It was always the same……It was always different.
Sitting in the pilot’s seat, he didn’t need to, not really. It was obvious William didn’t want to allow him to pilot Alliance Two, always issuing orders over whatever weird internal communications link he had, even if Brett was actively engaged in a maneuver. It was annoying at times, well all the time, but there was little to be done about it. He could get up and go into the back….but then he’d really only have time to think, and he could do plenty of that up here, or overnight, or….it wasn’t difficult to find items to obsess about when he didn’t have anything to do, and when you can’t really sleep, nor need to much, it…..got lonely. No matter who you might be with.
If he got up from the pilot’s seat, he’d need to go in the back, and there was only one person he wanted to sit near, and then that might ruin the little bit of balance that he’d gotten back today.
“Team assignments,” Silver Spyder started to say, as Alliance Two hovered over the isolated village which sat atop the secrect bunker complex in Algeria, “first, my favorite combat duo,” and he looked out of the corner of his eye at me. I didn’t say anything, but I froze as the surge of adrenaline and hope coursed through me, “Ghost Venom and Gleam Shimmer, take the west side of the village….” and I waited for the sarcasm or whine from her to indicate her frustration, but instead her faceplate slid shut, before she stepped up behind me, sliding her armored hands under my armpits, and took off.
I’d been so….happy….to finally have our team back together, that I let some of those militant Islamist bastards get under my skin, getting shot, which hurt, but didn’t really damage me through the skin. Ultimately, it didn’t matter, we were partners and, finally, maybe…..we could be partners again.
The rest of the misssion didn’t really matter…….we saved the world again….or at least a few hundred million.
If the team had been flying commercial, it would have taken fourteen hours to get back from Algeria to Tempest Point. As it was, they did it in a little over four hours, and only at that because Brett kept Alliance Two to a lower cruising speed to avoid broadcasting its presence to every military unit across the globe, cloaking abilities or not.
More importantly, he didn’t get out of the pilot’s seat and go back and make things awkward, like he very much wanted to. No matter how much time passed, and no matter anything else, no matter who else, no psychiatric mantra, he ached for her presence.
One step at a time.
The team split in half a different directions after a quick agreement to meet again in the morning. For just a second he watched her walk in the direction they used to walk together, before heading toward his newly finished home.
As he walked through the door, the sounds of a highly revved motorcyle came from the small living room his daughter had also claimed for video games when she didn’t want to play in her room or with her uncle in the main base recreational room.
Even though she was engrossed in the screen, watching some sort of motorcross race, she turned briefly, before smiling, “Hey, Dad, how’d it go?” as she slid over slightly on the couch.
He flopped gracefully down beside her, “Oh, ya know, stopped the nukes, blew up some sort of massive mechanical spider thing, shot some terrorists, the usual.”
She didn’t react at all to his humorous recounting.
“Cool. Watch this…..” and she pointed at a brightly clad racer in yellow.
They sat and watched for a couple minutes before the same rider crossed the finish line ahead of the next pack by a good twenty meters.
As Livy hit the remote, telling the DVR to play from the beginning, he asked, “Who’s the bloody bloomin’ banana?”
“Tony Takata. He’s the top 16U open racer from Texas.” 
She paused a second, “He’s kind of hot…..” with a small stutter, she continued, “hot on the circuit right now. He’ll be at the Southwest Championships next week here in San Diego. I’m studying his moves.”
The pops from his neck as he twists to relieve the sudden tension in his shoulders sound like a burst from an Uzi, and Livy turns to look at him, “Ya good there old man?”
Brett smiles, “Sure, kiddo, one of those alien mech things got a good shot in while I was looking the other way, just lettin’ everythin’ pop back into place.” He suddenly grabbed her, pulling her into a quick hug before she could do anything but squawk, “Dad!” but he held her tight, “I’m proud of ya, Livy.”
She relaxed into the hug, “Fer what?”
“Fer everythin’. Sittin’ here studyin’ yer opponent. For the racin’. For the adaptin’. For studyin’ with Henri….even if yer languages need some extra work. For followin’ the rules…. most of the time. For improvin’ in the trainin’ scenarios. I’m glad yer here kiddo.”
“Ye eat yet?” he said into her hair.
“Course,” came the muffled reply.
“Oh.”
“Shower. Ya stink,” she said pulling away. “I’ll get Mum an’ ask Hamilton to make us a pizza. Movie night, ‘member?”
“Bossin’ me around now, huh.”
“Ya know it.”
He set the Foster’s can down and belched…..
“Awesome pizza, Hamilton…..” ignoring the birdman’s squawk of dismay at his manners, “and this beer is piss, reminds me of home. Can’t believe ‘merican’s think this is good beer.” He paused, “I’ll just take this second pizza with us for the movie, right kiddo?” and Livy just nodded, swalling the last piece of crust.
“Ya want anythin’ ‘melia?” as he stood up and froze as he heard the ping over the comm in his left ear, followed by Apex’s “cold” voice. “All Alliance team members assemble in the War Room.”
He sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. “Duty calls again, I guess. Take this in for me will ya babe?” handing the pizza tray to Amelia, before swiping a piece, and grabbing another beer. “I’ll be in ta watch the movie in a bit. Can’t be an emergency….wrong tone. What we watchin’ kiddo?”
