Lance struggled and suffered for his sanity over the next week. He knew that everything he did now was an exercise in futility without House Davion funding his mother's treatment.

'How is that even legal?' He had to try to conceal his fear, his anger, his sorrow. Lest he leave himself vulnerable. Though on the job, he did little work. He instead seethed in anger over his dilemma. Every possible solution he saw led to a dead end, or worse. He leaned against the catwalk where he usually worked.

'I could steal the money? No. That's dishonest, and illegal. I'm no good to mother dead, or in prison. I need to be good about getting the money. New job? Nothing here pays good enough. Besides, no one else needs a muscle-head like me. I swing a hammer, and work a drill, nothing more. Loans? No. That's just more debt.'

Lance thoughts only grew darker from there. 'Let her die? She'd go peacefully, just stop the machine, and she stops breathing. No. Too slow, too painful. I kill her myself? That'd be fast, almost painless. No. That's murder, which is illegal. I'm no good to her in prison. The guilt I'd carry around with me would kill me. Besides, I love her. Even if I decided here and now that's what I'd do, I couldn't pull the trigger. Wait... Kill me... That's an interesting idea. No more fear, pain, sadness, anger. I have nowhere to go. No one can help me. I don't have the money. If I got the money, I'd just exchange one debt for another. I'm just a burden. A reminder that help is forever out of reach. I can't help mom. Would my death help her? Am I useless to her dead? I remember something about a sort of life insurance that came with the job. If I die on the job, mom gets money. Money for treatment. If I die, George will know. He knows mom is sick. He could help her after I'm gone.'

Lance thoughts trailed, briefly. 'Dad died. Did he die on purpose? We got money from his death. Davion helped us for a short while. Perhaps there was method behind what dad did. I've been mad at dad recently. Perhaps that was unjustified? Now I see, death is a tool. It can be used to help family, friends. I've nowhere to go now anyways. No one to help me, nothing to do, no way I can help. I have no money to help with, and no way to get money. The Hunchback's probably never getting fixed. Why is money so damn important? All it does is make moments like this. It makes problems. If I die, it would help her. At least, for a little while. It makes way for someone better to help her.'

Lance turned around, and looked down at the concrete below. 'Easily a two-story fall. If I landed right, it'd be quick, painless, clean. Just snap my neck, and it'll all end. My mother would get the money for her treatment. George would step in to help her.'

He kicked his legs up, and over the railing, and sat on the edge. He was fully prepared to just fall and die. All in the hopes of helping his mother. 'I can't help her alive. They can help her after I die.' 

Michael ascended the elevator to the catwalk. He saw Lance sitting on the railing, looking down at the concrete. There was no life or feeling behind Lance's eyes. No tears, just silent contemplation, and a dark sort of determination. He knew instantly, something was very, very wrong. He dropped his equipment and bolted to Lance.

"Get the hell off of there!" he barked, verging on screamed. Lance gave no response.

'I just have to land right.' he thought.

"LANCE!!!" He called again but was only just out of reach. Lance looked at Michael, looked at the ground, and pushed himself off the railing.

'What the hell am I doing?' Lance's thoughts took a very different turn now. 'I'm no good to anyone dead! Oh, shit! What am I doing? I don't want to die now!'

Michael jumped towards him. He braced his legs against the railing, and reached out with all his arm's and torso's length to grab Lance. He snagged Lance's wrist, and gripped it tightly with both hands. Lance grabbed back. Gravity jerked Michael's abdomen against the railing as both his and Lance's weight pulled down against him. Michael wrapped his legs around the lower portion of the railing, bracing it against the inside of his knees.

Michael cried out and swore at Lance once more. Adrenaline took over, allowing Michael to hoist Lance back onto the catwalk. "Why would you jump like that?"

A long pause filled the entire courtyard. "I thought I couldn't help mom anymore." Lance's voice shook as much as his body. Tears fell down his cheek. Michael pulled Lance close, tight, and embraced him.

"Why didn't you ask for help?" Michael's voice shook with Lance's. 

"I can't owe anyone anything. I'd just exchange one debt for another."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Lance had to explain just how sick his mother was, and that the House had recently cut funding for his mother's treatment. He explained that he now was paying for her treatment out of pocket. More specifically, that he couldn't. He said he felt useless, that he was only delaying the inevitable. He said how he'd remembered that part of his employment contract included a sort of on-the-job life insurance, saying that if he died on the job, all his dependents -in this case, his mother- would receive a great deal of compensation. Enough for her to pay for her treatment.

"I understand," said Michael. "But you're a fucking idiot. George and I both have said, many times, that we're here to help you! If you had asked, and then we took advantage of you that'd be one thing. But you didn't even ask! We're here for you, asshole, so give us a God damn chance!"

