Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It took a year for the government to do what lots of kids had sworn would happen and sweep into the streets of DC to save them. In the first few heady weeks in Valhalla Sector, warm and fed, none of the children were thinking very clearly about what had occurred or why. Lee was the only one who noticed that a limited age range of the ten to twelves was represented, and that they were being segregated from the general population - just in case someone made the mistake of getting attached.

His observations were coldly met by the others. The class instructors were friendly, and there were occasional visits from the president and his retinue, intended to stoke patriotic fervor and remind them all of what they owed to their rescuers. They were trained as spies and soldiers against the day they would go back outside, the correct age to blend in. For many of the children, the men and women of Valhalla Sector became their new parents, but Lee knew where his loyalty lay, and his heart remained untouched.

Only two of Valhalla's own children were in the class. The first was a stout boy with pale staring eyes. Instructors called him Simon, but he only ever answered to Ezekiel and eventually, filled with exasperation and the faintest hint of unease, they changed up. Everyone said he wasn't right in the head, and the other boys avoided him. Lee didn't particularly care about anyone else's mental state and found his drawn out silences relaxing. In return, Ezekiel was friendly, in his own fashion.

The second child was much younger and wasn't supposed to be there at all. No one else saw her intermittently hiding in crawlspaces and behind cupboards where it didn't seem possible anyone could fit. A scrawny, malnourished girl, watching their survival training and combat lessons whenever she could get away with it - and Libby could get away with a lot. Lee never pointed her out to anyone. He'd learned from the start that information was better off stored, not shared.

For three years Lee trained for his first mission and he rose to the top of the class alongside Ezekiel. There was no competition between them, as Lee couldn't shake the feeling that there would be no reward for being the best in this place.

The man Ezekiel called his father was not related to him. Devon was another quiet individual of ragged appearance and Lee had a cautious regard for him, as the only adult who behaved appropriately - as if he'd lost everything that mattered. On special occasions, Lee was allowed to have dinner with this hollow shell of a family unit. Perhaps they wanted Devon to make the mistake of becoming attached, but no danger there.

By never ratting her out, Lee did become Libby's favorite soldier boy, but her capricious nature made this unasked-for attention more trouble than it was worth. He never knew when she ran into him in the halls if she was going to slip him a piece of candy or kick him in the shins. She was an unholy brat, yet the adults found her charming. It was clear they were using Libby to shore up their moral certitude, keep on pretending to be the good guys. A million dying orphans outside the gates meant nothing as long as they could point to one happy child and say to themselves 'see, we saved her.' They needed that illusion to keep themselves going.

Lee was fifteen when he earned the reward of his effort, climbing into a helicopter alongside Ezekiel to be spirited out into the wilds and deposited a safe distance from the target. His mission was one-way, and if he died on the trek in, that was alright - they had a whole bevy of replacements. He was a tool, a little quicker off the assembly line, that was true, but sent out to work and die like the rest. He'd made no connections and lost nothing beyond a warm bed.

Why precisely Ezekiel was sharing the journey was less clear. But there was safety even in small numbers and he was glad of the company. Ezekiel was straightforward even when he tried not to be.

"So what's your deal?" he asked now.

"I go in search of that which I should never find."

Lee turned that over momentarily. Devon hadn't protested his surrogate son's exile. His real sons were lost, likely dead or worse, and Lee knew very little about them. It wasn't something Devon talked about at the dinner table. He shook his head and started to walk.

Lee was almost asleep when Ezekiel, who hadn't said four words since lunch, started feeling chatty. Traveling with an insomniac had its downsides.

"Why do you work for them, Lee?"

"I'm good at it."

"That's not a good reason."

"Where I'm going there's food and shelter. It's a decent assignment and it's probably getting run into the ground as we speak."

"So you're going into hiding. From them or from the world?"

"If I wanted to hide from them, I'd already be gone." He rolled onto his side and sat up. "Look, we're both overqualified, we could take our skill set and walk away and maybe they'd never find either of us. But they'd just send someone else. It wouldn't change anything. I'm the best guy for my job, like you are for yours."

Ezekiel made no answer.

"You're looking for Devon's sons, aren't you?"

"My father says I shouldn't talk about them."

"So that's a yes."

"No it's not."

Despite where he'd grown up, Ezekiel really wasn't a convincing liar. Libby at eight years old could best him.

Lee lay back down. The stars were bright through the leaves. He'd never seen them before the Death, and then they'd winked into existence above the city like a sign of the end times. He didn't like them.

Ezekiel remained sitting, occasionally stirring the fire. The upside of traveling with an insomniac. His question deserved a real reply, even if it was stupid to admit it. "I just want to find someplace better than where we've been."

"Do you think we will?"

"No."

Ezekiel had sprung up like a weed over the summer, and Lee had expected from the beginning that he would be the one to draw unwelcome attention to themselves as he towered over strangers and spouted self-defeating prophecies at them. Instead, it was Lee who stood out while the madness only made Ezekiel blend in. Nobody asked where he'd come from or where he was headed. He was one of them from the moment the Valhalla chopper vanished in the night: A broken child, put back together the wrong way.

Lee was the one who got the hostile glances, the suspicion. He didn't belong, no matter where they were. They split up in a town called Hudsen, Ezekiel to make inquiries and Lee to secure dinner. They were to regroup at the local bar. It didn't seem like a rough crowd and a couple of the guys had Asian ancestry, so that wasn't the problem, but in less than ten minutes they'd singled Lee out for the evening's entertainment. Maybe they were all locals. Maybe he just looked weak.

First they tried to make him leave, and when he very reasonably took them up on that, two guys blocked the door.

"You want me gone, I'm gone."

They nudged each other, grinning. Presumably, this was the part where everyone had a good laugh at the short guy's futile attempts to shove past them. Lee remained still, figuring they would either get bored and let him by, or Ezekiel would arrive. If the latter, a brief skirmish would see them both out the door.

This would have worked beautifully if his partner wasn't insane.

Instead of throwing one of the blockheads aside as Lee handily dispatched the other with lightning kicks to sensitive areas, Ezekiel drew the immediate conclusion that Lee was in grave danger from all comers and barrelled into the center of the throng, tossing guys over tables and throwing salt shakers after them. Lee stood forgotten, holding the door ajar. Ezekiel appeared lost in some nightmare of his own and the bar patrons understandably panicked.

And one of them had a knife.

"Ezekiel!"

The kid carrying it wasn't a murderer. He didn't stab Ezekiel while his back was turned. Instead, he cut through the air intending to drive his assailant away - and on anyone else it might have worked. Anyone else would have jumped out of range or brought up a bar stool to block. Ezekiel only held up his arm.

