“Backup, come here, boy,” Fletcher called out. He then whistled, all while patting his legs.

  The black and white border collie tore out of the bushes, rushing to Fletcher across the damp grass. Given it was only mid-April, spring had yet to really hit in the high mountains, but they hadn’t had a snowstorm in over two weeks meaning the park was sort of usable.

  Fletcher and Backup weren’t the only ones outside during the cold afternoon, but they might as well have been with how spread out everyone was in the large greenspace.

  He was trying to give Backup as much time to run out and explore as he could since it was the weekend and he actually had the time for such things, but after a couple of hours in the freezing wind, he decided that his dog had enough outside playtime for the day. Backup disagreed, but that training he was sent to while Fletcher was in the hospital made him obedient enough he only whined a little as Fletcher hooked the leash back onto his collar.

  “I know. I know. You miss Vesi and running free all day. But isn’t it nice to have a warm bed and regular meals that aren’t just canned meat?” he asked.

  Backup’s tongue hung out of his mouth as he stared up at Fletcher.

  “Oh no. I mentioned food, didn't I? Now you’re not going to let me forget it.” Fletcher smiled and rubbed Backup’s head before pulling away and grimacing. “Jeez, dude. You’re soaked. I think you might need a bath.”

  Backup’s ears went backwards, and he snapped his mouth closed.

  “Come on.” Fletcher headed back towards the entrance into the base, Backup by his side.

  They passed plenty of people in the hallway who all smiled at the dog, and several asked to pet him despite the smell. It made Fletcher happy that Backup brought joy into everyone’s lives. Having the dog with him made a world of difference in adjusting to his new life. Not to mention that Backup seemed to have a special sense of when Fletcher was struggling with flashbacks from Vesi or on the verge of an anxiety attack, coming to comfort him at the perfect moment. That companionship alongside the therapy gave him hope that he might have a future of feeling some sense of normalcy in his head again, though he knew it was still going to take a lot more time.

  Fletcher had been working on his new assignment with Major Simpson for over two weeks now, and if it were possible, he liked it less than when he started. The daily PT sessions were getting more doable for Fletcher, meaning he was finally getting into shape again, but all that exercise had slowed his progress on gaining back the weight his doctor wanted him to put on, so now he was being assigned a meal buddy for lunch as well as dinner to monitor his eating habits and ensure he was taking in enough calories.

  As Fletcher reached the hallway with his quarters, he made a stop at the mailroom to grab any mail that came in. He was back to regularly writing to some of his friends from training, including Campos, Hajji, and Tara Knox. He even occasionally wrote to George who’d been given a release from military service and now worked in a canning facility out at the Paraty base.

  He received a letter from Tara, but he was surprised to find a letter with no address on it. It hadn’t come through the regular post system, so he wondered if it was a mistake.

  Getting back to his small apartment, he let Backup go free and tore into the unmarked envelope.

  It was a note from his mom, inviting him to dinner that night at her apartment.

  Weird. The last time he’d seen his mom he’d been in a hospital bed. After that, he’d had no contact with her. He saw his dad and Nora regularly enough, but since she didn’t make an effort, he didn’t put in any of his own either.

  “I guess I have to go, right?” Fletcher glanced at Backup. He really didn’t want to. But chances were Nora would be there, so at least he’d have some kind of buffer. If his mom was actually going to request to see him, he figured he could be polite enough to show up. It was one dinner. It couldn’t be that bad.

  But he’d already wasted a large portion of his day, and there were still chores to be done. The smelliest one was waiting at his feet, begging for an early dinner.

  “After your bath,” Fletcher promised.

  Backup backed away as Fletcher stood up.

  “No. You have to get a bath. That’s the consequence of playing outside when it’s wet.” Fletcher stared down at the dog who gave one small whimper.

  “It won’t be that bad.” He reached down and scooped Backup into his arms, taking the furry load into the bathroom.

  As it always went with bathing Backup, the experience was messy and chaotic. Both Fletcher and the dog were soaked through, but at least the dog was mostly clean. Leaving Backup to himself now that he was sort of dry, Fletcher took a quick shower as well to get the lingering wet dog smell off his skin.

