#well not main talon but good enough that they want the Gray Son

[puppetmaster13u]

I had to reblog this because that edit. I just had to, you made me lose it laughing. I couldn't not.

And you are so very right about that computer probably having So Much Tea that needs to be spilled.

Prompt 99

Tucker feels like tearing out his hair and screaming until reality warps. 

Visit Gotham, they said. They have great scholarships, they said. It’s not that bad, they said. Yeah well they can go shove it, because he bets that they didn’t have a bunch of golden-eyed not-ghosts following them around like Cujo does with Danny!

[nitewrighter]

Storytelling for the writing prompt!

It wasn’t Genji that told Rei, but I’ve never written out the fic for it!

…How many times am I going to have Hanzo talk through the shit he did? As many times as it takes.

—-

Hanzo liked babysitting. ‘Babysitting’ didn’t feel like quite the right word, considering Rei was six now, but ‘looking after Rei’ felt like a mouthful. It was an overcast afternoon as he stood in Genji and Mercy’s apartment, glancing over the posters Rei had on the walls of her room.

Her room reminded Hanzo of Genji’s when they were younger. While Hanzo made a point to keep his room tidy and minimalist and to not disrupt the aesthetics of Shimada castle, Genji’s room was a hodgepodge of posters and magazines, a map of his own scattered attentions–and Sojiro allowed it all, of course. Genji wasn’t the oldest. Even though Hanzo had to set the example Genji never had to follow it. Rei’s room was similar, but there was a sore bit of nostalgia about it. She was the first born, the only born, and Genji and Mercy were making a point of letting her be a child. 

“Are you far away again?” Rei’s voice was underscored by the sound of scribbling crayon Hanzo looked over his shoulder at her as she sat her little desk, looking very focused on a piece of paper.

That’s what Jesse had told her. ‘He gets far away sometimes, it’s not you, sunshine. He’ll come back, don’t worry.’

“I’m right here,” he said, leaning over her slightly and smiling, “What are we coloring today?”

“Me!” said Rei, holding up the drawing, “It’s me when I grow up!”

Hanzo chuckled and took the paper, “So are you a Sentai warrior in this future or–” he cut himself off and his stomach dropped as he looked at the drawing. She had given herself wings like Mercy’s valkyrie suit, which was to be expected, since she was always asking for her own pair, but she had also colored in her body as gray and white and jointed like Genji’s own extensive cybernetics. The part that really made Hanzo’s stomach turn was how she had drawn her own face–it was the simple, blankly smiling face of any child’s drawing but she had practically latticed it with pink and brown scars. Hanzo paled.

“…is it a bad drawing?” said Rei, reading his expression, her brow crinkling.

“No–” Hanzo said on reflex, quickly handing the drawing back to her, “It’s–it’s a good drawing but–but you’re not going to look like that.” The last words fell out of him like a flinch. Rei looked at the drawing confusedly, then back at him.

“Why not?” asked Rei, “Everyone says I look like Dad so…I’ll look like him when I’m bigger, right?”

“No. I mean–yes, but you aren’t suddenly going to get scars and metal limbs,” said Hanzo, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Rei still looked confused.

“Just–give me a moment,” said Hanzo, stepping out of the room. He briskly walked into the living room and saw Genji’s old photo of the two of them back in their younger days in Hanamura sitting on the end table. He picked it up and walked back into Rei’s room, holding the photo to her, “You’ll look more like this,” he said, pointing to Genji.

“I get green hair?!” Rei’s face lit up.

Hanzo chuckled a little, “Only if you want it.”

“So… that’s dad?” said Rei, tracing her hand over Genji’s formerly organic arm in the photo. There was a flicker of recognition 

“Yes,” said Hanzo.

“And that’s you?” said Rei, pointing to Hanzo in the photo.

“Yes, yes it is,” said Hanzo.

“You’re pretty! You should grow your hair long again!” said Rei.

Hanzo smiled and huffed a little, “I like my hair the way it is,” he said, ruffling her hair.

Rei tilted the photo, “I’ve seen this mountain before,” she said, pointing in the background, “When we visit Ojisan and Obasan’s grave.”

“Yes, Hanamura,” said Hanzo, “The ancestral seat of the Shimada clan.”

“Is this at your house?” said Rei, studying the background of the photo.

“Yes,” said Hanzo.

“But it’s so big!” said Rei.

“Technically, it was a castle,” said Hanzo.

“YOU LIVED IN A CASTLE!?” said Rei, gawking.

