Rekkan's growl rumbled through the kitchen. "What makes you think you can show up uninvited?"

Mekkar's eyebrows pulled together, shadowing squinty eyes. "You gave me a key."

"That was twelve years ago. And you never came."

"I sent a letter."

"I didn't open it."

Mekkar frowned. "Why not?"

"Didn't think it was for me."

"But I addressed it 'to my beloved nephew.'"

"Exactly."

Mekkar's frown deepened. "Rekkan, I was busy."

"Yeah? Well, now I'm busy." Rekkan tilted his head toward me. "Celebrating with someone I actually care about."

Mekkar pulled the corner of his lip through his teeth and lifted the tupperware an inch. "But I brought cake."

Rekkan drew his shoulders back and squared his jaw. "We already have a cake."

Mekkar glanced at the charred, mutilated brick on the table. "Ah," he said.

For a few seconds, neither uncle nor nephew moved. I gripped the back of the chair beside me, wondering how to help. Based on Rekkan's story about his childhood, I was tempted to write off Mekkar. He baked Rekkan a perfect cake but failed at everything that mattered most.

But Rekkan once gave him a key to his fortress. After everything, Rekkan had wanted Mekkar in his life.

I took one step toward Mekkar. "Mekkar, is it? Hi, I'm Zafaru."

Mekkar met my gaze for the first time, and a less-strained smile warmed his lips and crinkled his eyes. "It's very nice to meet you, Zafaru. We Northerners owe you a big thank you for ending the Implant Era." He lifted the cake toward me. "Maybe this can be a thank-you cake, instead?"

I snuck a glance at Rekkan. His frown conveyed his disapproval, but he didn't move to stop me. I accepted the cake, set it on the table next to my failed attempt, and extended an open palm toward an empty chair.

"Would you like to join us for a slice, Mekkar?"

Rekkan clucked his tongue and shot me a withering scowl.

Mekkar shuffled forward and settled into the chair with a sigh of relief. I laid an extra fork and plate on the table in front of him. He scooted up to the table, chair legs scratching the floor, and cut into the cake. As Mekkar slid a slice onto his plate, I slipped back into my chair and helped myself to a slice. Soft edges crumbled, sweet decadence filled the air, and saliva flooded my mouth.

Mekkar scooped a bite, but he stopped before the food reached his mouth and dropped the fork to the plate with a sigh. "Rekkan, come sit with us."

Rekkan's rifle now hung on the wall, and he watched us with fists on his hips and jaw ticking. "Nope."

I rested my elbow on the table and chin on my fist. "Please, Rekkan?"

Rekkan scrubbed a hand over his face and blew out a sigh. A few unnecessarily loud footsteps later, he slouched in his chair.

Mekkar and I each took a bite of cake. The morsels melted in my mouth, and an involuntary moan of pleasure escaped me.

Mekkar nodded approval and tapped his fork against the cake slice. "Guess I've still got it. Rekkan, remember the cakes I used to make for your birthday when you were a kid?"

"Nope," said Rekkan. He stabbed the slice of brown cake on his plate and scraped a knife over it, causing a squeaking screech like sandpaper on metal.

A tongue cluck. "I'm sure you remember. There was one with raspberry filling and another with chocolate whipped cream on the—" He gulped and widened his eyes, gaze locked over my shoulder. "There's something moving in that tank. I think it might be..."

I swallowed my second bite of cake. "That's Fluffy, our pet cockroach."

"Pet?" Mekkar's voice cracked. "And you keep it in the kitchen?"

"Her," said Rekkan.

Mekkar emitted a shaky laugh halfway to a whimper and scooted his chair a little to the left so the bug was no longer in his line of sight. He motioned between us with his fork. "So, how did you two meet?"

    I hesitated, darting a glance at Rekkan. He chewed slowly. Swallowed. Took another bite. I turned back to Mekkar.

"Actually, his reserves helped me survive the winter."

A smile dimpled Mekkar's cheeks and creased his forehead. "Oh, he shared with you!"

I released a stilted laugh. "Well, not... intentionally."

Without looking up from his food, Rekkan said, "He stole from me, and I shot him."

