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A loud cry violently yanked me from sleep.

"Lowell?" I recognized the voice, as it came from the bedroom. Loud creaking and a soft bang echoed to my end of the small corridor. "Lowell, what is it?"

I reached up for the light switch between me and the room's exit, jumping off the couch in my boxers and immediately bolting through the half-closed door. The pillows were lying against the wall as if they were thrown, and blanket lay haphazardly bundled up while the bedsheet lay soaked in sweat. A lone figure in the darkness lay alongside the far wall, facing me with his knees closely curled up to his chest, his head hung low as he sniffled.

"Lowell?"

He refused to look up at me. Dressed only in shorts, and smelling of recent perspiration, I could already tell what happened. Lowell's downcast ears and curled tail did everything to make him feel smaller, look more compact and protected. He was clearly on the verge of tears.

We didn't sleep together earlier in the afternoon, going into the night. Instead, I had opted for the couch, silently knowing he needed the sleep more than me. Just because I was considerate of Lowell's mission didn't mean I wanted to speak to him though. Rather than talk or interact with the cocky, inconsiderate mutt, I pretended to be asleep as he returned to the hotel room, paused by the door to likely look down at me, and stormed off to the bedroom. It wouldn't be until minutes later that I drifted off to nonexistent dreams. We hadn't spoken a word to each other since our quote-unquote 'fight'. Our first fight.

Kneeling in front of him, my previous anger towards Lowell temporarily vanished.

"Did you...have a nightmare, Low?"

He feverishly nodded.

"A...A really fucking bad one..." he murmured. In all the months I got to know Lowell, never had I ever seen him as vulnerable. "A really bad, really realistic one..."

I cautiously raised my fingers and gingerly pouched one of his paws. No reaction led me to be a little more confident in my next moves. Thinking ahead of time, I snatched the nearby TV remote from the floor and tuned to a weather channel, raising it to a respectable volume. The background music and a robotic voice describing cloud formations would drown out anything our neighbors could hear. Particularly as I wrapped a comforting arm around him.

The confident, charismatic (and asshole of a) timber wolf I'd grown to love, finally let it out. He sobbed into my nape, soaking my fur with his tears and locking me in a shaking embrace. I did nothing but sit there, letting Lowell release all the emotions inside him, not objecting to him feel for my wrists or my limbs. It felt as if he were making sure I existed, as if his bad dream convinced him I were a figment, a phantom of his imagination.

Dozens of minutes passed by before Lowell whispered into my neck, "Adam?"

"Yeah?" I replied. "You okay, Low?"

"Y-Yeah, I...I am..." he hugged into me. "I think I am. Think I am."

For the ensuing two hours, I didn't ask what the nightmare was about. Nor did I plan to. Whether it be my fatigue or sense of empathy, I guided my wolf back to bed and joined him. He did not object to the idea. Neither did I. The couch was uncomfortable for my back anyway.

***

I love you, Adam. I'm...I'm so sorry for...I gotta go.

"Hm?"

Later in the evening, I woke up once more to the sound of a door closing. The exit door.

After pulling myself from his (our?) bed, only to find nobody in the rest of the room, a thought crossed my mind. A quick shower later, followed by time spent drying my feline fur, brushing it to be present, then placing on a pair of recently washed jeans and a t-shirt the Maverick's staff managed to recently smuggle inside, I went for the second walkie talkie on the nightstand. The moment it turned on, a cavalcade of quick chatter between Johanna, Donald and Blu lasted for most of a minute until I had the chance to say something.

"Johanna?" I asked. "Johanna, this is Adam, over."

"Good evening, Adam. What is it you need?"

A deep sigh, and I asked, "Permission to join you in the W.R. for Crucible?"

Several seconds passed by on the feed. Then several more.

"Permission granted," she ultimately answered back. "Just wait outside your door. I'm about to be passing through. Roger out."

The doe standing outside the hotel room wore an inconspicuous long sleeve swing dress, dyed a dark brown and sporting a bow on her right hip.

I comically glanced down at my shirt. Ignoring the large logo of Chicago skyline curving over the city's italicized name, it was two sizes too big for a tabby like me. The fact its hem stretched down to my knees, the same length as her dress, likely meant the shirt was made for a larger fur such as a bear or a rhino.

