Homecoming ((Delilah, "Unfettered")

[Stu Pott]

He followed her out into the water, taking off his own shoes and rolling up his jeans. He let go of her hand and nearly had a panic attack. He breathed though; he still saw her. It was okay.

Her hand came forward and he grabbed it, fingers intertwining with hers. He smiled, his grin toothy as ever, not able to mount his new demeanor around her. Her eyes bore into his soul, and he couldn't help but be lost within them as she spoke.

Something serious? She had something to tell him. His world stuttered for a second. Why say that unless it was bad news? She had moved on... He knew it. There had to be someone else. It had been 4 years... There was no reason for to have kept the thought of him alive, especially within this near apocalyptic world.

No. Relax.

He looked at her with the pitch black eyes, a roiling blackness that was both steady and constantly shifting.

"You can tell me anything, Del. Anything."

He held her close as her hand went onto his chest, the water lapping at their ankles. He stared deep into her eyes.

It doesn't matter what she says. She's mine.

[Delilah A. Black]

Delilah watched Stu’s face carefully as she waited for his reply, but he showed nothing besides the toothy grin she had found so endearing all those years ago. Just looking up at him made her faintly wonder if she really was dreaming after all. But she could see the pulse beating in his neck just below his jaw, hear the steady rise and fall of his breath. A breeze tousled her hair, carrying his scent to her. This was real.

"You can tell me anything, Del. Anything."


He pulled her hand onto his chest and his eyes connected with hers, making her sigh inwardly. For a long moment, she stared into the fathomless pitch-black depths she had fallen in love with so many years ago. Her heart swelled and a small smile played across her lips. She tugged him away from the water and back to the sand, pulling the white poncho off as she went. She would turn her body so her back was pressed against his chest and then sat down between his legs. Leaning back against him, she took a moment to watch the waves, wondering how she should begin.

“When you left, it was…very hard for me,” she started, her voice softened by emotion. “It was like you took my heart with you, and that wasn’t easy for me to deal with at the time. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I almost boarded a plane to England a couple of times. I had to try and forget, even if it was only for a few minutes. I threw myself into work for Militia. I assisted in getting the former #259’ers back to Long Beach from San Francisco. The mission was a…relative success. Some of us didn’t quite make it. I was one of them.” she paused for a moment to place her hand over his, running her thumb over the back of his hand. Delilah knew this would affect him and the very last thing she wanted to do was cause him pain. But he deserved to know. She couldn’t tell only part of the story. It would have come up eventually.

“I was arrested and thrown in jail right away. I plead guilty, of course…I couldn’t let Militia get looked into by the authorities. It was better if I took the entirety of the blame.

“Prison was hell. I lasted about two weeks before…” her voice broke and she coughed to try and cover it. She was amused in spite of herself: after all this time, it still bothered her a little. Delilah pressed on, “—before I was ‘assaulted’ by my cell mates. I snapped and…I killed one of them. I hurt the other two pretty badly too. After that, I was transferred to a mental institution. I forgot—repressed, actually. Yes, I repressed what I did and what happened to me. And I was getting better…until I saw my mother.

“She faked her own death to evade the mafia or whomever it was she promised money to kill my father and me, apparently, back when I was a kid. I snapped…again. I almost killed her, too. I haven’t seen her since.” And nor do I want too.

Delilah reached behind her head to unclip her hair, letting the ebony waves tumble down around her shoulders. She ran a distracted hand through her hair. “Then I remembered what happened in prison and I couldn’t take it. Knowing I had taken a life…it put a huge weight on me. I started wasting away. I guess I just stopped caring. About myself, about life…I just finally hit rock bottom.

“Then he came. ‘Unfettered’ sent a member of Militia to break me out of the institution. ‘Teal’ is his name. Maybe you’ll meet him, one day. I think you’d like him…anyway, Militia rescued me and brought me to a safe house to hide from the authorities. I was getting better, but I still struggled. But then…” Delilah heaved a sigh and took one of her hands from his, reaching down her shirt and into her bra. She pulled out a folded photo that looked well-loved. “I found a reason to move forward.” Smiling much more broadly now, she tucked the photo into Stu’s hand. She would wait for him to open it, to see the still shot of “Unfettered” and “Teal” playing an intense game of chess. On “Unfettered’s right, a small white haired boy looked on with a serious curiosity, peering at the board with one blue eye and one obsidian eye, unmistakably the same as Stu’s.