    Mekkar's fork slipped from his fingers and clattered on the plate. Rekkan hacked off another piece of the not-really-cake and forked it into his mouth.

I filled the silence. "Rekkan saved me a bunch of times later, though. And now he has saved the world."

    Mekkar dipped his head in a deep nod. "Right, and I was so excited to hear it. I told everyone, 'I helped raise that boy!'" He flicked his fork to emphasize each syllable.

    Rekkan snorted. "Such a great job you did."

    The space between Mekkar's bushy brows indented. "Hey, we had some good times together."

    "Did we?" Wry, bitter humor twisted his voice.

"Don't you remember when I used to play the guitar, and you would sing with me?"

    I blinked at Rekkan. Sing?

    Rekkan loaded his fork with the rest of the sad-excuse-for-cake. "Ah, right. You promised you would teach me how to play."

Mekkar shifted in his chair. His mouth popped open, fell shut, and opened again. "Rekkan, I'm sorry we couldn't keep you around longer. Serigg and I really cared about you, you know. It was just—"

    "What was right for the family," Rekkan finished in a monotone.

    "Well... yes. You see, Serigg and I both had busy jobs, and you were a special child. We couldn't spare the time or energy you deserved."

"So you shipped me off with a truckload of toys and a photograph, and you wiped your hands clean."

I gripped the fork tighter as something occurred to me. "Wait, photograph? Is that the one in your bedroom, with the couple and the little boy?"

Mekkar ventured a hesitant smile at Rekkan. "You still have it?"

"I keep some old papers around in case I run out of toilet paper," said Rekkan, deadpan.

I distinctly remembered that the photo had been the only thing decorating his room when I first moved in, but I decided not to point that out.

Mekkar fell silent, eyes on his half-eaten slice of cake but fork motionless. After a few seconds, he whispered, "Give me another chance?"

Rekkan's face tightened, and his voice grew rough. "What do you mean? You want to stay here?"

Mekkar shook his head. "I want you to come stay at the Refuge." His eyes flitted to me. "Both of you."

Rekkan's brow furrowed. "Why?"

"Well, we created the Refuge to provide safety, prosperity, and peace for survivors, but with the way tensions are rising..." He blew out a breath. "We'll be lucky to make it another month without destroying each other. Everyone respects you two, on both sides. Maybe you can inspire cooperation and calm fears."

"Ah." Scalding hot and razor sharp. "So the Refuge asked you to come here."

Mekkar's silver-striped beard twitched with his frown. "That's not—it's not like that. I wanted to see you anyway. That's why I agreed."

Rekkan shoved the table back and rose to his feet. "Well, you saw me. Time for you to go." He slapped the tupperware lid over the triple-layer cake and scooted it across the table toward Mekkar. "Take your cake with you."

Mekkar pushed to his feet to face Rekkan. "Rekkan, hear me out. If you don't come, we are headed toward full-out war. And seeing more people could be good for you! You could learn how to be less..."

"Be less?" Rekkan repeated, face and voice of stone.

Anger tightened around my gut, and the luscious cake on my plate lost its appeal. How dare this man come here and tell Rekkan he wasn't good enough? I should never have invited him to join us.

I dropped my fork and pushed the plate away from me. "There's nothing wrong with Rekkan."

Mekkar bobbed his head. "Right, of course not. But this could help you with your... you know, with your..."

"Get out," said Rekkan. "Now."

Mekkar lifted both palms, bushy brows almost touching above his nose. "Look, I apologize if I offended you. But it's getting dark. Can I at least stay the night?"

"I'm sure you'd rather spend the night with Serigg."

Mekkar ducked his head and fiddled with the silver cuff wedding bracelet pinching his thick wrist. Dimming light flickered over the engraved script. "Rekkan, Serigg is not..." He swallowed, and a glassy sheen brightened his eyes to shiny pebbles. "She's gone."

An exhale softened the lines of Rekkan's shoulders. "When? How?"

"The Infected got her years ago."

Silence blanketed the room, stifling and itchy. Rekkan leaned into one hip and pinched the bridge of his nose, head tilted down. I touched my fingers to the table one at a time and started over, like a child practicing scales on a piano.

