Mentuc was quiet. Far too quiet for her liking. The well hidden cruiser was a good while behind them now and they were making good speed in the early morning light as they navigated through the dense forest. She had told Mentuc about her conversation with Nightmare, about the 'gift' that the AI had offered her. About the possible consequences and the reasons behind it. Her husband had listened to her. Given that he hadn't even nodded in response, which was a learned trait for him rather than a natural one, it meant that his mind was in deep turmoil and that concerned her. She knew he was sorting it all out in his own head and given how long it was taken, it meant a lot was being sorted.

He had gone a long way since his creation. Made to be a sentient weapon who killed and fought without remorse, his tiny defect, being in the possession of a heart and genuinely caring for those around him, had only grown since then. Now he was her loyal, loving, if very strange husband with a very heavy case of something that wasn't quite PTSD, courtesy of an eidetic memory and centuries worth of traumatic experiences. She knew she didn't comprehend that. Stars, how could she? She was a civilian. Killing animals made her queasy, let alone another sentient being. The sheer scale her husband had killed at was... A shiver ran along her spine and ice formed in her stomach at the thought of it. No, not something she enjoyed thinking about. It had defined him, however. Not so much that he had killed, in that aspect he shared the morals of Nightmare in that neither of them cared for those who threatened them in any way, shape or form. No, his pain was from having lost virtually anyone he cared for while being in command of them. Genesis was, aside himself, wiped out to the last man. Even Nightmare had, technically speaking, died. While several centuries were enough to blunt the pain of his memories to an extent, he could still recall them with perfect clarity. Time was a plaster on the wound. One Nightmare was about to tear off.

'If you think it better, we don't have to watch it', she offered, carefully.

'No,' came the immediate answer. 'Nightmare is right. It would show you more about me. The invasion of Lufer was the first time I was in command of Genesis. It was a valuable experience for our unit and even more so for me. Even if we paid the price in blood.' His voice was without emotion and that further worried her. Unlike normal humans, whom she was trained to deal with, Mentuc became impossible to read when he became emotional. Even to her.

She nodded. 'If you say so.' She walked next to him, pensive as she tried to think of a way to get him to open up. 'What about Jane? Do you think it will be good for her to watch it?'

'I do not know,' he admitted. 'I do not know Jane, or how she thinks. I do not know if it will be good, but I trust Nightmare.'

'You place a lot of trust in her. Do you trust her more than me?' It was a silly question and she knew it. In any relationship asking something like that could either lead to light hearted humour and friendly bickering, or to subtle but consequential cracks. As she watched her husband step in front of her and looked her straight in the eyes, she knew that their relationship was different. Mentuc didn't employ subtlety, didn't dodge questions or shied away from a subject. He was honest, brutally so, and she had learned that the hard way. It had been incredibly unpleasant to get used to, suffering one embarrassement after another until, one day, she had gotten past all that and came out on the other side. Once you did away with the unwritten societal laws, his behaviour was refreshing and delightfully simple. As such, when he placed his hands on her shoulders and lowered his head slightly so his forehead touched hers, a subtle sign that what he had to say was profoundly important to him, she eyed him with a gentle smile and patience rather than worry.

'You use trust. I have been thinking about that word. You use it to express how much veracity you lend to another's words. How much you can depend on them in dire situations. For me, those two are a statistic. A calculation. For you, it is a matter of trust. That concept does not apply to Nightmare. She is Genesis,' he explained. Onoelle tried to follow his line of thought, but struggled. She knew that his mind ran in straight lines, but to latch on to the right line was not an easy task. She saw her own face reflected in his eyes, how her brow was creased in a frown as she mulled it over. He opened his mouth to speak but she shushed him with a quick glance. He understood, somehow, that she wanted to find the answer herself. Eventually she did, and she laughed when she realised how straightforward it had been.

'Trust is a chance factor to you,' she said, eyeing him. 'A probability factor rather than a certainty.'

'Yes,' came the simple reply.

'And that's why it doesn't count for Nightmare. You don't depend on her as much as that you coexist,' she continued, feeling as if she was finally beginning to grasp the impossibly deep bond between the two. 'There's no doubt, no what-ifs, no risk, no uncertainty. You can depend on her, lean on her, and know she'll never betray you. And she does the same for you. It's not an emotional bond to you, it's as solid as the laws of physics,' she concluded, her voice growing small as feelings of insecurity began to overwhelm her.

'Yes,' he confirmed. Then he tilted his head, drawing closer to her, his eyes piercing deeply into hers. 'So it is with Nightmare. So it is with you.'

