Ham stared around the dirty encampment that reminded him too much of the refugee camps he had seen in far too many wars from Asia through Africa to South America. It was always the civilians that suffered most--the old and infirm, women and children--but unlike with other wars, no one had come to drag away the boys and men of fighting age with threats of beatings if they refused to hold a gun. However, this war was not much different from the racially motivated ones that encouraged the genocide of a particular group except in this case the group looking at extinction was the entire human race. The Lizards were voracious in their appetite, sending thousands at a time to their homeworld to be eaten alive.
The arrival of the Lizards had proved that there was extraterrestrial life beyond a shadow of doubt, but their lack of regard for where they would scavenge for food after they had consumed all the resources of this world proved that Earth was not the only world out there that could be plundered. If it had been then there would have been breeding programs to keep humans as livestock to fill the tables but Ham had heard of nothing so far. It was far more likely that the Lizards would simply move onto the next world once they had finished gorging themselves on this one.
He wasn't going to make it easy for them. Perhaps he couldn't make them pay on a one-to-one basis--one Lizard for every human taken--but he could make sure they didn't walk away from this planet unscarred. He would make sure they had a sizeable death toll to take back to their leaders.
After delivering Robin to the relative safety of Chicago, he and Chris Faber had headed back south, finally falling in with a resistance group working out of Wichita. So far, they had been along on several raids with no problems but last night the group had attacked the main Human Processing Center in Wichita and the effects had shaken him in a way that nothing had before.
As he sank down onto the pallet covered with his sleeping bag, Ham reflected on last night's mission.
Yesterday
As usual, he had surveyed the plant and made all the arrangements for getting past the security and setting the charges but Chris had noticed the tension building up in him as the final countdown for the mission began. It would be the first processing plant they had hit since his near-conversion and he knew Chris wasn't sure if he was sufficiently recovered to handle the task--he'd noticed the sideways glances and questioning looks after Ham suggested the processing plant as a target.
The Conversion process had been programmed to seek out the greatest source of fear in the mind of its victim so it could use those fears to destroy the person leaving their mind open for re-conditioning. Charles and Diana had preyed upon Tyler's deep-rooted fear of being eaten--alive or otherwise--to try to break him. They had almost succeeded. Their only mistake had been to program him to kill the one person he loved beyond life itself, and only this deeper love for Mike Donovan had given him the strength to fight the mind conditioning.
To this day, Ham was not sure whether Elizabeth had made the right decision in that old sports arena when she deflected the shot. Her decision had cost the life of Nathan Bates, a fair swap when the alternative could have been the loss of Mike Donovan but Ham doubted he could have pulled the trigger on Mike. It was the equipment landing on his raised gun arm that had actually caused him to pull the trigger. Still, he couldn't find it in his heart to blame her. The death of Bates had changed the status quo in Los Angeles, causing a rift in the resistance from those who felt they could no longer trust him. He'd had to leave, and taking Elizabeth's mother to the safe zone in Chicago had seemed the obvious and most useful solution to that particular dilemma but Ham had to admit that he had hated leaving.
Or maybe he ought to admit that he had simply hated leaving Donovan to fight on alone.
Chris sank down onto the pallet beside him, not needing to speak out loud when Ham could read the questions in his eyes.
"Yeah," Ham sighed. "After this one we're out of here. No more delays."
Chris nodded his agreement before a quick glance at his watch showed it was almost time to move out. Climbing to his feet, he reached out a hand which Ham took gratefully, accepting the boost to his own feet. They stood side by side for a moment gazing out across the small encampment.
"Time to go," he stated quietly, knowing it was time to gather up the Wichita resistance. Ham took a deep breath and released it slowly. "Take care, bro'."
Chris smiled and slapped him on the back. "See you back at base in two hours."
The raid went exactly as Ham had planned--right until they reached the main processing building. The attack had come as a complete surprise to the Lizards and the resistance breached the outer security ahead of time, sending more than a few Lizards to Saurian heaven. Ham led the main attack force against the actual processing plant while others kept the guards occupied. The idea was to destroy the equipment and slow down human processing in this area, however, as he hurtled through the entrance the sight of the conveyor belt filled with milky-white cocoons shocked him into immobility. The others raced around him to impart as much damage on the equipment as time allowed and the belt stopped with a loud but muffled explosion leaving Ham alone in the quiet room. Time seemed to stand still and all he could hear was the sound of his own racing heart. He took a deep breath and moved slowly to the nearest capsule. Placing hands either side he forced off the top and stared at its lone occupant. The peace on the comatose face was in stark contrast to the horror on his own and he reached out to gently stroke the young man's cheek. Nothing. Not even a flicker of movement. Arms grabbed him suddenly and spun him around. Ham snapped out of his paralysis and started to fight.
