was doing." Then he grimaced again. "If he didn't just, like, vanish into the ether as soon as the crisis was over, in which case we're going to have to start checking coed parties or something. His phone is still off, which means he lost it again, and while Aunt Lily told everyone he was fine, she also buried him up to his neck in sand once in an effort not to lose him, he drives her up the wall half the time, and-"

He said more, but Jack was no longer listening as the pieces clicked together. Odin had said something about an intern's cousin, but he'd more or less dismissed it as the least important part of the conversation. Cousins. And since the empath had insisted on coming to the hospital with Relena after Jake was safely ensconced in the ICU, he'd gotten a little more background.

They… looked nothing alike. Well, almost nothing. The line of the nose was probably the same, at least for the most part, but Rhett was the epitome of the Columbian buccaneers he'd briefly run with in his youth except with far more of a tan – as difficult to pin an actual ethnicity on as Mailin, if only because Jack could see at least five possibilities. This one was significantly taller, fair and blonde, lanky while the kid in Germany had been more solid and compact – muscular, for all that it had quickly become obvious that it was all from sport and he had no idea how to even throw a punch. They both had brown eyes, but they weren't an obviously related shade.

More importantly, though, Cassidy had confirmed that Rhett was a Winner. The little shit had been very quick to point out that no he wasn't, because 'my mom ditched that name long before it went out of style' but he was part of the brood. Not the inheriting line, but-

He looked around to be sure, but it was off hours and no one was nearby to eavesdrop. Still, he took two quick steps closer before quietly demanding, "You're Winner?"

The kid's mouth twisted. "Cavanaugh," he corrected. "My mom used the last name McCall for years before she got with my dad, same as Aunt Jolene went by Ellwood before she met Rhett's dad. Only the first three daughters finished childhood under the name Winner, even before the family break-up." He shrugged. "I was two when my uncle was born; Rhett wasn't even two months old. Everyone's broods lived by degrees of separation for as long as I can remember, though the Stahls are… some of the most free spirited."

Jack snorted. "That's a word for it."

The boy grinned. "Rhett's the worst of the lot, but little Tavi isn't shaping up to be much calmer; her empathy is just as off kilter too. I think my aunt is mostly taking solace in how Anelisa and Irina came out mostly normal, but Uncle Ced thrives on the chaos. Last I heard, he was busy playing granddad to the passel of orphans Tamelia adopted post-Fall and is reveling in it." His smile turned a little bit sad. "Makes me wonder how different things could have been if my granddad was a bit more like him. The way my aunts talk, as pissed as he was when Zayeed broke up the family? He was thrilled to suddenly gain three daughters out of the deal, even if Camille and Tamelia insisted they were too old for adoption. He's still the 'dad,' you know?" He shrugged. "And I love my dad to pieces too, even when he drives me crazy." He reached up and touched one earring, looking a little chagrined. "He would have been pissed if he knew how bad I was when I got here. He can be a ball of stress, but mostly because he's trying to look out for me." He met Jack's gaze again and shrugged. "We can't all be like Rhett – I can't just 'ride the wave.' I was trying to tough it out, but… before Odin helped me out, I was probably going to have to give up my spot. Too many people died here. It hurts."

Another piece of the puzzle clicked together, even as he felt like he was missing something – he hadn't realized this one was an empath too… and that earring looked just like Odin's. Which… didn't really explain much, but was a starting point? "He gave you that?"

The boy looked bemused, but nodded. "And a few other things – I'm one of only six space hearts that only interact through inanimate objects. Put us in the right conditions and most can do a bit of the normal version, but…" He shrugged. "There's a reason my dad tries to wrap me up in cotton wool, given a chance. Traveling has always been risky, but suddenly I, like… just have a cure, and he didn't want to make a thing of it. So…" He shrugged again. "Even if Odin wasn't my boss, I'd still owe him. And from what he said, I'm not the first space heart he's helped out. I don't know how he is in real-time, but based on his imprint? He's one hell of an empathic ground."

Something else clicked. "You're why Rhett was in Berlin," Jack realized.

Cavanaugh held out both hands in a defensive gesture. "I signed, like, five NDAs," he protested. "All I said is that there was someone he might find interesting that lived part-time in Berlin. In retrospect, I should have known better, but I thought that meant he'd bug me for the next few months until I found an opportunity to mention someone maybe asking for help – not that he'd chase it down with both hands. He's been living in a tent on a beach for the last year. He's not… No one tracks Rhett's mind, okay? It's half the reason his blog is so popular. He's basically a celebrity in the empath community, and he does just about everything you might imagine a movie star might get up to. He has… no brakes." He took in a sharp breath through his nose. "Try not to judge the rest of us by him. I love my cousins, but he's…"

"A bit touched?" Jack offered.

