Six years ago…

"Well," Robin smiled, Ruth's claws tickling against her throat as she was held against the wall. "This seems familiar."

"Shut up," Ruth growled. She'd already decided -- she wouldn't let words get in the way of her job ever again.

This attack was much more audacious than their first attempt, but that was by necessity. After Ruth had ambushed the convoy to grab Robin the first time, security had been stepped up, and now the Barridad brat was rarely allowed outside of her own private villa.

The only logical thing to do, then, was attack that private villa.

They were in the ruined conservatory, walls marked with deep claws and ceiling half-collapsed, Ruth holding Robin up against one of the few panes of glass that hadn't been smashed in the battle. The bodies of Barridad's suited goons were strewn around, many still clutching their pistols.

Robin's smile shifted subtly into a frown. "Why are you doing the same exact thing again? If you do things the same way, you'll end up with an identical result. You do understand that, don't you?"

Ruth grinned viciously. "I'm not doing things the same way. This time, if you try anything, I'll take your fingers."

The girl raised an eyebrow, infuriatingly calm. "My fingers?"

"Y-You don't need fingers to live," Ruth muttered. There it was again -- whenever this Barridad girl questioned you, she had a way of making you feel foolish, making you question just what the hell you thought you were doing. It was annoying as hell.

"I know… but my fingers? If you're going to kill me, just kill me. Don't mess around with my hands. I need those.*

Finally losing her patience, Ruth pulled her captive away from the glass, whirling her around and beginning to bind her hands behind her back. "You need them," she growled. "We don't. All we need is you alive."

"It's a pretty day outside, isn't it?" Robin asked -- from her new position, she could see outside the broken windows to look out at the thick jungle below. The sun hung high in the sky, and the sounds of insects and beasts filled the air. Mountains crowned the horizon.

Oh no, oh no no no. She was doing it again. She was about to use her goddamn words. "Shut up," Ruth demanded. "I'm serious -- I'll actually kill you."

Robin smiled at her over her shoulder, as if they were good friends just hanging out.

"Okay," she laughed. "Actually kill me, then."

Five years ago…

"Not so cocky now, are ya?" Ruth smirked, slamming Robin against the ground with one Aether-infused hand.

"You got me," Robin winced at the sudden impact, but the slam didn't do any serious damage -- it hadn't been intended to. "How are we playing this?"

"You're coming with me."

"We both know I'm not. What do you want?"

Ruth hesitated. This time, she'd grabbed Robin shortly after her return from one of her rare off-planet excursions -- the switch between the two different security teams had left her a brief window in which to act. She had to be quick, though -- the new team of guards would arrive before long.

"What I want," Ruth grunted, pulling Robin to her feet. "Is for you to come with me."

Robin sighed theatrically as she was yanked up before brushing the dust from her dress. There was no trace of anxiety or caution in her stance -- and even Ruth had to admit that, by this point, there was no reason for there to be any.

Threats became less convincing the more you repeated them, after all.

"Come with you?" Robin asked, raising that infuriating eyebrow. "I'm sort of busy, I can't. How about the usual exchange instead?"

Ruth hesitated for a moment, her claws lifted up. At what point had this become the usual exchange? After the fourth failure, Grave had accepted this was all he was going to get when it came to Robin Barridad, but had Ruth accepted that as well?

You could teach her otherwise, a nasty little voice inside her suggested. Bring down that claw and show her who's boss.

But she couldn't. She could never. She knew that, and Robin knew that. Those words she'd given to Ruth so long ago had become a virulent poison:

"Hm… I suppose I must've thought you were a good person?"

That question, that damn question. It made you so badly want to prove it true.

Ruth replied, her voice an almost sullen croak: "The usual exchange."

As if she was ever going to say anything else. Robin put her hands on her hips and stood almost proudly, her smile wide.

"In three days time," she said calmly. "My father's going to be bringing in a shipment of new supplies for his security forces. Rifles and mines for the jungle. They're coming in at Hangar 3. If you hit it then, you can make things a lot easier for yourselves."

There it was -- Robin Barridad the traitor, leaking military secrets.

Did she even understand what she was doing? The way she stood there, smiling innocently -- it was like she thought this was all just a game. That she could play however she wanted without ever experiencing the consequences.

But she doesn't experience consequences, Ruth reminded herself. You've made sure of that, haven't you?

Four years ago…

The moon was beautiful that night. It hung above the villa, huge, casting it's radiance down on the jungle below. It was almost like a spotlight shining on Ruth and Robin as they sat on the roof of the building, out of sight of any guards.

"You know what the most evil thing in the world is?" Robin asked, staring up at the satellite as she took a bite of a nutrient bar.

Ruth lay on her back, arms serving as a pillow as she stared up at the sky. Her punchpoint assault rifle lay on the roof next to her. "Nah," she said. "Tell me."

"Hope." Like it had so many times recently, a shadow passed over Robin's face -- and the moonlight seemed to grow a little dimmer as her smile faded.

Ruth blinked, clearing her throat uncomfortably. "That's, uh… that's kinda dark."