"Hey, bro'. It's me."
"Chris?"
"We gotta go. The others are waiting for us and there's a Lizard squadron on its way."
Ham looked up into the pale blue eyes of his colleague and best friend through a dozen wars. "We can't leave these people here...Like this."
Chris had looked around at the row of cocoons, his face hardening as he tightened his grip on Ham's arms. "We can and we must."
Ham opened his mouth to disagree but the words died as the truth sank in. The people inside those milky-white coffins were alive, though perhaps thankfully, not aware of their situation. Even if there was time to load all of these people onto a transport they didn't have the technology or chemical means required to bring them back from their drug-induced comas, not without causing horrendous pain with no hope of seeing the people revived sane and intact at the end of their cold turkey. The timing on the attack was too tight. There was only enough time to destroy the machinery that added more victims to the ranks every hour.
Tears of frustration stung the back of his eyes but he blinked them back hard, standing up straight as Chris released his hold on him. "Well if we can't take them with us then neither can the Lizards."
The Ingram jumped in his hand as Ham pumped the remainder of his ammo along the line of cocoons. Splatters of red sprayed against the milky white shells as he killed as many as he could. The only response from Chris was the sound of his machine gun echoing Ham's. Without a word, he turned and fled from the scene of devastation with Chris right behind him.
***
His thoughts returned to the present.
When they pulled into their encampment after the attack, Ham slipped away to avoid the celebrations knowing Chris would allow him at least half an hour to wallow in self-pity before he followed. A further hour passed before Chris managed to get another word out of him but Chris was a patient man. Two years studying Psychiatry before joining the CIA had given him the ability to sit back and probe without appearing to be intrusive. He used this skill now, gently probing the raw wound in Ham's psyche until the words came--haltingly at first.
"I couldn't do anything about it. I couldn't save them," Ham stated quietly.
"Was killing them the answer?"
Ham's thoughts turned inwards as his own fears crowded in upon him--fears for himself and for his friends. Several minutes passed before he could manage a reply.
"Probably not," he looked up into compassionate blue eyes. "But the alternative... do nothing... was even further away."
Chris nodded, glancing up at the sound of the camp being packed up. Several of their people had failed to return after the mission so they had to move on just in case they had been compromised. After all, the fighters were not trained CIA operative, soldiers or mercenaries. They didn't know how to resist torture and could turn traitor without true intention.
Ham frowned as there was a time when he would have had no sympathy for any of those who betrayed the human race. Now he could truly accept the differences between those who did turn traitor and saved his venom--and ammo--for the collaborators who sought only to save their own skin and gain power in the process.
"It's time we went back and joined the others," Chris stated softly in return.
"To Chicago?"
Chris smiled at the quizzical expression. "No. To L.A. To Donovan."
***
Travelling by night and hiding by day meant a slower trip across the country but neither of them was eager to meet with a Lizard patrol. They couldn't afford to draw the attention of anyone who might recognize them from the images Diana had sent out to every Lizard unit especially as, next time, Diana might actually succeed in converting him. He knew his mind was no longer as strong as it had once been, that the years and the suffering he had witnessed had taken their toll upon him.
Eventually they reached the outskirts of Los Angeles, slowly making their way across a city laid waste by fighting since the death of Nathan Bates. It was an ugly sight, seeing rubble where the rich and famous has once resided, and seeing the Hollywood sign with many of its letters missing or damaged. Much of the city seemed like a ghost town, and maybe it should have seemed an improvement with the old ghettos emptied of gang members. No doubt they were halfway to the Saurian homeworld by now, filling the bellies the great motherships long before they filled the bellies of the Lizards who clamored for fresh human meat.