“His name is Oliver Fenrich Stuart Pott. Your son.”

[Stu Pott]

Stu listened intently, his eyes never wavering from her. He held her as she told her story, opening up about every bad thing that had happened to her. He grimaced as she recounted the multiple fights, the awful times in prison, and everything else.

It was all building, and he could feel his stomach begin it's long sink. By the time she had hit rock bottom, Stu's stomach was actually located about four miles beneath the earth's crust. He coached himself internally to not freak, to not say or do anything until she was done. It could be anything; anything. Anything at all.

Then Unfettered's name. He knew they had a relationship; he had interrupted it, for all intents and purposes, though he did not feel bad about it, and Unfettered, ostensibly for all those years, did not hold a grudge against him.

Like a machine gun's staccato, another name came forward; 'Teal'. weird. He was named after a color?

"I found a way to move forward." Was all he heard. His vision went black, as her hand went down her shirt to pull forth something. He expected it to be a picture of Teal; she sounded fond of him , if not in love.

"His name is Oliver Fenrich Stuart Pott. Your son."

His head exploded.















He came back but a few seconds afterwards, shaking his head as if in disbelief. Well, it was disbelief; how had a kid survived all that tumultuous shit alongside Del? How could it be his?

But no doubt, the picture held what could only be considered the spitting image of himself. He even had one fucked up eye, apparently a new genetic trait of the Pott's line. He wondered if any of his kids woudl ever have two black eyes like him.

The other white was gorgeous blue, the same eyes that he had fallen in love with. And almost instantly, without even having met the boy, he fell in love with him.

"My... Son?" he choked out. He held the picture in gangly fingers, his thumb rubbing the picture as if to make sure it was real. it was.

"And his middle name is Fenrich. Yikes."

He laughed.

[Delilah A. Black]

"My... Son?"

Delilah grinned, tearing up all over again at his reaction, the expression on his face. She could tell this had floored him somewhat, but this had been the only way of telling him that didn’t let Oliver get involved right off the bat. She had needed to gauge his reaction first, but deep down she had a feeling he would be happy. She turned in his lap and laid her head down against his shoulder, looking down at the picture with him, smiling.

"And his middle name is Fenrich. Yikes."

She laughed, a clear, bell-like sound that was most unlike her. “That was my father’s middle name. And Oliver has two, the second being Stuart.” Her expression softened again and she leaned against him more. “I think I got pregnant around the time just before you left…I was only incarcerated for a couple of months total before they rescued me, so I had no idea until I was recovering in the safe-house. When he was born…I could already see so much of you in him. He deserved to know his father. So, I gave him your name. It felt right, especially knowing that he’s yours.”

Delilah turned her head towards his, smiling again. “He knows who you are. Knows that you’re his father, I mean. He’s had ‘Unfettered’ and the others to look up to as male figures…but you’re his dad.” she paused a moment, realizing that she might be giving him the wrong idea. She rushed into her next sentence, blushing a little, “But I haven’t dated or been with anyone since…well, you, actually.” she gave a light laugh here and ran another restless hand through her hair. “I just focused on Oliver and rebuilding my life. It was going great until the bombs fell. Ugh, poor kid…” she shook her head grimly, her smile wavering. “That was hard for us. There were a lot of close calls, but he was very brave. He went and lay down with a pile of bodies to play dead while I took care of the people who were after us.” She coughed, trying to hide the sob that threatened to escape her. Seeing that had really cut her deep. She knew she couldn’t protect her son from the world, but…he was so young, far too young to be covered in blood that wasn’t his. But her resolve was back now. She was done crying. This was supposed to be a happy time for them. “You wouldn’t know it by looking at him, though. He was back to his usual four year-old self within a week.” A proud smile found its way onto her face. “He’s charming and resourceful and sharp as a tack. He’s the best kid any mother could hope for. Everyone else seems to love him, too.”

Delilah clutched at Stu’s hand, holding it tight. She turned her bright gaze upwards to his eyes, smiling. She was really and truly happy for the first time in a long, long time, and it showed. “…and I love you.” she said in a soft voice, looking up at him through her eye lashes in a way that was almost shy. “I didn’t get to tell you before you left, but I do. I love you, Stuart Pott.”

