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The silence felt good. Not only the absence of outside sounds, but the lack of noise in his head. He hadn't thought this clearly in a long time. No out-of-control emotions intruded, no disembodied voices. Simply him.

But where was he, and how had he gotten here?

He'd been working on the wall, that memory was clear. He'd been placing each stone carefully, focusing on them individually, feeling its shape with his hands, forcing the voices and emotions down until it was only him and that one stone. It had been hard work, as anytime a stone wouldn't stay in place rage or despair assaulted him, but he picked the stone up, felt it, focused on it, used it to block off the emotions.

That way he'd made it to the point where he was able to put the ceiling stone on the small alcove. He'd been giddy with joy as he ran in the house, grabbed the statue and ran back. He placed it in the alcove, took a step back and waited for something to happen, for the Defender to speak, for him to feel like he was supposed to.

And now he was here?

No, there had been more.

After a second or two of waiting he was distracted by a high pitch whine. He looked up, saw Alex looking in that direction already and realized the sound had to have been present for a time now if Alex could hear it. The dot became larger as he watched, and he identified it with a mix of uncontrolled dread and joy. A dropship meant people to kill. A lot of them, maybe more than he could handle.

He'd taken a step to follow Alex as he ran toward the town, but motion out the corner of his eye had caught his attention. He spun to face it, but saw nothing, just the heat shimmer of daytime.

Except he hadn't been that warm. And the shimmering had been concentrated in too small an area. Distortion fields, he realized as they reached him. He'd fought them, not being able to see them clearly making it more difficult and then....

Then he was here, wherever he was.

He opened his eyes and found he was standing in front of a wall. A wall going to his hip, made of stacked stones. His wall. He followed it to the alcove which was empty.

He felt dread for an instant at the thought whoever had attacked him had stolen it, then set it aside. If they had, he'd track them down and get it back.

He smiled, rejoicing quietly at the control he was able to exert over himself.

"I'm glad you're finally here." There was a Samalian crouched on the stone ceiling of the alcove. He seemed familiar, with his sandy fur, ripped ear, worn pants and swords at his hip.

Tristan looked at the empty alcove and back at the Samalian, understanding igniting a deep fire inside him. "You." He took a step in the Defender's direction. "This is all your fault." He swung, but the Defender let himself roll back, falling off the alcove and onto the ground on the other side of the wall.

He was back on his feet as Tristan jumped the wall. "One, I'm not the Defender, your mind's just using its form as something you'll understand."

Tristan didn't pay attention. He swung, clawed, kicked, attacked with all his skill, but the Defender dodged, blocked or parried. He was fast, and skilled.

"Second, If you're going to blame someone for what's been happening to you, that person is you."

"You did this to me." Claws, kick, elbow to his face, but the Defender gingerly stepped out of each attack. "You forced me to care about Alex. You forced me to put his wellbeing before my own!" he feinted, tried to grab the arm, but his opponent was much faster than he should be.

"That wasn't--this isn't going to work, you're not even listening to me."

A hand closed around Tristan's wrist. He was in the air, then on the ground, the impact stealing the breath from him. The Defender held him in place. He couldn't be that strong, he was barely half Tristan's mass.

He fought against the hand holding him down, trying to claw the other Samalian, but he still managed to avoid the claws while keeping a hand on his chest, pinning him in place.

This was a waste of energy, Tristan realized. He didn't understand how, but the Defender was stronger and faster than he was. He settled his arms at his side.

The Defender looked at them warily, then at his face. "If I let you go, will you listen to me? It's important that we have this talk, you need to understand things, if you want to live."

"I understand all I need to, to survive."

"I'm not talking about surviving. I'm talking about living! Promise me you'll listen, instead of wasting time fighting me."

Tristan laughed. He made it devoid of any humor and it felt good to have that kind of control again. "A promise? You think I'll do such a thing after what the last promise I made over you cost me?"

"That wasn't--" The Defender sighed. "Why am I even bothering?" He stepped away, arms at his side. "Just remember I can fight you and beat you as long as you want, but while we do have time, we don't have an infinite amount of it. If you waste too much of it fighting me, it could cost you your life."

