Fletcher, Nora, Jeric, and Addy traipsed through the hallways which had taken on new life in the evening. A lot of people went out for the evenings, but he’d normally stayed in with his dadbefore he left for training since he was so overwhelmed with everything. Nora was taking them through unfamiliar corridors, so Fletcher made a special effort to memorize their path through the corridors and stairwells, determined to learn the route back so he could actually get back to his room by himself. He’d left his map in his other clothes.

  They went up several floors and had been walking quite a while before they came to a mall of some kind. There were no windows, but there were tons of stores and lights, making it feel remarkably similar to his shopping experiences back in Alcett which washed away some of his discomfort.

  Nora led the way through the crowds to one especially colorful and chaotic bar simply titled, “Griff’s.” There was a line to get in, but Nora walked straight past it and spoke to the bouncer who let the four of them in without question.

  “Joys of the Anders last name. It gets you in places,” she mentioned to Fletcher as they walked in.

  Fletcher was immediately overwhelmed by the smell of alcohol and neon lights. He’d normally avoided these types of situations given that if a bar was dim enough, it could trigger his [Dark Vision], and back in Alcett, that would have been a death sentence. Not to mention that he didn’t exactly trust his drunk self to play it safe and remain smart enough to stay in the light. Here, he didn’t have to worry about any of that.

  Nora took them all to one of the last open booths. Fletcher understood why it’d been abandoned when he mistakenly placed his hand on the table and discovered that it was sticky with a variety of substances. They’d barely gotten seated before his sister ordered up a round of shots.

  At the center wall was a stage with flashing lights where a woman was pouring out her soul into the microphone, some old pop song he couldn’t quite remember the name of. Addy was cuddled up close to Jeric, whispering in his ear as Nora cheered on the singer.

  All in all, it was a sort of terrible experience. He was thinking that his time might be better spent going to visit his father after all. As long as he didn’t drink too much, he’d easily be able to find his way to his dad’s apartment.

  The shots arrived, and Nora kept two for herself, passed two to Jeric and Addy, and then gave the other three to Fletcher.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa. This is a lot to start on.” He pushed two of the glasses back to her.

  “You're supposed to out drink me,” she reminded him. She pushed them back and then downed both of hers back to back.

  Fletcher grimaced as he took his first one, the alcohol burning his throat as it went down. He set the empty glass down, and Nora handed him another.

  “Come on, Fletch. You can do better than that.”

  He drank the second shot, the burning increasing, and he immediately knew he was going to regret the night.

  Nora handed him the last shot, but he shook his head.

  “No. I’m done for now,” he sputtered.

  “Boo,” she said, forcing him to hold the shot.

  All at once, she, Addy, and Jeric began to chant “drink,” and Fletcher, who normally considered himself immune to peer pressure, gave in and downed the final shot.

  Jeric clapped him on the back as they all cheered. The one nice thing about getting drunk was that he suddenly cared a lot less about all the unfortunate mishaps which had recently occurred in his life.

  With the alcohol coursing through his veins, Fletcher finally relaxed enough to find the party atmosphere of the bar enjoyable instead of claustrophobic, and he cheered loudly when Addy and Nora went up for karaoke. Even Jeric seemed more pleasant to be around, actually smiling as he watched the women sing.

  Nora ordered more alcohol after their song, and Fletcher drank whatever she put in his hand, trusting that she was keeping track of how much more than her he drank. The night wore on, but Fletcher’s memory became hazy as the time passed.

  At some point Nora managed to drag them all to the dance floor, and Fletcher let loose far more than he ever had before.

  His mind only became clear again when he realized he was in some dark corner of the bar, making out with a woman he’d never met before. He pulled away, blinking as a few fleeting memories replayed.

  She rubbed her hands along his chest. “So my place or yours?”

  Fletcher shook his head and pushed her hands away. “Neither. Sorry.”

  Some of those memories hinted at Nora’s involvement at setting this situation up, and as much as he hated to upset her more, he also was nowhere near ready for this. He had a girlfriend—used to at least—and he wasn’t ready to let Beam go quite yet.

  The woman scoffed as he walked away, but he had his mind focused on getting out of the bar and back to his room so he could pass out. He was only about halfway to the door when Nora stepped in his way.

  “Your date’s back there, dufus. Where are you going?”

  “I’m done, Nora. This was fun, but I’m out,” he said.