[Stu Pott]

He smiled at the peel of laughter he received. He had been waiting to hear that, and actual throaty and believable laugh.

It felt great.

His face cracked into that classic toothy grin, one he hadn't worn for a long time before today. He listened to her talk about his son- He had a son! Can you believe it?- yet his face grew dark at the mention about having to lay amongst dead bodies. His son was already steeled to such horrors? He was young, what did she say? Four? Jesus Christ.

And then she said it. "I love you, Stuart Pott." His heart skipped a beat and the pit fell out of his stomach and he held her close to him as he could, his lips going to hers as he was overwhelmed by the sense of her.

He couldn't speak. There was nothing he could say. A "I love you" wouldn't convey the feeling. His body against hers and his eyes clouding even amongst the obsidian was enough to show how he felt, the being together speaking volumes more than any word could.

[Delilah A. Black]

Even as the words left her lips, Delilah watched a new expression began to bloom on Stu’s face and behind his eyes, one she had never seen before. It threw her heart into high gear and brought a demure blush to her face, stilled her breath in her throat and sent shivers down her spine. Overcome by this…this feeling that radiated from him, the sensation of the closeness between them both physical and metaphorical, she sank against him, her lips seeking his as a drowning man might seek air. She surrendered herself to him, let her be encompassed by him. She was his and his alone. And he was hers.

It was bliss. Pure. Unrefined. Bliss.

They remained like that for a long while in a kind of stasis neither wanted to end. Not for the first time (and certainly not for the last), she would wonder to herself if she really were dreaming after all. But the warmth of his body pressed into hers, the gentle way he held her, and the love in his gaze only served to remind her that he was really here with her. Delilah let herself forget the world and was with Stu in body and mind, totally and completely.

Eventually, she would pull away from him ever so slightly in order to move her head to his shoulder, nuzzling his neck affectionately. She broke the silence with a small, content sigh against his skin. “So...what happens now?”

[Stu Pott]

Stu didn't answer right away. He turned from her face, instead staring out to sea. He had finally found that which he had wanted most, the one person that he thought could complete him. He had to get her out of this shithole, this infested country of misery and degradation. He had seen the entire country as he had traveled, had met many people.

They were all dead.

Sure, some played pretend and walked around, talking, behaving as though they had a place to be or a motivation to get something done. However, these people were all lying to themselves, mere shades of what they used to be, not so much as people as ghosts. They were the shells of what a human being was, people who's hope had been stripped out of them by that bastard Barker and his attacks.

"Honestly, I don't know."

He sighed heavily and continued to watch the water. He wanted to scream out, yell, tell everyone and everything to just quit pretending and end it, as none of them were destined for anything. Sure, the ones he considered close he would spare, but that's only because he retained that hope and motivation. He knew that he could save some of them, but not all of them.

And anyone he couldn't save was an obstacle.

"I'm going to have to see John again. He can't do this alone. You guys have allied with someone else? Militia is dead then?" Before she could defend against any of his questions he continued, unabated. "Yes it's dead. Militia was an ideal that couldn't survive Barker. If you guys have thrown in with these Crows than that means I have to as well.

We're getting out here. But we have to wait. There's a ship that will come eventually, if the Panama Canal still exists and works. If it isn't here in a few months we'll make our trek across the states. Staying here is not safe. Not for you, not for anyone. I'll drag John if that's what it takes."

His eyes were rock solid, any cloudiness that had covered them from before seemingly gone. This new Stu was not one of goofiness, a slack jawed loner who used his wit and lanky arms to make his way in the world.

No, this Stu was one who had been tempered by the fires of strife and change. He was a doer, not someone who sat by and let things pass him by. Not any longer.

"We can't stay here much longer either... As amazing as the moment is. There's so much work to do..." His voice trailed off, obviously strained. He rubbed at his eyes before setting his sunglasses back on the bridge of his nose, an act that smacked almost too much of him putting up a shield.

[Delilah A. Black]

She watched him closely as he turned away, noticing the sudden shift in his demeanor. It stirred a little worry within her, but she pushed it aside all the same. He was here now. With her. Really, that was all that should matter. At least, for the moment.