“Well… yes, but we live here now. And that’s fine,” said Hanzo.

Rei furrowed her brow and turned her attention back to the photo. “So Dad looked like this…” said Rei, “Why doesn’t he look like this any more?”

Hanzo inhaled a bit before starting the usual answer to those questions. “Once, long ago, there were two dragons—”

“I’m not asking about dragons, I’m asking about Dad,” said Rei, looking a bit insulted, “Dad always tells that story too–” 

“Well you’re a bit too young for the full version–”

“–Or he says he’ll tell me when I’m older, but everyone’s always saying that!”

“Well—”

“And I’m getting older but it’s never old enough!” Rei went on.

“Waiting can be a lot harder when you’re younger–” Hanzo started.

“But every time there’s something important happening, someone’s always saying I’m too young to know what’s happening and not to worry about it but I don’t know and I do worry and I hate it! I hate it, Uncle!” Rei was pink in the face at this point.

“Rei–” Hanzo moved to put a hand on her shoulder but she dodged away from under it and seized her Midori Rider action figure.

“Midori Rider says heroes always tell the truth!” said Rei, holding up the action figure.

“Life is a lot more complicated than it is in your Sentai shows, Rei,” said Hanzo, rubbing his forehead.

“So tell me! Tell me why it’s complicated!” said Rei, squeezing her action figure close like a protective talisman, “Why does Dad look like that!? Why don’t we live in the big castle in the photo anymore?! Why–” her voice cracked a little, “Why do you get far away?”

Hanzo studied Rei’s face for a few moments. He, Genji, and Angela knew a day would come when they would have to tell the whole story to Rei, but they had agreed they would do it as a group and explain it to her as gently as possible. 

“We should wait until your parents come home–” Hanzo started but Rei shook her head.

 “I want to know now,” she said stiffly, “Everyone keeps telling me to wait and I can’t wait anymore.”

“You’re not going to like this story, Rei,” the words came out of Hanzo with a hollowness to them.

“Tell me,” said Rei, fiercely.

Hanzo drew in a steady breath and knew he would have to apologize to Angela later.

“Do you know what ‘giri’ is?” said Hanzo.

“That’s a question, not a story,” said Rei.

“It leads into the story,” said Hanzo, “Do you know what it is?”

Rei shook her head.

“Well… its closest English translation is ‘Duty’ or ‘Obligation,’” said Hanzo, “It refers to a strong feeling of responsibility we feel towards the groups we belong to. Putting the needs of that group over our wants as individuals.”

“Like a family,” said Rei.

“In a sense, yes,” said Hanzo, “When I was a child, it was made very clear to me that my giri, my duty, was to the Shimada clan.”

“Your family–” said Rei.

“Not just a family,” said Hanzo, “It was… an organization. An empire spanning generations. Everyone within the clan was raised to put the wellbeing of the Shimada clan first. But… Rei, they were assassins and weapons dealers. And they would also puppet other smaller criminal organizations peddling drugs and… threatening people.”

“Why?” said Rei.

“Power,” said Hanzo, glancing off, “Money. Giri.”

Something shifted in Rei’s face. “But–that’s bad,” she said.

“Yes,” said Hanzo, “Yes it is.”

“Talon does that stuff,” said Rei, “The bad guys do that stuff.”

“Yes, they do,” said Hanzo, “The Shimada clan were not ‘good guys’ Rei. But they were Genji’s and my family, they raised us in enormous wealth and privilege, and we had a duty to them. As the oldest of the two sons of the main branch, I was going to be head of the Shimada Clan when your grandpa Sojiro passed away.”

“And what about Dad?” said Rei.

“He was going to be my right hand,” said Hanzo, “Only… he never.. really applied himself to the clan like I had. Our father… favored him. Allowed him to shirk his responsibilities, so when the time came for him to step up, he didn’t. The clan found that… gravely insulting.”

Rei’s eyes widened, that dark gray piercing through him. “Did they hurt him?” 

Hanzo felt something wince deep in his core. He had spent so long with the Watchpoint suspecting and questioning his motives for being there when he first joined, that the fact that it didn’t immediately occur to Rei that he was the one who nearly killed Genji was a shock to him.

“They… did not have to. I was the head of the clan now. It was my duty. My giri. They ordered me to.” 

“But you didn’t,” said Rei, leaning forward, “You wouldn’t.”

“I did, Rei,” said Hanzo, “It’s very important that you understand that I did.” 

“No–” Rei’s chest was rapidly rising and falling.

“I nearly killed him,” said Hanzo.