    Finally, Rekkan dropped his hand and lifted his gaze to meet Mekkar's. "You can sleep on the couch. If you want. But I won't change my mind."

    Mekkar breathed a sigh. "Thank—"

    Before he could finish, Rekkan pivoted and paced out of the room.

    Mekkar stared at the empty doorway for a few seconds before turning toward me. "So, uh..." He scratched the back of his head. "Don't suppose there's any chance you could persuade him? You like saving the world, don't you?"

The question reminded me of Rekkan's accusation from a few weeks ago. You don't even want the world to be saved... you'd prefer to go on saving it. In taking back the fortress, I had committed to appreciating what I had with Rekkan—to focusing on us instead of the world; on living happily instead of chasing aspirations. While my gut twisted at the thought of fellow survivors facing even more fear and trauma, the memory of Rekkan half-buried in bodies and bleeding to death hurt worse. He never would have been there if not for me, and he almost didn't make it out alive.

    "We already saved the world," I said. "Maybe it's someone else's turn this time."

    "From what I hear, there are only a few hundred Southies left, and most of them are at the Refuge. Surely you miss being around your kind?"

    I stood and collected the plates. "Let me clean up here, and then I can show you to the couch."

    Mekkar helped me wash the dishes in silence. His lips parted periodically as if to make conversation, but nothing made it out.

I brought Mekkar to the couch where I had once slept and set out a few extra blankets on the coffee table. He eased himself onto the cushion as though laden with a thousand extra pounds. "Thank you, Zafaru."

    "You're welcome."

    I waited for him to grab the blankets, but he sat stiff as a statue, eyes downcast. With a single finger, he traced the script on his bracelet.

I backed out of the room and nudged the door closed.

    In the master bedroom, Rekkan leaned against the headboard with his legs stretched out before him, his bionic ankle crossed over his flesh one. He clasped a worn piece of paper in his hands, but he tucked it into the bedside drawer before I could glimpse its content.

With a subtle stretch, I glanced at the spot where the photo of the couple with the boy had hung on his wall. The wall was now bare.

I ambled over and plopped down beside Rekkan. "I'm surprised you gave your aunts and uncles keys to the fortress. I didn't even know there were any extra keys."

    His eyes fixed on the opposite wall. "Just one extra key. Just Mekkar."

    "Why?"

    "Guess I used to think he was different from the rest. Thought he liked me, or that he at least wasn't afraid." He shrugged, an overly-dismissive jerk of the shoulders. "Should have realized he didn't want to see me any more than anyone else did."

    I laid a hand over his. "You don't know that."

    His hand balled into a fist. "I do."

    "Alright."

    When I started to pull away, he flipped his hand over and trapped my fingers. "Sorry, Zaf, I just..." His head thunked the headboard behind him. "Just wish we could stay here and forget the rest of the survivors—forget the world."

    "We can."

    He rolled his head toward me and lifted one brow. "You don't want to help at the Refuge?"

    "I won't ask you to risk your life for anyone else's again."

    "Mm." A slow nod. "And if I do it without you asking?"

    I blinked at him. Rekkan had just promised Mekkar he would not change his mind. What had caused this sharp turn-around? What document had he been studying while I had shown Mekkar to the couch?

I studied his profile—the lined forehead, the pinched lips. "Are you serious right now? You would do it by choice?"

    "I fought in a war, Zaf. It's ugly. If war breaks out in a place like that, most will die, and the rest will never be the same."

    My throat tightened. "And you really think we can prevent that from happening?"

    "I think you can."

    A rush of conflicting emotions flooded my chest and twisted my tongue. His faith in me both warmed my heart and shook me. Could I really make a difference? And even if I could, was I prepared to risk everything so soon?

    Before I could form a response, Rekkan swung his legs over the side of the bed. "I'm getting ready for bed. We can talk more in the morning."

The moment he turned his back to me, I rolled over and cracked open the bedside drawer. Though the paper was wrinkled and folded over in two corners, I immediately recognized the crayon drawing. A huge man with a silver leg and a little girl with a green arm, smiles as big as their rifles.