Delilah couldn’t help but take note of how his attitude and the mood had changed. She thought back to earlier when she thought that he wasn’t really any different than he was in her memory. He had matured, sure, but little else. She hadn’t realized until now that she was wrong. He had changed. A lot. His eyes had lost their sheen and had become orbs of fathomless ink that seemed to pull the light toward them and giving none of it back. From behind those eyes, she sensed the strength of his character, of his conviction. Her heart swelled with fierce pride and anxiety for him, happy he was so secure in himself but all too aware of how deep it ran. That worried her.

"Honestly, I don't know."

She watched Stu sigh and continue to fix his gaze of the lapping waves of the ocean. She sensed the burdens he carried and felt a strong compulsion to reach up and gently tousle his blue hair in an effort to take them away. She started to raise her arm to—

"I'm going to have to see John again. He can't do this alone. You guys have allied with someone else? Militia is dead then?"

--She dropped her hand in surprise, opening her mouth to explain before she was cut off.

"Yes it's dead. Militia was an ideal that couldn't survive Barker. If you guys have thrown in with these Crows than that means I have to as well.

We're getting out here. But we have to wait. There's a ship that will come eventually, if the Panama Canal still exists and works. If it isn't here in a few months we'll make our trek across the states. Staying here is not safe. Not for you, not for anyone. I'll drag John if that's what it takes."

Delilah stared at him blankly, her mouth hanging slightly open as Stu’s words washed over her. Abruptly, she closed her mouth and shifted her gaze down a few inches to the beating pulse in his neck, her eyebrows furrowed together as she fought for control of herself. Her heart was pounding in her ears again and her skin was flushed with heat, but not from excitement or love of him, but from panic. From pain.

From anger.

"We can't stay here much longer either... As amazing as the moment is. There's so much work to do..."

She barely heard the pulling in his voice that suggested that this was hard for him to bring up, so wrapped up was she in the own thoughts whirling around in her mind. Her eyes flicked up as he sighed tiredly and replaced his sunglasses. Her frown deepened a little. There was something final about the timing and the way he did that, something that said ‘I have made up my mind, but man it was hard to do that’. She wanted to tear her eyes away from him and turn her gaze to the ocean, try and centre herself and work through what he said.

Instead, Delilah remained focused on his face as she studied him, her eyes hard and her face as impassive as his. She couldn’t look away, no matter how much she wanted to. Not from this man who came all the way from England on a boat just on the hunch that she was alive, who walked all the way across the United States to get to where he thought she might be. Not from this man who made her feel honestly and truly safe for the first time in years simply by being beside her, who held her and loved her and reminded her that she was a woman and not just a fighter, a Crow, a mechanic. Not from this man who was the father of her son. He deserved better than a girl who couldn’t look at him because she was scared of what he said.

Part of her yearned for what he proposed, to go to England and be safe. Where there was no fighting, where the hope for the future was stronger, where her son could grow up in relative peace. Delilah wanted so badly to have that life, that normalcy that was sorely lacking in the apocalyptic age. More than anything, she wanted to be with Stu for as long as the world allowed. That alone might be worth the risk of trekking across America with her son in tow. Wasn’t that what they were trying to get here anyway? A better life? It could be found elsewhere, away from all the violence and war.

But no matter how much she wanted it, she knew it could never be.

Her promises, her work here was unfinished. Delilah would not leave California even for a paradise if it meant abandoning her home here. She was needed. Her duty to the Crows, to Militia, and to the people of California vastly outweighed the need for her own happiness and safety. In her heart, no matter how much she wanted to be with Stu and run away from all of this, she knew she wouldn’t. The ‘greater good’, even for those that didn’t deserve it (and there were a lot of those), was her priority. Her life, her happiness, was nothing in comparison to the needs of the people. She wouldn’t leave. Not even for him.

As her eyes began to waver, Delilah shut them and grimaced, unable look at the man she loved. She stood up slowly, grabbing the boots lying beside her as she did so and slinging them over her shoulder. She remained that way for a while, standing silently, letting the breeze play with her black hair.

She thought for a moment that she should tell him this, that not even he was enough to make her want to leave her home here so she could be safe and happy. She wanted to apologize for saying ‘no’, to explain that this was bigger than the two of them and that no matter how much she wanted to, she wouldn’t leave. She wanted him to get mad, to yell at her, to strike her. It was no less than she deserved. He had come back here to find her and look after her wellbeing by taking her somewhere safe. He was a good man who was doing what he thought was best. And here she was, throwing it back in his face.

