((Contains situations of an adult nature. And is really long.))

With the initial chaos of Snowstorm Hannibal well and truly over with, the Chief had finally found the time and means to contact the pair he had unintentionally abandoned on Earth in the wake of the disaster that had killed most of his team. His involvement in the clean up of the neighborhood he had holed up in with Ailis and Rory had been rewarded with accommodation in a house that was far more structurally intact than the original derelict they had found, and Rory was thankfully on the mend. It would be a couple of weeks before he was anywhere near fighting fit again, but at least he was well enough now that Ailis could be persuaded to leave her brother to his own devices for a few hours at a time. She hadn't come with her father on this little expedition, however, after being bullied into catching up on some of her sleep.

Besides, Colm Warren didn't believe it would be necessary. He was still capable of dealing damage if he had to, and he knew at least one of the two who were on their way to join him was more than capable in his own way. The portal was an easier journey than the Ark, which was a blessing in itself, and only a matter of seconds passed by before the Chief was standing on the far side, lounging innocently enough against a wall close to the portal itself. For all his seeming relaxation, however, he was alert, tense. He knew people were out to kill him, though he did not truly know for what reason yet. He was just hoping that Reaper, as the man was now known, was on time. Chief didn't want to stay here any longer than was absolutely necessary.

Six weeks of idleness was enough to drive anyone batty, but for Marine Sergeant John "Reaper" Grimm, it was especially maddening. Six weeks in hiding with only his sister for company and no contact with the outside world. It wasn't that he disliked his sister - quite the contrary - but doctors tended to make the worst patients, and even though he'd more than likely saved her life, the scientist in her was still sore at him for destroying all her work, and maybe more importantly, all their parents' work.

As for John, he was a soldier, not a medic, and the last six weeks had been nerve-wracking, at best, both of them anxious to get on with their lives, whatever those lives might be. Neither knew what had happened while they'd been holed up at the safehouse. Six weeks had come and gone without word from Chief, and John had started to worry that something had gone wrong when they'd finally received word. When word had finally arrived, he and Sam had argued, but John had eventually convinced his sister that this was the best course of action, that they really had no choice. She had reluctantly agreed, choosing to put her trust in her brother's judgment and their lives in the hands of the one man he trusted implicitly.

Anxious to move on and worried for his sister's safety, John made it a point to be on time, not wanting to miss Chief and their one and possibly only opportunity to escape. They'd packed their meager belongings and made their way as quickly as possible to the rendezvous point, both of them a bundle of nerves.

The older soldier spotted them almost before they spotted him, pushing nonchalantly out of his lean against the wall, one hand innocently resting in the pocket of his coat. Only a professional would recognize that hand held a gun, ready to fire if necessary. Chief nodded to the Grimm siblings as they approached, jerking his head toward a small space between the church he'd been lounging against and an abandoned garage. "You first, John," he told them, used to giving orders and expecting them to be obeyed. "Non-hostile environment, urban center, keep your weapon slung. Samantha, you'll follow. I'm right behind you. Go."

John's only reply was a nod of his head, putting them both into Chief's hands. He was armed, as well, his own weapon of choice hidden beneath his coat. His glanced darted briefly to his sister, whom he knew had no choice but to do as she was told, at least for now. Any questions either had would have to wait until they reached their destination, wherever that was. It rankled Samantha that John was so quick to follow the man blindly wherever he led, but she had to put her trust in her brother's judgment. She owed him that much. He had saved her life, after all. John stepped through the small space without hesitation, and Sam was quick to follow on her brother's heels. He wasn't getting away from her that easily or quickly. What they found when they emerged from the portal gave them both pause. They sure as hell weren't in Kansas anymore. Or Nevada either.

They'd emerged into a chilly but bustling square, obviously part of a much larger city, seemingly medieval in style but for the technology on display and in use. No one gave them a second glance as they came into sight; indeed, three people stepping out of nowhere was nothing much to be remarked on in this city. There were people of all races moving with purpose around them, any race they could name and a few more besides. Chief stepped up to them, smirking a little at the looks on the siblings' faces. "Welcome to Rhy'Din," he told them a little gruffly. "We've got digs a few blocks on from here - food, clothes, shelter. Sunshine's holding the fort."

"Great," John remarked sarcastically, only partially under his breath as he swung a look around. It was unclear which part of Chief's statement he was responding to, but from the eyeroll Samantha threw Chief's way, it seemed obvious to them both that her brother wasn't exactly eager to meet up with the man's one and only daughter any time soon.

"Where are we?" she asked, taking in their surroundings with an interest that was partially professional.

"Looks like a Renfaire on crack to me," John remarked again, as his gaze swung back around to his companions.

"It's a hub," Chief told them, prepared to take the time to let them get their bearings. He knew there was nowhere safer than Rhy'Din for them, at least right now. "Familiar with the concept of a multi-verse" All roads lead to Rhy'Din. Best and worst kept secret on a thousand worlds, not all of them Earths." He met Sam's eye-roll with a slightly less contained smirk. It was blindingly obvious to everyone what was or wasn't going on between John Grimm and Ailis Warren, and as far as the Chief was concerned, it was only a matter of time. He jerked his head to the south. "This way. Plenty of time for recon when you're settled in."

Samantha seemed to absorb this information more quickly than her brother, or at least, to accept the concept of it, but Chief's explanation only sparked more questions for John. "So, where are we?" he repeated his sister's question, which the man had only half-answered. They were obviously no longer on Earth or any place that was even vaguely familiar to him, outside that of a mission simulator. Rhy'Din was just a word, a name of a place that gave John no point of reference. Chief might as well have told them they were in Timbuktu for all the help his explanation gave him.

Sam's scientific brain absorbed and processed this information more quickly than John's and she beat Chief to an answer. "Another world in another galaxy would be my guess," she postulated.

"And again I say, great," replied John grimly. Well, it was his name, after all.

"Safe," the older soldier added firmly. "This way, kids." He turned to lead them from the little market. It wasn't the Marketplace in Rhy'Din, merely supplying this poorer area with fresh produce at reasonable prices once a week, but it did its job. Chief led the Grimms into a rabbit warren of two and three storey houses, terraced and interconnected by alleyways and gardens, some derelict, some standing, some showing signs of the damage caused by the heavy snow that was still piled high at the sides of the roads. "And safe's something we all need right now. You two have a little explaining to do."

"Snow," John observed, casually. While he might not be a trained scientist like his sister, he had inherited his parents' scientific intellect, choosing to put it to use in the military, rather than in the scientific field. Still, it didn't take a forensic anthropologist to deduce where they were or that they had arrived following what appeared to have been a particularly nasty winter storm.

Sam traded glances with her brother, knowing he was thinking the same thing. Six weeks on their own had left them feeling anxious, worrying they'd been forgotten or worse.

"So do you," John replied quietly to Chief's comment, knowing this wasn't the time or the place just yet. He took the rear, putting Sam between himself and Chief, more out of habit than necessity. He still wasn't quite sure where they were yet and even though Chief had said it was safe, he wouldn't feel safe until he decided that for himself.

Someone had made the connection between them and had gone in for the kill, hoping to what? To retrieve his sister" It was the only thing that made sense. No one knew about him yet, and if he played his cards right, no one ever would. The weight of knowing that his closest friends had died because of them came as a heavy shock, and he found himself dropping heavily onto the stairs beside her. "Christ," he muttered again, looking a little shell-shocked at the news, feeling dumb and dead inside, the gravity of it almost too much to take in all at once. "I'm sorry," he muttered, knowing he could never make it up to her, no matter how hard he tried, no matter what he said.

"So am I." She was silent for a long moment, concentrating on her breathing; in, out, slow and steady, forcing down the reaction to telling that news she didn't dare give a voice to. She knew if she started crying now, she wouldn't stop, not for a long time, and that made her useless. She could feel the shock radiating from John as he thumped down beside her, part of her wanting to give into the more delicate side of her nature and demand that he give her the comfort her father couldn't. But she wouldn't do that to him. "It's not your fault," she said quietly, raising her head from the bannister to look at him. "We made the call to take the mission, we chose to help you rather than hand you in. No one could have predicted UAC would pour so much into getting their hands on Sam. But the upside is, they think we're all dead. Whatever they wanted, they don't know it's still out there."

The upside. Five of her brothers were dead. He wasn't sure he was seeing an upside to that. It was only a matter of time before Sam found out why. Rory might be telling her right now or Chief. How would she take it' Knowing the greedy corporation she'd worked for would stop at nothing to get their hands on her research, even resorting to cold-blooded murder to get it. John realized, not for the first time, that it wasn't just Sam's life that was at stake here or her research or their parents' research. His own life was as much at stake as hers, or more accurately, his freedom.

