A/N- Finally, an update. Sorry it took so long. I went back and read through all the previous chapters and posted a few changes here and there also; hopefully the story flows a little smoother now. Enjoy!

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Chapter Nine: Memories That Never Fade…

“Ah, Ian. I didn’t know you’d returned.” The speaker straightened from his previous position bending over a table. “Welcome back.”

“Thanks, Henry.” Ian moved aside so Samara and Brandon could follow him into the room. He didn’t fail to note how Henry’s eyes widened slightly at the appearance of these two guests. “Ah, this is Samara Ladson and Brandon Ilieton,” he hastened to add, motioning to his companions.

Henry gave a stiff nod, hands clasped behind his back. “A pleasure, I’m sure,” he said formally, his clipped tone accentuating his politeness. Samara and Brandon returned the nod, still taking in their surroundings. Henry turned to Ian, his expressionless visage demanding an explanation nonetheless.

Ian grimaced, stalling by walking forward and studying the electronic display set out on the table before him. Samara glanced over and frowned, coming to stand beside him.

“This is a landscaping of the Council’s headquarters,” she said in disbelief. Brandon peered at the display over her shoulder and nodded absently.

“Blueprints, actually,” Henry said shortly. The young woman looked up at him.

“How in the world did you get your hands on something like this?” she demanded. Ian cleared his throat warningly.

“We’re not referred to as an underground rebellion for nothing, Samara,” he muttered. She threw him a look.

“Ah, Ian, if I might venture a question…?” Henry interjected. Ian knew what he was going to ask and gave a brief nod. “Who are these two and what are they doing here?” the young man inquired.

“Miss Ladson is a Eliander and Mr. Ilieton is a Oliander,” Ian replied in an off-hand tone of voice. The abrupt bulging of Henry’s eyes would have been slightly amusing in any other situation. “I’ve known Samara for…years, and Brandon is her friend. I thought this would be the best place to hide them.”

“Hide, Ian…?”

“The Council made an assassination attempt on Samara. Brandon helped rescue her before I found them.”

Henry’s eyes took in the two vagabonds with a new light. Recognition dawned and his eyes fixed on Samara. “She’s the one who has been working for the Council all these years, is she not?”

“Yes.” It was Samara who answered. “Of course, considering their attack on my life, and my presence here, I would think it’s safe to say that I am no longer in their employment.” Her raised brows dared Henry to question her further. Ian couldn’t help but smile ruefully at her attitude. She’d always been able to cast that certain air about her whenever it was necessary. Samara could pass for royalty if she wanted; of that he was sure.

She glanced at him, saw his smile, and gave him a strange look. Ian schooled his features to concentration and tried to focus. Man, he was tired…

“I think Samara may be able to help us,” he said to Henry, trying to make a point. Don’t ask any more questions now. I don’t have the answers.

“Of course, of course,” Henry murmured, watching Samara closely as she studied the blueprints of the Council’s headquarters.

“What exactly are you planning on doing with this, Ian?” she asked after a moment. “Mount an assault on the Council?”

Silence.

Ian cleared his throat. “…Actually, yes,” he said, flushing a little. “Something like that.”

Her face remained expressionless. “Ah hah.” She looked at him for a moment and then turned to look at Henry. The other man’s eyes flickered toward Ian nervously. “…Well, you certainly have your work cut out for you, don’t you?” Samara remarked finally, crossing her arms over her chest.

Ian could practically taste the skepticism oozing out of her words. Let’s not have this discussion right now, please… He rubbed his eyes. “Yes, we do, but we’ll work it out,” he said rather shortly.

Samara glanced at him and then back at the blueprints. “Well, I suppose you’ll need all the help you can get,” she murmured. “What memories of mine do you need?”

Henry’s mouth dropped open and he turned toward Ian, his gaze demanding a response to this blatant statement. “Memories? Need?” he hissed in a low voice to Ian. Samara heard and raised a brow in the latter’s direction.