"I feel bad for saying this, but yes," Cavanaugh agreed, looking relieved and chagrined at the same time. "He's okay? Aunt Lily wouldn't lie, exactly, but she's not exactly… a patient person."

He still hadn't ever met this infamous Delilah that sometimes went by Lily, but sure, whatever. "Last I heard, he was trying to camp out in my older son's hospital room," he admitted. "Which is being encouraged since he's the one who caught the sniper, but when asked, just said something about playing with volume." He was mostly sure that was a reference to what the kid had been going on about when insisting that he and Jake were both 'loud,' but Cassidy had been entirely bemused when he relayed it. He debated, then shrugged. "I have no idea whether or not he'll still be there when we go to visit, but it's a possibility." In theory, they were heading home tomorrow, and Jake still wasn't slated to be released until Wednesday at the soonest.

Most of the nervous tension fell out of Cavanaugh at that, and he offered Jack a relieved smile. "Okay, cool. Thank-you." Then he bit his lip, looking hesitant. "He seems… Calmer, since you got here."

It was Jack's turn to grimace this time. "He started sleeping again," he corrected. "It does wonders."

"Sure, but… you know, he's smiling again. He and the other big-wigs are still mostly focused on their side-project that's classified up the wazoo, but… Like, either it's you showing up, or it's going really well over there?" He shrugged. "Maybe both? We're all pulling long hours with the new demands coming down from the Regime, but he's way more relaxed than even before he started to buckle down last week."

Jack gave the kid a skeptical look, but shrugged instead of arguing the point. Whatever Audi had been up in arms about had been going on since the end of March at least, and so far as he could tell, Odin was the same as before he'd left for space last week.

Or, well… as good as he was before Hilde Schbeiker invaded his house. Not that Jack had particularly minded her, but Odin seemed to think she was the most annoying person in existence – even while he laughed at her jokes and she was still enough of a friend that she had free leave to crash on his couch whenever. Or the guestroom Adam had laid claim to, at least. Because that was apparently happening. Though the whole Canada thing was still defying all explanation. He'd even tried to ask Odin about that again, but his son had just shrugged and given some line about not holding his breath over it.

…Actually, the fact that she was apparently Kasey's ex explained a lot of their interaction. She had the same manic energy as the Dutchman, without any of the comfort the boys somehow took from each other's personal space – he didn't remember the word Anne had used anymore.

"Anyway, like I said, thanks. Rhett has no problem hiding from predators, but a crowd turning on him is one of his worst nightmares. The last time he was somewhere public when a happy event turned ugly, he wouldn't talk for five days, and I'm guessing that didn't happen because he grabbed onto you. So… I'm sorry if he did anything embarrassing, but seriously. Thank-you."

"It… really wasn't a big deal," Jack decided, starting to feel a bit awkward. "He seemed like a sweet kid. If I see him, I'll let him know you've been trying to get in touch."

Cavanaugh tipped his head to one side, looking… slightly cynical, but mostly intrigued. "Most people don't like being Pushed."

The capital in the word came through loud and clear, but Jack just rolled his eyes. "It was benign," he pointed out. "And that shit's temporary anyway." It didn't feel appropriate to point out that Cat made Rhett look about as harmless as a newborn kitten. He got the feeling that Cat hadn't been registered, since it was a voluntary 'for science!' kind of thing, and…

Well, both his kids were anti-Regime at this point, and he wasn't going to be talking about any information that might give up valuable intelligence – especially since technically, anything his boys and their friends were doing might very well count as some kind of treason.

Whatever Odin had behind closed doors up here? Classified or whatever they wanted to call it, he felt reasonably sure it was something for the Insurgence, not the Regime.

And he was not telling a goddamn soul.

Cavanaugh was still eyeing him thoughtfully, but with less cynicism this time. "Huh."

He rolled his eyes. "What?"

The kid smirked. "Nothing, just… nature over nurture, huh? When I hear back from Rhett, I'm asking him what you Millers feel like too. I'm always on a hell of a time lapse, and even then, I pick up the average. Call me curious."

Jack rolled his eyes. Whatever. Rhett was a nice enough brat that maybe he'd get something better than 'a volcano' this time. "You do that," he decided, and turned back around to head to the commissary. He'd extracted a promise from his son to eat at regular times again, which he'd mostly held to – made easier by the fact that despite Odin's misgivings, apparently the other engineers had done swimmingly when he finally removed himself from the damn construction bay. "Catch you later, Cavanaugh."

"It's Tay!"

"Catch you later, Tay," he repeated in the same tone without looking back, and smirked when the empath laughed good-naturedly. Maybe it was a young friendship yet, but that one didn't seem like a bad friend to have.