If anyone knew what he'd become....He didn't want to finish that thought and so he didn't, pushing it aside, at least for now, until he had some time alone to think it through. "They can't ever find out, Ailis. It's that important." Important enough to have sacrificed five brothers" He wasn't so sure she'd see it that way, but if they ever found out the truth, he knew the nightmare would start all over again, and he couldn't allow that. His fingers twitched of their own accord, wanting to reach over and take her hand, let her know in some way that she wasn't alone, but he resisted that urge, sensing nothing good would come of it. Christ, he wasn't even human anymore. She didn't need to be told that. Just the fact that he felt the need to say it, that he seemed to think she wouldn't have grasped that essential piece of information, was enough to spark her from sadness to anger. "It had better be f*cking important, John," she snapped at him, jerking up onto her feet suddenly. "Five of my brothers died for it." She turned abruptly, boots thumping hard on the stairs as she jogged upward. If they were going to go there with this conversation, the illusion of privacy would be nice.

Anger flared inside him at her outburst, wanting to pull her back around to face him and ask if she thought he didn't know that already, if she thought he didn't feel the sting of their deaths any less than she did, but he didn't, couldn't do that. Not to her, not today. Instead, he merely stood up, watching as she abandoned him. Again. Turning her back on him, not for the first or probably the last time. Running away, Sam had called it. Both of them too afraid to admit what was staring them in the face. But not today. He would have offered some comfort if she'd asked for it, if she'd even hinted that it was welcome, but she hadn't. Her grief had turned to anger, and he couldn't blame her for that. Her brothers had died because of them, and he wondered if she held it against him, like she seemed to hold so many other things against him.

He moved to his feet, watching as she retreated up the stairs, unsure whether or not to follow. He knew if he did there would be more angry words, possible accusations. What was really needed was an explanation that there hadn't been time for before. Con had known a little, but Con was gone now and had taken the little bit John had told him to an untimely grave. The weight of that grief had him retaking his seat on the stairs again, fingers shoved through his hair as he leaned an elbow against a knee to hold his head up. It had only been six weeks. How could so much have changed in six weeks"

Her footsteps stopped at the top of the stairs, the pause just long enough to tell him that she'd turned back to look down at him. "Well?" she said, not so much angry as tense. Tense with emotion that wasn't wholly fueled by the losses she'd faced. "Are you going to sit there and wallow, or are you going to come and have this out with me" You can't shout at the Chief, and I'll have your balls if you try it with Ror right now. And I'm not going to snap at Sam, so you get your arse up here and actually face me for once, John Grimm."

"I'm not the one who's always running away," he countered, moving to his feet and turning back around to face her, angry at the accusation that he was the one who was avoiding her, when he felt it was the other way around. Truth be told, there was enough fault to go around on both sides, each of them as stubborn as the other. He didn't really want to have this argument now, and yet, up the stairs he went, his boots thumping as hard as hers had only moments before, warning those in the main room that the eventual meltdown between the pair may have finally reached its head, which might or might not be a bad thing.

Blue eyes flashed warningly at him as he thumped up after her, taking the challenge she'd laid down harder than she'd expected. It probably wouldn't have helped to know that in the main room below, despite the sombre atmosphere, her father and brother had started snorting with laughter the moment those heavy footfalls were answered. "Funny how when I do it, I'm running away, but when you do it, it's just a strategic retreat." Ailis made her thoughts known on that little accusation fairly quickly. She knew she backed off a lot when it came to John; he should have known better than to accuse her of running, though. She slammed in through the furthest door - a bedroom, sparsely furnished but serviceable - and turned to face him, hands on her hips. "Now are you going to tell me what the hell is going on, or are you going to make me guess?"

He heard the laughter echoing in the main room below them, but it only put him more on the defensive, not even sparing a moment to think what his sister might be saying about all this. He really didn't want to argue with Ailis right now, not when they were both reeling from the loss, which he knew was killing her inside, despite her show of bravado. Well, if she wanted to take it out on someone, it might as well be him. He snorted as he followed her into the room, not bothering to shut the door behind him, not really caring what the others overheard below them just yet. "You couldn't guess, even if you wanted to," he challenged. Not unless Con had told her, and he had no way of knowing whether he had or not. She might know bits and pieces, but there was no way she knew everything. No one did, but himself and Sam.

"Oh, so not only am I a coward, I'm stupid as well," she snapped, gesticulating wildly with one flailing hand. "Thank you very much, John. Is there anything else you'd like to get off your chest about me, or are you planning on handing them out slowly so you can watch me fall apart at your leisure?" Pacing away, she turned back to him, deliberately removing the gun from her jeans and dropping the magazine from its place. Disarming herself entirely. "I think UAC found something on Olduvai. I think whatever it was got out of control. And I think that because she's the last survivor of the scientific research team, Sam's the only one who knows the ins and outs of what it was and what went wrong. So ..." Ailis let out a huff of breath, her face red with embarrassed anger. "How stupid am I now?"

"I never said you were stupid," he argued, muttering, "Just like a woman to put words in my mouth." He knew as soon as he said it that he was probably in trouble, but he just couldn't help himself. His sister, his....whatever Ailis was, and his mother before them both, all of them always trying to tell him what he was thinking and feeling when none of them ever had the slightest clue. Or so he thought.

There was barely a split second between the words coming out of his mouth and her reaction. "What"!" The blow, when it came, wasn't a ladylike slap, or a manly punch. It was a bony knuckled precision jab to his chin, with as much power as she could put behind it. And it still hurt like the blazes. She let out a yelp, fully aware of how feminine it sounded, and skipped away, shaking out her hand with a wince. "Care to rephrase that?"

He'd gone over that particular event in his head more times than he could count. He'd have preferred to have gone back through on his own, but Con and the others had insisted on accompanying him, insisting they were there to help. He didn't really want their help and wasn't even sure if he'd needed it, but he'd accepted it anyway, almost getting Rory killed in the process. He hadn't forgiven himself for that and probably never would, wondering if it wouldn't be better for everyone if he'd sent Sam up in the lift and blown the Ark, cutting off his own escape, along with the possibility of anyone ever finding the place again. But what was done was done. He was a walking science experiment that no one could ever find out about, or at least, no one that couldn't be trusted. The problem was that while he trusted Ailis, he wasn't sure how she'd feel about him if she found out the truth. "Yeah," he replied, disentangling himself from her embrace at last and pulling away a little, as she seemed to have regained her composure.

"Don't do that." For a moment, she tightened her grip on him, before remembering his aversion to being touched and letting him go. She shook her head as she sat back, raising both hands to finish the job of wiping her face dry, grateful that the heat of her outburst was receding from her skin. "Why do you do that, anyway?" she asked. "Just when it looks like you might be feeling something a bit softer, you clam up and push people away. I'm not an idiot, John. I know there's something you're not telling me, but I'm not going to push. Not unless it puts my kin in danger again."

Because it hurts too much, he thought. It hurts to lose the ones you love. It was easier to not let anyone get close, not let anyone in, not let anyone care, but it was lonely. Sam had nearly given up hope for him ever letting anyone in - nearly, but not quite. She knew her brother too well, and she knew that, no matter how brave he tried to appear, he was afraid of letting anyone besides her get close, afraid of getting hurt. It was easier being alone. He got to his feet, avoiding Ailis' gaze, turning to reclaim the handgun he'd set on the table, idly checking the safety to make sure it was on, though he already knew it was. "Sometimes I think I should have died in that explosion."

It was Ailis' turn to raise a brow, pushing herself up from the bed to face him even as he turned away. "Not an answer," she told him, her hands twitching where they hung loose at her sides. "Don't make me punch you again, it bloody hurt the first time."

"Nobody makes you do anything, Ailis. Didn't anyone ever tell you that?" He almost laughed at the irony of that statement. No one had forced him to become what he'd become, though he had a feeling if he'd told Sam no, she'd have stuck him with that needle anyway. If he'd turned into a monster, like the others, would she have been able to kill him, or would he have eventually killed her" He tucked the handgun back into its hiding place beneath his jacket, turning to face her, his eyes expressing his own grief at what had happened and his sympathy. "I'm sorry about what happened to Rory. He shouldn't have been there. None of them should have been there. None of them should have died because of us."

"They didn't die because of you," she said, her jaw setting in an angry line for a moment, warning against pursuing this line of conversation. "We might have been attacked because of our connection to you, but they made choices. Con could have saved himself; instead he saved me. Don't take that away from him." She stepped close to John, her hands rising to hold onto the edges of his jacket, not willing to let him retreat this time. "You're still not answering the question, John."