The sleeve caught part of the blow, and the kid hadn't put enough force into it to cut right to the bone. Small mercies. And the kid had never opened someone up before because he dropped the knife as if he'd hurt himself, stammering and suddenly helpless at the reality before him. "I didn't- I thought-"

Lee ordered him aside while Ezekiel clutched his arm, blood seeping up between his fingers. Lee ushered him over to the brightest window and pried his hand up to see. "Goddammit."

Ezekiel gave him a reproachful look.

Lee yelled for his bag and swept a table clear. Basic medical training snapped into his head. He knew how to take care of this, and now that blood had been spilled the entire assembly grew docile. A couple even offered to hand him things and a fascinated audience gathered round as if they were a pair of traveling showmen.

Throughout, Ezekiel was clearly in pain and sweat stood on his forehead but only an occasional whisper passed his lips, too low for the spectators to hear. It took a few repetitions before Lee caught the words and finally realized Ezekiel was muttering to himself that he'd deserved it.

"So what set you off?"

"You were in trouble."

"Hardly. What the hell got into you?"

Ezekiel floundered for an answer while Lee wrapped fresh bandages with steady hands. "Sometimes I'm - I'm not myself."

That was an understatement. "I was handling it. You could have gotten killed."

The thought didn't bother him. "I shall die unmourned."

Lee finished and sat back on his heels. "Okay, what happens then?"

"I shall go to the judgment seat of-"

"I meant what happens to your mission. Devon trusted you alone and if you go getting killed first, you fail."

Ezekiel stared at him with wide eyes, like it hadn't occurred to him before.

Lee sighed. "Just try to stay alive."

They parted at a fork in the road. Ezekiel would remain on the move while Lee would settle down locally, biding his time and proving his worth to those who watched and waited, a perfect candidate for life in another bunker.

Ezekiel gave him his best unblinking stare and spoke portentously. "You will go down into caverns once more but do not disappear in the darkness, my friend."

Lee nodded briefly and dismissed the phrase. Ezekiel loved saying stuff like that; he'd probably been saving it up for weeks. Besides, he was the one with violent tendencies. Lee put out a hand. "Goodbye, Ezekiel. Look after yourself."

He bowed his head gravely in reply and turned to go. Lee watched him tramp up the road, beginning to look rather small.

On impulse, he called after him. "Hey!" The figure turned back. "You know where to find me, if you need anything."

_______________

Markus Alexander didn't call himself president, or use Thunder Mountain to roleplay the Old World. He wasn't a madman or a liar, and there was no blood on his hands. The first months went by in painful suspense, Lee waiting for the mask to drop. It never did. Markus had a multifaceted personality, and if it was sometimes contradictory, it was all genuine. He was a rationalist and an idealist. Sober and reflective yet swift to trust. A mental giant always seeking a second opinion, and a leader who didn't demand unquestioning loyalty. In fact, he seemed to greatly enjoy Lee's willingness to push back when he believed Markus was taking unnecessary risks - like on the day Markus made him head of security.

"Markus, I can't accept."

"Do you want to keep this place safe, Lee?"

"You know I do." He took a deep breath. "Yes. More than anything."

"I have a hundred jobs to do and if you're running security, that's one less. You're born for this, Lee. If I pick someone else, you'll be on their case day and night, you'll make everyone miserable. At least say you'll think about it."

Lee didn't have to. He was a cog in a machine but if he became head of security, he'd be much harder to replace. He could stay, keep watch for local threats, maybe even...

No, it was insane. This place was rubbing off on him. Valhalla Sector was too big.

"When do I start?"

Promotions in Valhalla had been methods of control. Greater responsibility translated to 'never forget who owns you now.' As head of security, Lee expected something similar to develop, but Markus continued to welcome his advice. They disagreed often and strenuously, particularly on the subject of newcomers, yet Markus was always willing to call him into the office and go over the field recommendations case by case.

"Well?" he said now. "I think this girl sounds like an ideal addition to the force."

Lee didn't trust ideal additions, although this time that wasn't the problem. "The sister is a red flag."

"We're not bringing the sister."

"We don't know that. If we let this girl in, we'll have opened up a connection between what we have here and a desperate drug addict outside."

"Well, what would you prefer, Lee? Should we only bring in people with no friends or family left? Or would you have us close the Mountain?"

If only. "It would be safer to err on the side of caution. No man is an island."

"And you see that as a bad thing. Because of her sister's poor choices, you think of this Erin as a liability, without even meeting her. It's interesting. Were you always alone out there, Lee?"

"No. But I didn't rely on other people."

"Still they were there. It would take an extraordinary level of will for anyone to survive in this world alone, and at what price? Isolation is a terrible thing, Lee, and people go insane from it. Self-reliance can only get you so far. Without human connection and cooperation, people working together toward a mutual goal, where would any of us be right now?"

Lee said nothing. He thought of Ezekiel, mind dying by degrees as he failed in the hunt for his mythical brothers. He wondered if Devon cared the price he was paying. He wondered why he was even thinking about it.

Markus smiled, not requiring an answer. As was so often the case, the question had been rhetorical. "I'm going to give Maxine the go ahead to make contact, bring her in. What happens afterward, we'll deal with."

Lee had been in heavy research mode for weeks, going through digital and paper files for evidence and tailing Markus through the halls to the restricted areas, learning every keypad code and committing them to his memory against the day they'd be necessary. Life in Thunder Mountain had been very quiet lately. Erin was working out - she had the obligatory hero crush that many newcomers developed for Markus, but that would pass in a few months. Lee was far more concerned with the discovery of Thunder Mountain's secret resident, and the crossroads she represented. One that he'd been coming to for a long time.

It had begun with small things. Lee's original reports to Valhalla Sector had been scrupulously accurate. Thunder Mountain wasn't a happening place, their forays outside were overly cautious, they lived the way people did everywhere, day to day if not quite hand to mouth. Their threat level was minuscule and likely to remain that way long into the future, no matter what certain elements had to say on the subject.

Then he'd begun leaving things out, rationalizing all the way. Markus liked to share his theories and plans, but it was just talk and unlikely to ever materialize. The slow but steady influx of new people and the training they received was nothing terribly important either - one man or woman more or less wasn't about to alter the face of the earth. The flight simulators were just that, not the real thing. It went on in like fashion, a series of quiet evasions. There was no grand scheme behind it and Lee was definitely not a hero. He just wanted Valhalla Sector to leave them alone.

Meaghan Lee Rose changed all of that. Here was one woman who really could alter the face of the earth. There was no excuse for keeping her hidden. He had to brief his superiors about her existence. Crouched beside the door, watching Markus lean his head gently against the cold glass, more at ease than Lee had ever seen him, the future was clear. Valhalla Sector would tear this place apart, extract her, leave Markus and his world in ruins.