Bonus points for the fact that the Winners were definitely not pro-Regime. The Soleil end of things was fuzzy, but this wasn't a bad start, especially since 'Aunt Lily' was in Jake's camp. That might even make for some neat overlying crossroads down the line. But for now?

Junior's camp was way more vulnerable than Jake's and far more cautious for it. His oldest could stand to earn the trust the old-fashioned way – it would make for a better foundation. In the meanwhile, he would just be content with far less stress.

oOo

April 27th 199 – Monday – Canada

Hilde eyed the digital map layout for a long moment before turning and looking at him. "You're kidding."

It would probably be easier to answer that question if he knew exactly which part of this endeavor she was questioning, so Adam just grinned and gestured back at the map. "That's what I've got."

"I thought you said you've been at this for a while now," she insisted. "And this is helter skelter as fuck! What have you even been doing?"

He blinked a few times, trying to… Oh. Tapping a few buttons he pulled up the second overlay and added it – he'd been trying to show her what was finished, not the overall scope.

She kept up the level look. "And this is…?"

"Blue is where I've already canvassed," he explained. "I'm not trying to cover the entire country." He tapped another filter to increase transparency so that the areas that overlapped shone purple, which… I should have started with this. The red versus blue made everything much clearer.

She still looked unimpressed. "Okay… why did you choose these areas, exactly?"

He refused to grimace. "There are no records," he insisted. "I tried to find those first, but Tsubarov's originals are all either gone or in the Regime's safekeeping, and the American offices I tried had already been ransacked." Whether by looters looking for anything of value to sell or burn as fuel or by Regime staff erasing all possible paper trails, it was hard to say.

"So, what, you picked places based on geographic likelihood?" When he give her a dirty look, Hilde rolled her eyes. "Okay, what, then? I'm in the dark here. My next suggestion is a map on the wall and darts, seriously."

"I have better grouping than that," he pointed out dryly. His sister was a professional, and demanded certain standards.

He also hadn't been able to let Mariemaia be better than him at it. He had standards.

"Blindfolded dart throwing, then," she suggested with a smirk.

"Still better grouping."

"I could spin you around a few times first."

Now he was getting distracted. "If I still get a bullseye on three out of five, do I get a prize?"

The spark in her eyes and sly smirk said he just might, but what she said was, "We did that already. Focus."

Mm, it had been a fun couple of weeks. First at Odin's, then at the abandoned old lodge with natural hot springs he'd found on his second run through here. He would have thought the place would be occupied, but on second guess, the surrounding area was too much of a frozen wasteland for someone to have turned it into their outpost; not enough hunting or farmability to make it sustainable. It had been a nice place to help Hilde reset her brain, especially after the story about Heero had made her even more awkward around Jack than she'd started.

And he'd certainly enjoyed recalibrating her expectations. But part of the agreement for the hot spring getaway was that she help him for a couple weeks in turn, because it was cold and miserable out here, and while it had been uneventful so far, he was going to need backup when he finally found a factory. If it had happened while he had Marie with him, he would've had to walk and come back later, but with Hilde, they could at least scout it.

…Marie might have been able to scout just fine, if from a defended position. He wasn't sure if Odin would string him up for it or not, though, so he'd decided to put off the decision until it was relevant, and in the end he hadn't had to consider it. Which… given how edgy Odin had been lately, was probably a good thing.

He wasn't exactly… surprised about the article? Like, it was shitty but… honestly explained a lot. Like…. At least a third of the guy's neuroses. …Or just a quarter?

…Which actually wasn't all that much. Hm.

Oh well. Odin was just… Odin. He was probably annoyed that people were making a big deal about it.

Focus. "Doll development was just as touchy a subject before they were introduced as a mainstream option as they were after Libra," he explained. "And while a few suit assembly lines in Africa got altered to make them after Treize threw his hissy fit, the majority of Tsubarov's R was done out here. All of the first waves of dolls we saw in the war came out of Canada, for all that the sites themselves were classified. Tsubarov had permission to pursue the line of thinking from the Alliance higher ups, so satellite surveillance wasn't an issue, but they were all intentionally in the middle of nowhere."

Hilde just tapped a finger on her thigh, nodding even as she pointedly drawled out, "Canada."

Adam rolled his eyes. "Most of Canada was never considered habitable," he pointed out. "It's only gotten worse. Point is, before Tsubarov and Une butted heads, especially after he came up to the lunar base and started heckling her over every difference of opinion."

"Une was a nasty bitch," Hilde reminded him bluntly.

He felt an urge to point out that, while both of them had technically worked under Colonel Une, he was at least mostly sure he'd only done so as a cover – Hilde had gotten swept up in the woman's propaganda.

