An intense nausea took over me as I placed the oxygen-nutrient pack on Randolph's shoulders and double-checked the pressurization of his airtight helmet. The thought of sending someone outside to the surface against his will didn't sit well with me. The more I learned about the Resurfaced mission, the more the facts disturbed me. Had Randolph's innards twist in knots when he escorted Dad out to his death?

Standing before the airlock door with Em, Dr. Smith, and Dr. Price Cutler didn't make my queasiness go away as I had hoped, instead it forced me to bear it and put on a nonchalant demeanor. Vince and Tamara couldn't feign it and refused to try, so they decided to listen to the send off from Control through the microphones embedded in the helmets.

It was sickening how audio was taken of Dad and his partner, Patrick, as they explored the harsh surface until their suits malfunctioned. When discovering that truth, it provided me the motivation to escort Randolph, ensuring that my face be the last he saw from the facility.

We were more considerate of human life than Randolph and his allies ever were, because we made sure their suits were properly assembled and they had adequate water, nutrients, oxygen, and supplies. This was no death sentence. This was not banishment. This was a chance for them to finally make something good and worthwhile out of their cruelty. If it resulted in death, so be it. That was a risk worth taking in the pursuit of redemption.

Randolph tucked an embroidered patch into the front pocket of his suit with his gloved hands. The memento read: Cadet Vincent Moore. Although he didn't want to leave the safety and comfort of the facility, he didn't protest. Without a word, he stepped over the threshold with his four men and down the darkened corridor toward the lift.

The heavy door creaked on it hinges as my weight pushed against it, hoping to close it faster than the automatic mechanism allowed. Finally, it closed, snug within its space, and locked.