"Which question, Ailis?" he asked, knowing full well which question she wanted answered. She'd only asked one, after all. To his credit, he didn't pull away from her this time, hazel green eyes meeting her gaze steadily. Strangely, he was almost more comfortable with her when she was raging at him. Her tears had gotten to him, reaching into his chest and tearing at his heart. "Con did the right thing. I would have done the same," he said, but whether he was talking about Ailis or his sister was unclear, maybe both. Though he was the younger of the twins, it was only by a few minutes, and like Con, he'd always been a protective brother, even if he was a younger one.

"You know which question I mean." Her fingers tightened in his jacket, preparing for the inevitable tug, the wish to turn away, as she held his gaze with calm confidence of her own, anger still bubbling just beneath the surface. She didn't want to talk about the brother who had decided her life was more important than his, knowing she'd carry the guilt of that death until her own, whenever it might occur. "Why do you push people ....why do you push me away?"

Her question, asked for the second time, more pointedly this time made him furrow his brows, looking down at her with a look that seemed unsure why she was asking, why she cared enough to ask. The problem wasn't so much the question as it was the answer. No one had ever asked him before, not even Samantha. "I don't know. It just seems easier that way." He didn't tug himself away from her grasp, not this time, not yet anyway, waiting to see what her reaction would be, completely confused by this sudden change in her demeanor. It was times like these when he usually found a reason - an excuse, Sam would say - to walk away, to avoid the question altogether.

Still that blue gaze stayed steady, so unexpectedly calm after the storm of her tears, locked to his as he offered up what had to be the most pitiful excuse for his behavior she had ever heard. Not entirely unpredictable, but still pitiful. "Bollocks," was her reply, calling him out as a liar even if he hadn't realized it himself. "Try again. Or shut me up. One or the other, that's the only way you're going to stop me from digging."

"I don't know, Ailis," he repeated, more vehemently this time. He really didn't, or at least, didn't know how to put it into words. "After Mom and Dad died..." He shrugged his shoulders, not really wanting to talk about that, not having talked about that in many years. "I felt angry all the time. I joined the Marines to forget about that, put my anger to good use, but I don't want to always feel angry. I don't know if I want to feel anything." He knew it wasn't much of an explanation as explanations go, but it was the best he could do for now. He was saying more than he wasn't with his admission. Too afraid to let himself feel anything, to care about anyone, too afraid of losing someone he loved again, even though he had. Con was proof of that. "I miss him, too, you know," he said, his voice tight, though he refused to give in to the feelings that were hovering just beneath the surface.

She listened, as much to what was left unsaid as what he managed to put into words. She heard the reluctance, felt the fear, and knew it was just an exaggerated reflection of how anyone felt, built up over years of keeping everyone at arms length. "So everyone else has to feel, everyone else has to let go ....everyone but you?" she asked, wondering whether or not he'd ever put two and two together when it came to her place in her family unit. She wasn't just a physical medic, after all - there were psychological scars all soldiers dealt with that she had been trained to see and treat, if she could. "That doesn't work, John. It just leaves you broken and isolated. And you're anything but alone."

"What do you want me to say, Ailis" What do you want me to do' Do you want me to turn into a sobbing wreck" So long as Sam is safe, so long as you are safe, nothing else matters. I don't matter. I'm grateful that you came and rescued us, for Sam's sake, but you should have left me there. I'm a ticking time-bomb, Ailis. If anyone finds out the truth..." He broke off, saying a lot more than he'd planned on saying. That was when he chose to tug away, to pull himself away from her, before he said too much, though she was certainly going to find out sooner or later, if not from him, then from Samantha. "I should have died on Mars. It's as simple as that." He turned his back on her to make his way toward the door.

"Now you're the one running away." She hadn't missed that her own safety came after Sam's in his mind, not understanding what he meant by being a ticking time bomb at all. As he turned away, she twisted, catching up a discarded boot that lay by the bed, and threw it over his shoulder. It hit the door, slamming it before he could walk through, giving her a chance to catch up while he was cornered. "You turn around and you look at me right now. I tell you that I can't lose you, and you come back with you should have died on Mars? Don't you even try to walk away from that."

There they were, beside the bed, on the verge of shattering the last barrier that stood between them, and she was whispering her name. Was it a plea to stop or to keep going" She hadn't stopped him yet, and had, in fact, seemed to be encouraging him. They hadn't yet gone so far that there was no turning back, hovering on the brink. Did she want him to stop" In another minute, there would be no stopping. "Don't..." he breathed back, reaching to run his fingers through her hair, fingers brushing her cheek in a caress that was surprisingly tender. "Don't say anything," he told her, his lips moving against hers with a rush of warm breath, as his hands skimmed her sides before sliding beneath the hem of her shirt, fingers warm against her flesh.

When had this changed from hard passion to soft tenderness" Why hadn't she expected it to shift so amazingly from one to the other" Ailis couldn't have said either way, loosing the first sound that was purely feminine, totally affectionate, as he found the warmth of her skin beneath the thin tank she wore. The band that had been holding her hair had given up trying to stay in place, snapping free uselessly as he ran his fingers through the pale blonde strands, sending the length tumbling about her face and shoulders, reinforcing the woman beneath the soldier her father had made her into. Something brave inside her gave into his coaxing, and her hands rose, her arms lifting above her head in startlingly gentle submission, giving her consent to what was inevitable.

She was surprisingly compliant, or maybe not so surprising, allowing him to peel the last layer of cloth away from her skin. He tugged her t-shirt over her head and tossed it aside. His gaze moved over the soft curve of her breasts, the heat of his desire flaring inside him, wanting to touch her, taste her, discover all of her secrets. He lifted a hand to trace the curve of one breast with a fingertip, almost in wonder of her, like he'd never seen anything so beautiful before. It wasn't that he'd never been with a woman, but he'd never wanted a woman so much as he wanted her.

She trembled with the soft touch he brushed over her skin, ivory turning to pale pink under his gaze, selfishly delighted that he liked what he saw. So many fantasies spent on him, but somehow she'd never wandered past the first kiss, quietly romantic in the hidden part of her. This unexpected gentleness was as shocking as the first flash of desire, and no less powerful for the soft tenderness implied in his eyes and touch. Don't say anything, he'd told her, asking for her silence in this moment, but she found she couldn't be completely silent. A husky groan liberated itself from her throat as she watched his face, answering the ripple of pleasure that came at his touch with a sound meant for his ears only. Her own hands, fallen idle for a long moment as he looked her over, found new purpose in a skim of their own, insinuating her fingertips beneath the dark hem of his own t-shirt to brush against the heat of his skin.

He flinched at her touch, if only for a moment, as if her touch burned or he just wasn't prepared for it. The only person he'd allowed to touch him in recent years was his sister, and even then, it was rare, a momentary show of affection or reassurance, choosing to hold himself apart and keep to himself, even from her. This was a new level of trust for him, allowing her to peel away the layers of clothing that covered him and kept his safe, exposing himself, letting her see that part of him that no one had seen in many years. It was like they were slowly peeling away the layers that kept them separate and apart, tearing down that final barrier between them. What would come of it, he didn't know, but he had given her his trust, and there was no turning back now. He tugged his own shirt over his head. No dog-tags to ID him, no scars, no tattoos, no marks on him at all, as if his skin was a fresh slate, clean and unblemished.

Just as he had done to her, she swept him with her gaze, noting only vaguely the lack of scars beneath the covetous heat that rose as she absorbed the look of him, so close she could feel the real heat that radiated from beneath his skin. Like him, she reached out with one hand, the soft pad of her middle finger touching the defined dip in his chest with silently eager tenderness. Slowly, her eyes rose to meet his once again, longing heat flaring in the crystal blue depths of her gaze as her palm flattened over his heart, feeling the steady beat there and knowing it was almost synchronized with her own. And the hunger returned with each beat she felt, urging her to him as her arms rose, wrapping about his neck, her lips finding his, bodies pressing flesh to flesh in a shock of bare skin that filled his mouth with the taste of her moan.

His arms loosely circled about her waist as she pulled him closer, hearts beating in time with the other, warm flesh against warm flesh. He swallowed her moan as he kissed her again, deeper still, growing bolder. He kissed her for what seemed like an eternity, until he had to pull away to catch his breath, ragged with longing. No more fooling around. The time for slow and tender would come in time. He wanted her and he wanted her now. He pressed his body against hers, bearing her down onto the bed, fingers fumbling with her jeans in a hurry to get them off and see what lay hidden beneath the denim covering.

Soon enough, her jeans were loose, but her boots were a problem, as were his own, and he hurriedly pulled the laces loose and tugged them from her feet to drop on the floor beside the bed, thumping hard enough to be heard in the main room below them, but he didn't really care. They had waited long enough. They had waited years, and now it seemed all the waiting had come to a head, literally. Whether she was only using him or not, he didn't care. He'd worry about that later. For now, he was going to show her what she'd been missing and give her a damned good reason to want more of it. He tugged her jeans from her hips to join the growing pile of discarded clothing on the floor and slid his hands back up her legs, admiring the view once again, which only added fuel to the fire that blazed inside him.