Bad idea. He was trying to finish his point. "Anyway, the point is that they played nice on the surface, but hated each other's guts and were diametrically opposed on every point but base cruelty. So while they told Romefeller that everything was great, they were also running some major corporate-style espionage on each other, and there was this map-"

"Oh, fucking hell," Hilde spluttered. "We're trying to recreate something based on your memory?"

"My memory is hit or miss, not patently faulty," Adam protested.

"You've been canvassing some serious acreage for months now, and you're telling me-"

"The map wasn't exact or complete, just areas Une thought Tsubarov had interests in," he argued. "And I've found two doll factories, but one was decommissioned due to what looked like structural damage, and the other was picked clean of all supplies." He shook his head. "I found what was left of a town that wasn't on any of the old maps, that might've served as a base for personnel working on his projects." He wasn't completely empty-handed, he just hadn't found what he was actually looking for yet.

And the small but empty assembly line that looked barren made him really think he was getting close to one that was in use. It was too neatly done; definitely not by vandals.

"Anyway, after what I've already been through, I think our next best bet is here." He gestured at the area he wanted to focus this trip.

"Joy."

He threw her a sideways look. "I explained what this was going to be before you agreed to come," he reminded her.

She shrugged, but her smirk was definitely amused, which… Oh. "You just told me to focus," he pointed out. Not that he was adverse, but-

Hilde shrugged again, breezily announced, "Phrasing," and came closer to rest her hands on the edge of the display table and peer closer at it. "Which end did you want to start at?"

Adam watched her for a moment longer, but… no, she was actually trying this time. Looking back to the display, he tapped a different tab to bring up a more topographical map of the area. "Here's what I was thinking, at least to start with."

oOo

April 28th 199 – Tuesday – Southern Sudan – Blue Nile Base

"And that's a wrap," Lucrezia decided, hands on her hips. "Everyone that I pulled aside, I want you in the sims for at least two hours in the morning, ideally three. We need to get this ironed out. Otherwise, good job today! Get some rest! See you again for more war games at 1100 tomorrow."

She waited until the last stragglers had left before relaxing her posture and giving into the urge to wipe sweat-slick hair back out of her face. She'd been in a near-life cockpit simulator for… fuck, it was after eight. Almost ten hours. Not all of it had been active 'battle' per se and she'd grabbed a sandwich at some point, but the time added up, as did the heat of a small space.

Her gundam would have better environmental controls – but she really hoped she never needed to sit in the cockpit for nine hours straight.

She needed a bath, a muscle relaxer, and some decent sleep. She'd been staging her pilots through the war games in tiers, back to back classes going over drills and tactics, letting them have an hour or two out before cycling back in, trying to polish out their rough spots. And they were a good set down here, but they needed to be able to work together with more synchronicity… So maybe it was just as well that Odin hadn't made another peep in the last nine days.

She couldn't even blame him – she was doing the same shit, just with a better veneer. She had seriously debated blowing her fucking cover last week. But unlike in Amsterdam, there was actual security in the public spaces of Berlin right now, and she didn't even know which hospital Jake had been taken to. The city had two level one trauma centers, and given how severe Noventa's case had looked, they might have sent an ambulance to each. Maybe if she'd been home she would have had a chance at gauging it, but…

She hadn't heard about what happened until hours later, and she'd been in southern France – with Audi. And even if she'd been okay with the idea of taking the girl straight back to the house and running reconnaissance, there was a decent chance that she might take every risk only to find out he'd already been transferred out, and… She hated it, but there hadn't been any fucking point, and trying would have carried an extremely high risk of exposing herself for zero gain. The broadcast that clued her in had been of a red-eyed, visibly angry Relena informing a reporter that no, there had been no fatalities, so…

She was so sick of this cloak and dagger shit. It had been fun for a while, but had long since gone stale. She wanted her family back, she wanted to stop doing the long distance relationship shit, she wanted to not have restrictions on when she could go home because Odin was…

Odin was picking up the pieces of his shattered life with both hands and frantically trying to figure out how to stitch them back into a whole. He'd told her that she was probably the only thing he didn't second-guess anymore, and she was game for being an anchor while he figured himself out. She knew he was trying, there was just…. a lot going on right now.

And he kept putting his own fucking health, mental or otherwise, on the backburner in order to finish shit they needed for the war effort, so she wasn't going to piss all over the shitty situation with the biodad just because she was stressed out. The fact that she'd only just realized this habit of putting himself at the bottom of every priority list wasn't a new habit didn't make it any less real of an issue. Whether or not he'd wanted to explain what had happened to him in 194, everyone and their fucking cousin's cousin knew now, and… Honestly? Even if he'd been trying to save her feelings over that last brief phone call, and was truthfully an utter wreck? He was still pulling off functional, which was far better than she'd done over realizing her longtime crush was a genocidal sociopath.

So he could have whatever he needed, and everyone else could just deal – including her.

