Chapter 18 #2
But I see something else too. The determination in his stance, the way he watches me without flinching. He's not asking for permission to do something reckless. He's looking for a path forward.
"When you're eighteen," I say. "When you've finished school. When you're ready."
"And who decides when I'm ready?" His voice carries an edge now, challenge mixed with genuine curiosity. "You? Reagan? Kane?"
"We do. You, me, Reagan. Not Kane. Not anyone else." I step closer. "You don't get to throw your life away because you're angry. You don't get to charge into danger because you want revenge or because you feel helpless. That's not how this works."
"Then how does it work?"
"You train. You prepare. You become someone who can survive this work, who can contribute without getting killed or getting other people killed.
" I pause, making sure he hears me. "Then we talk.
About what role you might play, what skills you can develop, how you can be part of this fight without destroying yourself in the process. "
Khalid is quiet for a long moment. I expected him to argue. To push back. Instead, he just watches me, processing.
"That's more than I expected," he says finally. "A path forward. Not just waiting."
"This work isn't about waiting. It's about preparation." I reach out, grip his shoulder. "You've got time before you're eighteen. Time to finish school, to work with Dr. Voss, to learn everything you can about the world you want to enter. That's not idle time. That's foundation."
"And if you're in Prague and something happens here?"
Odin pads into the room as if summoned, settling against Khalid's leg. The Malinois watches me with eyes that seem to understand exactly what we're discussing.
"Then you follow emergency protocols. You get to the secure areas, you trust Kane and the operators here to protect this base." I don't let him look away. "You don't try to be a hero. You survive."
"I survived before." His voice is quieter now, the challenge fading into something more vulnerable. "When Morrison's people attacked my village. I hid in the well for two days before you found me. I survived by being smart, by staying quiet, by not panicking."
"I know. And that's exactly why I think you could be good at this work someday. But someday isn't today. Today, you're fifteen and still healing. Let yourself heal, Khalid. Let us help you."
He nods slowly, and something shifts in his expression. Acceptance, maybe. Or the beginning of trust in a future that extends beyond survival.
"Okay," he says. "I can do that."
"We'll be back. Whatever happens in Prague, we're coming back."
Reagan steps forward, wraps an arm around Khalid's shoulders. "We should eat. All of us. And we should brief you properly on the operation."
We move to the mess hall, filling our plates. The space is mostly empty at this hour. We claim a corner, the three of us arranged in what's become our usual configuration. Reagan beside me, Khalid across from us, close enough to talk quietly without being overheard.
Reagan walks Khalid through what we know—Webb's money movements, Kosygin's organization, the potential merger.
Khalid listens intently, absorbing the information.
This is what he wanted, I realize. Not just training, not just combat skills.
He wanted to be included, to understand the mission and the enemy.
"So you go to Prague and run surveillance," he says when she finishes. "Document their operations, identify key players."
"That's the mission. Intelligence gathering, not direct action." I glance at Reagan. "We'd be there two to three weeks, maybe longer depending on what we find."
"What happens if they make you? If someone figures out you're not just journalists?"
The question is tactical, practical. He's thinking like an operator already.
"We have extraction protocols," I say. "Multiple routes out of the country, contacts in Vienna who can move us if things go sideways. Kane doesn't send people in without a way to get them out."
"But it's still dangerous."
"Yes." I won't lie to him about that. "Everything we do carries risk. The goal is to minimize it, plan for contingencies, stay ahead of the threat. But yes. It's dangerous."
Khalid absorbs this, turning his fork over in his hand. "When you were in the field before, did you ever think you wouldn't come back?"
Reagan's hand finds mine under the table.
"Sometimes," I admit. "Before I had reasons to come back, it didn't matter as much. Now it does."
"Because of us."
"Because of you. Both of you." I hold his gaze. "That's why we prepare. Why we plan. Why we don't take unnecessary risks. Because coming home matters."
"And I stay here. Go to school. Keep working with Dr. Voss."
"And train," Reagan says. "Dylan talked to Mercer about developing a conditioning program for you. Nothing operational, but physical fitness, situational awareness, basic defensive tactics. The foundation he mentioned."
Khalid's eyes widen slightly. "You already arranged that?"
"We talked about it," I say. "After you asked about weapons training. You want to learn, we'll teach you. But we do it right, in the proper sequence, with proper oversight."
"Thank you." The words come out rough, like he's not used to saying them. "For taking me seriously."
"You've earned it. Everything you survived, everything you've done since. You're not a victim, Khalid. You're a survivor."
The meal continues, punctuated by occasional questions about the Prague op or tactical considerations. It strikes me how natural this feels, three people discussing intelligence operations over chow like other families might discuss weekend plans.
Not the family I expected. But real.
After dinner, Khalid retreats to his quarters to finish homework while Reagan and I return to ours. She goes back to her research, adding new data to the target packages she's building. I sit on the edge of our bed, watching her work.
The Committee isn't destroyed. Webb is still out there, building something new. Kosygin represents a threat we haven't faced before.
But Echo Base is secure. The team is operational. The work continues.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand. Kane's ID on the screen. I answer on the second ring.
"New development," Kane says without preamble. "Webb's moving faster than we anticipated. Money transfers accelerating, personnel repositioning. Whatever's happening in Prague, it's happening soon."
"How soon?"
"Days, not weeks. I need a team on the ground as fast as we can get you there." A pause. "You ready to deploy?"
I look at Reagan. She's turned from her laptop, watching me. She nods once, the gesture small but certain.
"We're ready," I say. "Both of us."
"Good. Briefing at oh-six-hundred. We'll coordinate insertion and establish cover identities." Kane's voice carries the weight of command. "Get some rest. You'll need it."
The call ends. Reagan crosses the room, settles beside me on the bed.
"That's fast," she says.
"Webb's accelerating. Kane thinks the merger's happening sooner than projected."
"Then we accelerate too." She's already thinking ahead, I can see it in her eyes. "I'll finalize the target packages tonight. Make sure Tommy's files are ready to deploy the moment we find access."
"You should sleep."
"So should you." She tilts her head, studying me. "But you won't, will you? You'll sit in that chair by the door and watch until morning."
She knows me too well. "Old habits."
"I'm not complaining." She leans against my shoulder. "It's one of the things I love about you. The way you protect what matters."
The words settle into me, warm and unexpected. Love. We've said it before, in quiet moments between crises. But hearing it now, on the edge of another mission, another risk, carries a different weight.
"I'm coming back," I tell her. "We both are."
"I know." Her breathing slows against my chest. "I know."
I don't move. Just hold her and listen to the base settling around us, the quiet hum of ventilation, the distant footsteps of night watch making rounds.
Down the corridor, Khalid's light went out a while ago. Odin's soft breathing carries through the wall. The dog sleeps at the foot of Khalid's bed every night, has since the beginning. Willa jokes that she lost custody months ago.
Tomorrow, briefings and cover identities. Prague. Whatever's waiting for us there.
I ease Reagan down onto the pillow, pull the blanket over her shoulders. Then I move to the chair by the door, the one with an unobstructed sightline the entrance.
Old habits. But the reasons are different now.
I settle in to watch, and plan, and wait for morning.