"Take all the time you need." Stryker extends his hand. "Deal?"
Lucas shakes it solemnly. "Deal."
They go back to practicing hand signals, Lucas correcting Stryker's form with careful attention. Odin responds to each command, tail wagging. The three of them building what looks like family.
I watch from the doorway, not interrupting. This is theirs. Lucas finding his way toward trust. Stryker learning how to be someone a kid can depend on. Both of them figuring out what family means when it's chosen instead of given.
Khalid appears beside me, his own presence quiet and unobtrusive. "They're good together."
"Yeah. They are."
"Lucas talks about him constantly. Mr. Stryker this, Mr. Stryker that." Khalid smiles slightly. "It's good. He needs that."
"What about you? You doing okay?"
"Better than I was." Khalid watches Lucas with Stryker. "Dylan says trauma doesn't disappear, it just becomes part of you. You learn to carry it without letting it define you."
"Dylan's smart."
"He is." Khalid glances at me. "Thank you for letting Lucas spend time with me. It helps. Having someone to teach, someone to protect. Makes me feel less broken."
"You're not broken, Khalid."
"Maybe not. But I'm different than I was before." His voice is steady, matter-of-fact. "The testimony helped. Saying their names. Telling the truth about what happened. But the nightmares don't stop just because Congress listened."
"Do they get better?"
"Some nights." He pushes off the doorframe. "I'm going to check in with Sarah. See if there's anything new from Hawthorne."
He disappears down the corridor, leaving me alone with the sight of Lucas teaching Stryker how to communicate with a dog. Simple. Domestic. Normal.
The things I never thought we'd have again.
Later, after Lucas is asleep in the quarters we've been assigned, Stryker finds me in the observation room. The space is quiet, monitors showing exterior feeds of Montana wilderness, stars visible through the night vision cameras.
"He asked me to teach him how to fight," Stryker says.
"What did you tell him?"
"That I'd think about it." He leans against the console beside me. "Too young for real combat training. But basic self-defense, situational awareness—that might be good for him. Given what he's been through."
"Mateo used to say awareness was the best weapon." The words come out before I can stop them.
Stryker is quiet for a moment. "He wasn't wrong about that."
"He wasn't wrong about a lot of things. That's what made him so dangerous." I turn to face Stryker fully. "Lucas needs to know how to protect himself. But I don't want him growing up afraid of everything."
"Fear isn't the enemy. Panic is. There's a difference." Stryker's voice is calm, professional. "I can teach him awareness without making him paranoid. Confidence without making him reckless. If you want me to."
"I want him to be safe. I want him to be happy. I want him to have a childhood that isn't defined by running and hiding." My throat tightens. "But I also want him to survive if something happens again."
"Then I'll teach him." Stryker's hand finds mine. "Age-appropriate. Nothing that takes away his childhood. Just enough that he knows what to do if things go wrong."
"Thank you."
We stand there watching the stars. Safety is temporary. Peace is earned daily. Family is built from whatever pieces you can salvage.
"I love you," I say. Words that still feel new despite everything we've been through.