She needed a bath, a muscle relaxer, and some decent sleep. However, since Odin had correctly gauged the fact that there was a shortage of bathtubs at this base last summer, it was going to be a shower, a drink, and… probably staring at the ceiling for a while, but the sleep would hit eventually. The quality was debatable, but beggars couldn't be choosers.

Sally had offered to scribe something if she thought it would help. Lu mostly thought Sally looked like she needed a sleep aid and had said as much, but if she didn't settle her brain out soon she might have to rescind the snarky response.

Her best friend kept blaming herself for missing it; something about his scans from that first time the two of them had met. Apparently she thought he'd been through the ringer, but she'd thought it had been, like, two or three major traumas with high Remalene doses over the last year with minimal recovery time between, not…

Trying to convince a sobbing physician that she shouldn't feel bad for not jumping to the conclusion of 'chronic torture with significant intent towards body modification' hadn't really gotten anywhere. They'd both just ended up crying. And drinking. And crying some more. And sharing another bottle. Then being hungover as hell because they kept fucking bursting out into tears again.

Sally was an amazing friend, but they really needed to never sink to that low again. They enabled the shit out of each other.

…God, but I really hope there's never something to be that sad about again. Not in the same way, at least. Grief was a different sort of bitch that always waited in the wings no matter what, and…

She missed him. But damn it, there was a reason he was up in space right now anyway, and if she wanted to see her family before June, it had to get done. If the East was getting bold enough to plan out tricky assassinations, the tide was truly closing in, and they needed the gundams.

He had promised he would be back in time for their date. That was enough.

She unlocked the door to her room and headed straight for the attached bathroom to turn on the shower before pulling her shirt and bra off with a few jerky motions. Pants went next… and she groaned when all the shit she had in her pockets spilled everywhere. Damn it.

There was a part of her that seriously debated leaving it all on the floor to figure out later. But then everything would be damp, and the water wasn't warm yet anyway – she wanted some steam. So she shoved the nozzle to full heat and stooped to gather everything up in a bundle before taking two steps back… into…

Odin was standing near the door, like he'd either just come in or been standing out of sight the whole time, looking bemused.

Well, then. That was a nice surprise.

She smirked at him, feeling mischievous, and watched his eyes dilate in response… and dropped the pile of clothes on the floor to stride back into the bathroom.

oOo

The shower was fantastic.

Curled up in bed now, sated and limbs feeling impossibly heavy, Odin pressed his nose to Lucrezia's skin and just breathed…

This was the same. He had hoped it would be, had mostly believed it would be – but with the way Howard's people had changed after the news came in? After Audi ripped into him to help him sort the pieces out so he felt less empty…

There was something deeply reassuring about the way Lucrezia just smiled and reeled him into oblivion. Something utterly fulfilling in the trust she still offered up without hesitation, in the surrender and pleasure and sheer satisfaction he felt every time she… Mm.

He had half a mind to see how long he could keep her on that edge, just making those damn sounds. She was always so impatient, he'd probably have to tie her down, but she'd been enthusiastic enough about that so far that it was definitely worth a try.

He tightened his arms around her, pressing his mouth to the side of her neck with a hum. He was utterly exhausted and had been since before she'd waltzed away in nothing but her underwear, but they would have all Saturday to themselves. And in the meantime…

In the meantime, the comfort of this wasn't about the sex. Not really. That had sated something and made him let go a little more, had chewed away the rest of the nervous energy haunting her form, but this… It was so much more than that.

Lucrezia hummed back in a happy way and tried to wriggle closer – she couldn't, there was no space left to find, but it felt nice anyway and he appreciated the sentiment, and… this. This contentment, this unassuming trust, was what he wanted for the rest of their lives. "I love you."

Still inadequate, but she still preferred that phrase over anything else he'd come up with.

The ring wouldn't be back in the shop until Thursday – though the jeweler had sent him in process images when he made a nuisance of himself, and at this point it was just the final curing process of the nanocoating causing the delay. If he'd been able to pick it up any sooner, he would have gone home with Jack and Audi and gathered everything he needed so they could just head to Budapest from here. He'd considered calling her and just trying to talk once he had a more reliable connection and privacy – it would have been the more efficient option, to be sure. But…

In the end, it had been very simple. He'd informed Marie that yes, he was ditching her intentionally, and asked her to mind Jack and please stay in the house while the city had so much foreign traffic. Then he'd taken a separate shuttle down from Sigma to drop directly to Africa instead of Europe. Because he'd wanted to.

She had whooped cheerfully and made flappy hand motions for him to get lost, so he figured it was fine.

Lucrezia turned in his arms to face him and smiled brilliantly, pulling him into a brief kiss before returning the phrase. "I love you too." Then she laid her head on his arm and watched him for a long, thoughtful moment before admitting, "You look better than I had worried."