She felt like shit.

Nonetheless, Delilah could not bring herself to say this to him. She had a feeling – only a feeling – that he had more to say. But not to her. She decided that if Stu still felt this way after talking to “Unfettered” that she would tell him then.

You’re just trying to give yourself time before you break his heart.

I know.

With a sigh, she pulled her hair back into the clip, pinning it at the back of her head, her scars flashing white against her sun reddened skin. She looked at Stu with an unsure expression, hesitating before she extended her oil-stained hand to him, smiling a little.

“C’mon. I’ll take you to him.”

[Stu Pott]

He was startled when she stood after such a long silence, a moment of commiserated brooding that would go down as a turning point. He knew it deep down inside, even if his emotions allowed him to cloud over that judgement.

After right now, nothing will ever be the same.

To say this was the first time a woman had made him feel this way would be disingenuous. Plenty had broken that heart that thumped in his chest, plenty had torn it out under the auspices of doing something 'for the greater good.' He didn't know what Del's reasoning was, but he knew by that reaction that what he had said did not sit well; he may not know who the new Delilah was, fully, but he knew the old Delilah well enough to see the pain that was in her face.

He stood next to her, his own shoes in hand. The fedora was shaken of any sand and set on top of his head, tufts of blue hair shooting out from under the brim in multiple directions. His glasses reflected everything in a dull brown, white frames in startling contrast to his tanned skin, and blue hair, but in perfect syncopation with the white of the woven fedora.[/i]

"You're pissed."

He said it matter-of-factually. He put the boots on as they stood there, waiting for her answer. Whether it came or not, once they were on his feet he spoke.

"Understandably. This is your life, and I'm here to get you out of it. I know you're a being of honor, Del, but this isn't an honorable world anymore. Honor has died. Survival is all that matters."

His eyes would tear up if he had that ability anymore. No, it had been tempered out of him by the actions he had made on his cross country trek. It had been pummeled out of him by the bastards that inhabited this new world, a world of cut throats and savages.

"It's the fucking Wild West out there! America isn't safe. I'm not guaranteeing England is, either, but it's better than here.

We have to leave. Don't you see it? This place... Even you Del. You're haunted. I can see it in your eyes. We've all seen and done awful things... It's time we got out of it. I can barely stand here without feeling the rot and filth of everything that's happened here from churning my stomach. It's like a layer of oil on the surface of water and it makes me want to heave.

Not a mile from here I crushed a kid with an arcade cabinet years and years ago. That was the society we existed in; I got away with it, scot-free. Imagine what society is now that even the shaky framework of law is gone."

His stance said he was ready for a fight, ready for something to come at him.

"The world's been cracked. And this isn't the answer to fixing it, not here. Not in this... cesspit."

[Delilah A. Black]

With a sigh, she dropped her hand slowly to her side again, letting it dangle there uselessly. She watched him put on his shoes, aware of the distance that was now between them, somehow more vast than the entire ocean that had once separated them.

“No. I’m not angry.” she replied quietly.

Not at you, anyway.

Weary, she closed her eyes to hear him out. To hear his explanation as if it could change her mind, in spite of knowing that it never would.

She listened to him talk about honour and how it was dead, that only surviving mattered. She agreed that leaving America would probably be the best thing to do, as well as the safest. He brought up her haunted state and she nodded in response. She still had the nightmares from her old life that came and visited her in the wee hours of the morning, the ones that left her drenched in cold sweat and gasping for breath and feeling alone. He described the state of the world as disgusting and reprehensible. Again, she agreed.

He asked her to imagine society as it is now without the order of the old days, how insane it must be. How unsafe. This was the most truthful: the people who had survived had reverted back to their natural instincts, to survive, to fight, to kill. Without order, the world had been thrown into chaos. Those who were better off than others were, in truth, just barely surviving themselves.

Even with all that, Delilah refused to let go of her hope. Hope was all the world had left.

"The world's been cracked. And this isn't the answer to fixing it, not here. Not in this... cesspit."

She let the silence carry between them on the wind before she opened her eyes, blue and clear, and turned them to focus on the ocean. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him move into a stance. She tensed and her left foot turned until both her feet made a right angle between them. A stance of her own.

“So the answer is to run?”