“We’ll discuss it later,” Ian heard himself say. “Right now I’m going to find Samara and Brandon some spare bunks. Excuse us, Henry. Samara…?” He motioned with his head toward the door. Samara and Brandon both nodded to Henry and followed Ian out of the room.

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“Well, that was…interesting,” Samara remarked in a low voice, keeping in step with Ian. Brandon was walking a few steps behind them, caught up in studying his surroundings. “Perhaps we should have waited to come here until somebody knew about us first.”

Ian glanced at her face; it was expressionless. He felt a flash of irritation. “As I recall, none of us were in a particularly coherent mood,” he remarked through his teeth. Samara raised a brow.

“You’re saying that your decision to bring us here wasn’t coherent? Wonderful.”

“Look, I’m sorry that I haven’t thought all of this out down to the last detail. Things have been a little hectic lately…and sometimes…well, they don’t always know where I am, and I can’t always communicate with them…”

“‘Them’ being the leaders of this rebellion,” Samara clarified.

“Yes.”

“So you’re like a loose end, is that it? Just out here and there, doing your own thing?”

“It’s not that simple, and you know it.”
“No, I don’t know it.”

“Let me put it this way; if I didn’t operate like this, I wouldn’t have been able to come and rescue you.” He pressed his lips together, hoping that would sink in.

Samara gave a weary sigh. “Ah hah. Well, I suppose I should be grateful for that at least.” She paused. “If you hadn’t come, I’d be dead, after all…”

Ian stopped walking abruptly and Brandon nearly ran into his back. “What is it?” the younger man asked curiously.

Ian depressed a button on the wall; the door slid back, revealing the room inside. “Todd and I room together in this bunk,” he said shortly. “You can sleep here tonight. We’ll wake you up in the morning in time for the meeting.”

Brandon stepped into the room hesitantly and turned back to Ian. “Meeting? What meeting?”

“Just get some rest, Brandon,” Samara interjected, sensing Ian’s barely concealed emotions. “Everything will be fine.”

He shrugged. “Okay. You should get some rest too, though.”

“I will. Don’t worry.”

He pressed the button on the other side of the wall and the door slid shut, hiding him from sight.

Samara turned to Ian, but he had already opened the door of the next room and stepped inside. “Hold on a second,” she said sternly, stepping into the room; he turned around as the door slid shut behind her. “What was that about? Why don’t you want Brandon with us?”

“I thought he could use some rest,” Ian said through clenched teeth.

“Uh huh. I take it you’re not too fond of him,” Samara guessed, smiling faintly.

Ian rubbed his eyes. “He’s a nice enough kid; he’s just a danger to everyone around him, that’s all.”

Her face hardened. “That’s not fair, Ian. He can’t help being what he is, no more than I can help being what I am. You can’t judge him for it.” She cocked her head, trying to divine the enigmatic expression on his face, and drew in a sharp breath.

“What is it?” he asked, suddenly concerned.

“You…” Her voice faded away. “You’re bleeding.”

His hand crept up past his face and found the wound at his scalp-line. “…Ah…” He shook his head dazedly. “…Wait. That’s not what you were going to say.”

Samara looked away. “It’s not important,” she hedged.

“Samara…”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re afraid I’m going to die, aren’t you?”

He froze. “…How… Why…?”

The laugh she gave was bleak. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten what I am,” she said bitterly. “I don’t even have to feel it from you; it’s practically written all over your face.”

“You’re not going to…to…” But he couldn’t say it.

Samara’s expression softened. She sat down on the edge of the bunk and looked up at him. “Do you remember the night that we kissed for the first time?” she asked softly.

He was surprised; obviously he hadn’t expected her to ever mention their past. “Of course I do.”

“Do you remember what I said to you?”

He gave a sad smile. “You said I was your best friend in the world, and if you were going to fall in love, it might as well be with me. But…” He stopped; pain glowed briefly in his eyes before vanishing.

Samara saw it though, and felt it radiating from him, felt it returned in her own heart. “I’m sorry for the things I said,” she apologized finally, and he knew she wasn’t talking about the night of the kiss.

It was the things she said later, when he finally revealed her secret, that put that pain in his eyes.