He was fairly certain that if Jack ever got bored of security work, he could be some kind of fitness supervisor or life coach. He wasn't sure he'd ever eaten so regularly or had such a balanced diet as these last few days – though based on some of the flak Marie had given him, he likely deserved the treatment. But there was also…

Maybe he had been stupid or closed-minded, after the sector collapse in 194. He'd certainly been depressed, those days before the retraining began. When he'd been able to think at all, he'd been scrabbling for a way to balance the debt of innocent lives and failing before spiraling back down into the dark. But at the same time?

J had always kept a closed system, his own security within whatever bounds the Barton Foundation offered. He'd been letting Odin design and run the details of it for years by the time that mission came around, adding intricacies and redundancies for practice if nothing else, something to fiddle with when he got bored. He had always adhered to his father's rules about no photography, even for records, and J hadn't minded. And there had been no breach of their loop; it was a boundary that the Bartons had accepted in the face of their results.

The day of that collapse, when they'd had to take the dog away and drag him out of the ruins? That would have been the first time Dekim ever saw him, instead of reading a statistical report. If what Jack said was true, and the man certainly seemed confident…

The retraining had never been about him. Not really.

The realization was as liberating as it was devastating.

He still had no fucking idea how to feel about it.

But if it had never been about him, then… it had just been Dekim playing the part of a cruel god from one of those garbage old literature books he was working his way through. Arbitrary violence on a convenient target, not…

He had fucked up on L3-X18999. But the retraining hadn't happened because of that.

Which meant it really wasn't his fault.

If Dekim Barton had been such a threat as Jack seemed to believe, then even if Odin had wanted to die? Why hadn't he at least been sure to take the sadist with him?

Having been that far gone himself, he felt that that line of priority really should have been within his father's capabilities.

He still couldn't decide if it was better or worse, to think of it as something that had been done to him, rather than a brutality he had been part of. He'd realized he hadn't deserved it a while ago, but this… felt different. A victim, instead of a participant. It didn't change anything, but… he was quickly discovering that it somehow made it all easier to conceptualize?

Marie had wasted no time in putting herself in his shoes, demanding to know if, had she been a Wing candidate and it had happened to her, if he would think it was her fault – and he had wanted to scream. Because he was so glad Marie showed little interest in suits, she…

Marie would have made a damn good candidate, if they were the same age. And her insistence that there was no innate difference in how either of them might be was treated was… horrifying. Logical, and it didn't feel the same, but no, even if she had caused the same sector collapse, she wouldn't…

If he didn't want that to ever happen to anyone, didn't think anyone deserved it, then that had to include him too. It just… hurt more to think about it that way than it did to just accept it.

…Emotions were stupid. It still felt like it was his own fucking fault, even if it had been wrong. So while he'd agreed that blaming himself for the retraining was wrong, he'd mostly done it because it made sense despite his lack of belief, and tried to at least stop fixating on it. Sometimes he needed to just… let something sit in the back of his mind for a while before he could deal with it. He was allowed to sit on the fence and acknowledge both arguments for as long as he wanted before making a decision. He needed that space. It was why, more and more, he wasn't sure he could ever take orders again. It just got too cluttered, he couldn't prioritize with… it didn't…

It just wasn't safe for him. He'd tried to explain to Lucrezia a while ago how he needed to avoid certain ways of thinking, of trusting someone more than his own mind, of letting something fester into regret. They led down dangerous paths that he didn't want anymore. He liked the connections he'd made, the stupid silly things he'd picked up or figured out just because he could, instead of for any reason, and…

He could love his father and think he was shit at the job at the same time. Life was full of contradictory truths, especially when it came to emotions and relationships. If he could miss his father and want to scream at him at the same time, he was pretty sure he was allowed to blame himself for the retraining while acknowledging it was a grossly inaccurate summation of what had happened. These things just happened sometimes. It was complicated, and the longer he sat on emotions, generally speaking, the more sense they made when he tried to acknowledge them again, so… He'd figured it was fine.

He probably would have been content to continue sitting on that fence for a damn long time if Jack hadn't gone and… set the whole thing on fire. And cried over the ashes.

Now he couldn't quite figure out what he was feeling about the retraining at all, but it wasn't grossly negative, so…

His life was really fucking weird right now.

"I think," he decided after a long minute – a minute where Lucrezia just waited patiently, which was so… He paused to take a quick kiss in thanks. "I think I might be better than I have in a long time."

He was a fucking mess. But he also felt pretty good. It was a new balance that he didn't even vaguely understand just yet, but… maybe an improvement?