He had more control than she'd ever given a lover, given up without a second thought as he bore her down onto the bed beneath him, as he fumbled to strip her of boots and jeans, leaving only the last barrier to keep her immodestly decent under the admiring gaze he covered her with. Ailis shivered at the smooth slide of his hands up along her legs, just that touch enough to bleed new tension through her slender, toned frame. She wasn't perfect, by any means; muscular in the way of a soldier, marred on her right thigh by a slash of a scar from a blade felt years ago, a starburst gunshot scar on her left shoulder, newer cuts, burns, and bruises scattered over her skin a healing testament to the last engagement she had attended.

Strange, how her thoughts paralleled his, and yet she abided by his injunction not to speak. Was he using her" Had the news of so many deaths been such a shock he had lost the control he exercised around her every other time" Would he rise as soon as he'd had his pleasure and never look back? God, she hoped not. The last thing she wanted was for John Grimm to ever walk away again. Unbidden, his name rose through her moan, bitten back before the word could make itself known as she reached for him, some part of her ready to beg for more of his kisses, more of his hands on her. Just more, in every sense.

More was exactly what he planned to give her - more of everything - but not until he freed himself of the last restraints of cloth and leather that covered him, eyes never leaving hers - socks and boots and pants, as bare to her as she was to him, only one final barrier between them. He moved back over her, tall and lean, sculpted muscles that came from years of soldiering. His gaze moved over her again, fingers tracing the scar on her thigh, finding it beautiful in a way only another soldier could. To him, the scars didn't mar her body but only made her that much more beautiful, desirable. His eyes declared his need, his desire, though he had still not said a word, fingers grazing her flesh in all the right places before his lips did the same, studying her reactions, what made her breath catch, what caused her to moan.

He seemed to know just where to touch, just how to use every little bit of unlooked for sensitivity in her flesh to his advantage, teasing sounds from her she was sure she'd never made before. But she didn't let him have it all his own way, sharing a faint smirk with his lips as a complex twist of limbs brought him onto his side, legs tangled with hers, her hands as active over the unmarred wonder of his body as her lips were gentle over the line of his jaw. Shuddering under his hands with the need for no more teasing, nonetheless she kept herself from pushing, knowing that while she had begun this, it was his to end. And half fearful of the consequences that would follow.

Her smile was met with a frown, not only feeling the loss of her brothers, all of them friends, but feeling somewhat to blame. No, he hadn't been there when they'd been attacked, but if he had, they might still be alive. Suddenly, he was anxious to tell her the truth. She deserved to know the truth. She deserved to know what they'd died for. It was a crapshoot. He knew she might hate him when she found out the truth, but he hoped she'd understand instead. He rolled off the bed without any warning, reaching a decision. "Get dressed," he told her, the tone of his voice leaving no room for argument. There would be time for sex and sleeping later.

It would seem that tearing down the barrier between them didn't make it any easier to take his stoic, often unfeeling lack of expression. Ailis felt the sting of what might almost have been a rejection, though she knew he couldn't have meant it that way. Setting her jaw hard, blue eyes flashing warningly, she rolled away herself, reaching for her clothes without a word.

Though she might have been put off by his reaction and seen it as abrupt or even cold, it was actually the opposite. It was his desire to be open and honest with her and her father that brought him to this sudden decision. If they were going to build any kind of life together, they had to trust each other. Trust wasn't built on secrets. This was the first step in building that trust. He swiped his pants from off the floor and stepped back into them, knowing she was probably confused and maybe even a little angry with him, but hopefully she would soon understand everything.

The silence was getting colder the longer it lasted. That Celtic temper that confused him so much was simmering again; all Ailis really knew was that she had offered a caress, and he had immediately moved away, ordered her to dress. He'd brought whatever was burgeoning between them to an abrupt halt with no explanation, stinging her pride in the process. Pulling her shirt back on over her head, she stepped into her underwear and jeans, thumping down onto the bed to pull her boots back on with ominous weight, not even looking at him.

He collected his things and finished getting dressed, tossing his jacket onto the bed for now, not really needed it, or maybe he was leaving it there on purpose and claiming it as his bed to return to later. He made sure the safety was set on his Berretta and tucked it into the back of his pants, glancing over to her and giving her the best explanation he could, for now. "I owe you and your family an explanation."

The eyes that met his as she tucked her own gun back in place, leaving her shirt unbuttoned over the tank, weren't cold. No, they were hot with embarrassment and anger and hurt pride, and he was going to have to do a lot better than that if he expected to share that bed with her when the sun went down. As it was, she simply nodded sharply and moved to the door, almost eager to be away from him as she struggled with the misconception that he wanted to be away from her.

"Ailis!" he called, reaching for her arm to tug her back around to face him, sensing from the look in her eyes that she was simmering with anger or maybe something worse than anger. He wasn't trying to push her away, but before this went further, she needed to know the truth.

Her fist clenched as he caught her arm, her body twisting smoothly to pull herself out of his grasp as though his touch burned. And it did, though not physically. She loved him; she thought she'd felt something similar from him. And then she seemed to have been wrong. It was a bad place to be. "I thought you wanted see the Chief?"

He paused, his mouth forming a thin line, sensing her anger and hurt. He wasn't trying to hurt her; just the opposite, in fact. Should he have waited, but 'til when" It wasn't going to be easy, no matter how he chose to explain or when. He sighed, dropping his hand from her arm as she pulled herself away from him. "You deserve to know what your brothers died for, and I only want to tell it once." Couldn't she understand how hard it was going to be for him to tell it at all" Though he didn't say the words, his eyes silently pleaded with her.

"They died for a friend," she told him, her voice quiet and worryingly calm. "What we don't know is why." There was a pause, a brief moment wherein she met his eyes, and the shock of recognizing the plea there was visible in her expression. The anger faded just a little, just enough to lower the new barrier that had slammed up between them. "I wasn't going to ask," was all she said, insulted that he might have thought she would ever push for that story. She turned toward the door again, her face flushed with something that could almost have been shame for the way she had laid herself bare to him.

She wasn't going to get away that easy, and she was making this harder than it had to be for all of them. He followed after her, fast enough that he easily caught up with her, leaning past her to press a hand against the door before she could open it, which she couldn't until she unlocked it anyway. "Would you just wait a minute?" he asked as he cut off her retreat. Who was walking away from who now" "I know my timing sucks, but if we're going to make this work, we need to be honest with each other. We need to trust each other. No secrets. There are things you don't know about me. Things you need to know."

"Make what work, Reaper?" That in itself was a low blow. She had never called him that before, withdrawing into herself rather than charge head on for the first time, not really wanting to share the stinging that was going to linger until he reassured her somehow. She wasn't taking back anything she'd said, but one f*ck did not make any kind of binding commitment, after all. "I highly doubt there's anything you can tell me that will change the way things stand. Or ..." Inadvertently, her eyes strayed to the tousled bed, her cheeks flushing for a brief moment as the hurt flared once again. "On my side, anyway." She looked back to him, standing loose but increasingly feeling trapped as he held the door closed. "I'm a soldier. I take what I'm told, and I don't ask questions. Just the way the Chief trained me."

"God damn it, Ailis!" He flushed angrily, his eyes narrowing at the name his fellow Marines had pinned on him. "You highly doubt it....You don't even know what I'm going to tell you. I'm not what you think I am, Ailis. I'm not..." He sighed again, stepping back and shoving his fingers through his hair, which was nearly always a mess anyway. "If you think what just happened between us meant nothing to me, then you know me even less than I thought."

"And if you think turning your back and ordering me to get dressed without a second word or glance is at all appropriate following what I just told you, then you know nothing about me!" she snapped back. Her hand wrenched at the door handle, forgetting for a moment that the door itself was locked. She swore vehemently, fingers stretching to flick the lock undone once more.

He clenched his jaw in anger as she snapped at him, throwing his own accusation back at him. He grabbed hold of her arm again, pulling her forcibly back around to face him and pinning her against the door with his body, not hard enough to hurt her but forcefully enough that she would have no choice but to face him. "Ordering you?! I decided it's time to tell you the truth because I love you!" he exclaimed, without thinking, pausing for a split second before deciding to reinforce that declaration with a kiss that was as heated as the anger that was simmering between them.

She barely had a split second to absorb what he had unthinkingly let slip before his mouth covered hers. Despite the anger, the hurt, the sting to her pride, she responded, fighting against the pin of his body against hers until he let her grip him tight, using the strength of the door at her back to push closer even as her lips broke from his. Pressed almost too close to hold his gaze with any kind of comfort, she glared into his eyes, the heat passionate once again but under control this time. "You can be a real arsehole, John Grimm," she breathed against his lips, but there was affection beneath the heat in her words. "I love you back."