“It was my fault as much as it was anyone else’s,” Ian protested. “I should have told you the truth…”

“If I had known, I never would have expected you to put me over the lives of your family,” Samara said harshly. “I was so selfish.”

He sat down in a chair in front of her and reached out, his hand covering hers. “You couldn’t possibly have known that the Council was threatening me,” he said softly. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“You were my best friend,” Samara murmured, staring at the floor. “Why would you have kept something like that from me unless you had good reason?”

“We were younger then than we are now,” Ian reminded her. “We didn’t know any better.”

She sent him an amused glance. “I didn’t think that I would ever hear you defending me for what I did…”

He squeezed her hand. “It’s ten years in the past, Samara. There’s no point in holding a grudge forever, is there?”

“But I have, haven’t I?” she pointed out distractedly. “All this time…” She sighed. “I suppose there’s no point in talking about it anymore. We can’t change the past, as much as we might wish that we could.”

If I could change the past… There are so many things I would do differently, Samara. I never would have abandoned you… Ian shook his head, trying to push the traitorous thoughts from his mind. Now was not the time to drift off to dreamland.

Samara sniffed once and straightened on the edge of the bunk. “What about this machine that you spoke of on the Flyer, the one that can take the memories out of my mind and record them?”

Ian hesitated. “It may come to nothing anyway,” he said slowly. “Henry doesn’t know anything about my plans, as you probably noticed. The Base may seem rather unorganized, but there is a chain of command, and I’m certainly not at the top. I’ll have to get permission from the rebellion’s leaders to embark on such a potentially-…” He paused before continuing. “…Such a venture.”

Samara cocked her head and frowned. “I suppose this poses some danger to me,” she guessed calmly. Ian chewed on his lower lip, scowling darkly at the floor. “Ian?”

“It hasn’t exactly been tested on anyone yet,” he admitted quietly.

“So I’d be the first.”

“You’d be the first.”

“…Like a lab rat, or a guinea pig.”

Ian winced. “Something like that…”

“Ah hah…”

“Look, Samara, I’ll understand if you don’t want to risk this. I mean, who knows what could happen, but-”

“-But you want me to do it anyway, because it will help your cause.”

“No.” His voice was abrupt and sharp. “No, I don’t want you to do it, but when Henry finds out how much it could help us, he will want you to.”

Samara’s eyes narrowed, her attention captured by the first part of what he’d said. “Why don’t you want me to go through with it?”

He laughed bleakly. “You’re the one who said that I don’t want you to die. I don’t want anything to happen to you. Anything.” Realizing what he had said made Ian fall silent. There was really nothing else he could say, anyway.

Samara was silent as well, studying him. The only thing he could do was meet her steady gaze with one of his own and wait. He didn’t know what he was waiting for, but he waited just the same. And called up memories while he sat there, staring at her.

One doesn’t have to be a Rememberer to look back on fond memories of the past, but Ian could see them with crystal clarity: the first time he and Samara met, the classes they shared in their training, the excitement they shared as their potential became unlocked, the friendship that grew over the years spent together… The love that grew from that friendship. Of course, love might have only been infatuation, but who could say? They certainly hadn’t been able to tell at the time. Love was love, with no shades of gray and no doubts to interfere.

If Samara were the one to look back and study those memories, she would be able to tell if it had been real love, or merely infatuation. That was the difference between a simple Rememberer and an Eliander. Ian saw the picture, played back in his head. Samara saw the colors that made the picture, the feelings and emotions that made those memories what they were.

Ian decided idly, as he noted how silky Samara’s hair looked and how her eyes seemed to glitter, that it didn’t matter anymore. Whether they had loved or not was no longer of consequence. There was simply here and now, and wherever they would go in the future.

Still, he couldn’t help feeling a twinge of regret for those memories.

Why did life change? When had it stopped being as simple as it was when he was younger?

Of course, he knew the answer to that question.

The night that he told Samara she was an Eliander, told her that he’d kept the secret from her, the night that she screamed those things at him and ran away… The night his parents died. The last time he saw Samara for ten whole years.

