Page 100 of Delta

He shrugs. "That's about it. We're not just rescuing Bryn, is the point. This is an all-out war. Pugli and Mercado against the Broken Arrows and A1S." A rueful laugh. "It is pretty dramatic, I guess."

We’re quiet for a few minutes, and then he looks at me speculatively. "So, you and my daughter."

I sigh, wincing. "Figured this was comin' at some point. Look, the truth is, I don't know what it is. I know I’ve got real feelings for her, but I also know how things started between us ain't exactly conducive to…well, anything." I rub the back of my neck. "It's all been a bit of a whirlwind, and then she's gone, and I couldn't stop it." I shake my head. "I just don’t know, sir. Wish I did, but I don't. A lot depends on her. On what happens. What she wants. Plus, I've got my girl to think about, and…"

"She's a remarkable child, your Eliza," Harris says. "She never cried. She didn't ask questions, or ask for snacks, nothing. Cool, calm, polite, and sweet."

I sigh. "She's a miracle, alright. But I wish…I dunno how to put it. She had to grow up too fast, Harris. She's like that because she's been sick. Faced death. Surgery. Chemo. Radiation. Watched other sick kids in the beds around her die. Grows you up, I guess. She knows there ain't no cure for what she's got. Meanin’ she knows she's gonna die. What's that do to a young mind? Gettin' kidnapped an' all? Probably not much to be scared of, if you think about what she's already faced. Look your own death square in the eye, and some ugly blokes cartin' you around ain't much to be afraid of, I guess."

Harris doesn't reply beyond a nod. His gaze flicks down to the view of the endless azure ocean scudding beneath us, vacant and thoughtful. "She's immensely proud of her dad," he says, eventually, green gaze finding mine. "You're all she could talk about."

My stupid eyes burn at this. "I don't spend near enough time with her. Fuckin' kills me, having to leave her to go do…" I flip a hand vaguely. "The shit I've had to do since she got sick. My little girl is…an' I should be with her every moment, but I…"Harris leans forward, one strong hand gripping my knee and shaking it. "Things will be different, now, Rush. You have my word on that." I shake my head. "I don't know how to make sense of anything. What I did to Bryn, tricking her and leading her to Pugli, and then choosing her over my daughter? I don't know to…fuck me, mate, I ain't even got the words for it all. And then feeling things for her, when I'm...and my daughter? It's all gone fucked in my head, Harris."

To my surprise, Harris laughs. "Son, what you're going through is called falling in love. You've never had any real exposure to love, have you? Never seen it. Never received it."

All I can do is shake my head.

"No, didn't think so." He pauses, thinking. "You did what you had to do for your daughter. I get it, and while I haven't had an in-depth conversation about it with my daughter yet, I'm gonna guess she does too. But in the end, you knew what you were doing was wrong. Your conscience won. You made an impossible choice." He leans forward again, elbows on knees, fingers steepled in front of his face. "Your subconscious helped you make that choice."

I frown at him. "Not following that bit. My subconscious helped me? How?"

"You knew, somehow, deep down, that by making the right choice for Bryn in that moment, it would work out. You knew your daughter would have told you to make the choice you did."

More burny, salty eyeballs, the traitorous fucks. "She would've done, yeah."

"You acted out of faith that saving Bryn wouldn't doom your daughter. And it didn't."

"Hell of a fucking gamble," I mutter.

"It wasn't a gamble, son."

"Why d'you call me son?" I ask. "Never had no father. Never been a son to no one."

He just shrugs. "Dunno. Maybe I feel a kinship to you. Maybe I see something of myself in you."

I spend the rest of the shockingly short flight working through the chaotic muddle of thoughts and emotions inside me.

Falling in love?

A kinship to Harris.

Everything will be different, now.

Never been a son to no one.

Acted out of faith…

"How d'you know?" I ask Harris, as we slow out of hypersonic in preparation for landing.

He doesn't have to ask what I mean. “Think about your life tomorrow, next month, next year…is she in it? Does the thought of her not being in your life in a day, a week, a year, or a decade make your stomach hurt? Does it make you feel all panicky? If it does, then you love her."

"Then what?"

He grins. "Then what? Son, that's the good stuff. Then what is putting your lives together. Leaving behind who you were and figuring out how to be you and her. How to be the man she sees when she looks at you. Because, Rush, when the women who love us look at us fucked up, fight-or-flight, never-show-weakness warriors, they see the real us. The us we don’t see. They're not seeing potential, they're not seeing who we could be and trying to make us into someone we're not, they're seeing who we really are, who we should be. Our job is to take all that effort we spent defending our hearts and being the being goddamn soldier we could be, and put it into being that man. Her man. The man she sees. Because son, I guaran-fucking-tee you, that man is infinitely better than who we would be otherwise, without her."

The man's a font of wisdom, too?

"Is there anything you're not good at?" I ask, shaking my head.