The contents that churned within my gut spewed out of my mouth with violent force. Sweat tickled my brow, and the need to get as far away from the door as possible hit me.

~~~

My eyes snapped open to the chime of the clock on the wall beside the bed. For a second I feared seeing red and hearing the panicked cries from the residents, but only the gentle caresses from warm and delicate hands greeted me. I waved a hand over the clock and the chiming stopped. I turned in bed to face Vince and a warmth flooded my heart, replacing the anxiety my recurring nightmares and memories brought me.

Even a month after exposing Randolph and his deeds, Vince and I found it difficult to smile freely in public, to indulge selfishly in private, or to escape the pain in the orgasmic fashion we longed for.

Nothing upped the morale in the facility since sending Randolph and his right-hand men to the surface. I had to remind myself it wasn't a death sentence, although we all were well aware it could result in one. The terms were simple: they could return if they found something viable for the facility or mankind. It wasn't an easy task, but they had to earn reentry, and we decided what constituted viable.

Voting was a new method of decision-making in the facility, and every adult had a say when it came to big decisions. So far, since Dr. Smith, Dr. Price Cutler, Vince, Tamara, Em, and I were most familiar with the inner workings of the upper and lower hemis, their control rooms, and leading a large group fairly, people had appointed us the decision makers of the facility. When the first official election came around, any one of us could most likely be the new leader.

Was that a lucky or unlucky position? The answer depended on who you asked, but no doubt we all tried to do our very best and would most likely continue to serve as each other's most trusted aides.

Success wasn't about who led, after all. It was how to lead responsibly, and sometimes that required more than one mind to accomplish. Having more than one decision maker was important to the success of the facility. To discuss ideas from different perspectives and brainstorm with each other was the true benefit of strength in numbers.

A group of leaders also provided a fail-safe in case someone went mad, like many thought Randolph had.

I stared into the most striking, bright, honey-golden eyes, and Vince reached out to trace my lips with the pad of his thumb. The sensation of his soft caress against my lips sent a pleasurable shudder down my spine. I enjoyed his fascination with my lips, and expected his touch to lead to a kiss every time. I assumed he expected much more. I smiled and spoke against his finger. "How do you feel?"

He flashed a grin, gaze glued to my mouth. "I'm great, thinking about how handsome you are, asshole."

"Well, you're not so bad yourself, dick." I urged the tip of his thumb between my lips. When he moaned, I nipped the flesh and he pulled away. We chuckled in unison, and I couldn't take my eyes off of the tiny laugh lines at the corners of his mouth.

His eyes narrowed with interest. "How about you?"

"I keep reliving everything." I sighed. "I've realized I've been living in a bubble, literally and figuratively. I just wish some things were back to the way they were before my bubble burst. Like the smiles. I miss everyone's smiles." An understanding merged between us. I sensed it in the way he stared. "Remember back a few weeks, when we were about to confront Randolph and the others, and you wanted to say your last goodbye?"

He traced my jawbone with his fingertips. "I remember."

"What did you need to tell me?" I watched as he licked his lips.

"That no matter what, you'll always be a part of me. You've always been. Even if it was a part I tried to lock away or hide, it was there. I wanted you to know how much I appreciate that part of me, because I wouldn't be whole without it."

I slid my hand along the nape of his neck and pulled him close. Our lips caressed and fired heated sensations throughout my body. His tongue flicked from his parted lips, and mine separated to allow our slick muscles to meet and tangle in a kiss.

He pulled me snug against him and his hands traveled my lower back just above the band of my boxer-briefs, sending electric tingles to my groin. He flipped us on the mattress so I hovered over him, tasting, licking, and drinking him in.

I knew one day soon we'd go that extra step and give one another what we've been needing for years, but taking it slow and easy was more suitable for a new relationship like ours, especially when there was so much to get used to. Of course, old laws needed to be erased and new laws written, but with all good things, it required time and finesse. And with more pressing matters at the forefront of everyone's minds, no one had the time nor the patience to worry about trivial things like who was having sex with whom.

Besides, Vince and I were in no rush.

I relaxed into him, nuzzling his neck and breathing in his scent. The smell of sweet raw almonds overpowered my senses until the thickness that pressed into my belly through his pajama bottoms triggered another distinct emotion. Instinctively, I moved my hips against his and he mimicked me, closing his eyes and sighing with pleasure as we got into the perfect rhythm.

No rush, huh?

His fingers sunk into the hairs at the base of my neck, pulling my head back to break the kiss. "What happened to taking it slow?"

I nipped the flesh at the slope of his neck. "What's the harm in making each other feel good in the process?"

"No harm." His fingers traced the length of my spine. "No harm at all."

An urgent knock at the door pulled us from our bliss. Reluctantly, I rolled to the side and allowed him to answer it. Shirtless and with his regained attractive swagger, thanks to his healing leg wound, he strolled to the door and positioned himself behind it before opening it. Tamara stood on the other side with unease written on her face.

"What's the matter?" Vince asked. "Is it Baby Malcom?"

"No, no." She waved a dismissive hand. "Baby Malcom's fine. Natasha and her nieces are fine too. Everybody's fine."

I went to the door. "So what is it then?"

"It's Randolph." She looked back and forth between me and Vince.

Vince gulped loud enough to hear. "He's not-?"

"Don't worry. He's alive." She went on, "But we need you both in Control."

Quickly, we dressed and followed Tamara down the hall to the lift, passing familiar faces who showed their gratitude with a nod, a wave, or a smile. Once inside the lift, I glanced to Vince, who nervously tapped his fingers against his thighs.

The lift stopped and the door opened to Five. Quickly, we made our way down the hall to the control room, our shoes squeaking against the white linoleum tiles as we hustled. A finger against the fingerprint lock and the door opened.

"There you are." Em waved us in. "We seem to have a slight issue."

I looked around the room at Dr. Smith, who gave a nod, and at Dr. Price Cutler, who was fixated on the bright panel. Em put in a few commands and audio played through the room's speakers.

"You may not respond, but I know you can hear me." Although Randolph's voice was exhausted and labored, it came through clearly. "You may not allow us back inside for finding those brass bells, but we indeed found something much more impressive than any token of love."

I blinked away the stray tears that welled up in my eyes at the mention of the bells. I swallowed my emotion and glanced to Vince for strength.

He wrapped an arm around my shoulder and pressed his lips to my ear. "You got this."

Could he intuitively sense my distress? Did the same emptiness pit his gut?

"Listen," Randolph went on. "Within this venomous atmosphere, we've managed to locate a plant. Yes, this is true. A green, viable, living plant. This is precisely the discovery we need in order to invent a cure for the toxins."

The excitement in his tone shocked my heart. "Is it true?" I looked to Em and the others. "Is he telling the truth?"

Dr. Price Cutler raised a finger to demand our attention. "Possibly. He and the others have been on the surface, scouring the wasteland for about a week now. They're bound to find something useful."

"He's either lying or exaggerating." Dr. Smith stood. "This isn't the first time a person's desperation got the best of them. The last time it took just a few hours." He frowned when his sights set on me.

"There's only one way to know the truth." Em turned to us. "We have to decide if we should allow them back in the facility or not. After all, the conditions were they had to stay out there unless they found something viable that could help the advancement of our future. And miraculously that's what they claimed to have found."

Tamara scoffed. "And we know exactly how you feel about miracles, Em."

"Dr. Smith is right," she went on. "Finding a living plant on the surface after all these years isn't as easy as finding brass bells in the pocket of an old Refuge Inc. suit a hundred feet from outside the hatch. This discovery is more like finding the Holy Grail at the ass of a triple rainbow. Not likely."

I shook my head to erase memories of the brass bells from my mind and all the emotions attached to it. "We can argue about this day and night if that's what it takes, but we're still going to have to come to an agreement on what to do."

Vince squeezed my shoulder. "I'm guessing this is what my dad meant by making tough decisions as a leader, huh?"

Tamara looked to me. "I hope we make the right decision."

So did I.

THE END

~~~

Thank you for following Connor and Vince on their journey.

If you're interested in Resurfaced, which details the event that forever changed Connor's outlook in the Refuge ... his father's brutal mission to hunt for plant life on the surface, then continue on for the full story!