"Think Reagan will like Echo Base?" he asks as we turn onto a dirt track that winds through heavy forest.
"Yeah," I say, glancing over at her. "She'll appreciate the operational side. The security, the planning that went into it. She thinks like us now."
"Will she stay?" The question is careful, vulnerable in a way Khalid rarely lets show.
Reagan turns in her seat to look at Khalid. He isn't asking about himself anymore. He's worried about losing another person who matters.
"I'm right here, and I’m staying," Reagan says before I can answer. "This is where I belong now. With you and Dylan and the team."
Khalid doesn't respond, but his shoulders relax slightly. Another person who isn't leaving. Another piece of family that might actually last.
Echo Base reveals itself gradually. First the outer perimeter, motion sensors and cameras hidden in natural cover. Then the checkpoint where Stryker stops to enter access codes. Finally the entrance itself, a reinforced door built into rock face that looks like nothing from a distance. Odin meets us at the door, tail wagging, pressing his nose against Khalid's hand before the kid even clears the threshold.
Inside, the mine transforms into something else entirely. Kane spent years converting the old tunnels into a facility that rivals government installations. Operations center with tactical displays and encrypted communications. Armory stocked better than most military units. Medical bay where Willa can handle everything short of major surgery. Individual quarters, common areas, training spaces. This is home now.
The team gathers in the common area, and the atmosphere shifts from operational to something looser. Odin has already claimed his spot at Khalid's feet, chin resting on the boy's shoe. Willa's dog adopted Khalid months ago, and neither of them pretends otherwise. Kane produces bourbon that probably costs more than it should. Willa sets out food she's been preparing, the kind of spread that only happens when people have time to cook instead of just fuel up. Even Tommy emerges from his tech cave, social for once.
"To partial victories," Kane raises his glass. "We didn't destroy the Committee. But we proved they can bleed."
"And everyone who works for them knows they might be next," I add. "That matters."
We drink. The bourbon burns good, smooth and expensive, the kind of thing Kane hoards for moments like this.
"Reagan." Kane turns to her, glass still raised. "You did something remarkable. You took on people who consider murder an operational expense, and you made them pay for it. Convictions. Cooperating witnesses. Morrison's legacy destroyed. That's not nothing."
"It's not the leadership in prison," she says.
"No. But it's everyone around them looking over their shoulders, wondering if they're next. That counts." He drinks again. "Welcome to Echo Base. You've more than earned your place here."
Reagan takes a breath, emotion crossing her face too fast to name. She's been fighting this battle for months, risking everything, but this is the first time someone's acknowledged she belongs. Not as an asset or a source, but as part of the team.
The celebration stretches into the evening. Stories get shared over bourbon—Mercer describing the Whitefish facility raid with dry precision, Stryker telling a story that makes even Kane laugh, Delany explaining how the Committee logistics coordinator's testimony will connect financial networks.
Reagan navigates the gathering like she's finding her place, asking the right questions, listening with genuine interest. Trading observations with Delaney about behavioral patterns. Asking Tommy about his surveillance networks. Watching Khalid demonstrate a defensive move he's been perfecting. First time at Echo Base, but she's already becoming part of it.
Eventually the gathering winds down. Khalid heads to the gym with Mercer, eager to show off the techniques he's been practicing. Tommy returns to his systems. Stryker and Mercer head out for perimeter checks that probably aren't necessary but maintain the rhythm of security.
Kane catches my eye as Reagan and I head toward the private quarters. "Good to have you home," he says quietly. "All of you."
The quarters are small but private. Bed, desk, attached bathroom with a shower that has actual water pressure. Spartan compared to civilian standards, luxury compared to where we've been.
Reagan closes the door behind us, and the atmosphere shifts immediately. Months of tension, stolen moments in safe houses, the constant awareness of wanting each other. But never this. Never the security of Echo Base, the certainty that we're safe, the knowledge that we have all night with no one listening or watching.
Now we have both.
She turns to face me, and the heat in her eyes matches what I'm feeling. "We're really here. We're safe."
"For now."
"I'll take it." She crosses the space between us, hands finding my shirt. "I'll take whatever time we have."
I kiss her, and there's nothing tentative about it. Nothing held back. Her mouth opens under mine, and she tastes like bourbon and want and the security of finally being home. My hands slide under her shirt, finding warm skin, and she arches into the touch with a sound that goes straight to my gut.
"Dylan." My name is breathless, urgent. "We're finally home. Really home."
"Yeah." I pull her shirt over her head, revealing skin that still makes my breath catch. "We are."
She works at my belt, fingers quick and efficient, and then we're moving toward the bed. She pushes me down, follows me, her body settling over mine in a way that feels inevitable and perfect. Her hands map my chest, tracing old scars and newer wounds with focused attention that makes my breath catch.