“No you didn’t!” Rei fired back.

“I unleashed the full fury of the dragons on him and left him to bleed out,” said Hanzo.

“I don’t like this story! Tell me the real one!” Rei’s voice was breaking.

 “This is the real one, Rei. The reason he’s missing one arm and both is legs is because of me. His scars are from me.”

“Shut up!” Rei threw her Midori Rider action figure at him. 

He instinctively caught it, and the words, “Rei, we don’t throw things,” fell out of him, and she let out a snarling scream of frustration at him.

“I told you, you wouldn’t like this story,” said Hanzo, “But the story doesn’t end there.”

“Shut up!” Rei threw a pachimari plush at him this time and missed. “Shut up! Shut up! Go away!”

“Rei–” Hanzo started, but Rei was already throwing all of her weight against him, pushing him towards the door of her bedroom.

 “Go away! Go away! I hate this story! I hate you!”

“Rei, there’s still more to–” Hanzo started but he found himself just outside the doorway and it slammed shut behind him. He turned around and heard the click of the lock, then heard Rei’s weight thump against the door, slide down it and then heard muffled crying on the other side.

“Rei…” he said quietly.

There was just more crying on the other side.

“Idiot…” Hanzo muttered to himself pacing in the hallway outside the door, “You knew she was too young. You knew you should have waited for Angela and Genji–but no–You go and make your guilt her problem just like you do with every other person on this watchpoi–”

He cut himself off as the front door to the apartment opened and Jesse walked in, singing to himself while holding two bags of groceries. “Makin’ Fri-to Pie,” he sang quietly to the tune of 9 to 5, “‘cuz it’s our night babysittin’, makin fri-to pie ‘cuz–” He glanced up to see Hanzo hunched over the door to Rei’s room, read Hanzo’s expression, and his own expression dropped.

“Uh… everything okay?” said Jesse, still holding 

“I may have made a mistake,” said Hanzo.

Rei wailed on the other side of the door.

“How bad a mistake are we talkin’ here?” said McCree.

“I… may have… told her about Genji,” said Hanzo.

“’Embarrassing story’ told her about Genji or ‘We agreed we would tell this story with Angela and Genji when she was ready for it’ told her about Genji?” said McCree.

“…the latter,” said Hanzo.

“What?!” McCree dropped both grocery bags, noted the fact that Rei could probably hear them through the door, and dropped his voice to a hissing whisper, “We all said–”

“Yes, when she was ready,” said Hanzo, also keeping his voice low, “But she kept asking, and we can’t just–I couldn’t just keep her in the dark about this—only, now she won’t talk to me…”

“Han…” McCree dragged his hands down his face. He huffed.

“She needed to understand what the Shimada Clan was–we couldn’t just be a mysterious fairy tale family living off in a castle,” said Hanzo.

“I know, I know,” said McCree, rubbing at his forehead, “Just… give her space. I’m gonna talk to her.” he said walking up to the door.

Hanzo backed off back into the living room and McCree gave a gentle knock on the door.

“I don’t want to talk to you!” Rei shouted from the other side.

“It’s not Uncle Hanzo, it’s Uncle Jesse,” said McCree, “Can I come in?”

There was a pause, a click, and the door opened a crack. Jesse stepped into the room and Rei shut the door behind him. Both sat next to each other with their backs against the door, Rei hugging her knees and burying her face against her legs, her shoulders shuddering with sobs a little bit.

“Heavy stuff, huh sunshine?” said McCree, rubbing her shoulder a little bit.

“Why would he do that?! Why would he hurt Dad!?” said Rei.

“It was a Shimada thing,” said McCree, “He thought he had to do it, that it was the best thing for his family.”

“Dad is his family!” said Rei, furiously. 

“Yeah that’s the fucked up part, ain’t it?” said Jesse.

Rei suddenly sharply looked up and looked at McCree with wide tear-strained eyes.

“…Don’t tell your mom,” said McCree.

“You said the ‘fuck’ word,” said Rei.

“F-Word!” said McCree, “F-Word!” He sighed and slumped against the door more, “I know it’s a scary story. And I know it hurts a lot to hear it, but it does get better.”

“How?” said Rei, hugging her knees.

“Well… the story of how Hanzo hurt your dad is also the story of how your dad and your mom met,” said McCree, “She saved him that night. I saw the whole thing.”

“You did?” said Rei.

McCree nodded. “And I hated Hanzo for what he did, just like you do right now. And your Dad hated him too. And so did your mom. But no one, and I mean no one hated Hanzo for what he did more than Hanzo. It’s gotten better, but it still hurts him, to this very day.”