If he told them.

He shifted away from the door and listened a few more minutes, as Markus poured forth his soul on recent events. A boy called Isaac had suffered a workplace accident and broken his leg. The Thunder Mountain medical team had managed their first successful splint and today Isaac had been out and about on crutches for the first time since the fall. There had been whistles and applause, a surfeit of joy that Markus was struggling earnestly to describe.

"Telling you all this.... Words just can't convey. I mean, is this helping? Reminding you of everything you can't see for yourself, everything you're cut off from?" There was suddenly guilt in his voice, though hers was disturbingly calm in reply.

"When my sister became sick, and all my friends after, I knew I'd been exposed. I wasn't scared anymore because I thought we would all face it together. And then they were just gone, and I said to myself, 'now it's my turn.' I hung on every bad feeling, Markus, because I needed proof it was starting. Nothing happened. So I began to wonder if it was a miracle, if I was immune, if the cure might be inside me, so I went to my doctor. He ran some tests, made a phone call. And then I killed my doctor."

"You don't have to talk about those times."

Yes, please stop. It was one thing to read about Meaghan's condition, quite another to hear her glib description of it.

"I want to. Markus, don't you see? Once I knew what I was really carrying, the only thing I could think of was the death I'd been denied. And now... I do have other things to think about. Even though I will never be able to walk these halls alongside you, and see the future you're building with my own eyes, I want to hear about it. Day by day, Markus. You never have to leave anything out. I do have a future now."

"By proxy."

"It's not such a bad deal." Her voice was warm with emotion, raw, intimate and nothing he had any interest overhearing. Markus knew what he was doing, and if she was content with life in a glass box she wasn't a present security risk. That was the important thing, and now that he knew, it would be easy enough to keep tabs on her whereabouts. Lee slipped away with Markus, Meaghan and Valhalla Sector none the wiser.

The radio call took him by surprise. Ezekiel checked in occasionally but Devon had never been all that fond of him.

"What makes you think you can trust me?"

Devon hesitated. "Ezekiel said so." It sounded like a sore point between them. "Besides, it's not like I have much choice."

Lee knew how that felt. Someone on the inside had to safeguard Markus from what was coming, someone who could withstand the pressure, and there was no one else. It had to be him.

For years to come Lee kept things under wraps, buying Markus the time he needed, at the price of his own integrity. He betrayed Markus every single day, and every day he saved him from his enemies - and from himself. For those gentle manners hid the other side of Markus: An iron will, dogmatic belief and an enormous capacity for risk, held in check by the responsibilities demanded of him. The people of Thunder Mountain needed Markus to walk a straight line, ordered, precise, in perfect sequence. His strength and vision were irreplaceable. So long as everyone remembered that, Lee's juggling act was relatively easy to manage.

There were occasional tremors in the earth. Reports brought in by Simon about the return of the virus and how burners were sweeping whole areas clean. There was news from Devon that an attempted opposition to Valhalla had sprung up and shortly thereafter been taken outside and shot. News from Ezekiel that while Devon's younger son had died too soon, the elder was alive and well and wanderstruck. But these were only tremors. The earthquake might still be years away and Devon promised the secrecy wouldn't last forever.

Lee hadn't been allowed to accompany Markus into what was obviously some terrible trap but he was out there all the same, perched on a nearby rooftop with a sniper rifle, ready for extraction at a second's notice. From his eyrie, he watched Markus, Jeremiah and Kurdy lob sticks of dynamite to and fro, laughing as the skinheads scurried like ants from the explosions, as if it was some kind of game, a schoolboy prank against a group of men who would have gladly killed all four of them - no doubt with plans to make it last.

The major causes of death in the early years had been accident and exposure. It was a hard world but the children cast into it had still been green and many of them had died by their own mistakes. It took time to unlearn the roots of civilization, but every single year it was getting worse as resources thinned and survivors grew more feral. Some people (how many Lee couldn't guess) were not going to be rehabilitated or scared straight.

Lee had never taken a life and now he lifted his finger from the trigger, breathing deeply to steady himself against the impulse. Their aim was always adjacent, creating fear and panic, not death and dismemberment. Markus wanted to change the world without leaving a pile of bodies. Jeremiah and Kurdy were on that same wavelength despite having just met him. Lee had been wrong, there was no trap. Or maybe the trap was simply human nature. Markus liked them. There was no telling what might happen now.

Alone on his opposite roof, he watched as the strangers shepherded Markus to safety. It was time to go home.

"I doubt if I have to fill you in," said Markus, eyebrow raised when he saw that Lee had beaten him to the office.

"Humor me."

A smile at the words and then he launched into a full description of the morning's events, buzzing with borrowed energy the while. "It's good we know, Lee. Not just about them, but what we're up against."

The skinheads scattering like leaves in the wind. They weren't an army and Markus was very much mistaken but Lee couldn't speak. He owed Markus more than he'd realized. Out there completely on his own all those years, Lee didn't want to think what he could have become.

_______________

"I radioed Ezekiel. He'll come up the northeast air vent, he knows what to do."

"Understood. I'll be there."

Lee knew what would happen. By opening the grate, he would become every bit as responsible for Quantrell's death as Ezekiel and Devon. This was the tipping point past which his hands would never be clean again, yet they didn't even tremble. Each had chosen his side in the war and Quantrell's life wasn't worth much in the balance of things. An odd coldness suffused him as he set the grate aside and issued a very simple instruction that he knew Ezekiel could follow: "Don't let anyone see you."

There was no room for interpretation in that statement. Yet within hours of the Quantrell incident, Jeremiah was on the warpath.

"Markus," said Lee, "there is no way anyone could get in here without my-"

"Well, someone did!" That was Jeremiah, refusing to let the adults talk.

Markus ran a hand through his hair. "Okay. If you saw him, maybe someone else did too. Lee-"

Lee had bigger worries. "You talked to him. What did he say?"

"Nothing."

Even Markus didn't believe that.

"He said he walked through the walls or some shit, I don't know, 'the steps of the dark man,' that's what he said. He was following someone."

That would be Quantrell. Never had Lee been more grateful for Ezekiel's riddles. Their confusion meant damage control was still possible.

Nevertheless, he got on the horn as soon as the coast was clear.

"What part of 'don't let anyone see you' got you confused? I let you in here on one condition and you were supposed to handle it. What the hell went wrong?"

"I followed the plan and found the target. Nothing went wrong." Perplexity came into his voice. "Did something go wrong?"

"You talked to Jeremiah, Ezekiel. Rangy, short tempered, like a dog with a bone? Am I ringing a bell here? I've got my hands full trying to keep any kind of restraint on that guy and you completely screwed me over."

"You don't understand."