“Mr. & Mrs. Smith. Seen it?”
“No. Sounds like a soap opera…..”
Laughter from both of them, “Ye’ll like it. We’ll get it ready. Oliver Smith.”
He was almost relaxed until he walked into the War Room.
He walked out of the War Room, much more subdued. Beyond the news Brant had relayed, conflict stirred in him. The discussion at the end about his dreams, and the memories, and the risks, combined with the words from Martial Law earlier in the day. “Don’t you want a place where you can be at home in your own skin, Ghost Venom?” the fanatical leader of Avalon had said.
Whitley and Brant seemed to agree that a visit with this mysterious DreamWalker was of utmost priority in the morning, after everyone had rested. The bigger conflict that roiled was the joy and desire of finally maybe learning something of what was buried in his mind, and the risks that whatever was there had so appalled Whitley that she had stopped helping him. He needed them to come with him. And yet….what were they both continuing to hide from him?
In reality, this was why he needed the past to be disclosed. It loomed over every step towards the future he took.
He paused at the door to the movie room, and took a deep breath, before saying quietly, ““I can’t change the past and won’t sacrifice time in the present focused on it. The time is now.”
As he opened the door, “I smell meat pies……” and he saw Hamilton setting some sort of meat pie concoction on a table next to the pizza, popcorn, and a tray of sandwiches. For a moment, Brett stood stunned.
“Hamilton……thank ya. Have I ever told ya how amazing ya are?” before clapping the little bird guy on the shoulder, and reaching for a serving platter. “I don’t think I have. Ya wanna watch the movie with us.”
“Wha……” and he stood there gaping as Brett piled layers of food on the platter.
“Yea, Hamilton, stay ‘n watch,” chimed in Amelia.
“Ye’ll like it, Hammie, it’s a romance movie.”
“Oh, well, in that case”, and he walked and sat cautiously in one of the big recliners Brett had built into the room.
“Star….” and he swallowed that half a sandwich he had stuff in his inhumanly widened mouth. “Start the movie Apex,” as he leaned back with his wi…..Amelia on one side, and his daughter on the other.
He hit the light switch as they walked into their bedroom later, before turning and taking her into his arms, kissing her deeply.
“I kind of like that movie…..Mrs. Smith,” he said a minute later, a hint of breathlessness in his voice.
“I don’t think it’s super realistic there cow………….” before stopping as he placed a finger on her lips.
“Shhhh…..Close yer eyes.”
“What?”
“Trust me.”
She smiled and closed her eyes, but she still felt him move slightly, but still she jumps slightly as she feels his tongue flicker out from behind her, caressing the scar on her right shoulder before he pulls her top over he head, then grasping her right hand as she instinctively lowers her hands back down, “Keep those eyes closed,” and then the tongue flickers over the scar on the right wrist.
She sighs as he moves around her, rough, forked tongue slowly rolling over the various scars on her body, pushing the flannel pajama bottoms over the hips, before he starts at the scar on her left shin, gasping as he traces outside of the winged dagger on her thigh, and hisses briefly as he finds the stretch marks on the abdomen before grasping his hair with one hand, the other on his shoulder, feeling the scales he used to hide from her. His dry scales slide across her soft, moistured, skin as he stands, as his tongue flickers out, lightly touching the scar from the barbed mesh on near her hairline.
He circles her, hands touching, all parts of him brushing, and she can feel him totally erect as he stops behind her, reaching and cupping her breasts with his hands.
“Ya know what thosssse ssscarsss mean to me, Bomber?” he whispers just on the edge of her hearing.
He steps quickly back, his touch dropping, “What?” she half moans.
“Turn around and open yer eyessss,” he whisper back.
When she does, he’s silohuette by the lamp in the corner behind, the scales cover him all shades of green and shadows, his eyes glowing yellow with emotion as he walks forward to her. “They mean life,” as he picks her up, the long, forked tongue pushing into her mouth hungrily, as she responds, caressing his tongue with hers, teeth grazing it as he lays her on the bed, his shaft sliding deep into her as she wraps her legs around him, moans muffled by his mouth locked onto hers as he begins to thrust powerfully into her.
Much later, as she lay spooned inside of him, “I need ya to know somethin’ ‘melia. I love ya. I will never not love ya. I know yer tryin’ to help me. To be the calm one. Ya have to be, because I’m a fuckin’ mess.” She tenses slightly in his arms, but he ignores it, “But….ya can let loose occasionally. Yell at me. Something. I need to know ya trust me enough to show me everythin’.”
He pauses for a long bit, “I know there’s stuff ya don’t want to tell me. I want to tell ya everythin’, everythin’ I learn, all the stuff I remember, or don’t. I know there’s scars that I can’t see. That you can’t see on me. I can’t heal without ya. But ya can’t heal without me either. I hope ya can see that.”
Brett squeezes her tightly, “I don’t know what the future will bring…..if all my dreams will come true….but one of those, well, all of those involve you. But I need ta know ya trust me.”
“Think about it.”
She could tell when he finally fell asleep, even though he wasn’t going to sleep long, or deep, his breathing relaxed, his embrace sligthly less tight. She stared at the wall for a long time.
Last Dreams 