  She rolled her eyes. “Come on, Fletch. It’s just a one night stand. You don’t have to marry her. And I worked hard to set this up for you.”

  “I’m not interested. Thanks, but no. I just want to go home.” He stepped past her.

  “You’re such a pansy. Don’t tell me you’re still thinking about that Unhuman.”

  He turned back to face her again. “You mean my girlfriend? Yeah, maybe I am. Just because you’re incapable of loving other people, doesn’t mean I have to be.”

  Her fist caught him in the jaw, sending him stumbling back into a group of people.

  “Get out of here, Fletcher. I’d like to enjoy the rest of my night.” Nora chugged the rest of whatever was in her glass.

  Fletcher staggered to his feet and punched her back, his fist hitting the side of her head. She looked at him in shock and anger, but he didn’t waste time listening to whatever else she had to say. He turned around and pushed his way out of the bar back into the open mall. The bright lights were almost enough to kill him and were enough to deactivate his [Dark Vision] which had turned on at some point in the night, but with one hand on the wall, he continued his hobble back to what he was sure was the way back.

  After about twenty minutes, he realized it was not the way back, and he was hopelessly lost. Fifteen minutes after that, he gave up on even finding his way back to the mall and sat down against the wall, curling his legs close. It seemed he would have no choice but to spend the night here.

  He managed to get settled just as someone approached him. A familiar face crouched down to be eye level with him.

  “Simpson,” Fletcher croaked. “Back to babysitting duty already?” He then laughed at his own joke, poking the Major’s unamused face.

  “You are… absolutely hammered, huh,” Simpson said.

  Fletcher laughed again. “You’re pretty observant for a soldier.”

  Simpson shook his head and stood up, his hand at his ear.

  Fletcher kicked his foot out, regaining the Major’s attention. “If you could just point me in the direction of my room, I’ll be out of your hair.” He noted the man’s buzzed head. “Or… way.”

  Major Simpson rolled his eyes as Fletcher fell into another fit of laughter. Maybe he should drink more often. This wasn’t all that bad, especially when he didn’t have to worry about accidentally revealing a secret that would get him killed.

  Simpson held his hand out. “Come on. Let’s get you home, kid.”

  “I’m twenty-six. Not even close to a kid anymore,” Fletcher informed him as he accepted the help to stand on wobbly feet.

  “Uh huh. Talk to me again when you’re thirty.” Simpson pulled one of Fletcher’s arms around his shoulders to support him, and together they started back down the hallway.

  Fletcher’s mind was too far gone to pay any attention to their path so he trusted Simpson entirely to get him back to where he wanted to be. His faith disappeared however when they passed a set of guards at the start of a shorter hallway with a single door at the end.

  “Where are we going?” Fletcher asked, his feet slowing.

  “I’m just following orders.” Simpson dragged him up to the door and then pressed the doorbell.

  A couple of seconds later, the door slid open to reveal his mother, still dressed in her uniform. Well, that meant she knew he was back at the base, though this was far from how he wanted to see her again after training.

  This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

  “Oh, Simps, you suck,” Fletcher said, unsuccessful in his attempts to free his arm from the Major’s grip.

  “Where do you want him, General?” Simpson readjusted so he shouldered nearly all of Fletcher’s weight, preventing him from any chance of escape.

  “Just on the couch.” Hazel stepped to the side and allowed the officer to drag Fletcher all the way into the cozy apartment.

  The spacious room served as a kitchen, dining area, and living room, with the various furniture pieces sectioning off each space. Simpson hauled Fletcher to the sectional and tossed him on it. The motion sent waves through Fletcher’s vision, so he remained put for the time being.

  “Thank you, Major,” Hazel said.

  “Of course, General.” Simpson saluted her and then walked out of the apartment, the door sliding closed behind him.

  Fletcher risked looking up to his mother’s cross face, trying not to feel like a little boy who just got caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

  “You’re supposed to be with Nora.” His mother said it more as an order rather than a question.

  “I was. How do I think I ended up drunk?” He really wished he could find something funny about this situation, but his mom’s cold demeanor made that impossible.

  “So she got you black out drunk and then sent you off on your own? That doesn’t quite sound like Nora.”

  “We got into an argument. Again. And then I left, alright? What do you care? Just summon some lowly soldier to escort me back to my room, and we can be done here.” Fletcher sat up a little more on the couch, trying to ignore the overwhelming nausea which hit him.