  With that, he had just enough time to hit the store on his way to dinner to grab a bottle of wine. His father had ensured he was raised with enough manners to never show up to a dinner party empty handed, and now that he was settling back into what felt like a normal life with somewhat normal working hours, those kinds of things mattered again.

  He selected a bottle that was as nice as his salary would afford him to splurge for something like this, and as he was checking out, he bumped into a familiar face.

  “Fletch, you look nice. Oh, and wine? A date perchance?” Nora asked, falling into step with him. She was wearing tight pants and a well-fitted top, which meant she was dressed up enough to confirm his earlier assumption.

  He laughed. “Definitely not. I’m going to the same place as you.”

  She cocked an eyebrow. “A game night with my friends that you’ve never met?”

  “Shoot,” he muttered. “Deities, kill me. I was counting on you being there, Nora.”

  “Being where?”

  “Dinner with Mom.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Think she invited Dad?”

  “Not a chance.” Nora grinned and patted his back. “This is good for you. Having a relationship with your mom is actually a normal thing, you know.”

  “Come on. You know that we do not get along, Nora. This is going to suck.”

  “Well, yeah. If that’s your attitude going in. Positive thinking, Fletcher.” She reached over and used her fingers to force his mouth into a smile. “Isn’t that better?”

  “Ha. Ha. You’re so funny.” He brushed her hands away. “Deities, what does she want with just me?”

  “To spend time with her son. Stop making this a big deal. I have dinner with Mom all the time.” Nora rolled her eyes.

  “It’s different for you,” he argued.

  She poked his cheek. “This is going to be really good for you. I firmly believe you’ll survive.”

  “Easy for you to say,” he murmured. His evening was looking to be painful. Very, very painful.

  Nora shoved him. “Relax a little. I’m sure it’ll go better than you think. And as a reward, you can come to the game night.”

  “The one with your friends that I’ve never met?” He grinned at her.

  “No time like the present. It’s at my place. Beta 2383.” Nora patted his head. “I’ll see you after.”

  “Maybe,” he said. “I make no promises.”

  “Too bad. You’re coming,” she called back as she walked away. “Have a good dinner, Fletchie boy.”

  “Bye, Nora.” He watched her go and then restarted on his own journey to his mom’s apartment. He had the address, but he sort of already knew the way from the morning after that night he got drunk and Simpson dropped him off with her.

  His stomach twisted up as he approached her quarters. The last time he’d really spoken to his mother had been back at Vesi when the wial’os wore off and he was about to pass out. It felt like another lifetime ago. He never knew what to say around her. Most of the time, things escalated to an argument.

  The guards outside the hallway didn’t even stop him as he passed them. Well, at least he didn’t have to deal with that extra level of awkwardness. Reaching her door, he rang the doorbell and then waited, both his hands gripping the wine bottle extra tight.

  The door slid open to reveal Hazel standing there. She wore non-military clothes, probably one of the only times in his life he’d ever seen out of her uniform.

  “Hey, Mom,” he mustered.

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  “Good evening, Fletcher.” She motioned him inside.

  Awkward. So very awkward. Why on earth hadn’t she also invited Nora or his dad? Or even Jeric and Addy? Just someone to break the ice.

  “Can I take that?” She held her hands out.

  “Yeah. Sorry. Best I could do,” he said, sheepishly handing her the bottle.

  “I’ll put it in the fridge for later. Take a breath and take a seat. This isn’t an interrogation, Fletcher,” she said. Her tone wasn’t quite as cold as it usually was, but it wasn’t exactly welcoming either.

  “Okay. Sorry.” He sat down in one of the only two chairs at the table. It was set with a nice set of china, and a good smell wafted from the kitchen.

  His mom came over with a different bottle of wine that was already opened. “Would you like some?”

  “Yes, please.” He held his glass up. Alcohol was good in this case. Drinking would definitely help him relax.

  She poured him a generous helping and then poured herself one as well. She set the bottle on the table and headed back towards the kitchen.

  “Can I help with anything?” he asked, finally remembering his manners.

  “I can handle it,” she assured him,

  Silence.