She let that question hang in the air for a moment before speaking again, her voice firm but neutral. Her posture was one of self-assurance, the air about her filled with conviction. “‘The world is broken, lets abandon it for something better’? You say it’s not worth fixing, that only surviving matters now. Both statements are true, we’re really doing little more than surviving…but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try.

“It is dangerous out there. Barker’s everywhere, kidnapping people and enslaving them, experimenting on them making them his…soldiers! We can’t abide that, not as humans. You might not know if you’ll be able to see tomorrow, and it makes you more and more thankful for being alive when you go to sleep every night. Every minute becomes precious. So, why wouldn’t I fight for that if I can? Why wouldn’t I fight for my home? Why would I run? Just so I could be safe?...happy?” A pained expression crossed her face before evaporating quickly. She couldn’t let her feelings for him hold her back.

“The world might be void of honour, but I have my own personal code that I abide by. If that’s honour, then so be it. Humanity and people are inherently better than you think they are and they deserve help. They scrape by because they only want to continue to live. They’re afraid. I am not afraid of what comes next. I’m not afraid of dying so that others can have a better life. If I run to save myself and die in spite of it all, then I die in fear.

“I am not afraid. I will not leave.”

The way she held her back completely straight and her arms out at a slight angle from her body, the seriousness of her face conveyed the new side of her, the side that was an anchor in a sea of chaos. Her eyes showed her pure resolve and her incredible sorrow at having to tell Stu this, knowing it would hurt. Hence why she didn’t try to keep the expression from her eyes, so that he might see that she was hurting, too. She exhaled a tired sigh, her tone softening.

“There is more to life than just surviving. The bigger picture doesn’t care whether I live or die, whether I’m safe or if I’m actually happy for the first time in years. But it still needs me to do my part. I…I want to go. I want to have a relatively normal life with you and be safe. But I am needed. The world might continue fighting if I pull myself out of the fight, but then again, it might crumble and die. If that happened, we would fall along with it. I can’t let that happen.

“I love you. But my place is here.”

[Stu Pott]

Stu watched as she fell into a less relaxed position, her body moving into a position of conflict. An animal backed into a corner, that corner the painful truth that Stu spoke.

They both knew he was right, but both had very different expectations of what the future held. Stu knew that America was gone; he had seen it with his own eyes, those dark orbs having drunk in every disgusting crack and crevice of this broken country. Barker had made this place his own, as well as many places around the world. But not Stu's home, right? He had left it in good hands, his chums who had kept order the entire time.

"I love you. But my place is here."

He gritted his teeth as she spoke the one phrase he did not want to hear. She wouldn't be convinced easily, but hopefully...

"Delilah. This doesn't have anything to do with these people! There are people hurting everywhere. Why would you want to stay here? This place is nothing but bad memories and painful experiences. What does this place have that somewhere safer doesn't?

We aren't without hope. But America, and specifically California, is not where that hope lies. There are places Barker's influence is so much smaller... we can't win here, don't you see? I've seen it all. I didn't just appear here... I had to slog through all the corruption and destruction that he wrought."

He stared into the eyes that were seemingly on fire with emotion. he couldn't read it, not really; understanding others was still out of his ability, instead relying on his headstrong attitude and hoping that others fell in line. This approach apparently was not going to work.

"I understand you want to help these people. We have a few months while the boat arrives, it didn't leave until long after I did. But we are leaving. I can't leave you all here. We'll take as many as we can... It's going to make it harder, but I won't let you throw your life away for these..."

He searched for the word. The only person he had seen and met since he arrived in California was John, and he obviously was destined to come with Stu. Everyone else had been so miserable, zombified people who thought they were actually living. Pathetic.

"Cretins. You may think you owe them something, but you don't. Not after everything they've done to you."

[Delilah A. Black]

“IT DOESN’T MATTER WHAT’S ‘OWED’ TO ME!” She burst out, letting her anger and frustration surface as she rounded on him. This was more like the old Delilah, the one who could go from ice to fire at a moment’s notice. Normally she was much more calm, more collected than this. But today was not a normal day, if normal was even a concept anymore. She hadn’t thought she would ever see Stu again, and here they were fighting on the beach in sunny California. “It’s about doing what’s right! They didn’t know who Barker was when he attacked the whole world, they died in the millions that day and in the months afterward, THEY deserve more than this! They don’t have to be good people to deserve freedom! Right now, it’s us or Barker for the people here and they’re as good as dead without us.