"Understand what? Why did you say anything at all?"

"He's Jeremiah."

As if that was any kind of explanation. "Yeah, I've met him. He's an asshole."

"He's my brother."

Lee stood dumb. It was the sort of bombshell that should have been preceded with instructions to sit down, which he now did.

Devon's son. Devon's only living son, the wanderer, brought to Thunder Mountain by a dying Simon. If there was a cosmic coordinator of mortal affairs, that entity was having a good laugh at their expense right now. He felt momentarily unwell. Your brother. Met him once and he's your brother. Devon makes you his packhorse, bloodhound and hitman all in one and he's your father.

Lee signed off and cradled his head. First Markus, now Ezekiel behaving erratically. That was Jeremiah's doing, the influence he had. The man was a goddamn wrecking ball, an agent of chaos from the first.

Everything was in place. Jeremiah and Kurdy had been bundled off and hopefully wouldn't darken their doorstep for another two weeks. Libby was about to make one of her trips to Millhaven, where she could represent Devon in a face to face meeting with Markus. Quantrell's capture had even been a service of sort, confirming Valhalla Sector's existence and threat level. Lee's long-cherished plan to bring Markus into the loop was about to commence when Devon melted down on him.

Despite being an equal architect in the plan's creation, Devon swore going forward was too risky. Lee thought otherwise. With Jeremiah playing detective, the entire works was in jeopardy anyway and the best thing to do was level with Markus before someone stepped on a landmine. More even than that, Lee wanted the lying to stop. He owed it to Markus-

"You don't work for Markus, Lee! Get it through your head! He finds out about me, they'll find out about him and then the whole fucking world's done for! Do you understand me? We wait!"

Wait for what exactly? Agreement finally given, Lee hung up in disgust. He knew very little about forest fires, but he knew what a controlled burn was - and Devon had just rejected it.

Danbury was another disaster, with precious minutes lost as Jeremiah dogged Ezekiel through the snow covered backyards. By the time Lee had circled around to where Jeremiah had him cornered, it was already too late. Ezekiel was babbling, pulling his punches - falling apart. Now would be a good time not to be yourself, Lee thought, cudgel in hand as he approached.

Jeremiah had hold of Ezekiel's shirt front. "You know my Dad? Then tell me, what is his name? Huh? What's his name?" His voice was raised, covering the crunch of Lee's boots until he was almost close enough to take the swing.

Ezekiel couldn't hold out that long. "Our father's name is Devon," he said.

Goddamn you. Ezekiel had always been a shit liar but he could have stalled. He could have tried. Lee swung with slightly more venom than intended and Jeremiah hit the ground like a dead man. In seconds Ezekiel was down by his brother's side, anguished and blind to anything else.

"He'll be okay. Get going!" He couldn't afford to lose Ezekiel, not right now. "Move!"

The snarling look Lee received told him clearer than words that, even though his directives might still be obeyed, he had already lost Ezekiel. Everything was coming apart.

Chapter Text

"I need to talk to Devon."

Ivy could only look sympathetic. "I'm not allowed to let you use the radio. Markus' orders. I'm sorry."

Lee nodded without really taking it in. So that was it. Internal exile.

He didn't press. Markus had already threatened to fire anyone who still stood by him and that would include Ivy. He'd trained her to run the comm room, and because she'd come to him about the Minnesota group Markus had scolded him like an errant child in front of Theo, of all people. Then Lee had had to watch him walk away, discussing Alliance policy with Simon and Matthew's killer.

Simon had trusted Lee - but far more than that, he had trusted Markus. Markus could affect extraordinary changes in those around him, facilitating growth, nourishing dormant hopes and channeling darker instincts in positive directions. If anyone could bring out Lee's better qualities, going to waste in the wilds, Simon had wholeheartedly believed it would be Markus. He might have found some amusement in Theo being brought on board for the same treatment, but Lee wasn't ready to share it.

Markus meant no disrespect. They'd been rangers, they'd known the risks their job entailed, and their deaths had always been more acceptable to him. Not like Meaghan.

Markus hadn't mentioned her. He'd completely shut down but it was obvious what was going through his head: That Lee had as good as murdered her. He'd taken her out of her glass case and broken her.

It hadn't been his intention. He'd gone over the risks with Meaghan and she had accepted them. If Lady Death's love for Markus had made her want to destroy the entire world, it should have made her want to live in it as well. She should have stayed alive. She should have returned to custody. It should have worked.

It did work, save for that oversight.

And now he couldn't reach Devon, who had made no arguments on his behalf. The glue holding them together was gone and with him went years of work, up in smoke as if they were strangers. Instead, Jeremiah had been Lee's sole defendant with Markus - a defense given in such a half-assed manner that Lee still wasn't sure why he'd bothered.

He stalked down the halls of Thunder Mountain to one of its many broom closets. The only job lower than basic janitorial was latrine and cleanup duty, so it was a minor comfort that there was still some lower place for him to fall.

Each day, Lee did the only work he was allowed to do and he did it reasonably well - but then again, any halfway intelligent person could. No one looked at him when he passed them in the corridors and he made no complaints. If this was a test, he could pass it like he'd passed all the others. He had nothing to prove. Thunder Mountain stood and that was enough.

Yet there was a hollow space in his stomach that never went away. It took him a while to realize what it was, and that in some ways exile would have been more merciful than what Markus had actually cooked up. For the first time in sixteen years, Lee was bored. All his needs were met except the most essential, the mental activity which kept the rest in proportion. Surviving after the Big Death, navigating Valhalla Sector, running security, betraying everyone he'd ever known - those were full-time jobs. Now that he'd been stripped of any mental occupation, he was free to dwell on all the things that didn't bear thinking about. Markus and Meaghan, Jeremiah, Devon...

Ezekiel. Gunned down during Jeremiah's capture, his usefulness at an end. Lee had heard about it that same night, but he'd had to put every resource into finding Kurdy and saving those who could still be saved. There'd been no time for anything else.

Today, rattling from one empty room to another, was a different story. He had nothing to distract him from what had happened to his former friend (not that he'd been equipped to understand that concept until it was too late). Ezekiel had died alone, watching Jeremiah be taken away, his life's work ending in failure, and as far as Lee could tell, his prediction had been right: He was unmourned. Jeremiah didn't give a damn about some crazy stranger. Brother, my ass.

Devon meanwhile was visiting the Mountain, visiting his real son, and he still hadn't been to see Lee, not even to ask about Ezekiel. Grieving people used to approach him, pleading something extra, some last unknown anecdote about their loved ones. For a few minutes, Lee had been an anchor for those who never even pretended to like him the rest of the time. Devon made no such overtures, but then Devon had failed Ezekiel. Maybe Lee's new status as an unperson was just an excuse to bury his own ghosts.

