Chapter 15.

KIRA.

We had to drag him out of the room. He didn't fight back or anything, he just … hollowed out. He didn't look at anything or anyone on his way out, he kind of just floated out of the room. Saia and Draco led him out, I watched on. I couldn't bring myself to touch him. I know slamming my gun into his jaw was an order and only that, but he must have thought different. This is what pushed Lara out of the penthouse, Kira.

I pretend like I know where to draw the line between friends and orders. People eventually got tired of me and left. I had promised him I wouldn't let him slip away into the shit of this city, but here I am – pushing him into it.

He was always talking about his Mum. That was practically the only thing he wanted to talk about in the night, and I'd pretend to listen. And then I would go upstairs without giving it a second thought. Just like I told him, dreams don't come true in the Gray. And now he was shattered. And now I wished I had listened. So full of yourself. Can't help him, can't help Lara, and can't help yourself.

You deserve the silence in the house.

But then every time I would tell him that it might just be a pipe dream he would just give me that stupid grin of his. I had seen it so many times that I started to believe it. Always so optimistic. And now he wouldn't be that same guy. Just another throw away in this fucking city.

I didn't want to leave him alone. I made a promise that I wouldn't let him slip away. Frankie and Joanna slipped away because of the promises I broke. Lara had been close to slipping away too many times. And now Dan would join my long list of broken promises.

No. He wasn't going to join the lines on my forearms. Not this time. Not ever.

It's just the two of us in the room now. Dan's father and myself, separated by a few meters. It took a long time to get anything out of him. He's stubborn. Same way Dan was when it came to his mum.

General Joseph Fallow. A mass murderer. A drunk. A pathetic father. Just a few of the words I would use to describe him. He smells of alcohol, and not the good kind you could buy for a few thousand credits. The same piss the bums under the bridges would brew in oil drums.

"So, just going to stare at me?" he mumbles.

"Want me to shoot you instead?"

He chuckles, "Her Majesty wouldn't have it. Probably has a sniper pointed at me from the window, right?"

He was right. I could see the sniper a few blocks away, adjusting ever so slightly when the wind changed. One wrong move and he'd paint the white room red. The same way he painted the Gray red.

"What's the deal with you and that piss ant?" he groans, wincing as he moves in the bed. One of his legs had been crushed when we brought down the building. It's in a cast, but that's like saying sorry to a broken plate and expecting it to fix itself.

"Why would it matter to you?"

"Because that little shit thinks he's my son."

"Thought you didn't want him." I cross my arms and lean against the wall. Hera warned me about him, he could be manipulative. He was after all the General who won the war against the Resistance in the East Coast, and also the General who killed the Founder in cold blood.

"I still don't. Never will."

"You know, judging by the way you're sweating you don't have too long before you go into shock," I say. "Addicted to alcohol. How the greats fall."

"Don't lecture me," he grows. "Through the pansies you smell of we smell the same. Blood and alcohol. That's our legacy."

"Our?" I spit. "You really think we're alike?"

"Of course we are. Hell, if you add up all the bodies on Founders Street I wouldn't have your body count."

"You don't know anything about me." A sentence I had said to his son a few weeks ago. I need to change that, Dan deserves to know. He promised he'd stay. He won't leave like mum and dad.

He chuckles and shut his eyes, he's wheezing. Sweat plastering his clammy skin. "Kira Mordare. I know about you. You'd have been great help in the war."

"Sorry to disappoint you but I wasn't old enough to enlist."

"You think either my son or your Lieutenant Colonel were?"

"Dan wouldn't have been old enough either, dumbass," I tell him. Frustrated - that's what I'm getting wasting my time watching this thing. I should be at home. I should be at the bar. I could be with Dan, Lord knows he's probably on edge right now.

"I'm not talking about that mistake," he grunts. "I'm talking about my real son. The one I loved. Now he was something. Strong, commanding, and a leader. That was my son. Not that self-loathing accident."

"And where's your perfect little boy then?" I ask.

He doesn't respond. He stares at the ceiling fan above him, eyes searching for people and things that aren't there. I had seen that look before. Dan got it the night of the massacre. His green eye glowed the same way this dirty bastard's eye did. Similar in their pain, different in how they dealt with it.

"That's what I thought," I mutter.

I want to leave. Hera had ordered me to stay until her meeting with the Council had ended. Problems above my pay grade. But I also want to empty a clip into the thing in front of me. His eyes aren't haunted, if anything they shone more when he cut down the Gray's population. He'd bitten the bullet you should never bite – he enjoyed the chaos. He got wrapped up in it, reveled in it. Killing goes in stages: scary and gut-wrenching the first time, numb to it the second. The third stage is a no go, if you cross the line and start enjoying it then…then you end up like the thing in the bed. Killing was a job and nothing more. But even with all the shampoos and soap, you can't wash away the smell of the bodies. You can't wash away the smell of the Gray's streets.

There was a soap that can. A soap with a slick silver barrel. Shampoo nine millimeters long. That soap is always on my thigh. Always on my night stand. Always in my fists.