“Is… is that why he gets far away?” said Rei.

McCree sighed and took off his hat, “Yeah, kiddo, that’s why he gets far away. Deep down, he knew what he did was wrong, so he ran away from the Shimada clan…wandered around for ten years, lost in grief.” 

“…like the dragon in the story,” said Rei, looking down, “That’s why they tell it instead of telling me this.”

“Dragon story definitely is an easier pill to swallow,” said McCree, “The dragon in the story also didn’t have his own family trying to kill him for 10 years for abandoning his duty.”

“They were trying to kill him too?” said Rei.

“They’ve been trying to kill him,” said McCree, “They even sent an assassin for him on the day you were born. It’s one of the reasons why we’re so careful about security on the watchpoint.”

“The Shimada Clan’s really bad,” said Rei, looking down. She looked up at McCree, eyes wet, “Am I bad, too?”

“No, sunshine, you’re not bad!” said McCree, wiping underneath her nose with his thumb.

“But I’m a Shimada too! And they–they—” Rei pressed the heels of her hands to her forehead.

“Rei, I can say with complete confidence that you are the best thing that happened to the Shimada clan since the dragons,” said McCree.

“But what if I do something bad?” said Rei.

“Here’s the thing about being good or bad–Good isn’t a resting state. It’s not a thing you are, it’s a thing you do. It’s a choice you make. People make mistakes–and good people… good people know when they make mistakes and they work to make things better. A long time ago Uncle Hanzo made a very bad choice. He made the worst choice he could, but now he tries to make the right choice every day. He thought telling you all this was the right choice, even though you really weren’t ready for it all yet. ”

Rei glanced at the Midori Rider action figure on the floor and picked it up, “Heroes always tell the truth,” she said quietly.

“But sometimes shit’s complicated,” said McCree.

“You said the ‘shit’ word,” said Rei. 

McCree snorted and brought an arm around Rei. She leaned against him, her tears dampening his serape.

“You can take all the time you need, you know,” said McCree, “Hanzo’s always going to try and do right by you, because he loves you, and he loves your dad, and your mom, and me–But this stuff is hard to cope with. And he understands that. And I get it, too. He’s just going to keep trying to do the right thing, and he knows you will, too.”

Rei just nestled in a bit closer.

—

Hanzo was cooking in the kitchen for another 20 minutes before Rei and McCree emerged from room. Hanzo glanced down awkwardly at the cutting board, “I… just figured I should get started…” he said quietly, setting the knife aside. Rei shuffled into the kitchen and hugged his waist.

“I don’t hate you,” she said, muffled against his shirt.

“You can if you need to,” said Hanzo, stroking her hair.

“I don’t,” she said quietly.

“Okay,” said Hanzo, bending and kissing the top of her head as she broke away from him. Hanzo rinsed his hands and resumed cooking. There was a long period of silence where Hanzo was chopping vegetables, McCree was getting a beer out of the fridge, and Rei was quietly posing her Midori Rider action figure on the table.

“…this is going to be hell to explain to Genji and Angela, huh?” said McCree, opening the bottle.

“You said the ‘hell’ word,” said Rei.

[sarahsilverdog-blog-blog]

One Problem At A Time Ch. 4

So, it looks like this is gonna go for a while, so I am tagging it #OneProblem. Thank you!

FRIENDS IN LOW PLACES

I’m not big on social graces,

Think I'll slip on down to the oasis.

-Garth Brooks

One hour and thirty minutes left.

Clementine stayed in the lab with Sam but everyone else surrounded the plane’s main door, guns raised and ready for their visitor. The man who stepped through the plane's hatch could have been anywhere from forty to seventy, iron gray hair peeked out from beneath the brim of his cowboy hat but there were few lines on his face. he was big and burly like a bear but lean and hard, no fat anywhere on him. He wore jeans with leather chaps, intricately stitched cowboy boots, a plain blue workshirt covered with a worn denim jacket...and a fancy, pearl-handled six shooter hung from his hip, Flanked by two men in an eclectic mix of military and western clothing, he didn't seem disconcerted at all to be greeted by six people bristling with loaded weapons all pointed at him and he raised his hands cooperatively and grinned, showing even, white teeth. "G'day folks,” he said in a thick Australian accent, inclining his head to Mitch who was the closest one to him. "Morris Brown, formerly of the Royal Australian Regiment, 4th Battalion, currently of the SoCal Extract/Evac Company, at your service." He got a good look at Jamie, covered in blood and filth, and Jackson, whose eye had blackened magnificently and whose throat was ringed with darkening bruises. "Looks like you folks had a bit of a scrap.”