He was mostly sure he wasn't going to lose Jack after all. Not that he was eager to explore that, he'd seen how much he had said sunk in like a knife, and this new flavor of bond was all sorts of fascinating that he didn't know how to define let alone stress, but… He thought it would hold? It was nice to have Jack not treat him any differently or give him weird looks the way Howard's team at Sigma and a fair number of the people he'd run into on his way to Lucrezia's room had. It would happen eventually, but maybe spreading some of his crap out would just… mellow it, a bit?

If it didn't, then the only consequence was a couple more weeks of guilt-free time before the next blow.

And if he wasn't losing Jack, then maybe…?

When he tried to focus too much on his brother, though, he either wanted to start laughing again or just… lie on the floor and stare at the ceiling to acclimate. And the last time he'd done that, he'd been there for hours.

Marie had been surprisingly cool about it, and joined in. Jack had been less so, but by the time he found them, his thoughts had mostly started to make sense again, so he hadn't bothered to explain.

He hadn't bothered trying to normalize anything with Howard's team after Marie came beyond being thrilled that the prototype was done and they were confident about future alterations. Marie'd claimed she had handled it, and no one was avoiding him by the time he left, so… mostly back to normal there too.

Marie also wanted him to start talking to Anne – which, at this point, he didn't care, so sure.

…He wasn't looking forward to seeing Moira cry, though. Jack had been bad enough, and Jack still didn't know.

But at least he didn't have to tell Moira. As crappy as it was, he'd take that silver lining.

"You do?"

Odin felt his mouth twist. "I wasn't lying when I said the worst part was watching everyone react when I'd mention something," he reminded her, lifting a hand to brush a lock of damp hair away from her face. Shrugging a little, he added, "With it coming out the way it did, at least I never have to tell anyone about it."

That at least, truly was freeing. He was less sure about the rest, but the next time someone asked him what was wrong, he could just say a word or two and they'd stop bothering him.

Very convenient.

Lucrezia started to snicker, seemingly in spite of herself. "Odin, no. That's not how that works."

"It's a working hypothesis," he argued, grinning back. "We'll see."

"That's not healthy!" she protested, for all that there was still amusement shining in her eyes.

He blinked, realizing- "I didn't mean never talk about it." He understood the basics of therapy, he'd done at least the beginning of it with Leia. "I just mean that… everyone already knows. I don't have to explain it." He'd wanted Leia back so fiercely these past months because he didn't want to hurt someone new with everything that was him, didn't like seeing the joy leech out of their eyes, not… If everyone already knew, that made their attitude about it not his fault, and therefore not his problem.

And Lucrezia wasn't suddenly treating him like he was broken. Which was great, because he was broken, and she probably knew it better than anyone but Marie, but she wanted him anyway and that made all the difference.

So what if maybe he'd taken the easy road by waiting out everyone freaking out about it? If he pointed that out to any of his friends, the way he had Lucrezia, he was mostly sure they'd tell him he'd earned it.

Well, everyone except Marie, but she was Marie.

He'd needed that. He'd just… forgotten why, for a little while.

Smoothing his free hand down her arm, he decided to prove the point. She had told him last week that she only read the summary, but had likely been told excerpts since – and he still had his phone off, completely avoiding the internet as a whole for now. So maybe she already knew, but maybe not, and… He gripped her around the upper arm solidly, but only applied enough pressure to get her attention instead of causing pain. "At the beginning, I still questioned things," he admitted. "J had told me it was meant to help make me better, to fix something broken in me, and I wanted that more than anything, but-" But it hadn't made sense. J had raised him after Odin to always question, to look for alternate solutions – it was how they'd stumbled their way into the alternate joint configuration. They'd question, and try something, and J would find some gap in his education and toss a book and computer program at him to tinker with until he got it, and then they'd do it again and-

"But?"

Right. "When I mouthed off, one of them would grab me here, like this," he briefly clenched a moment for emphasis, but still below her bruising threshold- "and slam my head into a wall until I stopped fighting back."

And he had fought back, at first. He'd actually grown a lot that year, he was fairly sure, because he remembered them being a lot bigger at the start than the end. But even if he'd eventually stopped talking at all beyond confirmations…

That first time, he'd given back far more than he got, even if he was concussed and insensate by the end.

They'd started finding shortcuts around his defenses, after that. Ones he was fairly sure they'd kept using even after he'd given in.

Sometimes, it was like looking back through a fog. He'd think he remembered all of it, but then something would tip off a memory, and more would flow.

He almost wanted to read the damn article himself to see what he'd missed, but… also really didn't. As twisted up as his early memories were, at least there was something to find when he tried to nail down the flaws in those. Though he'd gasped when he finally realized why the one that bothered him so much when he was teaching Marie to shoot was wrong.

His father had been behind him, guiding him, but he was also lecturing him, standing ahead and to one side, in line of sight. He'd thought it was gibberish, corrupted files tossed into a stack and melded back together the way people described dreams.