Libby was a different story. First he heard that she'd been asking for him, and then, when he failed to take the bait and check in, she started popping up at the ends of various corridors, sending him on circuitous routes to avoid running into her. She let him go the first time, and he shook her off the second, but on the third afternoon she found him on the job (whether intended or not, adding insult to injury), he let her get within shouting distance before retreating down an obscure passage of the Mountain to where they wouldn't be seen.

He could hear her voice drifting towards him. "Lee? Lee, wait up! Come on!"

He leaned his broom on the wall and forced himself to remain in place. Libby had never been one to take no for an answer. If he wanted to be left alone, it was best to have it out with her now, or she'd just keep coming around corners at random intervals, demanding he talk to her. Still a brat.

She was slightly out of breath when she arrived. "You know, you could always say you don't want to talk to me."

"Hey Libby."

"Okay?" She scanned his face. "You got the macho guy crap out of your system now?"

"I don't want to be seen like this."

"Well, if you ever ate in the cafeteria with everyone else, I wouldn't have to chase you down at work, would I?"

And there was the insult, right on schedule. "I'm pushing a broom."

"Not forever though, right?"

Lee didn't answer. He sank down against the wall and Libby joined him like they were kids again.

"Jeremiah said he went to bat for you."

"So you were the one who vouched for me? You always did have the people skills."

That amused her and she leaned a little closer. "A thank you is customary. You should work on that."

He sighed. "What do you want?"

"I wanted to see how you were."

"I'm doing a job a braindead moron could accomplish just as well and Markus won't look at me."

"Maybe he just needs time-"

"Do you know what happens to double agents, Libby? They're despised even by the people they work for."

She chose to look insulted. "Maybe that was true of Valhalla Sector. You're selling your friends a little short, I think. Anyway, I was in the same boat and-"

"Barely." He couldn't keep the scorn from his voice and that earned him a glare.

"You know the reason people don't like you is because you're a jerk?"

"And just because you knew what was going on, that doesn't make you a double agent."

"Well, it wasn't for lack of trying. All Devon wanted to do was protect me."

"Is that surprising?"

She didn't answer right away. "You can't protect anyone. Nothing's safe. I had to pretend everything was fine and I knew it wasn't, and all I got to do was carry around biosamples and wait for the world to end. Again."

"You got pretty good at bomb-making."

"That's just chemistry. You and Ezekiel, you got to do the things that mattered."

"Yeah? Well, Ezekiel died thinking he'd failed. Died alone, surrounded by enemies. That's where the things that mattered got him. And I..."

He had to stop, get his voice back under control. Although in his experience, people couldn't hear the difference between his good and bad days.

"I did my job. My real job. And I didn't answer to anyone for it, because from the day I walked in that door, it was always on me. I did what no one else could have done. They didn't have the stomach." He shook his head. "And they shouldn't have had to do it. I was there, so I made the call and I can live with it. What happened... They don't keep me up at night."

Not even Lady Death? The world's better off without her, even if Markus isn't.

"I took it all on me, because I could handle it, and I pulled it off. I used every resource to isolate and annihilate a global threat. That's what I did."

It was brilliant. I was brilliant. I saved everyone.

I tried to save everyone.

Libby wrapped her arms around her knees and looked at him seriously. "So what happens if they don't take you back? Are you just gonna sweep the floors forever?"

He shrugged. "Markus needs me. Whether he knows it or not. One day something bad'll happen and he'll bring me back, and I'll still be here when that day comes."

"It could be a long wait. Do you want me to, I don't know, talk to Jeremiah again?"

"No."

"He tried to help-"

"He decided death was too good for me. That's all he did. He was old enough to remember it the first time and I made him go through it twice." Jeremiah's curse came back to him. A painful, lingering death. It wasn't a fence that could be mended. Maybe none of them could. Maybe he'd set himself an impossible task again. "He's not gonna forgive me."

"Well, I forgive you." Libby was busy studying the far wall as she spoke.

"You don't mean that."

"I do." Now she looked at him earnestly. "I hid in a closet the whole time, Lee, and I tried not to listen but - there was just no place to go. And when I came out I saw everything. And I forgive you. Okay? You did what you had to do, you did what was necessary, and it isn't right that you're being punished for it. Whether they come around or not, whether anyone else understands, you're worth more than-" Libby cut herself off, turning her head away.

They sat there side by side for a long time. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it."

He nodded. "Break's over, Libby."

They stood and Lee picked up his broom. She spoke only once more before leaving.

"You saved the world, Lee."

"And now I sweep the floors."

She studied his face for a moment and then quietly walked away. Lee began to push the broom absently along the hallway, barely noticing it. He'd seen Libby pout and sulk in the old days, but for the first time that he could remember she'd looked genuinely sad. It wasn't an expression he was one to inspire, the look a sister might give. A look that said 'I wanted more for you.' She'd blown off Devon and Jeremiah and whatever exciting projects there were for her in the Mountain to come find him at his lowest - and forgive him.

That was something new. Maybe he could come back from this. At the very least, it was a start.

Chapter Text

No one had thought to break the news to Lee. He'd found out by the same method as the rank and file, those in the Mountain who hadn't known her, whose response had been the momentary sobriety news of a stranger's death always carried and now he stood in the office waiting for Markus to turn and look at him. Instead, Markus continued in quest through the file cabinet, although he didn't seem to be finding anything useful there.

Lee's petition was days old by now; he'd asked to see Markus immediately, and the request had been denied. Markus had left for Millhaven within hours, taking Erin with on a mission whose results he had tersely described as "successful." He'd said nothing after that, letting Lee say what was on his mind. The same thing on everyone else's who had known Libby: Revenge.

"With all hands on deck, I know you can use me," Lee concluded. Markus remained fixated upon his task, in a manner unpleasantly reminiscent of Jeremiah. "Markus? I'm asking to help."

"Absolutely not."

"No matter what happened before-"

The slam of the drawer stopped him. "You're unbelievable. To think you can leverage your way back up the ladder. Was her body even cold before you'd figured out a way to use it to your own advantage?"

It wasn't the reaction he'd expected. Markus was looking at him now, with an expression of such deep-seated loathing that Lee couldn't meet his eye. "You always said I should care more about people," he said numbly.

"You don't care about her. She's a tool, an asset, whatever the hell you like to call it and I am not going to let you exploit her death!"

"No, Markus, I came to you to help! I've known her longer than anyone here and if you-"

"You don't get to come in here and make demands of me - it's my house, my rules and Thunder Mountain is not your personal little kingdom anymore, Lee!" Markus made for the door.

"It was never about me, Markus!"