Jamie snorted. “That's an understatement.”

Jackson eyed Morris Brown closely and said in his gravelly, injured voice, “I’ve heard of you. Your company did the San Diego job a couple of years ago. That was some nice work." He lowered his gun, and the others did too, the tension easing in the room and Brown dropped his hands to sides.

Tessa said, "Impressive work, you mean." She explained to the others. “They evacuated five thousand people in one group, walked them 350 miles through hybrid infested desert and only lost one person- to appendicitis. That's the stuff of legends.”

Brown looked pleased at the praise and rocked back on his heels. "Yeah, that was one bugger of a run. Took two months to get ‘em to the safe zone, razorbacks attacking every few days." He turned to Jackson. "But you're a bit of a celebrity yourself, mate. I know who you are, Dylan Green. Number one evac specialist north of San Francisco, though I think your pet lions give you a bit of an advantage.” He glanced around the interior of the plane with delighted curiosity. “I don’t suppose they are with you now?"

"The lions didn't have enough frequent flier miles," Mitch interjected impatiently. "Not to be rude, but we are kind of on a tight schedule, soo…”

“Oh, right,” Brown said, not seeming offended in the least. He turned and nodded to one of his men, who disappeared back out of the plane. "We're on our way back from a run and well, there's strange things going on in the hybrid zone." He scratched up under his hat at his cropped gray hair. “I maybe saw the most bizarre of all a few hours ago...anyhow it's something we need to look into but we picked up a, uh, passenger that isn’t suited to fast, hard travel in a truck caravan. I was hoping we could leave it with you folks...” he trailed off as the man reappeared, holding a tiny bundle that suddenly let out a squalling scream.

There was stunned silence for a second. then Mitch handed Jamie his rifle and with a happy sob took his grandson in his arms. Relief swept like a wave over them all, suddenly they surrounded baby Sam, laughing and smiling with the utter joy of his unbelievable presence. Clementine came racing down the staircase from the lab, having heard her son's cries; everyone fell back and let her take her son from his grandfather in her trembling hands, hugging him tightly as Mitch held them both in a protective embrace. Jamie sidled away but one of Mitch's hands caught hers and pulled her into their family circle, though she resisted slightly he was insistent and she gave in, letting his arms encircle her too as she hugged Clem and smiled over baby Sam.

Morris Brown was taking in this scene with keen interest, and he waggled his bushy eyebrows at Jackson and said, "I guess you lot don't find a baby as strange as we do.”

Jackson was smiling happily, tears in his eyes and he shook his head at Brown and said hoarsely, “We suddenly don't have such a tight schedule. How about a drink and you tell us how you ended up with the baby?”

***

Brown set one of his five men on guard, to watch out for hybrids- or other things- and the rest of them retired to the bar for a drink. Jamie excused herself after one; Clem had taken Baby Sam to be with his father in the lab after Mitch examined him (and after Abe administered the sterility cure injection); Jackson/Dylan and Tessa were discussing evacuation runs and other business she didn't particularly care about too much with their visitors, though Abe and Dariela were extremely interested as they discussed tactics and various plans that worked, or didn’t. The sticky dinosaur blood that covered her was getting unbearable, itchy and crackling against her skin and when she moved her right arm there was a worrisome tugging sensation that she was afraid was a deep cut that her clothes had dried to. She was brutally sore and wanted nothing more than to peel the filthy clothes off and climb into a steaming hot shower. Mitch started down the hall after her and she almost told him to stay put but then she realized he didn’t particularly want to listen to tactical Evac stories, and he didn’t want to intrude on his daughter's newly reunited family- he wanted to be with her. She waited for him to catch up and teased, “Time for my private exam, doctor?”

He smiled but his eyes were serious. "Actually, Miss Campbell, it is. I’ve noticed the way you’ve been moving your right arm and favoring your right side. I know am just a vet,” she snickered at that, "but I think I am qualified to check you out.”

They needed to talk, she knew, needed to work out some of the events of the last 72 hours; Max, and Logan, and discuss some things that had been said, or maybe hadn't been said, but now wasn't the time. She was tired, sore, and they were still both too warm with the residual happiness of baby Sam to start dissecting the darkness between them.