  “Oh no. I think you did a fine job proving that you shouldn’t be left alone while intoxicated. Curling up in the hallway to sleep, Fletcher? Really? Do you not have a single survival instinct in you? What was even the point of Hotshot training?” Hazel sat down on the couch and crossed her legs, the most casual pose he’d seen from her.

  “Whatever.” He folded his arms and stared at the floor.

  “What was the argument with Nora about?”

  Fletcher rolled his eyes. “She was upset that I wasn't interested in the one night stand she set up for me. Though personally I think it’s weird that she’s trying to be involved in my sex life at all. How is that any of her business?”

  Sober Fletcher wouldn’t have shared so much with the woman he sort of despised, but drunk Fletcher didn’t have that kind of sense. He was too upset with Nora to be mad at Hazel, and if his mom was going to listen to him complain, then he would take that chance. Someone was better than no one, even if it was her.

  Hazel nodded, almost like she was trying to be understanding. “She’s your sister, Fletcher, and she cares about you probably more than anyone else in the world. She used to write you letters every few months, believing your father was delivering them to you. While you may not care about her, she has spent a lot of her life loving you without knowing a thing about you besides the fact that you’re her brother.”

  Fletcher blinked, begging the tears that were forming to stop. “I didn’t know that. I wish he’d given me those letters.”

  “I think we all wish that.”

  A few beats of silence passed, and his mind turned back to the argument and the cause of it all to begin with.

  “I really love her, you know,” Fletcher said suddenly, his mind returning to happier days when Beam was by his side constantly. He missed the little things like getting ready with her or eating lunch together or just sitting in the same room while they did their own things.

  “Nora?”

  “No. Well, yes, I love her because she’s my sister. But I was talking about Beam,” he explained. He leaned back on the couch which was surprisingly comfortable. In fact, the entire room was decorated well and with personal touches that made it feel homey and welcoming.

  “Beam…?” His mother sighed. “The Unhuman you screwed?”

  Fletcher rubbed a hand over his face. “Girlfriend, Mom. Deities, don’t be crude about it. We dated for months before we ever got to that part.”

  “Months? My deities, Fletcher, what were you thinking? How long were you going to go on with her, pretending it would work out?” Hazel’s voice took on an extra edge.

  He looked at her. “I wasn’t pretending anything. I legitimately saw a future where I married her, okay? She made me happy, and as far as I knew, I did the same for her.”

  “It doesn’t matter much now, does it? Aside from those in this base, everyone who knew you believes you’re dead now, Unhuman girlfriend included.”

  Fletcher winced and put his head in his hands. That was an exceptionally unpleasant thought, and he wished for the millionth time that things had somehow turned out different.

  “I’m sorry. Clearly, I hit a nerve.” She reached over and grabbed his shoulder. “I know it hurts now, but you will find someone, Fletcher.”

  “You sound like Dad. He was always on me about dating. He’s pretty serious about wanting grandkids and all that jazz.”

  “Your father has always had a soft spot for babies. That’s why he insisted on taking you with him instead of Nora when we separated at the refugee camp.” His mother’s face took on a slightly warmer demeanor, as though she was perhaps trying to be kind to him.

  “You said he took me because he lost at arm wrestling,” Fletcher reminded her. Before his mom could respond, the nausea peaked, and Fletcher bent over. “Crap. Where’s your bathroom?”

  She pointed to the hallway. “First door on your right.”

  Fletcher stood up and stumbled to where she’d directed him, barely reaching the bathroom in time. He hurled his guts out for a disgustingly long time, and once he was absolutely sure no more was coming up, he flushed and cleaned himself up.

  He returned to the living room where his mother was just finishing spreading a final blanket out on the couch.

  “I trust the couch will suffice?” She glanced up at him, and he nodded.

  “I really can go back to my place. I don’t mean to impose.”

  “As I said earlier, I think I’d rather keep my eye on you tonight. Besides, it’s late, and I’d hate to disturb someone for something as minor as walking you back.” She gestured to the coffee table where two glasses of water waited. “Drink them both, and you might not hate yourself quite as much in the morning.”

  “Thanks, Mom. I appreciate this.” Fletcher sat at the end of the couch and untied his boots, eager for the chance to sleep. Mom. He called her “Mom,” without even thinking about it. But she didn’t correct him.