"Beggars can't be choosers, right?" She joked, and we shortly chuckled before going straight to business. Then Johanna Cardinal, leader of the Maverick's Defiant cell, looked directly into my eyes with her steely gaze. "Are you sure about this, Adam?"

"If...If Lowell and the gang gets to my parents first," I reasoned, "they won't know if they're telling the truth. That I'm alive. Having me there to speak to them might help."

Without another word, during a second that felt stretched into minutes, she jutted a thumb indicating to walk behind her. Beaming, I joined her in the hallway as we went straight towards the elevators.

"My main concern is if you're certain about talking to them. From what I've gathered since we discovered Stephen's...allegiance, you still hold some resentment to your mom and dad."

"I...I don't know how to feel about them," I reasoned as we stood in front of the elevator doors, my ears hearing Johanna press for the direction going down. "They're still my parents though. I can't live with myself if there was something I could do, but didn't, to get them here."

"Fair enough." She stared ahead, as did I. "Will you let your emotions interfere with how we conduct this operation, soldier?"

"No, ma'am." Came my reply.

"Will you be emotionally compromised during our extraction of your parents?"

"No, ma'am." Came my next reply.

"Can you promise me that you'll at least give them a hug?"

I turned to her, and much to my surprise, Johanna smiled softly.

"I will try."

She nodded firmly as we walked inside the elevator box, going down.

"That is good enough for me."

What happened, neither of us expected. Exiting onto the correct floor of the War Room, Johanna nearly knocked on the door when movement suddenly caught our ears. We turned to the end of the corridor behind us, anticipating a late-night hotel guest in pajamas, or a janitor to wave nonchalantly in our direction, only to see a familiar wolf in all-black tactical gear. He ran to us with startling speed.

"Are you fucking insane!?" Johanna quietly hissed in complete disbelief, "Lowell, you're supposed to be with the team. What the fuck do you think you're--"

He breezed past her and went directly for me, muttering to Johanna, "Told 'em to gimme five minutes so I can do this."

He might as well have swept me off my feet like a princess. In its place, with both paws caressing my cheekfur, he pulled me into an unexpected kiss. I inhaled sharply, almost pushing him off of me. The feel of his lips on mine suddenly turned my legs into jelly, so Lowell needed to hold me as I stared back at him.

Johanna asked, "Lowell, what do you think you're doing?"

I wanted to either continue kissing him back or punch Lowell.

He pulled his lips away and suddenly; I only saw the vulnerable young man from our room again, the wolf whose demons I couldn't possibly fathom or seem to understand.

"Can I get a minute?"

"No, we don't have time for theatrics, Lowell." Johanna remained adamant, looking around both sides of the corridor hallway. "Whatever you're going to tell him, get it done. Now."

There were so many things I wanted to do in those mere seconds. Slap him for his hurtful words, scream at him for mocking my faith, ask him why he despised my religion yet risked everything to kiss me. Hours earlier, we were on the verge of hating each other and now...he just kissed me? What the honest fuck?

"Fine by me," he grumbled before glancing back at me and placing one of his strong paws on the side of my dumbstruck muzzle. "Adam, I'm fucking sorry how I acted."

Cognitive thought returned to me, finally. "W-What? Lowell, what are you say--"

"I'm sorry."

His words flew over my ears and down the abandoned hallway.

"W-What?" I stammered out in mindful confusion. I felt like my shy, reserved, and extremely confused self from back in Easter. "L-Lowell, what...what are you saying? Wha-What d-do you mean you're...you're sorry?"

"I'm...I'm so sorry for how I acted." He repeated his words into a low voice reserved only for me, "I-I ain't gonna pretend what ya believe makes sense to me but...but I was being stupid. Fucking, fucking stupid! I was thinking what you were going through was the exact same thing that I...that my sister went through."

So many mixed emotions filled my head. Did I want to...wait, what did he just say?

"Your...Your sister?" I echoed his words incredulously. "Y-You have a s-sister?"

"Lowell." Deep concern laced Johanna's voice and she demanded, "What do you think you're doing? Does he know the truth?"

"You have a sister?" I asked again, only more forcefully. I sheepishly closed my maw.

Lowell nodded, solemnly.