Mitch saw her hesitation and guessed the reason behind it truthfully, he didn’t really want to hash it out now either, he was too confused, too amazed, too unsettled… just too much. “I don’t –“ he started, then took her hand and said, “I just want to make sure you’re okay, Jamie.”

Taking it as a promise, she opened the door to her room and let him in.

***

Mitch rejoined the others in the bar a short while later. Jamie hadn't had any serious injuries, the worst was the laceration she had feared, a deep cut in her shoulder from the dagger sharp talons of the dinosaur. Adrenaline had kept her from feeling it, but she had felt it well enough when Mitch pulled the clotted, matted cloth from it with a sickening ripping sound, making her pale as fresh blood seeped from the gash. She also had a darkening bruise from her right armpit to her hip, where she had landed when the dino attacked her but otherwise she seemed fine and as promised, when he had determined that she didn't need any serious doctoring, he left her to it with a kiss and a promise to let him disinfect the gash after her shower.

The conversation in the bar had shifted to different hybrids they had seen recently, and the talk had turned from somewhat jovial to something more subdued and tense. Apparently there were more terrible creatures out there than they had already dealt with, and Mitch blanched at the mention of spider hybrids the size of golden retrievers, massive eight foot tall goats that had five foot long horns and razor sharp hooves, and at least one woolly mammoth, which had used its massive tusks to knock a locomotive off of the tracks outside of Los Angeles. It was somewhat frightening to consider that six-foot tall, vicious Cretaceous dinosaurs weren’t the worst they were going to face as Abigail’s creatures roamed freely into North America.

Once he had poured himself a drink and taken a seat with the others, the conversation changed as Mitch said. "So, Crocodile Dundee, tell me how you figured out country music scares the monsters away.”

Brown just laughed. "Crocodile Dundee. You Americans are so unoriginal. 'Throw another shrimp on the barbie’ and all that.” He squinted hard at Mitch, then shrugged. “To be honest, Dr. Morgan, we have no idea how it works. We just happened to luck into the discovery.” He took a deep swallow of the golden amber liquid in his glass and settled back into his seat. “We don't only do evac work, though that is our main focus. We also, eh," he searched for a delicate term, “clean up after the survivors have been evacuated.”

“Loot, you mean.” Dariela snapped. Brown only shrugged again. “If that's what you like to call it, mate. One man's trash is another man's treasure. Anyway, about a week ago we were cleaning a cabin we found in Nevada outside some desert town called Rachel. Wasn't much in it, but Chuck here," he motioned to one of his men, “found some little ipod type thing and snagged it, thinking there might be some good music on it. Turns out there wasn’t, just that terrible song on a loop, over and over and over." He shook his fist at the sky and said, “I’ve got friends in low places too, mate! Such a bloody come down. We were in one of the trucks and we came on a herd of those goat hybrids and Chuck was so mad at the song he was about to throw the damn thing out when all of a sudden the goats started to run. Away. Now, in our experience those stubborn, canty headed bastards will charge every time, but while that bloody awful music was playing, they ran.

“We experimented. Cut the song off, they charged us, turned it on, they stopped in their tracks and skedaddled the other way. So we tried it on the next hybrid we met, a razorback. Ran. Vulture, flew away." He grinned, his hatless gray head shining in the plane's soft light. "It's a terrible price to pay, but for those we love, we sacrifice!" He guffawed and gulped the rest of his drink down, motioning to Mitch to refill it.

Mitch took his glass, rose and went to the bar, but he stopped short of pouring the whisky. “I owe you,” he said, inclining his head gratefully towards Brown, “for bringing the baby back to us -and l still want to know how that came about - but I think if you let me study that device with the song on it, I can figure out why it repels the hybrids and maybe you won't ever have to hear that song again,” he shrugged, “Or at the least, maybe I can change the song.”

“That in itself would be a relief, my friend." Brown said, and Mitch smiled as he handed him his drink.

***

They moved the party to the lab, after Mitch saw Clem and Sam into his bedroom with the baby. Sam was still in rough shape but seeing his son and spending some quiet time with Clementine had done wonders for him, and the lab was too cold and uncomfortable for someone trying to rest. Jamie rejoined them, clean and fresh and creamy white in the glow of the lab's lights and Mitch was gratified to see her in somewhat casual clothing - in his mind he characterized it as ‘Early Jamie', faded jeans and a cute t-shirt and a light sweater -and she hadn't done her hair, it was tousled and curled and Mitch wanted nothing more in the world than to twist one of those curls in his fingers, pull it down and let his hand graze her cheek...but his imagination was cut off as Morris Brown whistled slowly at Jamie and said, "Well, we are officially a part of the jet set! Pun intended, of course! Jamie Campbell, of one of my favorite authors of one of my favorite novels.” He was quite a few drinks in, and he gave Jamie a friendly leer as he said, “I didn’t recognize you before when you were so...dirty," and winked, taking her hand, bending low and kissing her knuckles softly.

