fanfic_name = Every Silver Lining

chapter = 3

author = Kitsune-Baka

Rating = AP

Type = Angst

fanfic = Robotech belongs to Harmony Gold, I'm only playing with it for fun. Please don't sue me!

Chapter Three--Family Dinner

By the time they managed to subdue the last of the power-armored Zentraedi and turn her over to the local authorities, the sun was barely peeking above the horizon. The adrenaline that had kept Rick's headache at bay during the fight had long since worn off, and he was bone-tired and butt-sore.

But just because the fight was over, didn't mean his day was. For one thing, he still had to manage to fly his fighter back to Monument. For another--there was that talk he had to have with Mackey.

Reluctantly, he touched the screen. "Hunter to Mackey."

"Wow, boss-man, that was fun."

"Not much fun for the people on the ground, I'm afraid," he said. "You're lucky you didn't get someone killed."

"What do you mean, killed?"

"When you made your first attack, you almost drove that battlepod into the city." Fear lent an edge to Rick's voice; getting innocents caught up in a battle was every pilot's, every soldier's, nightmare. "The manufacturing zone backs up against a residential neighborhood."

"Oh, sorry about that, boss-man."

"Just be glad that someone isn't saying 'sorry' on your behalf to a mother who's lost a child."

"Hey, look, nothing happened. I wish you'd just let it drop."

"I'm your C.O.," Rick said. Lisa would definitely laugh her butt off if she were listening in. "Your actions are my responsibility. Not only did you carelessly endanger civilians, but you didn't respond to my calls."

"I'm sorry, Captain. I guess I just--I've never flown combat before. The simulations don't begin to show it. I didn't even hear you in all the chaos."

It was just plausible, Rick had to admit. But? "No matter what happens, Mackey, you need to keep your ears on. You're not alone out here; you could fly into friendly fire, keep someone from their target--or send the enemy into a civilian area."

Now, at least, Mackey looked contrite. "I'll work on it. I'll do better next time."

"See that you do," Rick said. "If you can't, you have no business flying combat missions."

Mackey saluted, and cut the channel, leaving Rick alone with his thoughts. He couldn't help feeling he'd mishandled that one.

When he saw Lisa, he'd bring it up to her--not the specifics, just enough to get her opinion on how best to handle the situation.

But before he did so, he'd take her to dinner. There was something else he wanted to ask her first.

* * *

Lisa blinked and looked around, wondering for a moment why she'd decided to sleep on the couch. And then she remembered. "Father!"

She went to the bedroom--and hesitated for a moment, hand on the knob, afraid that it had all been a dream, that she would find her bedroom empty.

She took a deep breath, and pushed the bedroom door open.

It hadn't been a dream--her father was still sprawled on the bed, open-mouthed, sleeping the sleep of the exhausted. He'd kicked the blankets off, and even through the shirt he wore Lisa could count his ribs. She pulled the covers back up over him, and went downstairs. She still had the patrol schedules to shuffle.

And she wanted to call Rick--to tell him the good news.

"While I'm at it, I'd better tell him to be on his best behavior," she murmured. "Ha--like that would do any good anyway."

She called the command center. "Tell me, has Captain Hunter returned from patrol?"

"I'm sorry, Ma'am. He's just finished conducting mop-up operations in the New Detroit area. Shall I give him a message?"

"That's all right," Lisa said. This wasn't exactly something she could leave in a message--Rick would think she was losing her mind. "I'll try again later."

For now, she had work to do--and of course, the dishes that she'd neglected earlier. It didn't take long to do the dishes and tidy up her quarters; the habits of a lifetime insured that.

She bent down by her father's backpack, and opened it. There wasn't much in the main compartment; a parka, a tarp, some candles and a box of matches. One of the side pockets held a battered cold-climate survival manual, a bible, a journal, and an envelope of photos; in the other was a small portable radio, tuned to the Civil Defense frequency. A couple of empty canteens were tucked into the bottom compartment, and there was a sleeping bag strapped beneath the pack.

No food anywhere.

She knelt there for a long moment, staring into the empty backpack, remembering her father's gaunt face. How long, she wondered, had it _really_ been since he'd had anything to eat?

She re-packed the backpack and put it in the closet, along with his well-worn hiking boots. Then she went to the bathroom for the rest of his clothes--jeans, a turtleneck, a sweater, and a heavy denim jacket. She doubted that she could get the grime and the smell out, but she wrapped them securely in a plastic bag before putting them in with the rest of the laundry. On his belt were a hatchet and two knives--a Swiss Army knife and a survival knife. She put them into the closet with the rest of his things, before going to look in on him once more.

He lay still, unmoving except for the steady rise-and-fall of his chest.

She left the door open, so that she could hear if he needed her, and went down to her paperwork. Once she'd actually gotten started on the patrol schedules, they didn't take too long. She looked in on her father once more, then settled down to read.

When she looked up again, it was 2100 hours; she'd have to leave in a couple of hours. But first she needed to figure out what was for dinner. The refrigerator yielded nothing of interest, so she settled for ordering pizza. A large--that way her father could eat his fill, and she'd still have enough for a snack after she got off-shift in the morning.

