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Tuck hated pod duty.

There was something so infinitely sad about the whole thing. The endless sleep followed by the sudden whoosh of stale, cool air. He'd been lucky, he supposed, to have been greeted by Stormy. Better the soft-spoken, sweet brunette than someone more abrasive and less patient.

As he made his way into the pod room, Tuck couldn't help but feel like his feet were dragging. The room was lit by row upon row of dimly-lit pods, each one casting an eerie glow.

He knew he was one of the luckier people on the island. He hadn't had to detach himself completely from his past. There was Natalie. He was lucky to have her. Most people didn't have someone from their time before. Some did, but the numbers were few. He'd come away with his twin sister. They'd always had a close bond, and part of him was glad she was there.

There was another part of him that doubted he'd ever really have the courage to do anything that might put her livelihood at risk. If it meant saving the masses, could he sacrifice the one person on the planet that he was closest to? It was a thought that troubled him often, and Tuck wasn't sure he liked the answer. Then again, loss was not something that the Moon was new to. He'd suffered his own, dealt with it each and every day that he drew breath.

<Stop.>

I know, man. I know. I'm trying.

The draugr made a disgruntled noise, shifting deep into the recesses of their shared headspace.

He almost didn't see Stormy until he'd passed her. Tuck paused and retraced his steps, clearing his throat gently so as to not startle her.

"Sweetheart?"

Tuck was an older brother, and he knew bullshit when he heard it. He didn't approach, not yet - she seemed... well, it seemed like the best idea for the time being.

"You got pod duty, too? Wonder if they scheduled too many, Evan should be here any minute."

He kept his voice soft, even, though he couldn't hide the worried question that tinted his tone. He'd held her dead body in his arms back in the Sahara.

That had been something he could have lived without doing.

"You can talk to me, Stormy. Ain't nothing that I can't handle, so far as your troubles go."

Evan had actually managed a few hours of sleep before it had been time to get ready for pod duty. It happened so sporadically these days--pod duty was so lame--that he had hit the snooze button when his alarm went off in an effort to make it stretch. It was an indulgence he was paying for now, though, as he ran down stairs and hallways to make it on time.

/Are you late yet?/

No.

/How about now?/

I'm not late.

/Is this what they mean by running late? Because you're running and you're--/

"I'm not late!" Evan insisted as he burst through the door, only slightly out of breath. He knew he had been scheduled pod duty with Tuck, but Stormy's presence was unexpected. He hadn't seen her since the mission in the desert, and was surprised to feel a flash of guilt that he hadn't sought her out to see how she was coping. He shuffled uneasily from foot to foot, still blocking the doorway as his eyes flicked from Stormy to Tuck and back again.

I'm sorry was what he had wanted to say. "Hi," was what he said instead.

Right on time. Test was successful.

Evan, who was already a foot taller than her, looked more like a wall than usual. Stormy stared at his shirt as Tuck spoke words that hollowly rang inside her ear, stared until the runic lettering burned into her eyes looked almost imprinted on it, and reverted to the usual course of action when she felt pressured: by burying it all again.

"Hi, Herc," she greeted the sun hunter weakly, forcing her shoulders to relax. "You're not late. I was just . . . I-I mean, I could stay if you guys want . . ." She was rooted to the spot again anyway, and the both of them seemed miles high above her; Stormy didn't know if that made her feel protected or caged at this point. She was still ready to burst at the drop of a hat, but it was curious internal buildup: locked up and sealed by an iron will desire not to cry, but tip it over and it would implode anyway.

Stormy pivoted until she could see both of them in her vision and took a breath, clutching at her journal. "Okay. Uh . . . So how are things?" she asked them casually.

Tuck kept quiet, unwilling to crowd Stormy. Evan had moved in on her which was enough, for now. Better Evan than himself, up close and personal. Tuck just wanted to take her up into a huge hug, convince her that everything was gonna be okay - but somehow, he didn't think that would be the best tactic.

It crushed a little piece of him, seeing Stormy like that. He recalled the conversation that he'd had with Evan while the other man had cooked.

He knew what it meant to sign his life over. These civilians, these kids, they had no idea. They hadn't had a chance to really live, experience things. Tuck was young still, but he'd gotten into his fair share of trouble, seen things that had changed his perspective on life. It was what had made signing on at Deus more bearable. Live to serve. Die to defend.

It was just fighting a different kind of monster. Something that nightmares were made of, something complex and confusing, bone-chilling and consuming. That look on Stormy's face brought back his own harrowing experiences, and he'd give anything to take that from her.