He felt the heat of passion rush over him again, but he kept it under wraps for now, or they might not emerge from that bedroom for many hours. There would be time for that later. Hell, he'd make time. If she still wanted him after she found out the truth. The thought worried him, but as their lips parted, he smiled in amusement. "Takes one to know one, Sunshine," he countered, leaning in to kiss her again, just for good measure, rewarding her for telling him again or silently echoing the feeling. "Think they know what?s been going on up here?"

She glanced between the siblings again as the Chief caught on to where his daughter was going with her audible train of thought. He scowled. "What else happened up there?"

The Grimm twins exchanged another glance, speaking volumes to each other without speaking. John knew Sam wanted to keep what had happened there a secret in order to protect her brother, but John felt he owed the Warrens an explanation as to what exactly it was their family had died for. "I was shot. My own stupidity really. Bullet ricocheted off a wall. It was a fatal wound."

Sam piped in, a worried expression on her face. "John, you don't have to..."

But he cut her off with a glance. "They deserve to know what happened, Sam. They deserve to know what their family died for."

As one, the Warrens flinched at the harsh words. They didn't truly want to revisit the attack that had sundered their family ties, but in order to understand why it had happened, they needed to hear all of John's explanation. Rory, in particular, seemed deepest affected even by the mention of it, lowering his gaze to the hands clenched between his knees.

Ailis, on the other hand, was a step ahead of her father and brother, a mind trained to medicine quicker to understand the implications of Sam's reluctance as John's story seemed to be coming to its conclusion. She rose slowly to her feet, her eyes on John in mild astonishment, even as the Chief spoke again. "Stop winding it out, get on with it," he said gruffly. "You're not dead, Grimm, so what happened?"

Even though it was John who wanted to tell them what had happened, it was Sam who answered. "Doctor Carmack had injected a prisoner with what we dubbed Martian Chromosome 24, but he turned into a monster. I did some more research and hypothesized that the injection enhanced what was already there. If you were a bad person, you became a monster."

She glanced to John again, even more pointedly, the rest of the story becoming more obvious now. "She saved my life. I gave her my gun, told her to kill me if I became one of those things, but I didn't."

"How do we know you're not just a monster waiting to happen, then?" Rory suddenly burst out. The loss of his twin had hit him harder than the others, but even he knew when he was talking rubbish. He subsided almost immediately under the fierce scowl from his father.

The Chief lowered his own eyes to Sam. "You're the last known survivor of that research team," he said heavily. "UAC wanted you. And they thought we had you."

"And they're not going to get her, no matter what happens," Rory added in a low, protective growl, glancing a little shyly at Sam even as the words left his lips.

Standing quiet, Ailis was watching John, letting what they'd been told sink in before she reacted. "Superhuman," she said finally, holding his gaze for a moment longer, one hand gently squeezing Sam's shoulder. She might not approve, but she understood. "Just as well you're dead then, isn't it' They can't use your blood to open that line up again."

Sam glanced at Rory, her expression visibly softening. Though she loved her brother and would do anything to keep him safe, it was no secret she had feelings for this other soldier that went deeper than mere friendship. "If he was going to change, he would have by now. Besides, I knew he wouldn't." She looked back at John, unable to hide the pride she felt for her slightly younger twin.

John's gaze turned to Ailis, almost feeling her eyes on him before he met her gaze. "That's the problem. We have to stay dead. No one can ever know we're still alive. No one can ever re-create those experiments." He didn't think he had to explain what a disaster it would be for humanity if they did. The same thing would happen on Earth that had happened on Mars. He didn't think he had to spell out how much trust he'd just put in the three of them by telling them their secret. Their fate was in Chief's hands now. It was up to him to decide what would become of them.

Ailis held John's gaze for a long moment. There was understanding in her eyes, an acceptance of why they hadn't given up this information at the first, of what he'd meant when he'd said there were things she didn't know about him. Not that it changed anything. If Sam was to believed - and there was no reason not to believe her - then John was a better man than most, and the addition of a new pair of chromosomes only made him more so. Where was the harm in loving a man like that' "Well, all that means is we can't go back to our Earth," she said finally, turning her eyes to her father, deliberately keeping her tone light.

The Chief raised a brow at his daughter. He wasn't entirely sure he completely understood the implications of what had been said, but he trusted his little ray of sunshine to react accordingly if it was some kind of abomination. Not even Ailis would let her heart get in the way of practical considerations. He grunted thoughtfully, nodding. "Aye, she's right. Anyone asks you, you're from Earth, dunno which one. Don't mention Olduvai, don't talk about UAC. We'll get you kitted out, and keep an ear out for troublemakers looking for Sam. Boomer?"

His son looked up sharply, just barely wincing as the healing skin of his back pulled tight with the motion. "Sir?"

Chief nodded toward Sam, his eyes on Rory. "Primary mission - her safety. Your responsibility." As Rory flushed an uncomfortable shade of red and turned shy eyes to Sam, the older soldier looked to John. "That good enough, or were you expecting some sort of punch for holding the secret, too?"

Sam looked between them, quiet for the moment, not altogether sure she liked people making decisions for her. It wasn't her own safety that concerned her so much. She might hold the scientific knowledge in her head, but it was really John who was the key. Now that the Ark had been destroyed, he was the only proof that Chromosome 24 existed. If anyone from UAC was to find out, it would be him they'd want, more than her. She stifled a shudder at the thought of anyone using her brother as a lab rat, though she'd practically done that very same thing. They'd been over it a hundred times. She'd had no choice at the time, neither of them had. What was done was done. The important thing now was keeping it secret. She glanced to John at Chief's orders, arching a brow and wondering how he was going to take it. He'd been like a mother hen ever since they'd escaped Olduvai, maybe even before that.

John seemed to bristle for a moment, but then he relaxed, accustomed to taking orders, but not necessarily following them. It depended on what those orders were. He wasn't sure he liked the idea of Rory watching over his sister, instead of him, but he understood the reasons for it. There was only one thing that bothered him. "I wasn't expecting anything," he started, looking to Chief. "I appreciate your help, but I don't want to put any more lives in danger." It wasn't that he wasn't accepting their help, but he needed to make sure they knew exactly what it was they were getting themselves into.

"They came after my kids," the Chief reminded him in a harsh tone, standing straighter as his hand clenched in his pocket with a jangle that only Rory and Ailis recognized. "Way I see it, letting you two head out on your own is about as disrespectful to the memory of my boys as I could get. They died for you. We're going to make damned sure you live for them." There was a pause as he faced John, a dangerous challenge in his eyes. "Unless you have reason to be wanting to be away from me and mine?"

"Soldiering for money," John mused. "You gonna head up the team?" he asked, assuming he already knew the answer to that, but in all honesty, John didn't want to be in charge. He preferred being a grunt, taking orders and making sure they were carried out, so long as he was taking orders from someone he respected and could trust. Someone like Chief. Besides, he didn't exactly have a lot of options.

The older man snorted at what, to him, was a silly question. "Too old not to," was all he said. "'Course, we've got a couple of weeks to set up a secure base while Boomer heals up -" There was a sound of protest from Rory, quickly silenced as the Chief continued. "Shut up and listen to your sister for once - as I say, a couple of weeks we can take for downtime or to set up a secure base, scout out contacts. I can pull in some of the finance from accounts set up in my helpfully M.I.A. uncle's name without drawing too much suspicion, but after that, we're on our own. Or you can go civilian, John."

John glanced between the pair, keeping his mouth shut and waiting until Chief was done talking. It seemed the older man had already thought this all out and made his decision. John didn't really need much time to think about it, but he couldn't say the same for his sister. "I'll talk to Sam," he said, making no promises, though he was out of options. What was he going to do, after all"

"No rush on it," Chief assured him amiably. "Sunshine's thinking it over herself." Though it was blindingly obvious to anyone who knew this family that if her father and brother went back into soldiering, Ailis wouldn't let them do it without her. She was a field medic, after all.

John considered quietly a moment, debating the options, the pros and cons. The Warrens were grieving, Rory was healing, and John and Sam needed to come to grips with everything that had happened and get acclimated with their new home. "We all need a little time," he said, agreeing with Chief, not only for his own sake but for all of them. He didn't bother to mention that Ailis' decision would most likely have some bearing on his own.

"You're sticking with us while you work it out, though, right?" It was the first halfway normal thing to have come out of Rory's mouth, fueled as much by a wish to become better acquainted with John as his hope to become much better acquainted with Sam, if she wanted to. He didn't bother looking to his father as he said it; there was plenty of room, especially if John was taking up residence with Ailis.