* * *

Finally. Home.

Rick's VT touched down with a screech of tires on asphalt, and he taxied it to the hangar. He was only too happy to turn it over to the ground crew, while he went to file his report.

When he came out, he found Max waiting for him. "So, Commander, did you do it?"

"Do what? Oh, you mean Lisa." He touched the velvet box again, through the fabric of his uniform jacket.

"I take it that's a no," Max said.

"Every time I plan to ask her--well, it never seems like the right time."

"Didn't you take her to that new French place, just last week?"

"Yeah, but before I got a chance, the Malcontents attacked Granite City, and we got called back to the base."

"Oh."

"And before that, I took her on a picnic--but we were invaded by ants. It doesn't get much less romantic than that."

"Well, third time's the charm," said Max--always the optimist.

"Yeah. Right."

"She's not scheduled to be on duty for another hour and a half. If you hurry, you can catch her."

"You mean _now_?"

"No time like the present."

"But I wanted it to be romantic. Perfect."

"It doesn't get much less perfect than a murder attempt, but Miriya and I have done just fine."

"I know, Max." He sighed. "And you're right. I should go."

"Now?"

"You said it--no time like the present."

"Great! And--good luck, Boss!"

"Thanks!"

He could have called a cab, but by the time it got there, he could be halfway to Lisa's. He grabbed his bike and started pedaling, heading for her place. It didn't take long to get there; the officers' quarters were conveniently located near the command center.

He had a key--he could have just walked in--but a marriage proposal seemed to call for a certain amount of formality. He straightened his uniform, raked his hands through his hair, and knocked on the door. Lisa answered a moment later, with her wallet in her hand.

He blinked at her, puzzled, for a moment. "Were you expecting someone else?"

"I ordered pizza. I thought this was a bit early, but--" A grin broke over her face. "Come in! I've got some wonderful news!" she said--just as he said, "I wanted to ask you something."

She blushed, he stammered, and they both said "You first," at the same time.

"I mean it," Rick said, suddenly nervous. "You first."

"No, you go first." But she still had that smile.

"Really," he said, "You go first."

Which was when he saw, over Lisa's shoulder, a man walk out of the bedroom. He looked like a scarecrow, all lines and angles, wearing a pair of sweatpants that didn't quite come down to his ankles, and one of Lisa's sleep shirts. The pink one.

The gaunt man rubbed his eyes. "Am I interrupting something?"

"Um..." For all the oddity of the man's appearance, there was something familiar about him. Rick frowned, trying to remember, couldn't place where he knew the man from.

Lisa glanced over her shoulder, her grin getting wider. "Rick--that's what I wanted to tell you, my father, he's alive!"

Rick just stood, blinking stupidly, for a moment. But then reflex took over; he snapped to attention, hand coming up to salute. "Admiral."

Admiral Hayes returned the salute, and then extended his hand, smiling. "So, you're the one who's been looking after my little girl all these years."

Rick took his hand. "Sir, it's been my privilege."

* * *

Lisa let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. She'd been half-expecting Rick to make some sort of wiseass comment or, more likely, fumble for something that sounded vaguely like English. Probably the latter, coming into the situation unprepared. Instead, speaking from his heart, he'd given the best possible answer. Rick and her father were smiling at each other. Though they had fallen into an awkward silence; they both looked a little relieved when someone knocked at the door.

"Must be the pizza," Rick said. "I'll get it."

Lisa looked at her father. He nodded approvingly, but before he could say anything, Rick turned back toward them, pizza box in hand.

"Smells good," her father said. "Though to be honest, anything would be better than ration bars."

Lisa remembered the empty backpack, and winced. But she said nothing; the last thing her father would want was Rick's pity. Or hers. He'd always done his best to be strong for her.

Rick set the pizza down on the living room table, and they sat down to eat. This suited Lisa just fine; as long as Rick's mouth was full of pizza, he wouldn't have room for his foot.

* * *

While they ate, Rick studied the Admiral warily. He should have been ridiculous, dressed in a woman's pink sleep shirt, gaunt to the point of emaciation. But he still had a dignity to him; even now. Most people, and Rick included himself in that number, would probably have inhaled the pizza. Instead, he was doing his best to engage in small talk.

He shouldn't be here, Rick chided himself. Lisa and her father had a lot of
catching up to do--and not only about what had happened during the past few years. Lisa had told Rick, one day not long after Dolza's attack, about the last face-to-face conversation she'd had with her father. How he'd threatened to throw her into the brig if she'd tried to return to the SDF-1. She'd had tears of her eyes when he told her about her biggest regret--that she'd never gotten the chance to tell him that she understood.

Now that she had that chance, he wasn't about to keep her from it. He chewed and swallowed his last bite of pizza. "I should be heading home. Early patrol tomorrow--you know how it is.

"So soon?" Lisa asked.

"Yeah. Um." He glanced from Lisa to her father, and back. "I'm sure you two have talking to do. But, um, the base exchange should still be open. I mean, if you need me to pick up anything for you, sir. Like maybe a shirt without kittens on it?" he suggested helpfully--and winced as he heard the words that were coming out of his mouth.

