Chapter 3

“Sorry about upsetting you earlier. I have terrible social skills.”

John looked up from the biomod he had spread out in pieces on a silicone mat in front of him. McKay was lingering in the doorway of the lab. “You can come in, McKay.”

“Rodney but never Rod,” McKay said and John nodded. “It’s weird.

“What’s weird?”

“I feel like you know me better than I’ll probably ever know you.”

“Boötes isn’t you,” John said plainly and motioned to the stool on opposite him. “By the time I met the TSI version of you, he’d already had well over 400 years of experience that had little to nothing to do with you and the work you did. I think he retains much of your core personality and certainly all of the knowledge you passed onto him. But you’re not the same and I won’t confuse you, or make assumptions about you based on what I know of him.”

“Okay,” McKay said. “What is that?”

“It’s a biomodification module,” John said. “It’s designed to handle catastrophic injury—organ loss, limb removal. They put this in my while I was in stasis getting new armor, so I’ve taken one a part to study. I like to know what is in my body.”

“You mean they did it without asking,” McKay said.

“You won’t like the answer,” John warned and McKay nodded. “I know Boötes told you that Spartans had no choice regarding service. In many ways, I was considered to the property of the UNSC, and you don’t ask property if it minds being upgraded.”

“I hate them,” McKay blurted out. “We’ve shelved the TSI project—we obviously can’t trust the future with that kind of technology. I asked Boötes about it and he agreed that giving any future government that kind of intellectual power is a non-starter. Plus, a previous version of him was instrumental in figuring out the Forerunner tech they use to make you what you are.”

“I’m not ashamed of my state,” John said mildly and returned his attention to the device in front of him.

“It’s tiny,” McKay observed.

“Yes, that’s a feature not a flaw.” He picked up a small capsule. “This is the battery and it’s fueled by the body when the biomod is in the body. The average Spartan has between five and ten biomods—each one designed for a specific purpose.”

“Why not make one to do everything?”

“Redundancy,” John said. “Any one of the biomods in my body could take over all operations in an emergency but it would tax the device both when it comes to power, and the government of the nanobots.”

“Nanobots,” McKay repeated. “How many does each biomod contain?”

“Upon insertion, the device starts building nanobots tailored specifically for the Spartan they’re in. They’ll be recycled and rebuilt as necessary during the lifetime of the biomod’s use. At the point of deactivation, the nanobots being governed by this particular biomod would retreat into it and die.”

“Are you worried about losing control of them?”

“No,” John said. “They’ve zero native intelligence of their own and the biomod itself only does what it is programmed to do. It can’t grow, change, or upgrade itself. They also can’t live outside of the body. I suppose the UNSC did learn something from history because by the time I was in the field, the machines you know as replicators were regarded as mythology.”

“How many biomods do you have?”

John hesitated. “Twelve.”

“Above the average.”

“Yes, but I took a major wound about ten years ago and had to have….” He exhaled slowly. “Boötes used the biomods in my body to clone my heart and pancreas.”

“How did he do that?”

Boötes appeared on the table’s projector and crossed his arms. “I put his armor into stasis, and used the biological matter from the destroyed organs as building materials then made him new ones. I also used most of the biomods he had at the time. By the time we got evacuated, he was in stable condition. He spent three months in a state of semi-stasis while he received new implants. Two of which was designed specifically for him to monitor his new organs and a third was placed as a backup in case his heart fails.”

“A synthetic heart,” McKay said.

“Yes, essentially,” Boötes agreed. “Three years after, it became standard for all Spartans to have a heart management system in place in case of such an injury. And all of their chest plates were replaced with better materials.” He focused on John. “What do you think of the new mod?”

“Not much different than the one I had before so I’m uncertain as to why Dr. Halsey bothered,” John admitted.

“She said everyone was going to get them eventually and there was no need to waste the time they had by not giving it to you while they had you under,” Boötes said. “I didn’t disagree. Not that she would’ve cared if I did, but she spent so much time thinking she placating me that she missed the fact that I was harvesting data from her left, right, and center.”

“Right,” John said with a frown. “Anything interesting?”

“She was working on some Forerunner thing and had Spartan 117’s TSI helping. He was in stasis, and he wasn’t evacuated when you were. I think they were still gathering data, and the Pillar of Autumn was waiting on it.”

John frowned at that. “Risky. I hope they pulled him before everything went to complete hell. Do you think Reach fell?”