"Had." He clarified in a hushed yet sincere murmur, ignoring what our commander mentioned nearby. My curiosity almost earned a voice when he kissed me for a short second. "P-Please don't talk. I know you're still pissed at me, and ya should at me, but please...let me finish. I need to say this before I go."

Johanna tapped her shoes impatiently.

The cocky wolf I'd grown to love stated, "I...Believe it or not, Adam, when...when that commie's cell gotcha during the riot that day, and I thought the Devout were chopping ya to bits like pig food...that was the second worst day of my whole life. I almost wanted to die. I don't know what I would've done if you were really dead. I dunno if I would've forgiven myself. But then we got the call from Vox, and I swore to myself that the moment you got back, I'd never take all our time for granted...I'd tell ya how much I love you. Now, I can't make the same mistake before a mission like this."

"Same mistake?" I perked a perplexed ear, my lips switching between angry and confused frowns. "Low, what the hell are you going on about?"

Johanna chimed in to snarl, "Lowell. Get to the point of this."

"Adam. Soon as I get back to the hotel, I..." he gave a deep sigh and smiled. "I'm gonna tell ya everything. I want to tell you everything I'd been keeping from you. My past, my secrets, my parents, my sister. Anything and everything you ever want to ask me."

"Anything?" I repeated.

"And everything," he confirmed. "Whatever you want to ask me. No more half-truths."

My tail wagged slightly at the thought of finally having a surname to my boyfriend.

"I'm keeping my promise with you too, with Stephen." He squeezed one of my paws and leaned his forehead to touch mine, refusing to look away from my teary gaze. "I want to be transparent with you, Adam. I...I love you."

The words flowed past my whiskers before I could stop them. "I know. Me too."

"Are..." he asked in uncertainty, his tail curling around our ankles, "Are we okay?"

The smaller vindictive part of my brain screamed to say we were not, in fact, okay. He seriously hurt my feelings, after all. He said things he cannot take back. Yet reflecting on his words, and fighting back a small layer of tears, the response to his query was almost instant.

"For now, I think we are." I kissed under his chin and hugged the wolf, though his gear suit made it awkward. "Good luck, Low. Tell the guys downstairs the same for me."

He patted my shoulder. "I'm keeping my promise too, Adam. I'm keeping the bastard alive."

I nodded softly. "Thanks, Low. Thank you."

Johanna cleared her throat. "Now that's enough of this stunt, Gabriel. Get to your post this instant, before a guest sees you."

"Yes, ma'am!" He whirled around and marched past her. Though not before murmuring with slight amusement, "Been a while since you called me that..."

He proceeded to the emergency staircase he'd popped out of minutes earlier, leaving us to head directly for the War Room.

"Fuck me, my headfur's gonna turn gray if he keeps doing that." She closed the door behind us, groaning, "Any other cell leader would've shot him on the spot. In Mexico City, their cell punished insubordination by sending them on suicide missions."

"Please don't kill my boyfriend." I pleaded half-kiddingly to her. "Ma'am."

"I won't, I won't..." She waved my assumption off. "If he's lucky and the mission is a success, I'll just settle on making him wish he were dead the moment he's back."

For the moment, we settled on watching and waiting for the events to unfold. Lowell and the guys eventually left in a delivery van, going westward to my childhood home.

***

"Do you think it's wrong for me to still believe in God?"

The War Room never seemed so...peaceful. As Johanna and I made ourselves at home in the renovated hotel room, I thought it'd be best to get my feelings off my chest before Operation Crucible truly began. It didn't even matter that Jordan was nearby on the other end of the room, trying to wake himself up by fixating on the brewing coffee machine in the corner.

"It all depends on which God it is, Adam." She replied without batting an eye. "Where's this coming from? Does it have anything to do with why Lowell left his post to give you a good-bye make out session?"

I stood momentarily petrified by her brazenness. She laughed at my reaction, and I shook my muzzle, part of me wondering if Lowell's blunt personality had anything to do with the way Johanna raised him.

"Well...yeah...you can say that." I answered carefully.

"I already suspected you two had an argument, but it wasn't my place to ask. Not unless it interfered with operations. However," she sat down, "to answer your earlier question, I'm honestly not sure anymore."