"Do me a favour, Kira," he says, turning his head towards me.

"Kiss my ass."

"Tell that accident something for me."

"Don't call him an accident. He was your responsibility and you fucked up. Just grow up and own it."

"He was an accident by tag, not by being," he mutters, eyes half way closed. Shock is knocking at his door, probably wouldn't survive the week.

"By tag?"

He nods.

By tag. Dan's mum was tagged. She was from a freaking skin farm. "You disgusting bastard."

He chuckles. "Ironic."

"So she was just-"

"A whore and nothing more. He was an accident by tag. A literal bastard. A bastard that ruined my entire career."

"You were the one who was dishonorably discharged," I bark. "Don't shift the blame."

"There are still so many things Hera hasn't told you," he whispers. "I wonder when God's soldier will ever come clean."

**

We're in the Hole. Or Saia's room if you aren't a Rogue. Hera's soldiers had come in an hour after the General had fallen asleep, or died. I couldn't care less either way. But his words still rang in my head two hours later. I wonder when God's soldier will ever come clean. No one really knows much about Hera or where she comes from. In a way her and Dan are the same, they stand on rumours. But they're also different, Dan shies away from his, Hera uses hers. But for someone in her position, she has to. Dan is changing the perspective people have of him, he's friendly, a good guy who would never hurt another person. Hera on the other hand basked in the rumours, she stood straighter because of them.

You want to kill her family? Good luck, she never talks about them. Want to kill her friends? Good luck, we're all chess pieces to her. Want to try and attack her? Have fun with that, I'll be seeing you in heaven or hell or wherever it is she sends people.

But what is she hiding. I've known her my entire life and I still don't know anything about her. I had tried to ask Dan's father more questions but she shrugged them off. Questions and more questions, never a straight answer with Her Majesty.

Saia's room is…special, to say the least. She loves collecting random items: old flags, trinkets she finds in abandoned houses, and everything in between. The flags cover the wall behind her bed, which in itself is covered with thick blankets from all over the Gray. There is a small table in the middle of the room, empty bottles like dominoes around it.

"Are you sure you guys looked everywhere?" I sigh.

"Kira, he's the Stray," Saia groans, her body spread out on her bed.

"So surprisingly he's pretty damn hard to find," Draco adds, sprawled out on the bed too, Saia's head on his chest.

"I think that it's good for all of us that he disappeared," Jin mutters. He's tapping against the window – a habit he picked up from Tick.

"I still don't get why you hate him so much, man," Draco says.

"I hate him because we shouldn't have just accepted him," he snaps. "He's a freaking murderer and a psychopath."

"Did the window tell you this?" Mei mutters, her eyes glued to her tablet.

"I know this." He stands up and begins pacing around the room, his arms folded and eyebrows furrowed. "He's not trustworthy. We shouldn't even bother looking for him."

"You know what I think," Saia cut in, waving a cylinder in the air, "you're just jealous because he's been spending more time with Hera than you have."

"Now that makes sense." Draco takes the cylinder from Saia, taking the blue smoke in. "And she only smiles when she's talking to him. Must suck knowing that she isn't crushing on you, man."

"She doesn't have a crush on Dan," I snap. They all look at me. Quieter, I say, "He doesn't even think about that stuff, anyways."

"Add another one onto the list," Saia mutters.

"Hey, Jin, make sure Tick doesn't find out about your affair," Mei giggles.

"GUYS," Jin barks. "Just stop. We can't trust him at all. He's a killer. His dad is a killer. We should be handing them over to the Council instead of housing them."

"I don't vouch for that," Mei says, collapsing onto the couch, her head coming to a rest on my lap.

"Me neither," I pitch. "He can't even hurt a housefly. He doesn't have it in him to kill someone."

"Are you kidding me?!" Jin says. "You've known him for three weeks and now you're vouching for him?"

"Well when you run into a burning building to save me, I'll change my mind," Mei says. "'Cos I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for him. He didn't know me either and he still risked his life."

"So I guess growing up together doesn't mean shit," Jin mumbles.

"Jin, we're accepting him because what else do you want us to do?" Saia says, she sits up and cocks her head towards him. "I mean, look at him. Tick's probably his only friend. And we could do with something a little different."

"Different?" he laughs and runs a hand through his long hair. "Different. Wow. Brilliant. Different in the Rogue territory, where everything is fucking different."

"Dude, look at yourself." Draco glares him. "Ever since he came you've been acting so uptight. Like one of those Gatekeepers."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me." Draco crosses his arms, he is the bigger of the two, and Jin is the higher ranked according to Hera.

"Give him a shot, Jin." Mei smiles, her toothy grin catching the white light above us..

"I gave him a shot in Young Haven," he spits. "And nothing good came out of that."

"See, there's the difference between you and him," Saia says. "You can read him so easily, he's never hiding anything. But when you came back from there you didn't even tell us what happened."

"And he still won't," Draco says.

"Kira," Jin snaps. "Be the voice of reason. He's been nothing but a burden for all of us, he hasn't even helped us find the Unit. Let's make him tell us where it is, and then we'll cut him loose so he can go and jump off a bridge or whatever."