“Yes, of course, it did,” Boötes said. “It was a dead loss by day two of the invasion. But I have a feeling that Holland didn’t let them have it without an immense fight.”

“Agreed,” John said and cleared his throat. “It’s difficult being in a position where I can’t do anything about any of that.”

“Where was this planet?” McKay questioned. “I assume it was very viable for colonization.”

“Pretty much perfect for it,” John said. “Halsey found a cache of Forerunner tech on it and the UNSC colonized the planet to hide the research and excavation activities being done. Reach was located in the Epsilon Eridani system, and it was the UNSC’s base of off-world operations. It had a population of over 700,000 the day it was invaded.”

“I don’t know how many were evacuated,” Boötes said, answering a question that John couldn’t bring himself to ask.

“They should’ve woke me,” John muttered.

“Your new configuration and armor did not settle fully into your neural net until a month after we landed in Pegasus,” Boötes retorted. “If that bitch had tried to wake you up to save her ass, I would’ve built myself a body.”

John laughed a little and looked up to find that McKay had pulled out his laptop to work. No one had ever really dared to set up themselves to work in his personal lab, so he was kind of flummoxed for a moment. Boötes flickered away and the projector went dark.

“What does he do when’s not managing whatever he manages for you?”

“Boötes is, per UNSC protocol, the executive officer of the Cradle of Stars,” John said and McKay’s eyes widened. “If we had a crew, he’d be monitoring duty schedules, shift changes, training, and a host of other chores involved in keeping over 2,000 people occupied and ready for combat.”

“But there is no crew.”

“Granted,” John said and winced. “Right now, he’s overseeing repairs and preparing harvesters for materials. I need to meet with Dr. Weir regarding that procedure as Boötes would like permission to strip mine a few asteroids in the system.” He put the biomod back together quickly despite the fact that he’d kept his gloves and gauntlets on. “Do you think she’d come up here? I’m not…comfortable leaving the ship right now.”

“Yes, of course. She was a little miffed to be excluded this time. I’ll contact her.” He paused. “Also, now is probably a good time to tell you that the entire psychology department on the city are avidly offering their services to you for grief counseling and whatever other sort of therapy they think a super soldier from the future needs after discovering he was subject to temporal kidnapping.”

John stared at him for a moment and laughed. “For….please assure them that I’m basically fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“My neural implant is designed to discourage emotional states that could allow the development of PTSD,” John said and McKay huffed. “It’s not controlling my emotions, but it does keep my brain chemistry very even. I don’t get excited by combat, fear is there but it never paralyzes me because they didn’t want us to be reckless.”

“What about other stuff?” McKay questioned. “Love? Lust?”

“I know more than one Spartan who fell in love, got married, and even had kids, McKay,” John said. “Granted, that level of control might have been what the UNSC wanted but after Project Orion was outed they had to make serious adjustments regarding how much control they’d exerted over Spartans in the program.” He paused. “As for lust, my libido is subdued in the armor and I’m grateful for that. Getting an erection while wearing a titanium codpiece would be the stuff of fucking nightmares.”

McKay bit down on his lip and his eyes brightened with humor. “Right.” He waved a hand. “How many layers are there, anyways?”

“It is a suite of armored layers designed to work together,” John explained and picked up his tablet. He pulled up the holographic interface and spread it out with one hand. “There are five layers starting with a body glove which is made of a titanium nanocomposite. It’s puncture proof and Earth’s current level of arms development, bullet proof. It’s one of the things I’m going to send back to Earth for development. Men and women serving deserve that kind of protection right now and I’m can provide it.

“Then there are three layers married together into the nanocomposite bodysuit—a liquid metal crystal structure that increases my mobility, speed, and strength. Then the knitted crystal inlay is where Boötes integrates into the suit and it can house the whole of him with no data loss, and finally the pressure seal is part of the bodysuit.

“The last layer is the titanium alloy outer shell. It protects the nanocomposite body suit which is the heart of the suit of armor I’m currently wearing which is the most advanced Spartan armor produced and the most streamlined to date. At one time, I would be required to put on six or sometimes seven separate layers.”

“So, they merged a bunch of them together into the nanocomposite bodysuit,” Rodney said with a nod. “And you’re space-capable.”

“Yes, the bodysuit also has biofoam injectors which is a medical gel used to treat injuries. I think the medical gel should also be sent back to Earth as soon as possible and put through whatever process needed to get it into the hands of the soldiers who need it. Boötes is making a list and preparing research packets for it.”