  “Of course. Get some rest. I’ll see you in the morning.” She walked to the hallway and paused at the light switch, allowing him to crawl under the blankets before flipping them off.

  [Dark Vision: Active]

  “Goodnight, Fletcher.”

  “Goodnight, Mom.”

  She walked away, leaving him alone in the living room.

  That was strange and very uncharacteristic of what he knew his mother to be like. Maybe she didn’t hate him after all. And maybe, just maybe, he didn’t hate her either.

  After drinking one of the glasses of water, Fletcher got into a comfortable position and passed out almost immediately, the worries of the day long forgotten in his exhaustion.

  ***

  Fletcher hated himself the next morning. He regretted that he’d only drank one of the glasses of water, but he couldn’t imagine that the second one could have even put a dent in the pounding headache he awoke too.

  The soreness from the day before was no better either, making him little better than an invalid. Groaning, he sat up just enough to consume the second glass of water before the need to pee drove him from his makeshift bed.

  Just as he finished washing his hands, he stepped out and came face to face with his mother. She already wore her uniform with her hair pinned back. Was she never not her icy general persona? But after last night, he liked to think there was some kind of soft parent in there who wanted to form a bond with him.

  “I have places to be and soon which means you have ten minutes to get out of this apartment.” Her tone was back to its usual harshness, but knowing how she normally was, he considered this kind.

  He nodded, wincing from the loudness of her voice and the extra motion. “Yes, ma’am.” He took a few steps down the hallway back towards the living area and then paused to look at her. “Thanks for letting me crash here. It was nice getting to chat.”

  “Don’t let this happen again. Survival instincts, Fletcher. Try to learn a few.”

  “Right.” He turned away and continued his shuffle back to the blankets. After folding them all—likely not neat enough for Hazel’s taste—he pulled his shoes on and ran his fingers through his hair. His body was screaming at him for every single movement, but he wasn’t going to wait around to piss his mother off.

  While he wanted to believe that she was just the kind of person who always woke up grumpy, he was logical enough to realize that last night had been a fluke, a small bug in her programming. There was no reason to expect any kind of gentleness from her ever again. Not to mention the alcohol made his mind so hazy that he was sure that he was imagining a lot of the soft moments with her last night.

  “I’m off. Bye,” he called out as he went to the door.

  “Go,” she replied.

  Fletcher exited into the hallway, and he made it just to the bottom where the two guards waited when he bumped into his sister.

  “Fletcher, there you are,” Nora said, her voice far, far too loud for the morning.

  Wincing, he forced a smile. “Yeah. Hazel let me crash with her. Sorry about last night.”

  Nora waved a hand. “Whatever. We were both drunk. I hardly remember anything anyway.”

  He relaxed a little, happy to see that Nora was quick to forgive him this time around. “Thanks for coming to find me. I have no idea where I’m at.”

  She laughed. “No kidding. I can’t believe you had to stay with Mom. That’s mega embarrassing.”

  “I know.” Fletcher shook his head, still in shock about his mother’s kindness last night. “Next time we hang out, let’s do something without getting drunk, yeah?”

  “Speaking of, we have plans tonight. Dinner with a friend of mine that I want you to meet,” she said, slinging an arm around his shoulders.

  “This isn’t a date, right?”

  “No. I learned my lesson on that. It’ll be fun. You’re coming.” Nora smiled at him.

  “If you’re sure. I don’t want to intrude with your friend,” he replied.

  She nodded. “I’m sure. I even managed to get a reservation at the Italian joint. Meet me at Alpha Commercial Center at nineteen hundred. Oh, but Jeric wants his clothes back. Maybe wash them first. They smell awful.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He gave her a half salute.

  She slapped it down. “Dismissed, Private.”

  Laughing, Nora took him away from Hazel’s apartment and back to the regular housing section. There they parted ways, and Fletcher returned to his tiny bedroom. There was no bathroom attached to the room, so that meant he would have to use communal showers. He didn’t mind that much, though. Basic training taught him to be a lot more comfortable with stripping down in front of others.

  Towel in hand, he went to the shared bathroom and rinsed off. Returning to the tiny room, he created a laundry pile and then sat on the bed, realizing he still had all day to pass until dinner. And he didn’t have a single book. He left his few personal possessions in his father’s care while he was at training. Thinking of his father, Fletcher decided it was time to pay him a visit.