  This might actually be worse than he imagined it would be. Fletcher was starting to regret coming at all. Regardless of what Nora said, he thought it might be better that he and his mom keep their tenuous relationship as out of the way as possible.

  Hazel returned to the table with a large pot of pasta and basket of bread.

  “Thank you. I didn’t realize you could cook,” he said before realizing how stupid that sounded.

  “I did manage to feed myself and Nora for a lot of years,” his mom said.

  “Sorry,” he said again.

  “Deities, Fletcher, relax a little. You’re acting like you’re a schoolboy who just got in trouble.” His mother took a sip of the wine.

  “I… Sorry,” he replied.

  Hazel shook her head and scoffed. “Surely you can do better than that.”

  “S—” He stopped as he caught her eyes. “Uh, how are you?”

  She sighed. “Fine. How are you?”

  “Good.” Fletcher took a sip of his wine. Deities, that was good stuff. His mom definitely paid a pretty penny for something like that.

  “Maybe drink a little more. You seem to do better around me drunk,” Hazel said.

  Fletcher smiled. “Yeah. I do feel a bit bad about that, but thank you for taking me in that night.”

  “Have you had any more… excursions with your sister of late?”

  He shook his head. “Nah. Nora has her own life. She invites me out with her and her friends, but I prefer staying in. I’ve never been a big partier.”

  “So outside of work, you spend all your time alone?” she continued.

  That was a little too judgmental of a question in his opinion, but he let it slide since she let the cooking comment go.

  “No. I hang out with my surprisingly needy dog,” he responded.

  “Ah, yes. The dog.” Hazel continued to stare at him.

  “Uh, yeah. Thank you for that by the way. Dad mentioned that it was you who brought him back and got him trained and pulled the strings so I could keep him. That means a lot. I really appreciate it,” Fletcher said.

  “You’re welcome.”

  Fletcher took another sip of his drink, glancing around the tastefully decorated apartment. Given he generally associated his mother with extreme cold and lack of emotion, he was surprised that it was so comfortable and homey.

  “Shall we eat?” his mother proposed.

  “Yes,” he said, eager for any excuse to not have to keep forcing small talk.

  Hazel allowed him to serve himself first, and then she filled her own plate. Fletcher grabbed a piece of bread and took a big bite, enjoying the flavors of the butter and garlic.

  “This is good. Thank you,” he said after he swallowed.

  “You’re welcome. I thought it would be nice to have a more casual get together since we haven’t had a chance to talk in a while,” his mother said, taking a delicate bite of pasta.

  “Yeah…” Fletcher looked down at his own food, preferring to not think about getting tortured and then dragged around like a piece of cargo due to his injuries.

  “How do you like being at Finnack?” Hazel asked.

  “Good. It’s quite a bit different than Vesi. I forgot how nice it is to be at a real base with full amenities,” he answered. “Like grocery stores and real gyms.”

  “And your family and friends?”

  “Yeah. I guess that’s nice too,” he said with a small smile. “I assume you’re staying busy as always. Are any more trips out of the base planned? I mean, any that you can tell me about?”

  “I anticipate I’ll be at Finnack for a while. I don’t typically travel unless absolutely necessary.”

  “Huh. What were you doing at the Central Telra Outpost then? If I can ask,” he quickly added.

  Hazel smirked. “There are tasks that require me to travel.”

  “So something classified that I don’t get to know about?” he inferred.

  She nodded.

  “Does Nora know more about what goes on with your work?” he asked.

  “Jealous?”

  “No. Curious,” Fletcher explained.

  “Only a little. It’s in poor taste for me to involve my children in my work, and it violates protocol,” his mother said before taking another bite of pasta.

  “But me working under Simpson who works directly under you isn’t?” Fletcher took a bite of pasta as well, impressed with how the creaminess of the sauce melded with the perfectly roasted vegetables and chicken.

  “That’s a special case. You are unique in your knowledge about the Diplomacy Initiative,” his mom pointed out.

  “Let’s not get into that,” Fletcher huffed. He spent far too much of his life talking about the mysterious “Diplomacy Initiative” which he was half-convinced he wasn’t really a part of. Kirred must have been mistaken when he mentioned it. Or maybe Fletcher misheard him. Regardless, Simpson had his sights set on pulling every single detail of the last five years of Fletcher’s life before he joined the Mixed out of him, however tedious it proved to be.