"It's the truth," Robin shrugged, still looking up. "It's the worst thing there is. Hope is like someone pulling you up out of the water -- and then letting you go right before you reach the surface. Sometimes I think it'd be better just to get used to drowning."

From what Ruth understood, over the last couple of months, Admiral Barridad had been doing his utmost to arrange a political marriage for his daughter -- the Three Wise Men had many children, and an alliance with the leaders of the Body would pretty much give Zed Barridad carte blanche for life. As a source of anxiety, it was as alien to Ruth as guns and bullets were to Robin, but she supposed everyone had their trials.

"If it was up to me…" Robin began, before trailing off. "No, nevermind."

Ruth raised an eyebrow. "What?" she laughed.

"I said nevermind," Robin snapped.

Silence settled over the roof. Their conversations had been ending like this more and more often lately, casual chats suddenly crashing into a brick wall and stopping dead. This must be what it felt like, Ruth guessed, when real life became real.

A few minutes passed in utter silence, save for the clicking of the insects and the creaking of the wood.

"It's starting to rain," Robin muttered.

"Yeah."

Even with that, they didn't move again for quite a while.

Three years ago...

"I'm serious," Robin's voice was tinny, distorted over the radio. "This is the best chance you'll get."

Ruth glanced towards Grave, the leader of the resistance sitting behind his desk as he considered Robin's proposal. Over the course of the last three years, Robin Barridad had proved an invaluable inside source, but was her intelligence trusted enough to go this far?

When no reply was immediate, Robin repeated herself as if she just hadn't been heard: "He's going hunting for that big paleobeast that rampaged through town. He's excited about it -- he's only taking a couple of guards -- it'll be easy. If you ambush him, you can take him out."

Robin had said last year that hope was an evil thing, but in this case it seemed that she was holding onto it with both hands. If her father died, she would be free to live her own life -- so getting her father killed was the best course of action for her. Ruth had no doubt that was what was going through her mind.

Graves' finger tapped against his desk rhythmically as he considered the proposal. He'd wanted Barridad dead for years -- devoted a great deal of time and resources to that task. Even before he spoke, Ruth knew there was no chance he'd let this slip through his fingers.

"Very well," Graves said finally. "We'll split our forces into two teams: Ruth will act alone and extract you before the operation begins -- you'll need to break away from your father at a prearranged location. The rest will wait at his entourage's final destination to execute the ambush itself. Understand, Ruth?"

Ruth nodded, offering a clumsy salute. The fact that she'd given mercy to Robin Barridad had ceased to be a problem the moment it became useful, but it was still surreal to see Rupert Graves so damn agreeable.

"I'll send the details of the meeting spot over as soon as I get the chance," Robin said, her voice giddy with excitement. "I'll see you soon, okay?"

"Okay," Ruth grinned. The endless monotony of the resistance, sneaking through the jungle, had very suddenly erupted into fire and change. The excitement was contagious.

The radio clicked off, and that was the last time she ever spoke to Robin Barridad.

Present day…

The same dream again.

Ruth opened her eyes and -- without taking even a moment to properly wake up -- began stretching, noting with satisfaction every pop of her joints. As a guerilla fighter, you had to be ready to move at any time. Sleep wasn't rest, it was just time that you were staying still, a mode you had to switch out of when it became necessary.

Once she was satisfied she could move properly, Ruth stood up and began walking out of the cave she'd slept in. After they'd returned from Coren, the resistance had been forced to go on the run immediately to avoid the Regulator forces -- which had led them to these tunnels.

With everything that had happened, there hadn't been time to talk -- but now Ruth could feel it. A familiar, cold weight in her chest: it was time to face the music.

Lily Aubrisher was already waiting at the mouth of the tunnel, arms crossed as Ruth approached.

"I haven't had time to ask you yet," she said, but from the tone of her voice Ruth could tell she had no doubt about what had happened.

Well, that was no problem. Ruth remembered the lines to this production. "Ask me what?"

You know, they'd say.

"You know," Lily muttered. "What I asked you to do. What you promised to do. Is Prester Garth dead?" Her gaze was twin daggers.

Ruth closed her eyes, sighed. Dragan had told her just to break her promise, that it'd be easy, but she got the feeling he wasn't the kind of person who felt shame -- or, at least, he didn't feel it like Ruth did. It bubbled in her stomach like melted butterflies.

"Ruth?" Despite the difference in their age, Ruth couldn't help but hear Rupert Grave in Lily's voice. They were one of a kind in at least that regard -- they were willing to do whatever it took to win.

And Ruth, as per usual, found herself dragged through the dirt behind them.

"He's not dead," she finally muttered, thumping her fist against the rock wall in frustration. "There wasn't any time."

Lily didn't say anything in reply. Instead, she simply sighed, glared at Ruth dismissively, turned and walked away. It was far more effective than any screaming rant could have been -- and so, so very familiar.

Welcome home, said the dripping of water from the stalactites.

Welcome home, said the far-off screeching of what might have been bats.

Welcome home, said the burning in her heart.

Welcome home, they said. Welcome back.