But he had been young, small, and Odin so big, back then.

And the hands bracing his own, the shoulders framing his? They were only a little bigger than his own.

He'd written his brother out of his memories somehow. Which was stupid, but emotions, so eh. Apparently that was a thing that could happen – not that that realization was at all comforting.

He wanted to see him again. In person. Maybe more of what was missing would click together, and it would stop hurting so much.

"That's why the bruises bothered you so much," Lucrezia murmured, studying his face.

"I didn't even think about it until I saw them on you," he agreed. It wasn't quite the same, Lucrezia's arm wasn't so small compared to their hands as his had been, but it had been enough to send him right back into that dissociative pit he was growing to hate – the framing he still reverted to when he got too surprised.

He made a face and tried again, because while it technically was an explanation, it wasn't where he wanted to leave it either. "I don't…" She'd made it very clear how she actively enjoyed his strength. He knew at least some of that was from what the medical team had done during the retraining, though he wasn't clear on how much – he'd seen the difference of statistics in his chart and known the increase wasn't natural, but hadn't had a solid comparison otherwise. "I don't want to be in that headspace with you," he offered after a moment of struggling to find a better way to put it. "In a battle it's fine, it makes Zero easy, and… but not with you. Not with friends. I fall into it sometimes and it's… not good." Maybe talking to Anne would give him some better words for all of this, but for now, he was trying to make a point. "Little things tip into it sometimes." All the time.

Though… less since the article had come out?

…That might have more to do with minimizing all his interactions than any actual change. Maybe.

Lucrezia hummed, reaching out a hand to run it up and down his side in a soothing motion. "I'd rather know when it happens. Whatever's going on at the time."

If he was entirely honest, he suspected one of the reasons things ran so quickly into sex between them was because nothing from that led back to the retraining. Despite the sheer physicality of it, his mind was so full of her that there were no alternate roads to brood through – even the bruising issue had been a next day problem. Even thinking about her that way usually dissolved it into nothing, because there was no room left for anything else when that particular hunger hit. "It doesn't happen very often around you."

"Then I'd like to know when it's cropped up with other people," she persisted. "Talking will help."

"I don't want to waste what time we get together on that," he negated. "There's not enough."

She managed to look pleased and exasperated at the same time. "You have to talk to someone," she argued.

Ah. "Anne is camping out at our house and telecommuting all her sessions until I show up and 'get over myself.'" Though to be fair, those were Marie's words, not Anne's. Whatever he said, Moira's daughter had decided she was his sister, and apparently that meant she and Marie could team up and conspire to entrap him when he misbehaved.

He was mostly bemused, but honestly a little curious about how exactly that was supposed to work. But he'd already agreed to talk to Anne, so he supposed that counted in their favor, even if he hadn't really fought them on the issue.

Lucrezia blinked a few times in surprise, then offered him a truly bright smile. "Oh! Okay."

He frowned. "What?"

Her grin turned a little bit silly, maybe even abashed, but stayed just as bright. "I thought you'd dig in your heels."

This seemed to be a recurring assumption. "I've had therapy before," he noted. "It got cut short, but- Almost everyone in Rubato does some form of therapy." Then he rolled his eyes, because honestly, this kept happening, and it was Lucrezia. She might actually know. "Why does everyone think I'm going to be a dick about it?" he asked, genuinely curious.

She collapsed into giggles instead of answering, tucking her face into his chest, and he found himself smiling and pulling her in tighter again, bringing the blanket higher up to cover their shoulders.

Tomorrow, he needed to head back to Berlin and finish getting everything together for Friday. He'd check in on Marie and maybe help her pick which of the higher math courses she wanted to try next, then go see his brother before he went back to Munich. After that he had the weekend to look forward to, and the rest…

He closed his eyes, glad the main light was already out in favor of the soft battery-powered lamp he'd dropped on her desk. Lucrezia didn't sleep well in full light, and he just wanted to sink into the heavy weight of his body right now and let it drag him under instead of planning when to wake. He had wanted to be here… and so he was.

He'd figure the rest out later.

oOo

Enigma

oOo

Honestly, I'd planned for more to actually happen in this chapter. But then everything kept going long, and 20-25k seems to be my sweet spot. Also, when I tried to get Odin going to visit Jake in the ICU before talking to Lu, he more or less bolted on the way in, so… Eh. Writing is a socially acceptable form of schizophrenia, seriously.

Thoughts? Lot of big emotions in this one and I probably enjoyed the funny anecdotes too much, but I get my kicks where I can. Hearing from you guys and chattering back is often the highlight of my entire month so… You know. It's nice.

Odin is just… all over the place in this one. Understandably, but still.

Happy Halloween!