It took her a moment before the words and the sheer weight behind them fully sunk in, but when they did a blush formed on her cheeks and spread like wildfire. She looked down, shoved her head against his chest while wrapping her arms around him in a hug. 'You stupid, cheesy, overgrown oaf,' she mumbled as he returned her embrace, lines of confusion etched in his handsome face. 'One day I'll have to explain the concept of cheesiness to you and I can only hope I'll survive the attempt,' she joked, enjoying the deep, warm feeling spreading in her chest.

Then she pushed him away and jumped a few steps ahead. 'But you're not distracting me that easily,' she said with a broad smile. His face further contorted in confusion and she knew why. She was the one who had asked him the question. She let out a light laugh, then became serious again. 'How do you think you'll react to seeing it all? To Jane seeing it all?'

'Jane's reaction does not bother me. She is confined and not a threat.'

Something in the way he said that made her blood turn to ice. 'It bothers me,' she countered. 'I still wish you'd tell her. Not now, but soon. I could let her get used to the idea that you actually were there and you weren't as bad as she made you out to be.'

He crossed his arms and gave her a stern stare and she froze as she realised that she had once again overlooked that the man in front of her, her husband that she so deeply loved, was by the standard of any government a mass murderer. It was all but impossible for her to associate Mentuc with his past self. That the man who acted the part of simple farmer, her loving husband, the man who tenderly played with Cassy and tolerated her countless shenanigans had once upon a time strode across the galaxy in heavy armour and killed countless people no matter their gender, species or age. She knew that she dissociated the armoured giant with her husband, but it was hard to convince her mind otherwise.

'That the Empire wasn't as bad as she made it out to be,' she amended herself. Mentuc, realising that he was making her uncomfortable, closed in on her and hugged her. She returned it, a smile creeping onto her face despite the heavy subject. It was as she once thought, humans weren't meant to fully comprehend the raw carnage of war. They simply weren't equipped for it and translated everything into things they could deal with.

'To answer your other question, ever since you mentioned it I have been thinking about that battle. I can see it for me even now,' he said, stretching out a hand as if to reach for something. His eidetic memory, she realised as she saw that his hand was trembling slightly. Shit. She had overlooked that completely.

'I don't like it,' he summarised. She threw herself into his arms, laid her head against his neck and both heard and felt his heard beat at a rapid pace. There was a stutter to his behaviour, ever so tiny but present none the less. 'I can see their faces. Recall their names. I remember the planet as we plummeted to its surface. I remember the defences, the countless soldiers in between our landing site and our target. I remember the muted screams as we charged and broke through their lines. The constant humming of the shield generators. The distortions on our sensors from the fire of the heavy defence batteries...'

He trailed of and she felt his heartbeat quicken further. His arm was wrapped around her back and holding onto her side, his fingers slowly tightening. It was unpleasant as first and rapidly cascaded into painful. She looked up in alarm, saw him staring wide eyed into the far off distance and deep into the past.

'Mentuc!' she shouted and his grip lessened instantly. She felt her side throb but ignored that. 'You're not there Mentuc! It's in the past! It's done, you can't change it! You're no longer there! You're here now! With me! You're safe! You're safe...' She held onto him as he sank to the ground, his broad chest expanding and shrinking to the pace of his rapid breaths as he tried to pull himself free from the haunting memories. She ran her hand through his hair, trying to reassure him. 'You're with me, Mentuc. You're no longer a soldier, no longer fighting. You have a family, you're sa—'

'Genesis was like family,' he said, taking her off guard, anger and regret roiling in his voice like a muted storm. He raised his head and she could see the pain in his eyes, pain she could not understand and sincerely wished she never would grasp, yet simultaneously yearned to understand so she could heal him better.

'I'll watch it,' she said with sudden resolution, confronting his pain with dedication of her own, pulling him in a tight embrace. He was not alone. She'd make sure he'd understand that. 'I'll watch it with you and witness it all. I'll understand you. And I'll heal you,' she promised him. She pulled back a little, looking into his eyes again and seeing his wounded, frightened soul. Despite all his strength, all his superhuman abilities, he was still human at the end, now more so than ever before. With every day he embraced that part of him more and more, but as those walls came down the hurt within broke free and threatened to overwhelm him at times. At such moments she suffered with him.

She closed the distance again, hugging him tightly and was relieved when his arms mimicked hers. Holding him like that, she provided him with a safe haven as his memories raged within, a lifeline to the present and a sane life, devoid of violence, wars and constant loss. She would make him understand, one day.

That he was safe.