Evidence of habitation might have gone undetected by a less observant traveler but both Ham and Chris had learned to read the signs. They made no attempt to contact the residents in hiding, aware that they risked a panicked attack that could reveal all their presence to the Lizards. Better to carry on towards the more populated zone where Ham suspected Donovan and the L.A. Resistance still hid and planned their attacks. They'd gained a rendezvous point from the Freedom Network and so had a time and place though Ham was determined to be there at least one hour early to ensure they were not being set up in an ambush. It wouldn't be the first time that someone had betrayed them after all.
One hour before the rendezvous, Ham and Chris separated to cover more of the area but Ham had to smile when he spotted a familiar tall frame slinking around the perimeter. It seemed Gooder had picked up a few good surveillance traits over the years. He waited until Donovan was within a pebble's throw and saw him spin around gracefully, gun drawn. Donovan jerked in surprise when he spotted him before relaxing, a broad smile lifting the seriousness from his face.
"Hardrock."
"Gooder."
Donovan reached out and Ham clasped his hand, viciously pushing down on the pleasure he felt at just this simple touch after months of absence.
"Chris here?" Donovan asked and Ham raised an eyebrow in response; Donovan laughed softly. "Yeah, stupid question. Come on. I'll take you to the safe house."
Ham grabbed his forearm. "What if I'm still compromised?"
"You're not."
"You can't know--"
"I do. Even then I trusted you."
"You shouldn't trust anyone, Gooder. That'll get you killed."
Ham expected a flippant remark but Donovan merely grinned again, turning away expecting Ham to follow, and Chris to shadow them as always. The LA Resistance had made its current headquarters in the basement of a small department store with its dress windows smashed in. The racks of clothes and other goods had long since been spirited away by looters and Ham was impressed to see no tracks in the dust that had settled since. The place looked totally abandoned. They entered through a concealed back door only to be greeted by the yowl of a cat that head-butted Donovan affectionately but, otherwise paid little mind to the newcomers. Donovan rubbed it behind the ears.
"Makes a good Lizard detector," he stated, reminding Ham of how the Lizards had exterminated cats on sight because they hissed and slashed at them, recognizing the creature hidden behind the mask as non-human.
People came up to greet him and he recognized some of their faces from before but others were new, seemingly intrigued to meet him. Ham noticed the missing faces--Elias, Kyle...Elizabeth, the Star child. Donovan seemed to know what he was thinking.
"Elias was killed a few days back. Elizabeth went off with the Leader, and we think Kyle stowed away on-board. Last report was that the Leader's shuttle was sabotaged and, of course, the Visitors are laying the blame on us though Philip is convinced it was Diana. She was certainly a little too prepared for a breakdown in the truce."
Ham snorted. Diana had an appetite for power that was only slightly less voracious than that for human flesh. He wouldn't put it past her to have orchestrated the betrayal of her Leader so that she might rise even higher in power and influence. He followed Donovan as he moved through the headquarters, passed the war room to the sleeping area, feeling a small shiver of hope-filled want as Donovan closed a door behind them with a request that no one disturb them unless it was damn important. The bolt slid into place and Ham watched as Donovan turned. All his assured grace and confidence seemed to have drained away as he stared at Ham, eyes drinking him.
"I never wanted you to go."
"I had to."
"No. No you didn't."
Donovan raised a hand towards him tentatively and Ham gave his answer as he closed his eyes and leaned in, letting the warm palm cradle his rough cheek.
"Missed you so much," Donovan whispered as he leaned in to press a kiss against Ham's lips.
He tasted exactly as Ham remembered from the few nights they'd spent together before Diana's conversion attempt had kicked in and had torn them apart. He'd missed it too--missed Mike. He'd missed the gentle hands soothing away a lifetime of aches from wounds borne in a dozen wars. He'd missed the quiet humor and baiting to lighten the seriousness of Ham's nature, and the peace he found as they moved together, easing the need each other felt deep inside. He wanted all of that back again.
"Want it all," Donovan stated as if reading his thoughts, and it was so easy to give in as his body turned traitor to both their needs.
Afterwards, as they lay quiet and at peace in each other's arms it was easy to talk about the immediate future, of the impending battles and the end of all things if they couldn't prove that it was Diana rather than the humans who had betrayed the truce.
Slowly they drew up new plans in the strong hope that they would have this brief respite again some day soon.
END
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Summary: Ham realizes it is time to go home--to Mike Donovan.
Categories: V
Characters: Donovan/Tyler, Ham Tyler, Mike Donovan
Genres: Angst
Warnings: Homoerotic (slash)
Challenges: None