A small smile flickered across John's face, assuming Rory was only interested in his staying because of his sister. "If you'll have us. We've got nowhere else to go right now." His gaze darted to the kitchen where the two women had disappeared, and he wondered if he should just lay his cards on the table about Ailis, but like she'd said, what happened between them was no one else's business. "I should stow our gear. Where do you want us?" he asked, as he stepped over to their bags, hoisting one onto a shoulder, before picking up the other.

"There's rooms upstairs," Chief said a little superfluously. "Rory's sleeping down here for the time being - close to the fire since he's got to keep his back uncovered for now. I'm at the head of the stairs, take your pick from the rest." And given the way he'd worded it, that included the room Ailis had claimed as her own. Rory snorted with badly concealed laughter, smirking over at John as though daring the man to object.

John glanced at Rory, both brows arching, tempted to tease him about his sister, but decided against it, at least, for now. If Rory was sleeping downstairs by the fire, it was likely Sam would be near by a good part of the time, but John kept that thought to himself, shouldering one bag and carrying the other, as if they weighed nothing. "Thanks," he told Chief before making his way toward the stairs. That one word seemed so inadequate to thank the man for everything he and his family had done for them. John only hoped he could find a way to repay that debt someday. He thumped his way up the stairs and down the hall, eventually falling silent.

There was no need to answer the thanks; as far as the Chief was concerned, the Grimms were welcome to join what was left of his family, as in need of that welcome as he was to give it. He glanced at Rory, frowning at his son's smirk. "He'll tear you to bits," he predicted, chuckling as Rory abruptly shut up.

In the kitchen, the conversation had stayed carefully away from the topic under discussion in the next room when Sam had joined Ailis, neither woman wanting to dwell on the losses or the violence. Ailis was talking about nothing to fill the silence as she sliced vegetables and meat, dropping them into a pot to stew. " ....one good thing about this place is how cheap the fresh produce is," she was saying as she stirred the pot. "Cut up that bread, would you? It's not gourmet, but it does." She trailed off for a moment, listening to John's footsteps as he mounted the stairs.

From the expression on Sam's face when she'd entered the kitchen, it was probably a good thing Ailis was more than ready to change the subject from the morose conversation that was going on in the adjoining room. As if it wasn't enough to know Rory had been hurt, the deaths of his brothers weighed heavily on her heart, knowing they had died in part because of herself and her brother. Unlike her brother, she knew it was a debt they could never repay. She silently went to work cutting up the bread, happy to have something to do to take her mind off her heartache. She paused a moment in the slicing to hear the familiar sound of her brother's footsteps mounting the stairs. "He acts like it doesn't bother him, but it does, you know," she told Ailis quietly, as if she needed her to know that her brother was not without feeling.

"I know." Ailis offered her a sad sort of smile as she brushed crumbs from her fingers against her own hip. "It's harder to deal with him not showing it, though. You've seen what we're like - everything shows. We flare up with just about anything we feel, and it's not a secret. But that's just the way we are. It'll take a bit of getting used to with John, that's all." One shoulder rose and fell in a light shrug. "You're allowed to let it bother you, too, you know," she added mildly. "You're not so used to death and violence as we are. You shouldn't try to shrug it off the way we do."

"I saw a lot of things I never want to see again," Sam said as she focused on slicing up the bread. "He won't admit it, but I know he dreams about it. We both do, I guess. I hear him pacing the floor when he can't sleep. When it gets really bad, he goes for a run, burns off some energy." She frowned, pausing a moment in her slicing of the bread. "I'm sorry for your loss, Ailis. Deeply sorry. I'm sorry we brought this on you and your family."

The sadness flared up for a moment, etching itself over Ailis' face as she seemed to sag. But it was just a brief moment of sadness, before she drew herself up again. Her grief wasn't so immediate as Sam's sense of guilt. Ailis was a soldier; death was something she knew. Sam only knew death as a distanced fact of the bones she had spent her life learning to read. "Someone would have got us eventually," she told her new friend quietly. "Better it was quick, protecting friends, than slow for no other reason than that we put too many noses out of joint. Rory's taking it hard. I can't help him," she admitted regretfully. "I know he and Fionn were closer than the rest of us, but ....well, maybe you can help him more than I can. I can heal his body, but I think maybe you're more suited to helping him heal his soul."

Sam glanced over at the other woman, sensing she was more like John than herself. A soldier like him, though they were both hurting just as much as the rest of them, too stubborn to admit it, or maybe they just handled it a different way. "I know what it's like to be a twin. I felt alone after John left, like part of me was missing, but I didn't want to hold him back. He's the only family I have left. If you want to know the truth about what happened at Olduvai, I couldn't bear the thought of losing him. I didn't know what would happen when I injected him. I prayed to God he'd be all right. He's stubborn as hell, but he's a good man, Ailis. I saved his life and he saved mine. We wouldn't have gotten out alive if I hadn't given him that injection." She paused a moment again, realizing she'd rambled on in hopes of explaining she knew a little of what Rory was feeling. "I'm not sure if I can help Rory, but I can try."

"Giving orders already? I suppose you expect me to do dishes later," John grumped as he got elbowed out of the way and backed up a few steps. It was far more entertaining listening to the two women try to outdo each other regarding their sex lives, of which, he was fairly certain, Sam's was nil. He wasn't even sure if she was still a virgin. He was observant enough to know that she was soft on Rory, but as far as he knew, nothing as yet had come of it.

"Is that a challenge?" Sam retorted, ignoring her brother, even as he shot a look her way. Now who was intruding"

"No, that's the Chief's job," Ailis informed John with a cheery smile, stirring the pot once again as she glanced between the siblings. "Think I'll have something else for you to do when you're fed." The smile was all in her eyes as she looked at John, knowing from experience with her brothers that the sheer force of intimacy in a look could embarrass Sam beyond any words that might be said. And topping it off with a smirk to his sister was the icing on the cake. "Tell you what," she suggested to Sam. "You get off without opening up his back, and we'll give you a run for your money, how's that?"

John arched a brow at Ailis. "I look forward to it," he said with a smile, before Sam cut in.

"Maybe," Sam replied, with a small frown at the reminder of Rory's injuries, still feeling just a little bit guilty. "I think it might be better if we waited until he was healed." And maybe until he actually told her how he felt. Left to their own devices, Rory and Sam might never get together. As far as Sam was concerned, it was nothing less than a miracle that Ailis and John had finally admitted their attraction, if not their feelings, for one another.

"You might like to know that Chief assigned Rory to be your bodyguard," John remarked, as casually as he could as he stole a slice of bread from the plate and practically ate it whole. He was that hungry.

Fixing John with a disapproving smirk for his bread theft, Ailis knocked loudly on the door that separated the kitchen from the main room to summon the other two, amused that her father was apparently playing matchmaker already. "Carpe Boomer, Sam," she winked to the other woman. "He'd love it."

A snort from the doorway gave away that Chief had overheard that little remark as he held the door for Rory to move into the kitchen, the male Warrens leading the charge to the rickety table and its array of three- and four-legged stools.

Sam cut a curious glance to her brother, who only shrugged innocently, no help at all, completely ignoring Ailis' disapproval at his head-start on dinner. It was only a slice of bread, after all. Any reply Sam might have given was cut off as they were joined by Rory and Chief, and blushed at the realization that at least one of them had overheard. And who was going to get the heat for that' John, of course. He was chuckling to himself at the situation, until Sam whacked him in the stomach to shut him up. "Shut up before I start sharing your most embarrassing moments."

John looked at his sister, aghast. "What embarrassing moments?" he asked, as if he had none. She only glared a warning back at him before taking her seat, purposely waiting for Rory. There was no point in hiding something they all seemed to know about already.

"Betcha nothing he's done compares with Ailis' prom date," Rory piped up, flashing Sam a startlingly charming grin as he lowered himself to the stool beside hers.

"And you can shut up, and all," was his sister's pointed response to that as she dished out the stew, the last to take a place at the table under the cover of her brother's ruthlessly accurate re-telling of her first and most humiliating date. The Chief chuckled at the cessation of tension between the younger people as they fell to sharing embarrassing stories, trying to one-up each other over dinner.

Before long, it was as if the five of them were one big happy family, sharing stories and laughing as if nothing was wrong. Laughter, as some wise man had once said, was the best medicine, and in this case, it seemed to be true. They were all feeling the loss of the Warren brothers, but maybe this was the first step in healing. The stories were bound to include the brothers, and before long John was telling of his first meeting with Connor and how they'd come to blows with each other upon their first meeting. Quickly becoming fast friends afterwards, they'd never shared so much as a harsh word since. John would have said more, but he'd grown quiet again, a little lost in his own thoughts, at least for the moment. He'd enjoyed the stew more than he cared to admit, and the company even more, but it would be awhile before any of them could talk about the loss without a little sadness creeping in.