“It has EVERYTHING to do with the people! I’m not trying to be a ‘knight-in-shining-armour’, I’m just doing what I can by making what’s left of this…this…thug infested, goddamned, ill-gotten PLACE, BETTER somehow!”

She stood there, staring across from him, chest rising and falling with her breath, angry because she had gotten angry, frustrated with her own frustration. None of this was outwardly directed at Stu. For all extents and purposes, he was right. But her loyalty and resolve kept her rooted here. It was the way of the Ninjutsuka. The warrior. For thousands of years, her kind had been the balance in wars and other conflicts across the world. Now it was her turn, part of the legacy her sensei left her. This was why she was the way she was. To assume she could leave the place that needed her most was going against her very nature. It couldn't be done, no matter how much she wanted to.

Her stance was slightly wider now, her knees a little bent. She had heard the tone in his voice that was very no-nonsense, that no would not be taken for an answer.

But she would not be moved.

“I. Am not. Leaving.[/i]”[/color][/size]

[Stu Pott]

"What do you mean you're not? Of course you are."

He crossed his arms in front of him, his stance still somewhat on edge but not as much as hers was. He could see the fury building behind her eyes and he wondered if maybe he should forgo this course.

No, no I've gone too far in now. The thought barely had time finishing before his brain kicked in whatever command it had that would make him regret the next words that came out of his mouth.

"Well, then at least let me take Oliver out of here. He doesn't have to grow up in danger."

He considered adding that Del could follow when she felt her business done, but he didn't want to get right back into that fight if possible. How could she deny this simple question? She'd have a few more months with them together until the boat came, and they could grow into a family and she could see that he was ready to be returned to safety.

He couldn't even fathom that this was probably not the right thing to ask an already upset mother.

[Delilah A. Black]

She stood there dumbfounded for a moment as shock rippled through her at his words.

“Oliver?”

Fury bloomed over her face quickly as she mistook the meaning behind his request in the haze of her anger.

“You want to take my son away from me?” her voice was deadly quiet as she took a step forward, her bare feet pressing into the sand as her toes curled inward for purchase. Her hands hung loose from tense arms, flashing the strong, chorded muscles there. The eyes that she looked at him with were full of pain and an anger that was barely held in check. Tremors of rage shuddered through her body. If he was saying anything, trying to defend himself, she didn’t hear him. She was past listening.

She only knew that there was a threat to her son. Threats were to be dealt with.

“You…You…YOU…!!!”

She cleared the distance between them in a long liquid fast step, lashing out with the slightly cupped palm of her left hand to connect with his cheek in a resonating ‘clap’ of flesh on flesh. The fresh set of stitches on this hand would begin bleeding almost immediately at the contact. The slap would be quickly followed by a fast jab to Stu’s solar plexus with her right hand.

“MY SON?!?!?!?”[/B][/COLOR][/SIZE]

[Stu Pott]

Her words confused him. Why was she reacting this way? She looked pissed. Stu's eyebrows would shoot up in confusion almost immediately as she responded with taking her son from her. That wasn't what he was talking about at all!

She stuttered through a sentence and he was still just as confused, almost to the point of scratching his head back. But suddenly she was in his face and suddenly his face was now way to the left of where it was a second ago and ow holy shit did that hurt. Where did Del go?!

He quickly regained his bearings as fight mode kicked in, his brain reverting to something more basic, something as much and more animalistic than he was when he had been a terror on Olesya's life. This was that animal but put through paces to hone it into a razor sharp killing machine.

The jab came forward in almost slow motion as his hand instinctively shot upwards and enveloped it. The force behind it still forced him back, her strength more than surprising considering her frame. However, she was still smaller than he was. The advantage was his in raw strength. He wanted to stop, but he knew nothing short of wearing her out would end this fight.

So be it.

As he blocked the blow with his right hand, he pushed it away from his body, deflecting it as opposed to blocking. His lithe structure was like a snake in the way that he moved, a graceful motion that had been refined through years of running from police. As he deflected, he pivoted on his right heel, wheeling around with momentum from the deflect to throw an elbow towards Del's temple.

Regardless of whether or not it contacted, he'd try to kick off and hop away from her, creating distance that she'd have to close again.