"I do not believe in God, nor have I ever considered it." Jordan commented dryly. "Convincing the government otherwise is what kept me alive...well, until my big mouth got the better of me." He sighed with a soft smile. "Between you and me, Mr. Grimwald, the only topics Lowell and I have ever managed to agree on are two things: a) the Devout States of America needs to end one way or another, and b) no deity would create a world like the one we're in right now. It's no world I'd ever create..."

An uncomfortable silence filled the room until curiosity did get the better of me.

"Why doesn't Lowell hate Abigail then?" My head turned towards Johanna across the table, looking down at her laptop and typing something fervently.

"She's an exception. Abigail is stubborn with her beliefs because she grew up in an era before religion was as toxic as it is now. That brat also knows better than to piss her off."

"Tell me about it." Jordan smirked between a sip of coffee. "Abigail's as stubborn as a mule, and he knows it'd take more than an angsty wolf with no past to change her. He probably thought you'd, pardon my dumbing it down, 'outgrow it' after what you went through."

I raised a directed eyebrow at the ferret. "Outgrow it?"

"Yeah." He shrugged. "Outgrow it."

"Adam, you need to understand," Johanna chimed in while looking at me with sympathetic eyes. "Not everybody in the Defiant are like you. The oldest surviving members joined because they already toed over the line of what the Revenant Party expected from its citizens. No fearmongering or intimidation could keep their mouths shut. The newer members joined because they couldn't believe enough, let alone succumb to their brainwashing. Lowell happened to be the former and expected you to be the latter."

"Is that so, huh?" I raised a quizzical eyebrow. "Glad to know you think I'm the brainwashed type."

"I'm referring more towards the kind of dissenters who break away from brainwashing." Johanna corrected me. "You couldn't--wouldn't--fall victim to what they did to you in Cicero, and therefore, they sedated you until your mind would inevitably break with the rest of your body. Almost every fur I've met who went through what you did no longer professed any religious beliefs. At all. It's happened countless times to countless Defiant I've met."

"It's nice of you to say I'm an oddity," I replied with a hint of sarcasm directed at myself rather than her, "but where does Lowell fit into this lecture, Johanna?"

"I'm no psychiatrist," Jordan voiced his own opinion, which began to catch my attention the more he went on, "but I personally believe he suffers from undiagnosed paranoid personality disorder--something I think we're all gonna have to live with in this place--and something in his past made him incredibly distrusting of things related to Christianity. He cannot form nor maintain intimate bonds with somebody without knowing they won't betray him. It wouldn't be surprising if he values cognitive dissonance when interacting with Abigail, and then, when he started to believe you were leading the same path of lost faith that he and countless other furs have experienced from Devout America, he...opened up to you more." The ferret coughed uncomfortably, making me blush until he quickly concluded, "Long story short: Lowell is aromantic and trusted you enough because you were exhibiting anti-Christian behaviors like he was, but reinvigorating your faith and being open about it slowly triggered some form of traumatic memories." He sipped the rest of his coffee down in two gulps, then sighed. "At least, that's my diagnosis. Like I said, I'm no psychiatrist."

I felt the digits in my paw tighten and loosen the more I listened to Jordan's explanation for Lowell's bizarre behavior. My tail bristled then relaxed at the image of him from earlier in the evening, gasping for air and staring up at me like I was a beautiful lighthouse in the middle of a torrential rainstorm. An anchor to keep him grounded against whatever plagued him while sleeping in that hotel bed. I'd never seen him so scared before. Did he...Did Lowell experience such nightmares much before I came into his life?

Gathering my thoughts, I looked up to see Jordan went into the vanity area to fill his cup. Psychiatrist or not, doctor or not, what the ferret suggested began to put some of the pieces together.

"What was that traumatic memory?" I asked in a soft whisper. "Johanna?"

Her pointed ears fell slightly. "I don't know." She whispered back, under her breath. "He's only told me the important things. Things he'll tell you too. And telling you all about it means he doesn't consider you just another fellow soldier."

My tail twitched at the memory of our argument, and that vindictive, bitter part of my brain started to regret not telling the wolf off. "It doesn't excuse what he said to me yesterday." I muttered aloud. "Do you know what he told me after we went to see Jeannie?"

"No, what?" She asked, so I told her and subsequently Jordan nearby. By the time I finished reciting the final moments of our fight, Johanna's frown likely added a future wrinkle under her brown-furred brow. "When he gets back, remind me to glue his tail between those fucking jaws of his, Adam."