"Then prove it!" He swung around violently. "I'm having you detailed to latrine and cleanup duty until further notice." The words almost choked him, and he stood afterward awaiting a protest, some type of heated defense or maybe even an outraged resignation on the spot. Self-exile to solve all his problems.

Lee scarcely drew breath. Speech was well beyond him and a single nod was all he could give, but that was enough for Markus, who left him there in further disgrace.

Retiring to the most obscure passage he knew, Lee lost the rest of the day in empty walking which accomplished absolutely nothing. The sick feeling lingered. Could it be that they still didn't trust him? Hadn't he proven beyond the shadow of a doubt whose side he was on?

You laid thousands dead at his feet. You expect him to take that as a peace offering?

I didn't have a choice.

He sat alone on the floor. He'd known this would happen once the Mountain opened up. Once they were on the map there was no disappearing a second time. He'd bought them as much time as he could, for as long as he could - yet in little more than a year most of those he'd done it for were already gone.

Markus was the only one left and if Markus was expecting him to quit the Mountain of his own accord, it would never happen. Lee knew where his loyalty lay and he knew that the day of appeal would come, if for no other reason than necessity. It was the right thing to bring him back as head of security, and sooner or later they would have to put their problems aside for the good of everyone. He clung to that, and to the only two words in that excruciating moment which had given him hope: Prove it.

Markus could have chosen no better words for Lee, and he would have known that all too well. He was never careless about language. That was Lee's lifeline, and with it he would stay, and he would endure.

_______________

It had been four months in hell when, at four in the morning, Erin came to his door. He was already dressed for the day and answered at the first knock.

"You're up, Lee."

"Meaning?"

"Markus is willing to give you a shot. You're on field duty support. We've got a slate of search and recon teams going out in a few hours, pick one of them, make yourself useful." She handed him a copy of the roster sheet.

"That means a partner."

She nodded.

"So the whole thing's doomed from the start, right? No one's gonna work with me."

"Well, you've got a few hours to try. Don't waste them." Erin was very terse. She'd probably spent the previous evening trying to talk Markus out of the idea. He shut the door in her face.

Lee ran his eye down the list, discounting Jeremiah right away. Max and Anna hated him. Jack and Fiona hated him. Lee would rather lose a finger than take a fifty-fifty chance of working with Trent. Some of the other pairs might listen but he didn't have time to bark up the wrong tree. He had no idea how long the opportunity would be open, and Markus could change his mind tomorrow if there were no takers, so he went to the weak link. He went to talk to Mister Smith.

Until this morning, the sight of Smith had always made Lee double back along any corridor he'd happened down. He'd been a walking red flag from the start, so Lee had gone far out of his way to avoid him. There was nothing he could say on the subject that wouldn't piss a lot of people off and make them still more inclined to tolerate the guy.

Six months later, this human cipher was still around and continued to claim Kurdy's complete confidence and trust. That made him, horrible as it was to consider, an asset.

On the upside, Smith was obviously mad. Lee could handle mad.

He found Smith at a cafeteria table, fidgeting with a box of some kind. Smith looked up brightly when he approached, for all the world like they were friends. Probably a good sign.

Lee slung his travel kit on the table, sat down uninvited and got right to the point. "Heard you're on assignment today. Where to?"

"East Clifton. I remember you."

So much for a fresh start.

"I was your messenger."

"What?"

"I was your messenger. Kurdy was the message. I remember you from the bridge."

Ezekiel would have loved this guy.

"And I took your picture. I could take it again, if you like," and Smith held up his little box in demonstration, "make it a gift, if it turns out. If it doesn't, I have to burn it."

"Actually, uh... I needed to ask you something."

Briefly he explained what he wanted and Smith listened attentively. However odd the man was, at least he appeared lucid.

Smith put his camera away carefully, the seconds dragging out as Lee braced for refusal. "Well, it sounds like a good idea," he finally said, "but the thing is, when I go out there, my only job is to protect Kurdy. Can you promise to do the same?"

"With my life."

Lee didn't flinch from the stare he received. He was telling God's honest truth. If Kurdy died on his watch, there'd be no coming back from that. He'd asked Jeremiah for the wrong thing - Markus wasn't going to make him a gift of his old position back. He'd have to earn it, like he had the first time. He could do that.

Smith sat for another long moment's contemplation, then slowly nodded. "God says yes."

"Great, let's go talk to-"

"And God has a message for you."

Lee sat back down without protest. He knew how to handle these types, and it was best to just let them say their piece without argument. He hands turned to fists under the table as he waited some more.

"God says you still belong here. Light and shadow go in pairs and one day, when the trial is over, you will find yourself forgiven."

For some reason, it brought to mind the wizened boy from Danbury. "Well, tell God thanks."

"He knows. He also knows you don't mean it yet." Lee just glared at him. "You want me to go talk to Kurdy now?"

"Please."

After weeks trapped inside getting boot camp operational, Kurdy was positively sunny at the prospect of a simple recon mission. Another good sign. This was shaping up to be the best day Lee had had in months and he tossed his bag into the truckbed with what he hoped was casual authority. Kurdy seemed not to notice.

"Lee! I haven't seen you in a while."

"Well Markus has had me working latrine and cleanup duty. Nobody sees me. Nobody wants to."

"Well, sorry I can't help you there, man. Smith, let's go."

"Actually I was thinking I would," Smith hesitated, "bail on you this time around."

"Why?"

This was where Lee had to step in and just hope it sounded plausible. Since Kurdy was always quick to resent outside interference, he skipped the direct orders and couched the argument as a personal quest, with Smith's quiet support throughout. "Give me a chance to earn my way back. I mean, someone's gotta start trusting somebody here, right?"

"I think that's a good idea," said Smith helpfully.

Kurdy's habitual expression of disgust and annoyance was absent, and that was the strangest thing about Smith, Lee realized. Plenty of crazy people wandered the roads out there but they had no power of influence over others. Kurdy had once been nearly as anti-authoritarian as Jeremiah and rock solid in pragmatism. He had begrudged every second of Lee's company and major arm-twisting would have been required to make him capitulate. But since this was one of Smith's whims, Kurdy was quickly persuaded to accept Lee in the cab and make the best of it. In point of fact, he seemed to find the whole situation amusing - not exactly the usual reaction even in Lee's best years.

"So why didn't you ask Jeremiah if you could go with him to Millhaven?"

"I'm not exactly his favorite person in the world."

Kurdy's amusement bubbled over into laughter. "Lee, you're nobody's favorite person in the world."

_______________

Things had gone wrong in East Clifton the moment they arrived, although Lee hadn't realized it right away. Kurdy had a history with the place. His face was known and he'd been sitting on information about a resident group of psychopaths calling themselves the Dead and Lee had rolled with the punches until now he found himself out on the road alone.