“Good,” McKay said. “Did you want to talk about your citizenship?”

“In the future, I was a citizen of the United Republic of North America which encompassed the former US, Canada, and Mexico,” John said in amusement. “But, I assume since I was born in Virginia that I’m actually a citizen of the current United States.”

“Yes,” McKay said. “How do you feel about all of that?”

“It’s pretty weird,” John admitted. “And not unlike living in a historical documentary that I often actively strived to sleep through.” He paused. “But don’t tell any of those psychologists that.”

Rodney laughed. “I’ve heard that they’re sending out all of your official documentation. A gesture, I guess, of acceptance? I don’t really know. What are you going to do with your birth certificate out here?”

John considered that because in a way it was weird, but also he’d never had legitimate documentation. “It would be nice to have something I can touch that tells me who I am.”

McKay stilled across from him and sighed. “I didn’t consider that. Sorry.”

“No apologies needed,” John assured. “Because it is weird but also I’ve never had accurate documentation.”

“I overheard Rampart and O’Neill discussing offering a service slot of some kind in the Marine Corps.”

“I’d be deeply fucking offended if they didn’t,” John muttered and McKay huffed a little. “I’m serious, McKay. I’m a badass over here and my war record is the stuff of wet dreams. Besides, the only way I’m getting a real crew I can train for this thing is to accept a command posting from the US Marine Corps.”

“And you want that?”

“You know what offends me, McKay? Fucked up aliens who eat people. Wraith eat humans, they are an invasive and unnatural species. I need something to do here and now, and killing all of those assholes will suit me just fine.”

“So going back to Earth isn’t an option for you?”

“I think we both know exactly how that would go,” John said roughly. “And I don’t mind a fight, obviously, but I’d rather not fight my own kind over something that doesn’t belong to them and never will belong to them. This ship is my home, and the only way anyone else takes my place on it is if I’m a box.”

“Understood, General.”

John glanced toward the doorway and found Rampart standing there with a laptop in hand. “Did you need something, sir?” He slid off the stool as he spoke.

“A few things, but they’ll wait. Your father and brothers are on Atlantis and are requesting permission to board.” He paused. “O’Neill’s gone down to get them. Normally, I stay out of their business, but I figure you deserve a head’s up on that front. O’Neill and your father had been having a very seedy affair for about a year.”

“Seedy?”

“Yeah, as far as I can tell, that’s the part they like the most. The betting pools are outrageous.”

“My father is sleeping with the Director of Homeworld Security,” John said flatly. “Is he my future commanding officer?”

Rampart laughed.

“Come on,” John muttered.

“If it works out, General, I’m your future CO,” Rampart said. “This ship and your command would be outside of the SGC officially so the IOA will have no say in your mission or your circumstances. That’s straight from POTUS. I’ve an offer ready, but your father deserves your time more than I do.” He paused. “Also, O’Neill figured we should ask your permission before bringing them up.”

“I can’t say I’m ready for it,” John admitted. “But it wouldn’t be fair to any of us to say no.”

Rampart nodded and left the doorway.

He turned to McKay. “Would you help me with something?”

“Sure, what’s going on?”

“Outside of extreme situations, I’ve always had someone at the armor station when I take it off.”

McKay’s eyes widened and he glanced toward the armor station. “You’re going to take it off?”

“My father deserves to see my face, Rodney. I’d just rather not look completely foreign to him and my brothers.”

“No, I get it,” Rodney said and slid off the stool. He shut the doors with a press of a button and engaged the privacy seal which John appreciated.

He walked over to the station. “Considering the situation, we’re just going to remove the exterior layer.”

“You wear your rank there,” Rodney pointed out as John stepped up onto the rack backward.

“It’s on the nanocomposite suit as well,” John said and let his head drop back and the station mated with his neural implant.

“What do I do?”

“Just stand there, Dr. McKay,” Boötes said as he appeared on his pedestal. “He’s very used to coming out of the armor, but there could be some disorientation and sometimes there are issues with coordination if he takes off all three layers. The nanocomposite suit is state of the art combat armor in its own right and we’ll be offering some version of it to the American military.

“Unmodified humans couldn’t take on the whole thing as it is currently designed but we can make adjustments. Plans are underway.”

The station deployed a series arms and quickly pulled the armor from his body when the nanocomposite suit released its magnetic hold on the pieces. His helmet came off mid-way through the procedure, and he turned to look at McKay.

“You could’ve at least done the world the favor of having an average face,” Rodney muttered.