"Herc's right, little bit. And I snore, too. Real loud."

He paused.

"We ain't gonna keep you if you really gotta go, but like I said - we'd really like it if you stayed to keep us company."

Maybe he could shoulder a little of that burden.

"Talk about whatever's on your mind."

When Stormy shrugged Evan off, he didn't try to stop her, only watched her carefully as she slid down the wall. It was enough that she wasn't leaving, wasn't going off somewhere to be alone. This was a good thing.

It was awkward to be the only one standing now, though; Evan didn't want to seem imposing. He lowered himself to sit against the wall opposite Stormy, his legs stretched out and casually crossed at the ankles. There didn't have to be any tension here, it was just the three of them and the quiet humming of the machinery.

Well, and the pod zombies, but they didn't count.

Stormy's question was unexpected. Evan stilled as he considered how best to answer it. He wasn't going to lie to her, but he didn't know what kind of answer she was looking for, either. "There's been a Roberts in the Corps since World War II," he finally said, his voice soft.

Evan could have left it at that, it was a valid enough answer, but it would have been such a cop-out, and even the pod zombies knew it. Stormy was putting her trust in them, the least he could do was return the favor. "I was raised to believe that the ideals that the Corps represented were somehow better than everyone else's, that their loyalty and courage ran deeper, their honor purer. I saw those values and I wanted them for myself. I wanted...I don't know, to be worthy of them, I guess, in service of the greater good. Of course, a lot of it was bullsh--uh, crap--but just as much held up. I don't regret a second of my time on active duty."

"As for Deus..." Evan hesitated as he tried to figure out just how much to tell them. It wasn't a story he wanted to exist outside the confines of memory and nightmare, nor was it fit to tell someone already on the edge. "Deus seemed like the best option after the military." While it wasn't the whole answer by any means, it was at least honest. Evan rolled his head against the wall until he could meet Tuck's eyes. Your turn.

That was the trick of it: asking without knowing what answer she was looking for made those answers more important somehow. After all, how many truths were there in the world if you asked one question?

She remained quiet and still throughout their answers, the only sign of life being if she shifted to be more comfortable against the wall. And the more she listened, the smaller Stormy felt in comparison. She was still "young" by most standards, sure, but now she just felt like she was being childish when they had been dealing with death at least a while before coming here. Evan and Tuck had legitimate reasons for what they did, and she quietly admired them for it. Or at least admired their feet, which her gaze was steadfastly fixated upon and alternating between as appropriate. Family was everything, even to one who had trouble relating to people like herself; it made connections like these--reasoning to make someone proud, wanting to uphold a family tradition, wanting to prove that they could provide for family in return--resonate more within her.

Stormy waited a few tics after Tuck finished and opened her mouth, but no noise came out. It was another moment of wanting to speak and finding herself incapable of doing so, like a literal wall clogged her throat. She swallowed thickly and flexed a hand, wincing at how stiff it had gotten grasping at her journal. The momentary distraction proved enough to let her speak, albeit softly. "I was going to go to college to be a writer. Creative fiction. And when I think of a story, it's always good to know character motives...It makes them more sympathetic. More...lifelike." She didn't remember where she had been going with that and came to a stop, sucking in her lips as she struggled to try and convey what she meant.

"Sometimes, a lot of this doesn't feel real to me. The world out there, back before I came here, it was the same. Like you're still in a dream, a very dense dream, and that monsters and demons don't exist except in your mind and heart--or shoulder if you want devil specifically," she added more factually. "A place where things happen to you but you don't always feel it. And then when things happen in dreams, like the mission in the seven kingdoms...And then you think you die, but you don't. Something happens. You die and come back and die again before you cause trouble. Time gets reversed. It was all just a dream. The fog takes you and puts you back with your parts in back place, but it's still so cold." Stormy shivered involuntarily and wrapped her arms around her knees.

She was rambling. She swallowed again and tucked her knees closer, the pressure against her chest adding to the pressure within it. "I...I guess what I'm trying to say is...We're recyclable. High or low rank, whatever division, we're replaceable. And maybe it was like that in the military too, I don't know." Her brows knitted with strained tilts. "But hearing why people are here, that they care, that their lives were this or that before coming...They're...I dunno. Concrete details. Real people telling real stories for real reasons. It makes the world real to me," Stormy said, letting her head fall back against the wall. She had the curse of talking plenty and saying very little. "So...So thank you for sharing. Really. 'Cause I think if your families knew what you were doing now, they'd be proud."