Tristan stood, and for the first time noticed he wasn't wearing anything. This was how he preferred being, but he'd been wearing pants, because of Alex and Jacoby, as well as the other Samalians around.

"So this is your plan. Hold my life in ransom. I brought you home. I built the wall, the alcove, placed you in it. You saw. You owe me a boon. I want control again."

The Samalian crossed his arms over his chest. "As anyone ever mentioned that you're stubborn? I've already told you, that statue had nothing to do with that. It's just stone, chipped at and painted until it resembled someone who, a long time ago, did something worthy of the Defender of legend."

"You're lying." The anger was there, but under his control. This was what he was owed.

"Tristan, that's what you need to understand. You did this to yourself."

"No! I would never jeopardize my survival the way you forced me to! I used the cure on Alex! I could have died because of that. I would never have done that without your influence. You forced me to care about him! Care about someone else!"

"Listen to yourself. No one can force you to care about someone else. That's a choice you make. You decide to let someone else into your life. You decide they are worth your time and emotions. No one else."

"You're the Defender, you can force me. You have forced me."

The Samalian rubbed his face in exasperation, then stopped. "Okay, let's try something different. How do you feel?"

Tristan narrowed his eyes, trying to find the trap in the question. "I feel fine."

"What does that mean? Is the Defender forcing you to feel this way? Is this feeling something hiding something you don't want to deal with?"

Tristan studied how he felt. Breathed in the silence surrounding them and inside him. He touched on each emotion, kept in place with ease, waiting to be used against someone. He went through his memory, finding everything in its place.

"I'm in control," he finally answered.

"Good. Look over there." The Defender nodded over Tristan's shoulder.

He turned, and on the other side of the wall Alex was frozen in place, running toward a group of five, two men and three women standing in a cluster. Two were firing at him, energy bolts frozen in mid-air.

They were shooting at Alex. His heart tightened.

"Who is forcing this feeling on you, Tristan?"

"What is this place?" He spun on the Defender who backed out of reach. "What is happening?"

The Samalian motioned around them. "This is your mind. You're currently unconscious at the humans' feet." He tapped the back of his head. "A hard blow, the butt of a rifle I think."

"If I'm unconscious, then how do I know Alex is being shot at? How do I know he's coming to save me? How is he frozen there?"

"This is your mind, Tristan. You think much faster than what happens outside. I think you can work out the rest on your own."

He turned and watched Alex. He felt the ache at seeing him in danger, but reminded himself this was in his mind, so under his control. So, how did he know? He focused and realized the silence wasn't perfect. There was a low hum he hadn't noticed before. What was it?

His mind, his control.

He willed the scene back, and Alex vanished. Tristan was standing among the humans, their forms distorted, but not as much as when he'd been conscious. The scene began flowing in what felt like real time. His fighting was clumsy, he remembered his emotions overtaking him, clouding his judgment. The foremost was the feeling to betrayal at not being better.

One of the forms stepped behind him. Still blurry, then came the rifle butt hitting the back of his head. He went down almost immediately. He rewound the fight. He couldn't see Alex, but he faintly heard his voice calling his name. That was how he knew.

He watched himself fall. The forms around him came still.

"Op one to Central. Target two is neutralized." The voice was female, to his right. It was clear, so she wasn't speaking through a helmet.

"Central to Op one, good job. Dropship is about to land, Target one and three will be acquired."

A snort, a man. "Target Three is coming at us. We can get a twofer."

"Op one? Please repeat."

The woman again. "Target three if running in our direction, armed with knives, of all things. We'll take him down before he can do anything with them."

"Op One, remember, the orders are to take them alive. We need to know how the terrorist managed to hire them without us being aware of it."

"Yeah yeah," A man, but a different one, "We'll use low power, we'll scratch the surface, but no permanent damage."

"Understood, Central," the woman said. The sound of fabric told Tristan she'd put the comm unit away. "You need to watch your language when Central's listening."

"What do they care? So long as we get the job done?"

Tristan moved the scene forward until Alex came into view, and realized the House wasn't present. Only the wall he'd built. Alex was far. How did he know that? Alex was still yelling his name. He was using that to work out the distance. Two of the humans fired at him, using Dolfic LR-721s, or possibly 723. The sound of the power cycler gave them away. They'd gone with a different manufacturer for the 722, but the cycling delay had been a second longer, which the Space Gov military, Dolfic's main customer hadn't liked, so they'd switched back for the 723.