John laughed a little and stepped down out of the rack. His knees went a little weak and a hand settled on his elbow as he straightened. “Thanks.” He took a deep breath and closed his eyes briefly.

“Something wrong?”

“New armor comes with adjustments both in and out of it,” John said. “And the changes into the exterior layer were the least of them. I feel weird.”

“Great vocabulary you’ve got there.”

“The pressure seals require the exterior layer,” John said. “While I don’t feel it, I am aware of it in some way I can’t explain. I feel strangely vulnerable.”

“If it helps, at all, you still look like a one-man war,” Rodney said wryly and John laughed. “A very attractive one that. It’s genuinely disgusting.” His hand dropped and brushed against John’s.

John shuddered and his fingers curled briefly at the contact.

“What?” McKay questioned. “Are you in pain? Do you need to sit?” He turned toward the armor station to look at the diagnostics.

“No, it’s not that,” John said roughly. “I’ve just…genuine human contact is kind of rare, McKay.” He paused. “At least for my generation of Spartans. The younger ones and the ones trained as adults are different. I’ve not touched another person’s skin in probably close to five years and that’s not including the periods of time when I was in stasis.”

“That’s…is that your choice or theirs?”

“It’s always their preference that Spartans remain free of personal entanglements, but the regulations controlling that were removed. That being said, I’ve been training and repreparing other Spartans for the last few years, so I had precious little personal time, and it would’ve been inappropriate to seek intimate contact of any sort with the men and women serving in command.”

“I see,” McKay said and took John’s hand. He laced their fingers together. “How’s that?”

“Very good,” John admitted and averted his gaze. “Sorry.”

“No, don’t you dare apologize,” McKay muttered. “For fuck’s sake. I’m going to make people on Earth afraid to fucking procreate as soon as I can figure out where the hell that Halsey woman sprung out of hell from.”

“I’ve sent you her entire family tree,” Boötes interjected. “The Jumper from Atlantis is docking, Noble Actual.”

John nodded and looked down at their hands. “I’m a Spartan.”

“Yeah? And?” McKay questioned.

“I was trained extensively to not need this kind of contact with anyone,” he murmured and let his thumb slide across the top of McKay’s hand. Then, he reluctantly pulled free from the contact.

“Don’t you mean psychologically conditioned?” McKay questioned.

John flushed but he couldn’t deny it. “I had no childhood to speak of McKay. Most of the men and women I trained with were dead before the slip stream accident. The only thing I had was the fight. I don’t know how to want more.”

“Lucky you,” McKay declared. “I want everything and I’m more than willing to be a bad influence.”

John laughed and rubbed his face. “I think…they probably deserve privacy for this.” He paused. “Right?”

“Right,” McKay agreed went back to the table. He picked up his laptop and bag. “Boötes, where I can set up a research space of my own?”

“There is a mechanical engineering lab across the hall that will more than serve. It has a nano-manufacturing set up you’ll probably find very interesting,” Boötes said and McKay nodded.

“Great. That’s where I’ll be, General.”

“John,” he said and focused on the scientist even as he unlocked the door. “Please call me John.”

“John,” McKay said and nodded.

John walked to the only window in the room as McKay left, leaving the door to the lab open. He stared down at the planet. It was nice but not especially thrilling as he’d spent nearly all of his life in space. He’d seen more planets in space than he’d actually landed on. He felt more than heard people entering the room and the door shut with a little hiss of hydraulics that he rarely noticed.

Since he wasn’t a coward, he turned and faced them. They were all a startling shade of pale. He focused on the oldest of them as the younger men weren’t familiar at all. He hadn’t expected them to be, he hadn’t remembered a younger brother at all and the youngest hadn’t been born when he was kidnapped.

“I….” John exhaled slowly and cleared his throat. “I broke my arm.”

“When you were four,” Patrick Sheppard said quietly. “You fell off the retaining wall.”

John nodded. “They told me you were dead—every single time I asked for you for a whole year. Eventually, I stopped asking. I shouldn’t have. They deserved to chew on that lie for the rest of their lives.”

“Is that all you remember?” Patrick questioned.

“Yes,” he admitted and averted his gaze when the devastation swept over his father’s face. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, John.”

“It’s not yours either, you know?”

“I didn’t protect you.”

“You couldn’t have,” John said. “They sent in stealth teams using technology that wouldn’t have crossed your mind as possible outside of science fiction. If you’d witnessed it, it would’ve looked like I disappeared into thin air.” He cleared his throat. “But all of those people are dead.” He paused. “I made sure.”