It had been roughly half an hour, the tipping point past which Kurdy would be looking around, realizing Lee should have returned with the cavalry by now, and start sizing up his options before coming up with a new (and probably terrible) alternative plan. Lee's steps quickened on the broken pavement, although he was careful to maintain a general loping speed that could eat up the miles without leaving him winded. An army on the move in ideal conditions could cover three miles an hour, but since Lee wasn't hauling an arsenal and equipment, he could do somewhat better, and the knowledge that the return journey would be made in a vehicle made it easier to ignore the tremors of protest beginning in his legs and give over to the motion.

East Clifton was such a thoroughly broken excuse for a town that there was less than zero chance of any swifter transportation coming his way. No spring market and thus no farmers with their horse-drawn wagons. Even if the Dead were ousted, there was nothing this town could offer to the Alliance. He wondered if Markus would bring them in anyway - wasting resources to prove a point, conviction and compassion winning out over logic.

Logic would tell Kurdy exactly what had happened. He would know the impossibility of Lee returning to Thunder Mountain alone. 'Looks like Kurdy bit it. Promote me.' By rights, Lee could only be captured, dead or exactly where he was, breath rasping slightly as he leaned into the miles. Betrayal or cowardice were the very last things Kurdy should think of, but they would be the first. It was an inevitable emotional overrule. Smith or no Smith, Kurdy would assume the worst. He wouldn't understand that the only way Lee could get him out of East Clifton alive was to abandon him there.

"You're not a murderer. So tell him he's wrong."

The flash of a gun, the calm expression on Kurdy's face - it had scared the hell out of Lee, watching Kurdy just stand down. The born survivor had returned to the one place he was most vulnerable, where he wouldn't lift a finger to save himself, held in the grip of an old ghost and believing wholeheartedly that he deserved to die. As if that would right an old wrong.

Lee had been beneath Ike's notice. Because of that he'd been able to inch forward and kick the gun aside. To hell with guilt. A standup, decent guy alone in the world out there, making a few bad judgment calls on his way out of town and blaming himself ever after for sins of omission. Well, what should he have done? With no resources or backup Kurdy would have died facing the Dead all on his own, trying to be a hero, changing nothing.

Changing everything, never meeting Jeremiah.

Now Lee could only pray that Kurdy's overdeveloped sense of guilt wouldn't cause him to do something supremely stupid while he was gone and every footfall drummed that prayer into the ground. Ike seemed like a decent enough person, but he was dangerous. Kurdy might be impelled to take a bullet for him, trying to settle the score, when all he really had to do was trust Lee's return - and wait.

He kept an eye always to the ground, in case of potholes or other poor terrain, and as he passed each drunken power pole, faces came to mind. Markus and Smith, blaming themselves for even letting Lee out the door. Jeremiah with another name on his death list. Ike's blistering disdain.

You like traveling with murderers?

I am one.

Lee well remembered Kurdy's skill in hand to hand combat and it was easy to track him through the broken debris of the warehouse to where he stood, battered but upright, while the Dead's leader lay unmoving on the ground. That was one problem solved. Not that Lee thought for a second Kurdy had taken the man's life, but the locals would deal with him.

Ike said nothing, even after Kurdy expressed some hope that the scales might begin to balance now. The day's bloody vengeance seemed to make no impression on him. He didn't thank Lee for his role in making the Dead live up to their moniker, but Lee didn't expect him to. Nobody ever thanked him anymore and no matter how justified, death was a joyless gift. Ike walked away in silence.

Lee, still getting his breath back, said, "You don't win people's trust back that easily, Kurdy. Even if you save their life."

"What took you so long, Lee?"

Thanks for proving the point. "They had the Rover. There were too many of them guarding it."

Kurdy felt along his jaw. "So how'd you get to the next town?"

"What else was I gonna do? I walked." Kurdy looked up at him, and unless he was mistaken, actually seemed impressed - as well he should be. Lee had just saved his life for a second time. Combined with the physical tax he'd put on himself, it was kicking in as one hell of a high. "Ran. Walked. You know anybody else who would walk ten miles to help somebody out?"

Kurdy didn't answer right away, still cataloguing his bruises. "I've done it," he said after a moment. "Jeremiah. Smith. Pretty sure Erin wou-"

"Point taken, Kurdy."

"Hey. You did good work, Lee. I will personally put in a good word for you, okay?" Kurdy got up and stretched. "Damn, you don't quit, I'll say that for you."

_______________

Eight days and two less complicated excursions later, Lee retired for the night to find a black and white photograph lying on his cot. He picked it up, baffled. It was a picture of himself, somewhat motion-blurred around the edges, but his face was clear enough, and so focused on the road ahead of him that he was unaware of the camera man. "What the hell?" he muttered.

He sat down and stared at it for a while, trying to figure out a second option for where and when it could have been taken, because the only possibility hardly made sense. It was a photograph of his ten mile walk.

He flipped it over. Scrawled on the back: God says nicely done.

Chapter Text

After the job in East Clifton, Lee was back in the mix as an honorary field agent. He was given information on a strictly need-to-know basis and Markus still refused to speak to him directly, but he could at least make use of his field and combat training. It helped pass the time until his next opportunity for advancement.

The army was growing at the fastest possible pace while Lee remained standing still. He was kept in the dark about the big meeting with Devon (who was still avoiding him), although it had something to do with Markus pulling out all the subsequent stops to find Frederick Monash - and given the man's extreme age and Devon's involvement, it wasn't much of a leap to figure he was a refugee twice over, but whatever news he brought didn't leave Markus' office so it was either highly important or completely inconsequential. Either way, Lee's patience was wearing out.

He'd stood white-knuckled outside his old office, now one of Erin's myriad work spaces, with a hundred good arguments at the ready for why, overworked as she was, it was the right time for her to step aside and let him shoulder at least a fraction of what he'd lost. If he wasn't to run security ever again, at least he could act as a consultant. Finally, self-preservation had won out over obstinate rationality and he'd walked away.

It wasn't that he thought Erin had been doing a poor job in his place. She lacked the necessary scope of paranoia, that was true, and the expertise brought on by life as a trained triple agent, but the only other thing she lacked was time. Unfortunately, that happened to be in shortening supply.

Just a couple of days after his private contest of wills, Lee was given orders to report to the comm room. He went to Ivy for assignment and she gave him a quizzical look. "It's all you, Lee."

"What?"

She shrugged. "You got it back."

If Ivy was annoyed at getting bumped down to second, she gave no sign, and Lee asked no questions about the cause of his sudden windfall. The relief at being given meaningful work superceded everything else. Sensitive information went through the comm room every day, making his position a clear signal of trust. Not quite 'welcome back' but an essential rung of the ladder nonetheless.