Alex kept yelling his name as they fired, which meant he'd dodged the bolts. He could also tell the slight change in the sound as he zigged and zagged. The shooter's curses informed him they were surprised at missing. One of them gurgled. A man, different from the one who'd spoken, a body fell back, trashing. More explicit cursing. Alex had thrown a knife and caught one in the throat, which meant they didn't have protection there.

"That's one down," The defender said, reminding Tristan he wasn't alone, but he didn't consider him a threat for the moment. "And still Alex runs toward them. Four against one, he knows those aren't good odds, but he's still coming. Why is that?"

"He can take them, I trained him."

"Sure, that's if he reaches them. They're armed with rifles, what are the odds he can reach them without being shot? Without dying?"

"They don't want him dead."

"Does he know that? Can he work it out from what he's facing? Why isn't he taking cover? He should have a gun, right? Why isn't he using it?"

Tristan watched Alex approach, his heart tightening in his chest. The Defender was right. He'd trained Alex better than that. He should be using cover, approaching with care. Strategizing.

The defender sat on the wall, and the scene behind him froze.

"What happened? Why did you stop it? Is Alex okay?"

"We'll get to how he is in a bit. This is part of what you need to understand, part of what you've already worked out, since I'm going to tell you, but you haven't been willing to admit to yourself. Do you know why Alex is running flat out like that? He cares about you."

"He loves me." He'd meant to throw the word out like a knife, but it sounded like he was awed instead.

"He loves you," The Defender stated. "He is setting aside care and self-preservation because you did everything you could so he'd become attached to you. You did a splendid job of it, but do you realize the power you gave him when you did that?"

"I didn't give him power. I did that because it was the most efficient way to ensure he stayed by my side. So he'd do what I wanted."

"Is he doing what you want right now?"

"No." He hadn't meant to say the word. He didn't want Alex to put himself in danger like that.

"The thing you were never willing to acknowledge, is that there is power in caring for someone else. In being willing to put aside your wellbeing for them. In risking your life them. Sure, it can make you do stupid things. What he's doing right now isn't the smartest thing he could do, but that emotion? Sometimes, it can give you the strength to pull off the stupid stuff."

"You're telling me to love him?"

The Defender laughed. "No. I'm telling you to stop denying you already do. Stop fighting yourself so damned hard. It isn't because you're an Aggressor you need to fight yourself too. Look at him. Look at what he is doing for you."

The scene moved forward. Alex dodged bolt after bolt, getting ever closer to the increasing cursing. Another new voice, a man's voice. That made five. That was how he'd known the genders. One of them grunted, but didn't fall. Another thrown knife, but not in a vital area.

Somehow, Alex made it in close combat range, and now the sound of knives on hardened plastic as they used the rifles to block the attacks. The scene froze.

"How did he make it to them? How is he still standing after being hit twice?"

Tristan rewound the scene and listened. He heard Alex grunt in pain. Even at its lowest power, the LR series was powerful enough to make holes in permacrete. Alex had two holes in him. Where? The sound of his footsteps was loud enough now and he could make out the broken rhythm. At least one in the leg, but Alex hadn't stopped running. His breathing was labored as he found close quarters. The other shot had been a chest hit. Nothing vital, but it had to be painful.

Had Alex taken pain blockers before the fight?

"Where are they?"

"The hover. Normally Alex would have an emergency pack on him, but he's been dressing down to the bare minimum, fighting without armor, only his knife harness and shorts." In the scene Alex's form became sharper as he remembered him. His muscular back, crisscrossed with scars, he'd be covered with sweat, which only made him more desirable.

"Don't fight it," The defender said, as Tristan pushed the emotion down.

"I will not be distracted by him," Tristan growled, wrenching his gaze from the frozen fight.

"Does he look distracted?" The Defender screamed, pointing at Alex. "What do you think he's thinking about right now? What one thought do you think is on his mind at this very moment? In the middle of a one against four hand to hand fight. Do you think he's worried about his survival? Do you think he's thinking about himself?"