"That was a low blow," Draco grunts.

"I'm still on their side, Jin. He's staying around. And I'm pretty sure we can't force him to do anything right now," I mutter. I don't want to be worried for Dan, but I'm not going to break another promise. Not after Gianna and Alex. Not after I left them in the deep end. He might be a pain in my ass, and annoying most of the time, but he was just what Saia had said – different. Fresh air in this polluted city. And I'm going to contribute to it by letting him get sucked in.

He nods, strong jaw flexing. He drifts towards the door, disappearing into the sounds coming from the hallway. The old Jin would have been more level headed about this entire situation. The old Jin would have been persuasive and patient, but he was erratic and impatient now. He was one of the only Rogues that opposed Dan joining us, and not even with a more solid reason than 'I don't trust him.'

The door creaks open, Dan's eyes popping in the dim light. "Hey guys." He grins, that stupid and convincing grin.

Saia, Mei and Draco sit up. I straighten up on the couch. He has red rings around his eyes, posture slightly hunched, mouth being forced into a smile.

"Hey, Dan. You okay?" Mei asks, standing up and squeezing his shoulder.

He steps into the room, shutting the door gently behind him. He is fidgeting, a usual for him. But he also has a backpack on him, it looks full. Ready.

I stand up. "What's the bag for?"

"What? Oh, yeah. This thing. I was gonna go on a walk," he says, forcing another smile. His scrunched up eyebrows are telling another story from his mouth.

"A walk to where?"

"To find my mum, what else?" he chuckles – the sound too similar to the thing's in the hospital. He fiddles with his aviators, I slide them out of his hand.

Draco sits on the edge of the bed, elbows on knees. "Dude, your dad said-"

"She's out there," he snaps. "I know it."

"How do you know that?" Saia mumbles.

He stands there for a while, eyes locked onto the black carpet. He shrugs. "I have to try. At the very least. 'Cos I know she is."

"Dan-"

"She's somewhere out there!" he yells. He's breathing heavy, eyes jumping around the room but never meeting a face. "There's still so many places I haven't looked. Hell, she could be somewhere in this city. There's like ten million people here."

"Around twenty," Mei corrects, squeezing his hand. "But she would have come for you by now."

He pulls his hand away, rubbing it like she electrocuted him. "Maybe she hasn't seen the news."

"Do you even know her name?" I ask, now I'm the one fiddling with the Aviators, avoiding his eyes. Those contrasting eyes telling two different stories. I'll never tell him, but I like the blue more than the green.

He looked like something had hit him between the eyes. He blinks and shakes his head. "Of course I do. Don't be stupid."

"Then what is it?"

"It's…it's…," he whispers, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I…don't know. I can't remember."

He doesn't even know his Mum is – was - from a skin farm. She is a number without a name to the sick people running them. He had never said her name, it was always just Mum. Nothing else. And now reality was hitting him. His breathing quickening with the realization, his voice catching in his throat. Ringing his fingers, twisting them around each other. I slide my hand in between them – his Aviators. One promise fulfilled.

"Dan, please, just stop," I say. His eyes lock onto mine, they were opposites. The green holds rage, the blue pleading and searching – needy for hope. "You can't do this to yourself."

He runs his forearm across his cheek, tears running down them. "I didn't search for three years to stop because of that thing in the hospital."

"Then take it from us," Saia mutters. "He was the last one to see your mum, right? And even if he was lying you would have found her already. You've walked over this entire country."

He shakes his head and backs towards the door. "No. I can't do this right now. It was fun, but I'll see you guys around." He smiles, the effort making him wince. "I'll bring her around when I find her. She'd love you guys."

I grab his arm. And like a switch he falls against the door. He's shaking, tears streaking down his face. Fistfuls of hair in his hands, gasping for air. The pollution choking him.

I put a hand on his shoulder, he smacks it away. He looks up at me, his blue eye glowing. "Please, just…help me."

"You can't look for the dead," I say. I said because he would run himself out looking for someone that wasn't alive. I said because I've tried. He would end up killing himself trying to search for her. Someone has to watch out for him, and I'm stepping up to the plate. Even if the pollution gets thicker, he still has to be the clean air in the middle of it. We all need it. But did he?

But another broken promise isn't on the table. Not this time. At any cost, he isn't going to be going on my arms.

His eyes glaze, nodding and staring into the pollution.

**

In the special ops fortified West Wing of the hospital, Bacchus strokes a small photograph. The moonlight catching the woman's blue eyes, her hair matching the darkness surrounding his hospital bed. The smell of sweat and alcohol is putrid to him too, invading his senses and attacking him. But in the midst of the pocket of pollution, the air around the photograph is clear. Clean air that makes his chest ache. The air held a memory of the time before the Founder's assassination, before his real son went missing. Before the mistake had torn his life in two.

"And I was too scared to pull the trigger that day," he mutters, his voice catching in his throat. Heavy tears roll down his puffy cheeks. His eyes glazing over with the memory of her smile, etching itself into his mind.