Jason stood with his feet planted firmly, watching his father's smug expression. The air in the study felt charged, heavy with unspoken accusations and admissions. Richard gestured toward the chair again, but Jason shook his head.
"I'm fine standing."
The power dynamic was clear in their positioning: Richard ensconced behind his desk like a general in a command center, Jason standing like a soldier awaiting orders. Yet something had shifted since their last encounter. Jason's spine was straighter, his gaze steadier.
Richard leaned back, his fingers forming a steeple. The silence stretched between them until Jason broke it.
"I have nothing to hide," Jason said, his voice level despite the thundering in his chest. "This was your plan from the beginning, wasn't it? For me to father children with the women in this bunker?"
"I did," Richard acknowledged with a slight nod. "Though I admit, you've shown remarkable initiative."
He took a deliberate step forward. "But here's what you didn't plan for: what started as your cold calculation has become something real. Something genuine."
Richard's expression remained neutral, but his eyes narrowed slightly.
"Lily, Marissa, Mom—they're not your breeding stock," Jason continued. "They're people with feelings, desires, and choices. And they've chosen connection over isolation. Comfort over despair."
The words came easier now, measured but carrying the weight of conviction. "So yes, we've formed relationships. Yes, they're unconventional. But they're built on consent and care—not your utilitarian breeding program."
Richard's lips twitched upward, and he leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled beneath his chin.
"How did you know?" Jason asked, the question that had been burning in his mind. "Have you been watching us? Monitoring our rooms?"
To his surprise, Richard chuckled—a dry sound, rusty from disuse.
"No need for surveillance, son. I've been married to your mother for years. I recognize the look of satisfaction on her face." Richard said, shaking his head. "It was written all over their faces at breakfast. Elaine's quiet confidence. Lily's easy laughter. Even Marissa—I haven't seen her that relaxed since…ever."
He ran a hand through his graying hair. "Some things don't require technological monitoring."
Jason's shoulders loosened slightly, relief mixing with lingering suspicion.
"So you haven't been spying on us?"
"I've been observing, not spying," Richard corrected. "There's a difference. And what I observed was... happiness. Something this bunker has been sorely lacking."
The atmosphere in the room shifted subtly. Richard wasn't angry—he seemed almost... approving?
Jason straightened, finding new confidence in Richard's unexpected reaction.
"I need to make something clear," he said firmly. "We're not your experiment anymore. What's happening between us—it's real. It's ours. We're figuring this out together, as equals."
He placed his palms on the edge of the desk, leaning forward slightly. "We'll handle this our way. Not as some breeding program, but as people who care about each other."
His gaze didn't waver as he continued. "You can support us or not—that's your choice. But you don't control this. You don't control us."
The declaration hung in the air between them. Jason's heart hammered against his ribs, but his expression remained resolute, prepared for pushback or anger.
Richard studied him for a long moment, his face unreadable. Jason braced himself for conflict, mentally rehearsing counterarguments, ready to defend the fragile happiness they'd built.
"Understood." Richard said simply.
The simple acceptance caught Jason off guard. "That's it? Just 'understood'?"
"What were you expecting? Outrage? Disapproval?" Richard sighed, suddenly looking older.
"I failed them long before any of this started." Richard continued, his voice softening. "Failed as a husband. Failed as a father."
Richard's gaze drifted to the wall behind Jason. "After the accident, I couldn't bear to see the pity in Elaine's eyes. It was easier to withdraw than face her disappointment." His voice softened. "The distance grew until it became permanent. Eventually, I stopped trying to bridge it."
"You could have tried harder," Jason said.
Richard looked at Jason's eyes again, his expression unusually vulnerable. "I considered divorce, you know. Before the Collapse. But Elaine stayed loyal despite my coldness." A humorless laugh escaped him. "Loyalty to a ghost of the man I used to be."
His eyes met Jason's directly. "If you can make her happy now—make any of them happy—I have no objections. God knows I've failed at it."
Jason stared at his father, trying to reconcile this candid admission with the cold, calculating man he'd known.
There's something else you should know," Richard continued, straightening in his chair. "It's not just a compound. It's a nanovirus."
He moved to a screen on the wall, activating it with a touch. Complex molecular structures appeared.
"I smuggled a sample from my lab before the Collapse. It was experimental—government-funded but off the books. We hadn't even started human trials yet."
"Smuggled?" Jason repeated.
Richard nodded and zoomed in on one structure. "The nanobots are programmed to repair genetic damage, yes, but they can do far more. I think these can be used to enhance human capabilities."
His fingers danced across the screen, bringing up new diagrams. "The problem is, I can't replicate it. I've been working on an AI to control the nanobots, to make them self-sustaining, but..."
He trailed off, muttering, "Can't make the same mistakes again."
Jason leaned forward, eyes wide. "What kind of enhancement are we talking about?"
"Enhanced physical abilities. Faster reflexes. Increased strength." Richard's eyes gleamed with something like pride. "Not comic book superpowers, but potentially extraordinary capabilities over time."
Jason's mind reeled. "How powerful are we talking about?"
Richard chuckled. "Don't expect to bend steel bars overnight," Richard said with a wry smile. "But with time and development? The human body has untapped potential we've barely begun to understand."
His expression grew more serious. "Increased cellular regeneration, enhanced immune response, improved neural connectivity—these are just the beginning. Over time, the effects would compound. Each generation would see improvements."
"Jesus," Jason muttered. "And you were just going to inject me with this without telling me?"
"I was going to brief you fully before administration," Richard countered. "I'm not a monster, Jason."
Jason's mind raced, torn between fascination and unease. "And you're sure this is safe?"
"Nothing is without risk," Richard replied, his enthusiasm for the subject evident in his quickened speech. "But the potential benefits far outweigh those risks."
"Why?" Jason asked. "Why pursue this now, when there might be no one left to benefit?"
Richard's eyes gleamed with an intensity that sent a chill down Jason's spine. "Hope, Jason. The one thing we can't afford to lose."
Jason ran a hand through his hair, processing the implications. "So what now?"
"Now?" Richard shrugged. "You continue what you've started. No need to hide it from me anymore." His lips quirked. "Though I'd appreciate if you'd keep your activities out of the common areas. I have no desire to walk in on anything... graphic."
Jason felt heat rise to his face. "We'll be discreet."
"Good." Richard nodded, returning to his desk. "I'll continue my work here. You manage... the rest. We'll check in periodically."
The dynamic between them had shifted—no longer strictly father and son, but something closer to allies with separate domains.
"What about the others?" Jason asked. "Should I tell them about the nanovirus?"
Richard considered this. "They deserve to know. But emphasize that it's not ready. Not yet."
He gestured toward the door, a clear dismissal. "That will be all for now."
Jason hesitated at the door. "Dad?"
Richard looked up.
"Thank you. For understanding."
Richard's expression softened briefly. "Don't repeat my mistakes, Jason," he said quietly. "Don't push away the people who matter."
The door closed behind Jason with a soft click. He stood in the corridor, mind reeling from everything he'd learned.
Richard's confession about his marriage, his surprising acceptance of their relationships, the revelation about the nanovirus—it was almost too much to process.
Richard's muttered words echoed in his mind: "Can't make the same mistakes again." What mistakes? What had happened in those government project?
Relief mingled with new concern as Jason started walking toward Elaine's room, where the others waited. They needed to know everything—both the acceptance of their unconventional family and the unsettling truth about Richard's project.
His steps quickened, purposeful now. Whatever came next, they would face it together.