It surprised the Chief more than he'd care to admit how easily the five of them had settled into a comfortable repartee, though he hadn't been able to keep his own comments on Ailis' frequent glances at John to himself, thoroughly enjoying the freedom to make his only daughter blush crimson with one particularly ribald observation. It had even earned him a faint glare from Rory for making his sister out to be more of a girl than she usually liked to admit, though Rory was more distracted by the pretty doctor at his side than he wanted to admit. In fact, he was so distracted that Ailis handed Sam the med-kit when the meal was over, trusting the other woman to check her brother's burns without incident. Besides, it would give them a little time to grow used to each other's solitary company while the Chief was washing up, and she wasn't above a little matchmaking herself.

Once Rory and Sam were out of earshot, and the three of them were left alone in the kitchen, John asked the one question that had been bothering him all through dinner. "Is he going to be okay?" he asked, with a glance toward the door Rory and Sam had disappeared through, keeping his voice low enough that they wouldn't overhear. He'd seen the man's back and knew his wounds were serious, but he seemed to be recovering. Whether he was asking because he was concerned about Rory or because he was thinking of his sister was uncertain; maybe it was both.

Ailis paused in wiping down the table, glancing briefly toward the door before letting her gaze meet John's with a soft look on her face. "He'll be fine," she promised him. "I know the burns look bad, but the blisters went down days ago. It's just a matter of giving him time to heal the damaged skin now. The deep level damage is healing up, and he's so full of antibiotics, it's a wonder he isn't sweating them."

The Chief grunted quietly from the sink. "Your Samantha'll do him the world of good, John," the older man said confidently. "They'll do, both of them." He turned away from the sink for a moment, eying John thoughtfully. "How about you? Are you going to be okay?"

John's gaze remained thoughtfully fixed on the doorway as he listened to Ailis and Chief reassure him that Rory would be fine. He wasn't so sure about Sam. He'd heard her screams in the middle of the night when the nightmares came out of nowhere. Ironically, his thoughts and worries for his sister were remarkably similar to her concerns about him, but they were twins, after all, and could practically read each other's thoughts, at times. He knew Rory must be feeling the loss of his twin more deeply than the rest. Pulled out of those thoughts by Chief's question, he arched a brow at the man as he collected up the dirty dishes and brought them to the sink for washing. "I'm fine. It's Sam that worries me."

"Bollocks you're fine," Ailis said, as confrontational as ever. He really shouldn't have expected her to change much; after all, she'd only brought something into the open, not developed it overnight. "She's just as worried about you, you know. Maybe a little distance'll do you both good."

At the sink, Chief met John's gaze with resigned good humor. "She's a point there, lad," he agreed reluctantly with his daughter. "The terrors may go quicker with extra hands to help soothe them."

John knew they meant well, and he knew what they were trying to tell him, but if they thought he was going to stop worrying about his sister, they were dead wrong. "We've been apart long enough," he replied as he set the dishes on the counter. "She's the only family I've got left." He got the feeling he'd been welcomed into their family, but it was too soon to really feel a part of that yet, though he was cautiously hopeful. He purposely avoided Ailis' gaze at the mention of terrors, afraid the look in his eyes might give him away. "I'm handling it," he replied quietly, not bothering to point out that he was a soldier and that he was supposed to be accustomed to killing and death, though they'd never trained him for the likes of Olduvai.

"I'm not trying to solve her problems," he told her with a frown. Not exactly anyway. It was more a matter of just trying to protect her. "I know I have to let go a little. It's just she's the only family I have left and..." He trailed off, leaving the rest unsaid. He was preaching to the choir, after all. If anyone knew what it was like to lose a loved one, it was Ailis. "Anyway, I'm sorry." A cold shower didn't sound particularly inviting, but if they needed him to help out around the house, he was more than willing. "You want me to do it' Hook up the boiler, I mean."

"If you want to, although it can wait." Again, she shrugged one shoulder, this time pushing herself out of her lean, one hand self-consciously smoothing down the edge of the towel about herself as though making sure it hadn't decided to gape open. She wasn't sure why she was feeling shy all of a sudden; after all, she could be fairly certain that her physical form didn't repulse him after their hello. She pointed to the hatch in the ceiling above them. "The tank and piping is up there. We were going to reinforce the beams before setting to work, though."

"We can start to work on that tomorrow then," he said, glancing at the ceiling for a moment before looking back at her. He wasn't sure why he was feeling suddenly awkward when they'd spent part of their afternoon in each other's arms. "I should probably take a shower," he said, gesturing past her to the bathroom, almost wishing he'd caught her before she'd gotten out, but that would be embarrassing if her father or brother found out. He had to get past her to get to the bathroom, and that was going to be a little bit awkward.

She nodded, edging sideways to be out of the way, feeling just as awkward as he was. There was no hiding the flush that traveled over her chilled skin as she brushed past him, or the way her eyes failed to lock to his, distracted by lips or neck until she pulled herself together. "Do you need your pack?" she asked him, drawing in a deep breath as she prepared to back away once again.

"Um, yeah, well..." He trailed off, feeling awkward again. This was silly. They had to get past this awkwardness somehow. He sighed in a bit of frustration, more at himself than anything else. "Ailis, I..." He looked from the bedroom back to her. "Maybe we should talk in private." She was in a towel, after all.

It took a moment for her to focus on what he'd said, distracted by the closeness in the confines of the hallway. Drawing her eyes back to his, she bit her lip, glancing down at herself. "You're probably right." She huffed softly with laughter, bare feet backing her up a couple of steps before she turned to push open the door to the room she, and apparently he, had claimed as theirs.

He hoped she didn't mind that he was sharing a room, but he wasn't really sure. It was one of the many things they needed to discuss and neither seemed very good at that sort of thing. He followed her into the room she'd claimed as her own, reaching around behind him to pull the Berretta out of the back of his pants. He wasn't sure why he'd taken it to dinner with him, more out of habit than need, but better safe than sorry. He'd have to look into getting a holster.

It felt complicated, whatever was going on here, and complicated was something Ailis did not do very well. Still, she thought she might feel a little more confident if she had more than a towel on, pulling the first things to hand out of her own pack. "I can't promise not to yell at you if you're being a stubborn bastard," she told him, more to distract herself as she turned her back, stepping into fresh panties with a creative wriggle to keep her less modest flesh out of sight.

He tried not to watch as she wriggled into clothes, feeling his body reacting to her getting dressed, as much as it did when she was doing the opposite. What the hell was the matter with him' Here she was barely dressed in just a towel and he wanted to talk" He set the Berretta on the bedside table where he had before. It seemed the best place for it. It wasn't like any monsters were going to attack him here, just the monsters that wandered around in his head. "I can't promise not to get pissed if you do," he replied. "I know it's going to take some work. But I'm willing to try." Hell, he was willing to do a lot more than that.

"We can make it work." Admittedly, she sounded a lot more confident than she looked in that moment, given the speed with which she went from dropping the towel to pulling a tank on over her head to cover up. Anyone would think she was scared of him seeing her nude, when it couldn't be further from the truth. Still, satisfied that she was at least decent enough to be comfortable, she turned back to look at him. "There's a lot I don't know about you, John," she admitted quietly. "I don't know how to read you yet. And I have a really quick temper."

"Really?" he asked, a small teasing smirk on his as she turned to face him, his eyes moving appreciatively over her again. "I hadn't noticed." It was hard to keep a lid on the desire that was stirring inside him again, his body thinking for him. "Maybe we should just have sex and get over the awkwardness," he suggested, only half kidding.

"Oh, hadn't you?" Despite the vague aggression in her tone, her eyes were lit with amusement as her hands came to rest on her hips in the face of that tease. His suggestion, whether it was serious or not, brought a gentle ripple of palpable desire flooding through her under his gaze. She'd had it mostly under control during dinner; now they were alone, it was getting difficult to ignore again. "Maybe we should," she mused, paying him back for his teasing smirk with a sweep of her own gaze, hot and wanting, from tip to toe and back again, lingering playfully on his crotch just long enough for him to realize what she was looking at. "Of course, by that reasoning, every time we feel awkward, we should just get naked."

"So long as it's not in front of your father," he agreed with a smirk. Hell with it. They could talk later. She was too desirable to ignore, and he wanted her too much. He made his move, though it seemed a shame to strip her of the clothing she'd just gone to the trouble to put on. His hands came to rest on her waist, a smile on his face. If this was the only way for them to ease the awkwardness between them, so be it. It was tough to take, but he thought he could manage it. He lifted a hand to tip her chin up to meet the crushing kiss from his lips.