"He--"

"Not what you'd do. What is he doing? You know him. You know how his mind works, you had to, to shape him. Tell me what is he thinking about right now!"

"Me." The word was filled with shame. Tristan didn't feel angry. He took it, studied it. Why? The answer was simple. Because until he'd lost control, he hadn't thought about Alex once. Only about how Alex could be used to ensure his survival.

He realized that Alex thinking about him predated his reshaping of him. He had been conflicted about it before that, before Tristan had begun hinted that there might be something there worth loving, but Alex had been thinking about him even back then.

And Tristan had not once thought about him.

"You," the Defender said. "He's doing this because of you. He let you turn him into what he is because it was you doing it."

"He would have let me do it even without the promise, even if he'd known the boy wasn't in danger. If I'd just asked, he would have said yes."

"Look at him." The fight continued. The sound of metal on hardened plastic telling Tristan how it went. A body fell to the ground. Alex had taken out another one. "Tell me that what he feels for you is making him weak."

Tristan had to look away. "He could die!"

The defender shrugged. "Maybe. Does he look like he cares?"

Someone else gurgled. A woman. It was down to two against one. Alex could win. He turned, but the fight was frozen again.

Alex's face was set. There was no anger in it. Not even the joy he felt when he let loose. This was determination. He was in full control. He knew the stakes, the odds, but he wouldn't let that stop him. He wouldn't abandon Tristan.

Tristan's heart tightened again, and he had trouble swallowing. Alex wasn't fighting for his life. He was fighting for Tristan's. He was doing something that went against everything Tristan believed in. And he was winning.

The fight continued, and one of the humans hit Alex in the face with the butt of a rifle. Alex went down. The fight froze.

"Oops," The defender said. "Looks like caring about you wasn't enough." He got off the wall. "But you have to admit. It took him pretty far. Farther than you thought he could get. Maybe farther than he had any right reaching. Can you imagine how far he could have gotten if he'd had you at his back? I guess we'll never know now, will we?"

"Is this real? Why are you showing this to me?" Tristan's emotions were in turmoil. Not the out-of-control assault he'd been experiencing before, but they were untethered, making it difficult to think.

"Think about him," The defender said. "Don't think about what's happening to him, just him."

Tristan did that, he thought about the sparring they did. The pride he felt when Alex would get through his defenses and cut him. The desire he felt on watching that perfect body move. The shame he felt at how he'd used him for his own pleasure without regards for his. He didn't judge what he felt, he simply felt. And his emotions settled. Fell in place and he could think again.

"Here's the thing," The Defender said. "Now you're running out of time. So you're going to have to make a decision. You've spent your life thinking you couldn't have anyone to care about. You've seen any attachment as a weapon to use. You've become a master at them. Used love to destroy more than one person. Even all this time with Alex, you've told yourself you were surviving in spite of him being in your life."

The Defender turned and watched the frozen scene. "You need to decide if surviving is enough. These emotions you felt, that helped you center yourself, is that surviving? Are you willing to do more? I can't tell you it's going to be easy. I can't even tell you it's guaranteed to work. The kind of survival you've been engaging in, that's a sure thing. Lock yourself up in a box, fake any interaction you have with other people. Never care. Yeah, you can pull that off until the universe finally gets the better of you. But is that what you want?"

"I don't know if I can do anything else?"

The defender leaned in and whispered, "trust me when I tell you that Alex can be the reason you live. Not survive, live."

"But what if you're wrong?"

The Defender shrugged. "Then I'm wrong. But it's time for you to make the decision."

"What?"

The scene was moving again.

"Central wants them alive," the woman said.

"Do I fucking look like I care what Central wants?" the man moved. The rustling of clothing moving closer. The cycling of an LR-723, he was sure of that now. But it wasn't over him, it was over Alex. "That bastard killed Valdi, Gronto and Mal. Just tell them he caught a stray shot in the wrong place."

"Between the eyes is going to make it tough to sell it."

"Fine." Motion, the rifle moved down to Alex's chest. The scene slowed, but it didn't stop. The cycling was reaching its crescendo.

"You need to decide," the Defender said, "if you're going to survive, in that box, alone. Or if you're going to live, take a chance that things might not go your way, but do that with Alex."

The cycling was done.

Tristan reached for Alex. "No!"