Mitch rolled his eyes loudly and Jamie withdrew her hand firmly with her ‘celebrity smile', the one she always used on talk shows and interviews and with overbearing fans. Mitch recognized it at once, how many times had he seen her use it when weaseling information out of someone or dealing with idiot officials who couldn't be handled by anyone else? lt was another glimpse of the old Jamie, and Mitch found himself feeling grateful that she was still...her.

"Thank You," she said to Brown, then pointedly joined Mitch at his computer and took his hand, looking down at what he was working on.

Morris Brown chuckled and took another drink. “Aye, you're a lucky man, Dr. Morgan," he said, slapping his hand on his thigh. "No offense meant Miss Campbell. And you’re still my favorite author." He leaned sharply forward and said to Jackson/Dylan, "She may be the writer, but now I want you to tell me a story.”

Jamie stayed next to Mitch as he worked on the device Brown had given them. It was connected to one of their diagnostic computers and he ran a variety of different tests on it as Morris Brown listened to Jackson/Dylan and Abe take turns telling him about Abigail and the hybrids, New York, the volcano, Clem's miracle baby and the cure for sterility, and the breach in the barrier and their escape, though they left out Jackson's involvement both as her brother and as the one who drove the plane through the wall.

Well," Brown said, his deep Aussie accent broadened by alcohol, "I told you I had seen some strange things. About four hours before we found you, we came across the herd of rhino hybrids you folks acquainted yourselves with earlier. They were acting fairly bizarre, all standing in one place, looking the same direction. No panic, no snorting, no bellowing, not even when we started to drive around them, Then we saw a jeep parked at the edge of the herd, and a sheila, right up close, using some kind of hand signals and be damned if the rhinos weren't behaving as if they knew what she was saying!”

The crew all exchanged looks as Morris continued, "Well, we got up to the jeep before she noticed us, close enough for me to notice a baby seat in the back. Funny how baby seats never caught my eye before but I guess after you haven’t seen an ankle biter in a decade those kind of things look out of place. Anyway, she finally saw us and she didn’t bat an eye as she waved her hands and those damn monsters came charging at us so fast Chuck almost didn't hit play." He paused and threw a toothy grin at Chuck, who answered. "But l did, and those sumbitches wheeled around so quick they almost trampled the lady where she stood.”

Morris Brown took over. "Seemed like the music was hurting her too, she grabbed her head like it was about to bust but then again, maybe she just doesn’t like country music. But here's where the craziest part comes in. She was too far from her jeep, and she seemed pretty surprised that the beasties were running away such a hurry. She got a look at our arsenal bearing down on her so she made some kind of sign and one of those big bastards came back to her, let her climb on it and she rode away on it!” He shook his head as if he still couldn't believe what his own eyes had seen. "Craziest damn thing I’ve ever seen. We did a quick go over of the jeep and didn't find anything but well, the baby. We had figured on taking it to the Barrier and leaving it, but since you say they’ve evacuated –“ he shrugged and took another swallow of whisky.

Suddenly Mitch broke in. "Hey, Ja- uh, Dylan, could you come over here for a sec?" Brown didn't miss Mitch's mistake and his keen eyes suddenly narrowed as Jackson rose and joined Mitch at his computer. He had a screen up and Jamie peered over their shoulders as he pointed to two parallel, wavy lines that intersected at uniform points, "This look familiar to you?”

Jackson looked up at him incredulously. "That looks just like the combination of frequencies Abigail used to make the beacons, hers and mine, but opposite ranges, So instead of drawing the hybrids-“

“They repel them." Mitch finished, halfway between triumph and jealousy. “It’s genius, l don’t know why think of it before.” He beamed at Jamie, who squeezed his hand as he said, "I can isolate the frequencies and we can play it from anything that can broadcast. Looks like we may have a new line of defense.”

***

Everyone had gone to bed except the two of them; Morris Brown and his men were sprawled on various couches throughout the plane and the others had gone to their rooms. Mitch had isolated the repellant frequency from the music and had it on a loop that was silent to the human ear but would hopefully keep hybrids away and Jamie had set proximity alarms on every entrance to the plane so everyone felt reasonably secure. Having six extra, heavily armed people on board for the night made it feel a little less worrisome too. They sat close together at the bar, nursing what was left of a bottle of vodka. Other than the impersonal exam earlier, and his quick, post-shower dressing of her wound, it was the first time they had been alone together in what felt like weeks, though it had only been little more than a day.

