It was dark by the time the two of them made it home. Eric came stumbling through the front door, a tired groan escaping him.

"Fuck me…" he muttered. "I don't regret going, but that took way more out of me than I thought…"

Thirteen came up alongside him, the stuffed wolf he'd bought for her still tucked underneath her arm. As she stepped inside, she paused, then pulled it out and stared at it for a moment before turning to him.

"What shall I do with it?"

He shrugged. "Whatever you want. Sleep with it, play with it, use it for decoration… I don't really care. It's yours now."

She blinked, but then nodded in understanding before stepping past him and heading for her room. She emerged from inside a few seconds later, apparently having simply put it down somewhere for now. As she approached him, Eric flopped down onto the couch, groaning tiredly once more.

"Oh yeah," he said. "I still need to cook something… or maybe we could just order pizza."

"Pizza?"

"Picture a big disk made up of bread, tomato sauce, cheese, meat, and grease."

Her brow furrowed. "Doesn't sound very healthy."

"It's not, but it tastes good, and it's better than me cooking right now."

She tilted her head. "Your cooking is good."

Eric blinked, taken aback by her statement. "Uh… thanks, I guess." He shook his head. "Anyway, I meant to say that I don't really feel like cooking right now, so I'll probably just order food and have it delivered here. If you're not good with pizza, I can order from somewhere else. Chinese, maybe."

She nodded, and Eric took that as his cue to pull out his phone and place a quick order for delivery from the local Chinese place. Once that was done, he pocketed his phone, then turned back to her, only to find she was still standing there.

"You can sit down, you know. You don't have to ask permission for anything. At least, not anymore."

To his surprise, Thirteen hesitated. "I… have a question."

"Alright, shoot." She gave him a puzzling glance, and he exhaled briefly. "Ask away, I mean."

"Why did you agree to take me in?"

Eric paused. "...Come again?"

"Why did you agree to take me in?" she repeated. "And what changed in the last few days to make you suddenly try to be much more friendly to me?"

Eric blinked again. "...I, uh… this is a difficult question to answer-"

Thirteen sat down in the chair across from him. Silently, Eric cursed himself for telling her she could sit. Still, apparently they were doing this now, so there was no sense in denying her any longer. He took in a deep breath, then slowly exhaled it through his nose.

"I'll admit it," he said. "At first, it was only for the money. The OVA offered to pay me triple my pension every month if I took you in. I'm not exactly a rich man, so that was life-changing money for me. Couldn't say no to it."

"That was why?" she asked.

He nodded. "Yeah, at first. That's why I was so distant and rude to you the first few days – because, truthfully, I didn't want you here."

She fell silent for a few seconds before speaking again. "…But that didn't last?"

He shook his head. "Nah. Truthfully, you remind me a lot of myself when I first got out. The big difference is that I had my father to help me adjust at first, which made things much less worse for me than they otherwise would have been. You, though? You didn't have anyone. And… for that matter, when I learned what you'd been through during your time in the service…" He trailed off, then shook his head again. "...I couldn't exactly give you a hero's welcome at that point, and I'm sure you wouldn't have wanted one, anyway. But I figure, hell, the absolute least I can do now is help you adjust to civilian life the best I can." He stretched his arms out. "And now we're here, together. And I'll admit, I'm beginning to enjoy having you around."

She tilted her head at that, and he smirked. "Believe it or not, you make for good company. Certainly beats the monotony of what I had been doing before you showed up."

"And what was that?"

Chain-smoking and drinking, mainly, but she didn't need to know that.

"Ah, you know… mainly just boring stuff around the house, when I wasn't lazing around," he answered. "Nothing you'd find interesting. At the very least, I kept the place from falling into complete disrepair, so I've got that going for me, I guess."

There was a knock at the door, and Eric paused. "Well, that was fast. Hold on, let me-"

He went to stand up, but she beat him to it, reaching the door and accepting the bag of food before he could even finish getting up. She hardly said a word to the delivery driver, of course, and the entire thing was over in the blink of an eye, but he couldn't bring himself to fault her too much, not when there was suddenly Chinese food to eat.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

Baby steps, and all.

***

The two of them made idle conversation as they ate, speaking about nothing in particular – mostly recalling what had happened over the past few days. But before long, Eric was ready to turn in, the events of the day, the food in his stomach, and the glass of bourbon he'd had with dinner finally working to knock him out. And so, the two of them had bid each other goodnight and retreated to their respective rooms.

And yet, somehow, despite his exhaustion, Eric found it impossible to fall asleep that night. He spent an hour tossing and turning, trying in vain to will himself to sleep, before finally having had enough. He let out an irritated groan, then threw the covers off himself.

"Fuck me…" he muttered. "Guess we're doing this again…"

It wasn't surprising; this happened from time to time, and the events of the previous day had no doubt only exacerbated it. Frankly, he was surprised it hadn't happened the day before, but he supposed it was impossible to properly time these things, annoying as they were.