"Rick--" Lisa's voice had that warning tone again.

Hayes studied him for a moment, then turned to look at Lisa. "Basic observational skills. Always a good sign."

Rick felt his face get hot. But then he realized that the corner of the Admiral's mouth was twitching, and he suddenly knew where Lisa got her dry sense of humor.

Lisa realized she was being teased, and let out a giggle. But Hayes turned his attention back to Rick. "I appreciate the offer, but I don't want to put you out of your way."

Rick nodded, secretly relieved. "All right, then, I'll head out." He wanted to kiss Lisa, but not in front of her father. "Uh--bye."

He'd just opened the door, when Lisa spoke. "Wait--Rick--what did you want to ask me?"

His hand went to the little velvet box--but that would have to wait. And not just for tomorrow; Admiral Hayes added another layer of complication. "It'll keep." Before he could dig himself deeper, he sketched a wave, and made his escape into the cool night air.

* * *

Lisa stared at the closed door for a moment, but then her father cleared his throat, pulling her back to reality.

"I apologize," she said. "For Rick, I mean. He's not usually?"

"That nervous?" her father suggested, with barely a hint of a smile.

"No," she said. "I wish I'd had a chance to warn him."

"So he'd have a chance to work up a good case of nerves?"

"Hmm--I never thought of it like that."

"He did better than I did," her father said. "At least he managed not to spill anything."

"Oh?" she asked. "This I have to hear." Which was when she caught a look at the clock. "But not now. Excuse me." She went to her room and snatched a fresh uniform from the closet, realizing that she'd never managed to get a shower. She pulled her shoes on and finger-combed her hair, then grabbed a light coat for the walk.

"I'm sorry, Father," she said, as she came back into the living room. "I hate to run out on you. It's just--"

"You have to go on duty," he said, pushing himself to his feet. Lisa saw him wince as he got his right knee under him.

"Sit back down," she ordered. "I've still got time to get you a book or something."

"It's all right," he reassured her. "Once I'm on my feet it's not so bad."

"Define 'not so bad'."

"More than well enough to cross the room on my own power." He smiled at her. "Now go. Don't worry about me."

"I do, though," she said; she hadn't planned it, it just slipped out. "I should be here--what if you need something?"

He opened his mouth as if to say something, but then changed his mind. Instead, he limped across the room and opened the door. "No excuses," he said. "Get to work."

She came to attention and snapped him an exacting salute. "Yes, sir, Admiral."

For just a moment, his eyes darkened in pain, but then he smiled. "That's my girl."

"Call me at the command center if you need me for anything," she said, suddenly awkward. "Anything at all. The number's by the phone."

"I'll be fine," her father said. "Go."

* * *

Rick had fully intended to head home, but instead, he found himself heading for Max and Miriya's. When he realized where he was, though, he hesitated. It was after 2300 hours--almost midnight. Too late to be bothering even his best friend.

Except the light was still on, and he could see a silhouette moving around. Dana must be keeping them up again.

He knocked tentatively on the door. If no one answered, he'd just go. He turned to leave--but before he'd gotten halfway down the path, he heard the door open.

"Rick?" Miriya called after him. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have bothered you."

"Is something wrong?"

"I--I--just--" He looked at her helplessly.

"Come in," she said. "Maximilian is trying to get Dana to sleep, but perhaps I will have better luck."

"Thanks," he said.

She disappeared into the back room, and a moment later, Max emerged. He was in his pajamas, his blue hair messed. "Rick--I thought you'd be with Lisa." He looked worried--a rare change from Max's usual optimism. "She didn't turn you down, did she?"

"I didn't even get the chance to ask her."

"What happened to 'no time like the present'?"

"Her father happened."

"I'm not following you."

"Lisa's father is alive."

"How? I thought he died in Dolza's attack."

"I don't know." Rick frowned. "But I can only guess what kind of hell he's been through. He looks like he's walked all the way from Alaska."

"Oh, man." Max ran his hands through his hair.

"So I can't propose to her right now. She's got more important things to think about. Maybe in a few months, once everything's settled out. Assuming the Admiral doesn't veto the whole thing."

"Come on, you don't really think Lisa would let that happen?"

"I guess--I really feel like an imposter. Like she deserves better, and I've just been fooling her, fooling both of us, but her dad can see right through me."

"Why, what did he say?"

"Nothing." Rick slouched on the sofa. "In fact, he seemed kind of, well?nice. No, that's not the word. But?he's not what I expected." When Lisa had talked about her father, she'd described a harsh, remote man; protective, but autocratic and unbending. And she'd certainly never mentioned anything about a sense of humor.

But he supposed that a couple of years alone in the wilderness was enough to change anyone.

Or maybe Lisa's perceptions of her father had been--not wrong, exactly, but colored by their history, the problems they'd had.

In any case?

"They need time, Max. Time to repair their relationship. I want to be there for Lisa, I want to help her with whatever she needs, support her any way I can. But I think the best way I can do that is to not push it." He pulled out the box that held the engagement ring, and studied it for a long moment. "This will still be here when I need it."

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