The thought of sending the Chief running for the nearest exit by stripping brought a delightfully feminine giggle to her lips, offering up a smile for him to smother with the kiss he crushed to her mouth. She rose up on bare toes, a little more confident this time to touch him as her fingers trailed up over the line of his arms, answering the heat in him with her own, feeling the sense of shyness, of awkwardness, burn away in a burst of breathless desire. Her lips parted from his to release two words that were pretty important at this point, needing to get them out there before she was completely steamrollered with want. "Door," she breathed against his lips, drawing her fingers through his hair, leaving him even more disheveled than she had the last time. "Lock."

He seared a kiss against her lips, his passion equaling hers. He was hoping to be a little quieter this time, but he was no more willing to chance an interruption than she was. The others in the house were going to have to learn to knock first. He kissed her again, as if for good measure, before moving to the door to lock it for the second time that day. "Locked," he confirmed, once he'd turned the lock, wasting no time as he turned back to her and lifted his arms to tug his shirt over his head and toss it aside.

She turned to watch him as he moved away, admiring not for the first time the predatory way he moved, the shift of muscle beneath his shirt as he turned back to her. There was no time wasted waiting for him to be ready for her, either - as his arms rose, she moved to him, her hands finding warm, ready skin as she followed the rise of his shirt with a hungry caress. Her lips touched the hollow of his throat, counting the beat of his pulse for a moment before biting gently, suckling his flesh with tender aggression as her hands swept up his back. That first time had been a consummation of years of longing; it was her turn to show him now what he'd been missing by holding off for so long.

He withheld the groan that was building inside him as her teeth grazed his flesh, hands sliding beneath her shirt and against her skin as he tugged it upwards and over her head, baring her to his touch and sight, arousal flaring. The first time had been quick, a frenzied coupling that barely scratched the surface. If he had anything to say about it, this time would be slow. He wanted to explore her, discover her, memorize every inch of her, slowly learn her so that he knew what made her gasp and groan and sigh, what made her ask for more or plead for release. Whatever she wanted, he'd give it to her and then some.

She playfully seemed to consider this for a moment, selfishly enjoying the gentle passage of his hand over her skin. She felt as though she'd earned the right to touch and be touched in this way, determined to enjoy it now it was theirs to share. "It's a possibility," she told him with a cheeky wriggle of her brows, her lips setting into an impish smile even as her palm smoothed over his chest. This felt comfortable, easy; it appeared that here would be where they could talk to one another, so long as neither held anything back. "Did the Chief tell you his plan?"

He wasn't sure why things had changed, but it seemed the tension had broken. They seemed as much at ease with each other as though they were old lovers. He wondered if it was only temporary or if they'd crossed a threshold. Whatever had happened, he felt more at ease with her in that moment than he had with anyone before, save his twin. Even so, he knew there were things he could tell Ailis that he'd never dare tell Samantha. "He told me a little," he admitted, feeling strangely lazy and even a little bit sleepy, though it was hardly time for bed. "Something about a merc team. He seems pretty adamant about staying here and not going back."

"Our bridges are burned there," she told him quietly. "Too many people know our faces, our tactics, and now we're reduced to three, we're an easy target for old enemies." Ailis stretched luxuriantly at his side, throwing her leg over his as her fingertips drew nonsensical patterns over his heart. "It isn't really choice, not for us. And if the Chief goes back into it, Rory will follow him." She sighed softly. "And I can't let them do that without me. They'd be dead within the year."

"Five," John corrected. He knew she was still grieving her brothers and truth be told, he hadn't even started, but there weren't only three of them. They had him and Sam now. That made five. He found her touch strangely comforting, even if it was just a random caress of fingertips, and he drew her closer, wanting to feel the warmth of her body against his, even if all they did was talk and lie close. "We don't have much choice either," he reminded her. He didn't really have to remind her that if anyone were to find out they were still alive, or even worse to find what he'd become, they'd never have any peace. "You're going to have to show us around, get us acclimated with this place."

She lifted her head, looking down at him with a faint frown of concern. "Don't make that decision without talking to Sam," she suggested gently. "She'll make life hard for all of us if she thinks the decision was made for her, just like any of us would." Her fingertips traced the line of his cheek as she spoke, brushing over his lips before she settled against him once more. "It doesn't take long to get used to Rhy'Din. It's the people it takes a while to grow accustomed to."

"I'm pretty sure Sam has already decided. Have you seen the way she looks at Rory?" John pointed out. He'd talk to Sam later, but he thought Sam was the least of his worries at this point. "I just want her to be safe and happy. That's all I want." Her touch comforted him a little, made him feel like someone cared. He wasn't really that concerned with the job. Jobs would always be there, though he had his scruples. He was a solider, not an assassin, and he wouldn't stoop to becoming a hired killer. What he wanted to really wanted to understand was what was happening between the two of them and how they were going to make it work.

"We can keep her safe," Ailis promised, and he knew better than most that it was no empty promise. Between the four of them, Sam was going to be one of the best protected scientists in a dozen universes. "And if she wants it badly enough, Rory will make her happy. What do you want for yourself, John" You can't spend your life looking to everyone else's happiness."

"Me?" he asked, arching a brow. No one had ever really asked him that before, not in so many words, anyway. "Are you happy you gave up your microscope for a sniper scope?" he heard his sister ask in his head, or something like that. He didn't really need to think about the question. He already knew what he wanted, and he practically had it. "All I want I've already got under this roof." It was true. All he really wanted was for Sam to be safe. It was all he'd wanted for a long time, until he'd met Ailis. Now, he'd added the love of a woman to that list of desires, but it seemed he finally had that, too.

Ailis echoed his expression with one brow arched, a querying smile on her lips as she watched him consider his answer and give it. It wasn't much of an answer, but she was beginning to learn when not to push it with John. If he wanted to tell her more, he would, and it wouldn't kill her to be patient for that offering, either. "Ah, so you're harboring a secret passion for the Chief," she teased, unable to help herself. "Got it."

"Right, that's exactly what it is," he smirked, the smile coming a little easier, at least for now. He sighed a little as he turned serious, trying to give her question an honest response. "Sam asked me that once. If I regretted joining the Marines. There was a time when I wanted to be a scientist, like her, but after Mom and Dad died..." He shrugged. "I wanted to get as far away from Olduvai as I could."

"But you never left Olduvai, did you?" she asked him quietly, rising up to prop herself on one elbow, sweeping her fingers against his temple. "You got stuck there, up here, and never really let it go. Not until now."

His eyes followed her face as she looked down on him, not really wanting to think about the accident that had taken his parents or the grief that had come after, the argument with Sam when he'd told her he was going to join the service, followed by her quiet acceptance. They were twins; they were supposed to stick together, but after what had happened, he didn't want to follow in his parents' footsteps anymore, and look what had happened? He'd ended up becoming a walking science experiment. "I'm not sure I can ever let it go," he admitted quietly, letting her see the conflict in him that he rarely showed anyone else.

"Wouldn't ask you to." She leaned down to kiss him once again, softer, gentler, coaxing affection over passion as her palm smoothed over his side once again. "I don't think I'm ever going to leave Nevada," she admitted in that low tone, her eyes shining for a moment with the tears only he had seen, the emotion brutally suppressed out of habit. "But ....well, it helps that you've got my back."

His grief was older than hers. He'd learned how to carry it, how to hide it, how to bury it deep inside so it didn't eat you alive. He saw a hint of tears in her eyes and he brushed a hand against her cheek as if to chase them away. "You asked what I want, Ailis," he said, his voice growing soft for a weathered soldier. "All I want I have right here, with you. I'm not going anywhere, so long as you want me here. I promise."

Her smile was a little watery, but sweetly genuine in answer to his promise, her hand rising to curl about his where it rested against her cheek. "You're all I've wanted for a very long time," she confessed in the quiet they had wrapped about themselves. "It's just ....it's hard to believe you're really here. I can be a nightmare to live with, I know that. But I'll try, John. I will try."

He returned her smile with one of his own, warm and hopeful and unexpectedly understanding. "That makes two of us," he said. He let her take his hand, linking his fingers with hers. "We're gonna be okay, Sunshine. Promise." He sealed his promise with a kiss that was as warm and loving as his words. He may not have repeated those three little words of love, but actions speak louder than words, and if his kiss was anything to go by, then she should feel confident that she held his heard in her hands. He knew he couldn't take the place of her brothers, but maybe he could at least give her a reason to go on. He didn't really know what the future held, but he knew that so long as they kept those promises, then maybe all their lonely nights were finally over. They were stronger together than apart, and if he had his way, they would never be apart again.

((Phew! Loooooong scene with no natural breaks! Congratulations if you read it all the way through! Split effort with the NPCs and various, but it goes without saying that John's player is especially smoochable and awesome and fantabulous and ....yeah, I've run out of made up words. ;-) ))