That was when life stopped being simple.

Lord, he was tired.

“Ian?” Samara’s voice intruded on his thoughts, a blessed respite from the depressing gloom. Of course, the present had its own troubles that needed to be dealt with. Happy thought.

He blinked at her. “Hmm?”

She smiled faintly. “Thank you.”

“For what?” His wits were scattered all over the galaxy, it seemed.

“For caring,” Samara said. “Not many people would be so concerned about someone who effectively deserted them for a decade.” Her smile turned self-deprecating; Ian didn’t have to see it in her eyes to know that her regret for the past was as strong as his own.

Ten years is a long time, Samara. But not long enough to change what’s really important. Friendship, for one.

The young woman gave her shirt a tug and stood up. “You look like you’re about to keel over,” she said briskly. “I think there’s a bunk next door with your name on it.” She frowned. “You should take care of that cut first, though.”

“It’s just a scratch,” he protested. The desire for sleep was overwhelming everything else. “…Oh. And I should probably report to-” He yawned. “-To someone. Let them know I’m back. Tell them where I went. That kind of thing.”

Samara crossed her arms over her chest. “Your friend Henry can announce your illustrious, exhausted presence himself, if anyone asks. Now go to bed.”

He gave her a mock salute and pressed the button in the wall, stepping out into the hallway as the door slid open. “Your wish is my will,” he said, attempting some semblance of cheerfulness. Even to his own ears, his voice sounded only bone-tired, plain and simple. Samara smirked.

“Yes, I can see that,” she murmured, leaning in her doorway and watching as Ian entered his own. “Sweet dreams, rebel.”

Ian closed the door behind him and leaned against it wearily. A glance at the room revealed Brandon, sound asleep on one of the spare bunks, and Todd, seated atop another. The latter looked up from trying to remove his boots without tipping over.

“The Flyer might need a few little repairs,” Ian’s pilot said without preface, his voice low to avoid waking their new slumbering roommate. Ian rubbed his eyes, wincing as the action tugged at the skin around his cut, crossing his temple. “Nice little scratch you got there,” Todd added blandly, dumping his boots on the floor. They thudded loudly; he was on the top bunk. Brandon rolled over in his sleep, grunting, and returned to snoring softly.

“The Flyer will have plenty of time to be repaired,” Ian said wearily, climbing onto his own bunk.

Todd raised a brow. “Why, we planning on hanging around here for a long time?” he questioned. At Ian’s shrug, the pilot grimaced. “Darn it. I hate being grounded.”

“Hah hah. Somehow I don’t think that the leaders are going to be too pleased with me when they find out exactly what we ran off to do.” Ian set about unlacing the ties of his own boots. He could understand the difficulty Todd had been having; when all you want to do is sleep, your fingers aren’t exactly adept, shall we say, at performing any sort of task.

His friend shrugged. “Don’t tell them exactly what we ran off to do, then,” Todd said unconcernedly. “What are they going to do about it? Put you to the question?”

“Or they could kick us out,” Ian suggested shortly, directing a glare at the other man. The pilot snorted.

“They can’t do that. We know way too much. What if we took it into our heads to become sadistic, vengeful jerks that went and tattled on them to the Council?”

“Maybe they’ll get him to erase our memories,” Ian said, gesturing at Brandon. Todd grimaced.

“Erasing my memory is understandable, but I don’t want to have those memories replaced,” the other man said seriously. He leaned over the edge of his bunk and stared at the younger man asleep below him. “Do you think it ever scares him, when he thinks about what he can do?”

Ian sighed and stretched out on his mattress, flattening his pillow. He could feel the pent-up tension leaking out of him. Sleep beckoned. “I’m sure it does,” he mumbled, eyes drifting closed. “It scares me…”

Todd glanced up and saw that his captain was asleep. One last look at Brandon and then the pilot followed Ian’s lead and stretched out, yawning. His last idle thought before sleep took him was that he was very grateful not to be Brandon Ilieton or Samara Ladson.

Replacing memories and reading people’s emotions were two odd abilities that had one thing in common.

They both creeped him out.