After leaving the medical bay, he’d gone through an extended individual training session, a lot longer than what he followed when Shawna and Henri were involved, saving the firing range for the last, not because he didn’t want to awaken anyone (they should be up training instead of lazing about), but because it had always been the place that allowed him to focus and calm himself. He’d meant what he said to Shawna as she lay motionless in her comatose state, but that didn’t make the emotions coursing through him any easier to battle. Self-destructive tendencies don’t just vanish with the wave of a hand, regardless of what Whitley may do to people’s minds.

He returned the weapons to the armory, quickly stripping them down for cleaning, then oiling their parts, ignoring the scents riding on the surfaces of several of the work areas. He had, after all, given her access in order to assist Apex in completing the installation of several of the major defensive armaments when they had left for Argentina. The memory brought another to the surface, from long ago, which caused him to let loose a string of expletives when he spilled the gun oil all over his body. He grabbed a rag, cleaning it up and then quickly finished re-assembling the Glock.

He didn’t really want to go back to the room, so he grabbed a spare set of fatigue pants and a clean t-shirt out of the storage locker before walking down towards the nearest communal barracks shower. He turned three of them on until the steam filled the entire room, then stepped into the scalding water. William’s research teams at the Paragon Center had created an innovative de-salinization system, which, when coupled with the power node William had improved upon after seeing the one the American military had been testing, meant that there was not much chance of running out of heated fresh water at this base, one of the luxuries he never stinted on when home. Too many years of jungle, mountainous and desert terrain with no running water, let alone fresh or hot, made just this act a favorite. Lost in the moment, he let his memories take him, pleasing and sad at the same time, to how this particular bank of showers had been inaugurated.

Lost in memory has he had been, he had ignored what his altered senses had been telling him, willing his body to control itself, but some functions are beyond even the enhanced control he had over his body. Out loud, dropping into the Strine version of English of his home territory, “Giv’ me a sec, ‘n’ I’ll be right out.”

“I’ll be’n in th’ office,” and he heard the door swing open and shut again. Muttering angrily to himself he grabbed the towel off the rack, drying quickly before putting the clean clothes on, tossing the dirty clothes and wet towels in a dispensary that he knew Apex’s cleaning drones would take care of and eventually restock into the shelves, even though the shirt wasn’t fit for anything but rags anymore.

He walked barefoot back into the armoury, where she sat upon the stool where he’d been working awhile before.

Trying to keep the anger from his voice, “Did yo’ enjoy the sho’?

“It’s not like I haven’t seen those bits before,” came the smooth reply from the blond-haired woman. “Although, the tattoos are knew, and some new scars too”

“They aren’t tattoos,” he answered, before perversely letting his control drop back to when he was relaxed, allowing the scaled skin to show more fully. “I thought I was alone,” he murmured and then brought the control back up, and the scales became much more subdued once again, taking on the appearance of tattoos.

“What do you want Amelia? You’ve made it pretty clear that you want me to stay away from you and our daughter.”

She breathed deeply for what seemed forever, before replying calmly. “I may have been, well, I may have been wrong,” ignoring the snort from him, “in acting that way.”

“Fine, you’re wrong. Does that mean you are going to tell her the truth.”

“No,” she said, and he turned angrily away, before the whispered final part of the sentence struck him like a slap, “no, not yet.”

“What?” he said, emotion coursing through him and the word like an explosive shot, as he gripped the steel table in front of him, crushing the metal like paper.

“Look, Brett, its been a rough few days…..” and she paused again, looking up at his bright blue eyes, with the weird tinge of yellow and brown creeping into them. “You can’t expect miracles, I…..we…..she…..didn’t ask for any of this to happen.”

“And I did? I asked for this? I asked to be…..betrayed? To be lied to?” the pain and anger crackling through his voice, the s’s lingering with sibiliance.

“No, damn it, that’s not what I meant.” She sighed angrily. “Look, I’m trying to say I’m sorry for the last few days.”

He snorted again, “For the last few days,” he repeated incredulously, ripping his hands through his sandy hair.

“Yes……look, we can’t, I can’t…. fix the last fourteen years…..but, I’m beginning to, well, realize, the sacrifices you made to rescue her, to protect her…..to protect……us.”

“The sacrifices……,” he stopped, breathing deeply, memories and pain shuddering through him, years of what ifs flashing through his minds in seconds. “Well, some of us have sacrificed more than others,” he replied bitterly.

For just a moment, anger flashed through her beautiful brown eyes, and she started to reply, before she breathed deeply as well, then started again. “Look, I’m sorry for how I have acted in the last week since you showed up in Port Hedland. I didn’t know…..everything. Maybe I should have done things differently, maybe we should have. I don’t know right now. Things have changed so….abruptly. For me….for you…..for Olivia. Right or wrong, Dryce is the only father she has ever known, and she needs time to adapt to everything.”

His body shook as if being hit by bullet after bullet with her statements and she could see the pain in the eyes of the man she had once loved more than anything and she stood up, crossing the room slowly as if approaching a wounded, rabid animal.

“But,” she continued, “maybe she could get to know you…so that when we do tell her, its not as much of a shock,” and she reached out cautiously, placing one hand over the top of his hand that had crumpled the steel desk.

His body shook with tremors of emotion as years of pain and loss flowed through him…..”When we tell her?” he repeated cautiously, hope and pain and, maybe, terror, coloring his voice.

“Yes, when we tell her,” she repeated. “Let’s start with tonight. Come to dinner with us, just the three of us. Let’s go somewhere off the base. But no Staff Sergeant Anderson….no Ghost Venom…….just Amelia and Olivia and…..Brett.”

He just stared at her…..before nodding in agreement.

“Good, then, we can leave at 6? You will pick a place she will enjoy?”

He nodded again. “Great, we’ll be ready to go.” Then she walked out the armory door.

It was thirty minutes later before Brett felt in control enough to walk out the same door.