Eric pulled on some clothes, then carefully stepped out into the hall, doing his best not to wake Thirteen. He crept through the house, pausing only to turn the lights on in the den. Once the room was properly illuminated, he stepped over to the mantle and reached for a small leather-bound book that rested upon it. He took a breath to steel himself, then sat down and opened it.Inside were several old photographs, their edges and corners stained with old, dried liquor. A lump formed in his throat as he looked over the pictures.

"Hey, guys…" he managed to get out, running his hands over one of the pictures. "Sorry it's been awhile. Haven't felt the need to come to you all for a bit now – the new house guest keeps me busy, I suppose."

"Eric?"

At the sound of her voice, Eric gave a small sigh of resignation. Of course she would have woken up and found him like this.

"Hey," he said, without looking back.

"What are you doing?"

"Exactly what it looks like. I'm reminiscing."

Thirteen said nothing. After a moment, he motioned for her to join him, and she did, stepping over and taking a seat on the couch next to him. She leaned down to look at the book of photographs in his lap, a small tinge of surprise crossing her face.

"That's you," she said.

Eric nodded. "Yeah, that's me. A few years younger, but it's me."

"And… these are your squadmates?"

"No," he said sharply. "These two idiots are – were – my friends."

Thirteen looked at him, surprised. "Idiots?"

"Yeah. We gave each other shit like that all the time." He sucked in a breath. "...Martinez is the one on the right – the one who liked to skateboard."

"What happened to him?"

"Iprenian plasma shell landed directly on top of him. Gone in the blink of an eye, reduced to slag. They didn't even try to send him back to his family; there was nothing left to bury." Eric blinked, his vision suddenly swimming. "Fuckers said there was no point in looking for body parts or personal items… bastards."

Thirteen said nothing, instead pointing to the other man in the picture. "And him?"

"Jacobs." A thin, wistful smile crossed his face. "Family man. His wife and daughter were the light of his life. Iprenian sniper got him between the eyes during an offensive; dead before he hit the ground. Boom."

Eric's hand began to gently shake, and his shoulders silently heaved. Thirteen hesitated, unsure of what to do or say at first.

"...I'm sorry," she finally softly offered.

"It's fine," Eric managed to get out, his voice hoarse. "Honestly… I like to come back and look at these pictures when I'm having trouble sleeping. This might sound stupid, but when I can't sleep, I've found that coming out and talking to them helps."

"That's not stupid."

"Yes, it is."

"No, it isn't," she insisted. "It works, doesn't it? Then it isn't stupid."

Eric cracked a thin smile at that, shaking his head. "Right, of course… thanks for that."

He went to stand up and put the book back, but she suddenly reached out and gently took him by the wrist, stopping him.

"What happened to you?" she bluntly asked.

Eric froze, his eyes widening. Slowly, he turned towards her. "What?"

"Something happened to you," she said. She motioned to his leg. "I know your leg is artificial. Something took it from you."

Eric stared at her for a moment, then heaved a deep sigh. "...Nothing gets past you, I guess."

He reached down and rolled up his pant leg, revealing the bare metal underneath it that had been grafted to the top part of his knee.

"Iprenian warlord took my leg with his plasma sword."

Her good eye widened in surprise. "You fought an Iprenian warlord and survived?"

"By the skin of my teeth, but yes." Eric nodded. "Fucker thought he had me, but I just so happened to land next to someone's discarded shotgun. Grabbed it and blew a hole in his head from point-blank range as he bent down to finish me off. I got lucky – the plasma cauterized the wound, so I didn't bleed to death… instead I just had to sit there for the better part of a day among the remnants of my company, praying that some fucking Iprenian didn't come finish me off. Got lucky again, though – a day passed, and eventually, the rest of the Corps rolled in and found me among the dead."

He stared off into space, unblinking as he spoke. "I still picture it almost every night – hear the sounds of battle, and everyone dying. I wasn't the only survivor, but out of all of us who were there… only about nine of us were carried out. 250 people, and only nine of us came out. I don't even know what happened to the other guys."

"You don't reach out to them?"

He shook his head. "Why would they want to talk to me? I was the one in charge. Sure, I had orders from higher-up, but still. That loss is mine. If I'd been a better commanding officer, more of them would have come back. But I wasn't, and now they're almost all dead. The ones who aren't don't want to see me again, I know that much. That's okay, though – I wouldn't want to see me, either."

Thirteen stared at him silently. Eric took a shuddering breath, then gently pulled out of her grip.

"Thanks for listening," he said. "But I think I'm ready to go to sleep now. I suggest you do the same."

Thirteen just nodded. "Goodnight."

Eric waved goodbye to her, then returned to his room and climbed into bed, throwing the covers over himself and closing his eyes. And finally, sleep came to take him.

It lasted just a few short hours before he was awoken by the unmistakable sound of breaking glass.