Jamie could feel him steeling himself up to say something and she was pretty sure she knew what it was going to be. As much as he had tried to make her feel better before, trying to claim darkness for himself, she knew he really wasn't accustomed to ruthless Jamie. Single-minded Jamie, yes, she'd always been that, but his brilliant brain was having trouble processing what ten years of bleak disappointment and pain had done to her. For years revenge had been her only motivating factor, in truth, years before she even met Mitch revenge had been her motivator but she'd had hope then, hope that things would work out in the end, hope that the little guy would win, and even hope that she and Mitch could make some kind of life together after the animal apocalypse. Then Mitch was gone, and she had hope that she could take care of Clementine the way he had wanted, hope that she could keep some part of him alive in herself through his daughter. Then Max took Clem and she had nothing. Logan hadn’t been, would never have been enough for her, so vengeance had filled that hole in her heart and she didnt know if she could make room in it again for something so weak and fickle as hope.

“So what was that out there?” He finally asked, his hand cupping her cheek, gently but firmly, she wasn’t going to look away.

She did anyway. and he let his hand fall, picking up his drink instead as she answered innocently, "What was what?"

He wasn’t going to deal with her bullshit tonight, and he rolled his eyes as if to say, really? "Didnt we just have a whole conversation about darkness? I think kicking Jackson in the face and threatening to burn him alive is a bit dark, even for you.”

“I wasn’t going to burn Jackson," she scoffed, though she couldn't deny the kick in the face so she took the easy one first. “l was threatening to burn the zombie because they are afraid of fire, which worked by the way.”

“No, it didn't. What worked was the flaming Thanksgiving turkey smashing into it." He had her there, and she leaned slightly away in irritation, pursing her lips and rearranging her socked feet on the barstool railing. Mitch didn't miss her reaction, and he pressed his advantage. “And what made you think fire would work on a zombie?”

Already annoyed at him, she rolled her eyes so hard she was afraid she'd strained her optic nerve. "Hello? I grew up in Louisiana? Bayous?Voodoo? Zombies? Didn't you spend a year there?”

"Studying giant river rats, not the undead.” He finished his drink, poured himself another and topped Jamie's off with the remainder of the bottle, plopping it loudly on the back of the bar. "Need to get some more of this." He sighed, swirling his drink in the bottom of his glass and deciding to let her off the hook for now said instead, "l could be studying the undead right now, but we left them in the compound. Not that I could do much with the soldier, since I think he's been barbecued beyond use,” he looked emphatically at Jamie, eliciting a snort of laughter she tried to suppress, "but l could still learn something from the dog.”

She swallowed the last of her drink in one gulp, jumped up from the barstool and said, "Well, lets go get it then." He looked at her blankly and she said, "The dog. It's still there in the compound, right? I mean, where would it go?"

He took another sip and looked sideways at her, then down at her feet. "Uh huh. You going in your socks or are you gonna put on some fuzzy slippers first?”

The laugh was real, warm and honeyed and rich and it sent shivers down his spine as the mood subtly shifted between them. "Maybe we can wait until tomorrow," she said, her voice suddenly husky and low, stepping between his knees she leaned into him as he bent to meet her lips with his. Electricity surged between them, fusing them together, all sparking neurons and melding molecules; her hands burned against his thighs, through the thick material of his jeans and in the desperate reaches of his lizard brain he wondered vaguely if she planned on burning him alive, though at the moment he didn't really care if she did. He buried his hands in her hair, pulling her closer, needing her closer and she responded, tightening her body against his because she needed him too.

They finally surfaced for air, and Mitch stood. holding her to him and brushing tousled tendrils of her hair away from her face. "Uh, my room is currently being used as a nursery ..sooo, think maybe l can crash with you tonight?" he asked gruffly.

She answered him breathlessly, running her fingers over his stubbly cheek, “I think that can be arranged.”

"Afterwards you can tell me all about zombies," he said, lowering his head to nibble sharp kisses at the soft skin of her throat. “We have to keep up our reputation for lively pillow talk.”

***

Here, darkness was good. Here, darkness kept them safe, hidden from the outside world and its monsters; it hid their scars in shadows, even as they bared themselves completely. Here, in the darkness, it was just the two of them, together.

***