"N-No need to do that!" I told the commander of our cell, knowing she would likely follow through on her threat. "You don't need to punish him like that."

"No. Saying it in the heat of the moment doesn't make it right. It was cruel and hurtful." The older doe pressed her fingers into her forehead, sighing in deep, deep thought. Of what, I couldn't ever fully tell. "If I know our Lowell and I do, he meant what he said back in the hallway. Still, it doesn't make it right. He and I plan to have a serious talk about how he treats his first boyfriend, nonbeliever or not."

A small, thankful smile crept up under my whiskers. "Thank you, Johanna."

"No problem. Anything for you and him." The tall doe looked me dead in the eyes, unwavering in her next statement. As Jordan went into the opposite room to sulk with another cup of coffee, she lowered her voice. "Don't share this with anyone else, but what McCann said is mostly true. Lowell went through unparalleled trauma, and it wasn't pretty. He doesn't like to talk about it either, but if he plans to be fully honest about his past to you--something he's only told me--then you're more than just a friend or a comrade-with-benefits to him. You mean much more than that, Adam. Much, much more to him than I initially believed."

"Initially?" I echoed her second-to-last word.

"Yeah," Johanna smiled kindly. "At first, I thought he just had a schoolboy crush on you, back when you were just starting to walk again. What we saw in the hallway...the crazy mutt risked getting caught and disobeying a direct order from me to prove he loves you."

The memory of our kiss caused my tail to curl next to the table's leg. I felt my chest beat a little faster, and the taste of his lips made me suppress a shiver. "You...You think he does?"

"I know he does. I raised him, didn't I?" She asked rhetorically, then waved her paws and returned them to her keyboard. "Don't get me wrong; you two absolutely need to talk about some of your issues. Yet you're the first Defiant I've ever met though who really...connected with him, like that. He'd never been a romantic before."

That certainly plucked my attention from her previous words.

"You mean like, not ever? Like, he's never been romantic with anybody ever?"

"Nope." Johanna shook her head and chuckled, "He's always said some crude jokes and been proud about being gay, sure, but never romantic. It may not look like it, but we know how much he means to you, Adam. And you to him."

***

The War Room remained quiet. Only an impatient typing on keyboards and an occasional conversation dominated activity within the headquarters for Chicago's rebellion. The Langes were already asleep in their respective rooms, Abigail opting to join them in gathering sleep hours prior, so her sleep cycle would be complete by the time the operation finished. I refused to consider the idea of sleep. Not with Lowell out there and the possibility of seeing my parents once again. It stayed on my mind no matter what I tried distracting myself with, even during conversations.

During that period of radio silence Joanna called me up to speed on what I didn't already know. Simply put, the Defiant needed doctors, surgeons and other medical experts recruited in their ranks. The Second American Civil War was flaring up, and not just along the Disputed Zone. Resistance cells planned to contribute further once the battlefield came eastward, so having my Dad--an experienced surgeon--join us would be spectacular on the long run.

To quote Jordan, "I'm a good doctor--no, a great doctor, but I'm no surgeon."

Once they discovered my parents had, in fact, not been the ones who sent me to Cicero, Johanna decided to use her free time for scoping my parents out. She ordered Oscar and Lucius to do what they did best. They researched my parents' private and public lives, learning everything they come from government records and the posts they made on social media sites. Likes, dislikes, hobbies, friends, coworkers, whatever gave Joanna a sense of who they were as individuals.

This gathered information plus the data extracted from The List allowed her to judge whether or not my mom or dad would be more than willing to work with the Chicago Defiant cell. Long story short, they would, especially after finding out I was alive.

"I was an Archangel once, hun. They trained me to kill and torture sure, but they also trained me to know how they think."

"How who thinks, ma'am?" I asked in momentary confusion. "My parents?"

"Traitors, seditionists, those with anti-authority beliefs. Whoever the government does not want existing in the civilian population."

A slightly dumbfounded smirk etched its way along my muzzle. "So, you're not just rescuing my parents because you care about them, do you?"

"Not exactly, kiddo." Johanna's expression switched between stone cold pessimism and hope. "Having a surgeon with any of those traits on our side would be beneficial for us in the months going forward. And beneficial for you too. If I could save every single family member and friend of whoever I recruit for the cell, I wish I would."