  “I take it you’re not enjoying the assignment?” Hazel raised her eyebrow.

  “It’s fine,” Fletcher replied, not about to complain about his job when his mother was the one in charge of it.

  “How are you doing, Fletcher? I understand the past year probably hasn’t gone how you expected, in more ways than one.” His mother changed the topic drastically.

  “That’s an understatement,” he said. Just over a year ago he was in Bren’it’p, living in bliss with Beam by his side, then he was a prisoner of what he regarded as terrorists learning his mother was actually alive, and then he was a soldier, fighting in a war despite trying to run as far from the fighting as he could. “I’m fine, really. Everyone seems convinced I’m a ticking time bomb, about to explode or something. I just wish people could treat me normal again.”

  “What makes you think they aren’t?”

  Now that was a question that he would expect from his therapist.

  “I don’t want to dig into it, alright? Can we talk about something normal for once?’ He jabbed his fork into his food, much of his appetite gone already.

  “I didn’t mean to upset you,” she said, though her tone wasn’t all that apologetic.

  “It’s fine.” He continued to prod his food without eating any of it.

  “Fletcher…”

  He glanced up at his mom.

  “If you feel people are acting differently towards you, it’s just because they—we—care about you. You’ve been gone a long time. Whether or not you want to admit it, you’ve changed, and we’re all learning to adjust with you,” Hazel said gently.

  “Great. So you’re saying everyone can tell I’m a basketcase. Thanks, Mom. That makes me feel good.” He shook his head. “Maybe we should call it for the night. I’m kind of tired.”

  She sighed. “That’s not what I’m saying. But you could stand to grow a little thicker skin. You can’t handle a basic serious conversation without getting defensive and then running away. You’re an adult, and you should be able to act like it.”

  “Wow. Once again, you have inspiring words that remind me why I do everything I can to avoid you. Someday you might have to accept that you can’t change me into something else just because you don’t like me.” He stood up. “I knew this was a bad idea.”

  “Sit down, Fletcher. I’m not done talking with you,” Hazel said.

  “I don’t really care.”

  “And once again, you prove my point.” She followed him as he walked to the door. “I know that you have been through a lot, but that does not mean you get to act like this. Hard conversations have to happen, whether or not they’re comfortable. You cannot run away forever.”

  “Thanks for dinner, Mom. See you… whenever.” Fletcher shook his head. Always, always it was a disaster when it came to spending time with her. Nora could say what she wanted about forming a bond with Hazel, but he just couldn’t do it. His mom was determined to see to that.

  “Fletcher,” she hissed.

  He turned back just before he opened the door.

  She took a deep breath, closing her eyes. “I’m… I’m sorry. Clearly we both have a lot to learn about each other. We can try again another time.”

  “Sure,” he lied. “Have a good night.”

  The door opened, and he walked out into the hallway, fuming from the conversation. He didn’t go to Nora’s place, even though he knew she would be upset he bailed. He was too tired and wound up after that brief visit with his mother. He shouldn’t be surprised that’s how it went though. This was the woman who sat by while he got torture without one ounce of remorse.

  Painful memories filled his head, and by the time Fletcher was back to his apartment, his chest was tight and his heart was racing. The torture, the battle at Vesi, seeing Ssiioowwll’s dead body, the dream that started all this where he watched his former students die by his hands, the bodies of the Mixed and Unhumans, things he could never forget.

  Backup pushed his way onto Fletcher’s lap as he sat on the couch.

  “Hey, boy,” he said quietly as tears filled his eyes.

  The dog cuddled closer to his chest, and Fletcher held him. The companionship broke through in some form of relief from the nightmares in his mind. He thought back through the exercises his therapist gave him for moments like these, and slowly he worked his way back to a sense of calm.

  Well, at least he could do that much. Maybe he couldn’t prevent the memories from showing up, but he could fight back. So he was getting better, and that made him feel good after all the insults from his mom that night.

  Fletcher rubbed Backup’s head. Even if it was taking a long time, things were getting better, and that was what mattered.