Markus was in and out every day but kept any statements made to Lee brief. There had been no opportunity for them to talk and Markus clearly wanted it that way but finally Lee had to take the chance or look like a complete ingrate.

"How's it going?" It was Markus' usual question, and his usual slow approach (as if to a disagreeable task), but his tone was promisingly neutral.

"Five more radios delivered. We've established contact, so far so good. By the way, Markus, thanks for trusting me enough to let me run the comm room again."

"Don't thank me, thank Erin. It was her idea."

That was odd, and Lee filed it away for later. "It's a good idea either way."

Markus swallowed a huff of derision. "We'll see. So have all our teams reported in?"

"Except for Jeremiah, Kurdy and Smith."

A nod and a smile at the news, as if he'd expected that. "You know when you're a kid and there's always two or three kids sat in the back of the class and you always had to keep them apart or nothing ever got done?"

It was small talk. Markus was finally talking to him again, chatting with him again and Lee had no space to enjoy it because just then his earpiece screeched with feedback and he had to yank it out or lose his hearing. "Damn."

There was a little pool of light in the middle of the empty cafeteria. Erin was still at work. Lee hesitated for a second and then approached. Finding Erin on her own was a rarity these days. "You're up late."

She probably hadn't even noticed the time. "We've got a shipment going out first thing in the morning for Grand View. We promised them weapons, we're two days behind schedule and they're probably freaking out - but with everything else going on, I haven't even had a chance of finalizing the manifest till right now. You need something?"

"Markus said it was you who put me in the comm room. He said I should thank you."

She ducked her head with that smile she only got around Markus, although tonight it faded quickly. "You're welcome."

He'd spent a lot of time worrying on account of that smile. People had always been baffled by his distrust of Erin. They figured if she didn't meet his standards, nobody ever could. The standard wasn't the problem; Erin had sailed over it early on. He'd had a window of reassurance when she'd discovered Meaghan, but now Meaghan was out of the picture. One day the other shoe would drop and that smile would disappear forever, and Erin (dependable, predictable, content) would cease to be any of those things. She'd become a liability, an x factor, and no one else would even see it coming. He turned to go.

"Lee."

"Yeah?"

"Daniel doesn't exist."

Somehow that wasn't surprising. Apparently, no one got what they wanted from this world. "Okay."

"That's what the meeting with Devon and Frederick Monash was about. Markus agreed to hold off on spreading the news until we get hard evidence, but I thought you should know."

He nodded his thanks. "You think that's a good idea?"

"It's his decision. He promised Rachel to tread carefully. Besides, it's not much of a weapon against fanatics. There's no way they'll believe him."

Because they won't want to.

She looked at him curiously. "Do you disagree?"

"I think it's a mistake to make promises outside of the Alliance. Markus is setting up a conflict that doesn't need to be there. And if the pressure keeps building, it's not gonna hold."

The ghost of something shivered in Erin's eyes and she went back to her paperwork.

"You need to talk to Markus," said Erin the next morning.

"And tell him what?"

"The truth."

"I don't think he wants-"

"Listen to me, Lee. They are outside the gates right now. They've got shoulder mounted rockets, they took out the Grand View convoy in seconds, they could be on any of a dozen vantage points and we're trapped in here. That's how close Sims is getting. We're out of time. We need you." Her voice shook and she collected herself. "When Valhalla Sector was coming at us, you killed Quantrell, didn't you?"

"Yes," he said simply.

"And when we were taken prisoner, you had a plan to get us back."

"Yes, but I had inside information. I don't know anything about Daniel's group."

Erin studied his face. "I think you know enough," she said quietly. "So you need to talk to Markus. I'm resigning as head of security as of right now, so you'd better be ready to step into the breach."

As frustrating as it was when she opposed him, Lee had always respected Erin's strength of nerve. Now those nerves were failing and she knew it. Perhaps he'd never evaluated her fairly. Perhaps the external pressure had changed her. She was ready to cede her position to him and that was a truly rare talent, to be good enough at a job to recognize when someone else was better.

Yet even though he'd wanted to hear this for months, things wanted badly were also weapons, used to manipulate and tear down. He slowly shook his head. "Last time I tried to talk to Markus it didn't go well for me. Why don't you talk to him first? Lay the ground work?"

"What do you think I've been doing all these weeks? I pushed Markus to let you out in the field, I put you in the comm room, and now what, you think I'm gonna screw you over? Think I'm setting you up?" She spoke right over his interruptions. "I'll have your back. Now you can believe that and go talk to Markus, or you can stay in here playing it safe, but this is your case to make, Lee, not mine. He's ready to hear it from you, you just have to trust me. Can you do that?"

"Markus, I just heard what was happening."

"Now's not a good time, Lee."

"This is exactly the right time." Markus was plainly annoyed, but at least he stopped walking away from him. "We have to set aside whatever problems you and I have had in the last year. I ran security for this place for ten years. I know every rathole in and out of here. I know where we're vulnerable. I know our defense capabilities. Whether you want to admit it or not, you need me."

"Erin's doing a fine job. I'm not gonna take her off the job just because-"

"Erin was the one who sent me."

As agreed, Erin approached at this juncture and Markus looked from her to Lee doubtfully. "You sure you want to do this?"

She took a breath and after a moment the explanation fell from her lips. "Better the devil you know than the devil out there."

So that was it. I think you know enough...

Erin had told him to tell Markus the truth, and he had. Now came the more difficult part. "I won't let you down again, Markus. I swear to you on my life. I won't disappoint you."

Lying had been second nature for so many years that it had long ceased to hurt. Only today it was a lie that he desperately wanted to be true - and it never would be. He would disappoint Markus tomorrow if it was the only way to save him, and he would never hesitate to do it.

The only mercy here was that Markus gave no indication he believed him as they walked away from Erin, who really had done a fine job as head of security. The army had been Markus and Kurdy's project, and while they'd been busy building one line of defense, Erin had worked just as hard on another. She'd pulled Lee back into the group because she'd known they would need him more than her when the time came. Fire with fire, as it were.

For months now, no one had really acknowledged what Lee had done. By some tacit agreement, people refused to speak openly of the precise cause of Valhalla Sector's defeat. Kurdy and Erin had been promoted while Markus and Jeremiah had nearly been martyred for their beliefs or their blood. Each of them were loved for the roles they'd been forced to play, while Lee alone had been shunned. People did what they had to do to survive, to protect those they cared about, and he'd thought what he'd done was no different, but Lee had crossed a numerical line. He had become a mass murderer, no different from Sims in their eyes except for whose side he happened to be on. A necessary evil.

You know me, Markus. You bring me back, you know what I'll do.

What did it say about Libby, he wondered hazily, that she had been the only one to forgive him?