“Good,” one of the younger men said and John looked at him.

“I don’t remember you but you’re David, right?”

“Right,” David said. “And this is Matt. He wasn’t born when you were taken.” He paused. “I don’t remember you either.”

“You were very small,” John said. “They considered taking you, too, but discovered that you’d fathered a child that had some impact on events they couldn’t risk changing.”

“I have no children,” David said and took a deep breath. “I’m not sure…I don’t think I could tolerate it having someone so vulnerable and open to a threat in my life.”

“Because I was kidnapped?” John questioned. “They really didn’t consider the psychological impact of their crimes. They just wanted to create super soldiers that had nothing to lose.”

“Did they succeed?” Patrick questioned. “Did you leave anyone behind in the future? A spouse? Children?”

“No, I made sure I couldn’t have children, and there was precious little time to develop the kind of attachment that would’ve led to marriage.” He fell into parade rest out of habit and his father exhaled sharply. “What?”

“It’s just….” He shook his head. “Rampart told us that you’d been in the armor since they met you and suggested I not ask you to remove it.”

“I’m still wearing most of it,” John admitted. “They’ve made some assumptions about the armor, and I’ve allowed it merely for my own comfort.” He motioned toward the armor station. “There is a very unique safety to be found in it—something I was trained to accept and prefer.”

“It’s…amazing,” Matt said. “I’ve never seen anything like it. Do you resent it? Can you survive outside of it? All of it?”

“The armor is part of me so no I don’t resent it,” John said. “I can survive without it, but it would be psychological difficult. I have the ability and means to make sure I don’t have to do without it. These are the circumstances I live in. I’ll understand if it’s too much.”

“It’s not,” Patrick said quickly. “John.”

“I’m not the son you would’ve raised,” John said quietly. “The boy you remember—didn’t make it.” He winced when his father’s filled with tears. “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” David said. “And the ones who should apologize haven’t even been born, yet.” He rubbed his head with both hands in gesture so familiar that it hurt a little. “General, huh? At your age?”

“I’m forty-one,” John said. “And I’ve served for twenty-seven years. I was promoted whenever it was possible to do so as the UNSC had plans for me. They wanted a successful Spartan who could inspire and train adult volunteers. They understood, unfortunately, that a leader doesn’t drag people behind him. People follow a true leader out of respect, and earning the respect of those made and trained for war is no easy feat.”

“No, I see it,” David agreed and walked across the room to stand in front of the armor. “What’s it like?”

“Heavy,” John admitted. “In every way it can be, as it should be.”

“I hate that we’re strangers,” David murmured.

“Yeah.” John cleared his throat. “But, lingering on that part won’t make anything better.”

“You’re probably a real live self-actualized person,” Matt said thoughtfully. “That’s crazy.”

“You probably don’t want to know the how and why of that,” John muttered and sighed when his youngest brother winced. “Don’t dwell on it, I let that shit go years ago.”

“I’m trying really hard,” Matt claimed. “But honestly I kind of suck at not fixating on shit. That’s why I ended up in the civilian sector.”

“I don’t follow,” John admitted and glanced between the three of them.

“Matt deals with just enough anxiety for me to be concerned about combat service,” Patrick said neutrally. “And I’m grateful that he chose a path that didn’t make it worse. I can’t say his mother and I weren’t partially responsible for it. After you were gone, we were intense on several fronts.”

“He means they turned into Defcon 1 helicopter parents and ended up in therapy before it was trendy,” David said dryly and Patrick laughed a little.

“Do any of you…have a picture of Mom?” John asked and they all three stilled then immediately pulled out wallets. They each thrust a different picture at him.

John took them all with a shaking hand and looked down at them. He took a deep breath, walked away from them and ended up sliding to the floor next to the window. To his surprise, they followed.

He stared at the pictures—taking in her and dark hair. “I look like her.”

“Far more now than you did as a child and she had no hope of denying you even then,” Patrick murmured and John laughed a little. “I don’t know if it helps but she didn’t suffer. It happened very quickly. One minute she was fussing at me about the trash and the next she was gone. She’d gotten a few bad migraines over the last six months of her life, but neither of us took them seriously. Though, it honestly wouldn’t have mattered. The coroner told me that it would’ve likely be inoperable.”

John shifted the pictures around, gaze settling on the one that Matt had offered. “She’s pregnant with you in this one?”