"But it's usually impossible, right?" I asked and she nodded firmly. "You don't need to explain yourself for that. I...I understand. I'm just happy you're saving my parents."

Olivia spent our time just talking about the past, the present, our uncertain futures. She managed to distract me with an interesting--albeit existentialist--tidbit. On the Easter Blackout, during the clinic raid, they didn't have much of a plan. All they knew was that it'd take more men than any other cell had to save the regular prisoners-slash-patients once it went into lockdown, Olivia and Lowell could only save so many seddies like me.

"So...So you're saying that my being rescued was pure dumb luck, huh?" I asked.

"The purest of dumb luck." She sighed in melancholy thought, softly looking across the table to me. "We could only save several at most before the power came back on. Then, we needed to leave...and you woke up."

"No," I shook my whiskers at the logic. "I don't think it's luck. Yesterday--or today, I think, Lowell asked me how I could still believe in God. Or rather, the God not worshipped by this country." The words came to me slowly, "The reason I keep believing in God is because I feel like it wasn't just chance that I was rescued by you. By Lowell either. Call it lingering brainwashing or whatever, Liv, but it can't just be that. I feel like there's a bigger reason than dumb luck that I was saved by the Defiant."

Why would I betray the same people who saved me from Hell? Why would I ever betray my comrades, considering I was betrayed by somebody I considered my best friend? I regretted not asking Lowell those two questions before he left.

"Whatever you feel, dude." She shrugged coolly at my statement, suddenly chuckling, "Not gonna lie though. Of all the ones we could save, of all the ones who could make it out of that fucked up comatose prison they put ya'll in...I'm glad it was you and Jeannie."

"Thanks, Liv." Those ticklish whiskers twitched over my smile. "So, can I ask something?"

She nodded, "Go ahead and shoot."

"Why didn't you go with them, Liv?" I asked her, subtly noticing how Johanna listened in to our conversation. "I mean, you're hardly a pushover. You could easily kick ass."

"Aww, thank you for the compliment, sweetie!" The otter beamed.

"We already had enough volunteers for the mission." Johanna explained as she reviewed some files and her laptop screen. "Lowell and Hector are our best stealth fighters, Donald has driving skills and upper body strength, while Blu's experience of imitating an Archangel is based on years of practice. He's also been taught the terminology and radio codes used by current Archangels in the field."

"Thank God for that cracked List, eh?"

Olivia went on to explain the original plan: at Johanna's signal once they arrived at my old neighborhood, Blu (disguised in his Archangel outfit) would approach Stephen McConnell's residence, pretending to be a superior officer sent by command for a surprise inspection on the operation. Simultaneously, Donald would place a communications jammer in the McConnell's backyard, covering their tracks from counter surveillance as Blu subdued the tithingman fox.

Once the latter was knocked out cold, the escape vehicle (an ambulance they outsourced from a junk yard thanks to some of Jordan's old colleagues) would come around the corner and escort the bound fox out of his home on an emergency stretcher. On top of Donald's government uniform assisting the Doberman and driving away, Blu's open presence would deter any curious neighbors from looming too close to the scene. Nobody would dare consider interfering with Archangel business.

Meanwhile, Lowell would break into the Grimwald residence and inform my parents of who he was, where their son is and that they had six minutes to get going to the second escape vehicle one block away.

"Wait, Lowell's not going with them?" I asked confusedly. An understanding sigh led me to ask, "I take it you thought it'd be a bad idea to have my current boyfriend interrogate my ex?"

"Absolutely." She replied, "Tithingman or not, it'd be more than a conflict of interest."

I could not agree more.

Anyway, if they played their cards correctly and nothing slowed their escape down, Lowell would drive my mom and dad back to the rear of the Maverick Hotel, sneaking them safely inside while Blu, Donald and Hector drove an incapacitated Stephen to an isolated building. They would 'extract' a recorded confession from the fox. That confession would then be uploaded along with everything else discovered on the List. Chaos would ensue all across the D.S.A. afterward.

One of the radios suddenly came to life, and a certain otter told us, "Johanna? This is Oscar. I just got word that they're in position."

Johanna grinned back at me. "It's time, kid."