“No,” Matt said. “She’s pregnant with you. I have others but that’s the one I always carry because she was so happy and smiling in that picture in a way I never saw while she was alive.”

“Because of me,” John surmised.

“Losing you broke her heart,” Patrick admitted. “There’s no getting over the loss of you child, John. She lived for motherhood, embraced it like it was a calling during a time when women were being encouraged avidly to want more than that. Though, she came from money and had never put much thought into a career. Eventually, after Matt was born, she went to college and picked up several degrees. Then she used her parents money to start an engineering company. I sold it after her death and put most of the money in trust.”

“I hate that I don’t remember her at all.” He paused. “And I barely remember you.” He focused on Patrick. “It doesn’t seem fair.”

“Just before you were kidnapped, you’d started to have nightmares. They happened for several weeks, and would wake up inconsolable. I would stay up with you. Maybe your brain focused on that.” He cleared his throat. “You were dreaming about being watched.”

“I was being watched.”

“Yes,” Patrick said.

John held the pictures out.

“Keep them,” Matt encouraged. “We can get new copies.”

“I’ve already…scanned them,” John admitted and flushed when they all three stared at him. “I have a neural implant.”

They took the pictures back, careful and silent.

“How long will you live, John?” Patrick asked. “Are you aging? Because you barely look thirty.”

“I’m aging very slowly,” he admitted. “I’ll probably be fit for combat well into my nineties unless I take an injury that I can’t repair. I was told that I could expect to live upwards of 150 years when I first got implants and they were improved repeatedly over time. One of the biomods in my body’s sole function is cell regeneration.”

“Could you take them out?” Matt questioned. “Would you want to?”

“I wouldn’t survive without them,” John admitted. “My brain and body chemistry has been permanently altered by the implants. There’s no coming back from the Spartan transformation. I had no choice in it as kid, and I have no real choice now if I want to live. I educated myself the way I did, in part, so I could have some control over that part of my life. I didn’t want to depend on the UNSC to maintain my circumstances.”

“I can’t blame you for that.” Patrick took a deep breath. “You should know that POTUS is invested in acquiring you and this ship as an asset in any fashion he can, but he does appear to have some respect for your service. I can’t stand him, for many reasons, but he’s doing a decent job with the SGC, and he handles the IOA better than the asshole before him. Rampart is going to offer you a command in the Corps. But you have to know that the Navy and Air Force would also put offers on the table if they knew about you.”

John made a face. “I’m a Marine.”

Patrick stared for a moment then laughed. “Yeah, I see that.”

“What about O’Neill?” John questioned. “What are his goals?”

“He hasn’t discussed it with me and he wouldn’t,” Patrick said. “We don’t cross the streams professionally, and I’m not privy to his current orders. I suspect they aren’t any different than mine or Rampart’s. Rampart is very focused on the Corps and those that serve under him. I can get a copy of his jacket for you, if you need to see it.”

“Do you trust him?” John questioned.

“I trust him to be a patriot and to serve his country with distinction. I also know he’ll follow orders as long as they aren’t illegal,” Patrick said carefully. “He wears his honor—front facing and without artifice. He’ll refuse to answer a question rather than lie.”

“He’s been accommodating,” John said. “He told me he held me as a baby.”

“Yes, a few weeks after you were born,” Patrick said. “I wasn’t at home when you were born but I managed to get leave shortly after and he was town working on his first divorce. Rampart was working in Franklin Paul’s office. Franklin was your godfather.”

“Was?”

“He passed last year of cancer,” Patrick said. “But he did know…that you were alive in the future. It was a relief to him to be told what had happened to you and he made sure I was told as well.”

“Why didn’t you tell us, Dad?” Matt questioned. “Why did you let us think he was dead.”

“I….” Patrick cleared his throat. “It was an unreasonable burden. I understand if you’re both pissed about it. I didn’t tell you because I saw no way of getting him back.”

“Yes, well, better than believing what I actually thought happened,” David snapped. “I’ve spent years waiting for someone to find a little grave, Dad.”

John winced and focused on his empty hands then curled them over his knees. He felt oddly vulnerable in a way that made no sense as he was still wearing most of his armor. Maybe it was because he felt helpless in the face of their grief, and the wounds he couldn’t mend.

“You guys wanna see me get swallowed by an enormous space octopus?”

All three blinked rapidly in shock before Matt snorted then started to laugh.

“Yeah, I’d fucking love that,” David admitted.