A chuckle escaped Lance's lips. "I'm sorry. I should have trusted you guys sooner. But that doesn't change the fact that I still can't help mom. And there's no way you guys can afford to do so."

"We'll figure something out." continued Michael. "Also, are we going to ignore the fact that you just tried to kill yourself? What the hell? I know you've already explained the why, but from you? It makes no sense."

"It doesn't make much sense to me either. I was in a tight spot, and that was the only way I saw to get out."

"Glad you waited long enough for me to pull your ass out."

"You stopped me from jumping. I'm thankful for that much, but I'm still in a tight spot."

"Well, we know the bulk of your problem is that you have no money. There's got to be a way to get you in a better spot." Michael looked around, semi aimlessly at the courtyard. Eventually, his gaze landed on the 'Mech Lance was supposed to be working on. a Black Knight, BL-6-KNT. It bore no official house colors, Davion or otherwise. It was black, with green edges, and blue accents. On its right shoulder was the emblem for a mercenary company. It was a red shield with crossed swords and the skull-like head of an Atlas 'Mech. Michael had an idea.

He pushed himself away so he could meet Lance's eyes. "You could work for some mercenaries!" he said, excitement in his voice. Lance looked confused. He knew no one else he knew would approve of this. 

"How do you suppose I do that? Especially with George's relation to my father, a MechWarrior, knighted under House Davion. Let alone, my own mother, who was married to the guy!"

"I get it, Lance, I really do. Under the vast majority of other circumstances, I'd even agree with them, but you would be a special case. Sometimes, you need to sacrifice ideals for pragmatism. My excitement comes from the fact that we see new mercs. all the time! There's no way you don't find work among that ring. Especially good work, seeing as how the guys we see around here have BattleMechs. Big ones."

"Yeah, right." Lance was skeptical about such an idea. "Like a band of mercenaries would want an unexperienced MechTech like myself."

"If you market yourself like that, then yeah. But, you have something other MechTechs don't."

"What would that be?"

"You have a BattleMech of your own. It just needs a little spit, dirt, and some duct tape."

Lance paused, unsure to what Michael was referring to.

'Where would I get my own BattleMech' he thought.

He finally remembered the Hunchback he'd left in the woods two years prior. He hadn't even seen it since the storm.

"How do you know that it's even still there?"

"I visit the site all the time. I haven't touched it since the storm, but it's there."

"I still don't have the time to fix it, let alone get all that rubble off of it. You forget, I still have to take care of mom."

"That's where me and George come in, Lance. We can pitch in, help take care of her while we work on the 'Mech. And, after hearing your overall situation, I'm sure George would be willing to help."

There was a long pause as Lance considered his options, or lack thereof. He still felt he'd just exchange one debt for another. He didn't want that. However, this would get him into a position to repay that debt much easier than his current.

"Alright, let's do it."

At the end of the day, Lance and Michael both approached George with their proposition.

"Hey, George," said Lance. "I'm in a bit of a bind."

George turned his attention towards lance.

'Is he finally reaching out? Is he finally giving me the opportunity to help?'

"What's your problem, son?" George asked. His voice was gentler than usual. Lance knew it to be sincere, and needed such. He explained his current situation. His mother's worsening condition, his lack of support from House Davion, and his feeling of helplessness, and uselessness. He concealed his attempted suicide for now, but made it known he was out of options.

"I've come to the conclusion that I have to become a mercenary. It's the most lucrative job that uses my skillset."

"Absolutely not!" barked George "No son of James Trephore will ever be a mercenary. There's no allegiance, no honor, no life-long bonds in that line of work. All you're there for is the money. It's greedy, bloody work, Edmund."

"Well," answered Lance. "Money is kind of my main issue here, sir. I'd need a minimum of five times what I make now just to survive. Full time under a mercenary company, I'd make almost six times my current pay. That's enough to help with mom's treatment, pay her bills, and leaves me some wiggle room for other things." His tone wasn't aggressive, or argumentative, but matter of fact.

George pinched the bridge of his nose.

'God dammit, he's right.' he thought. 'I don't like it, and Miranda's going to hate it, but I think it is his only option.' 

"Alright, fine. If it's your only option. However, I see one more problem. You're an inexperienced MechTech at best. Sure, you know how to maintain and make basic repairs, but mercenary life is anything but basic. No mercenary in their right mind would hire you as you are."

Lance smirked. "I have something other upcoming MechTechs don't."

"And what may that be?" George had his doubts.

Michael couldn't contain himself any longer. 'We have a BattleMech!" excitement filled his voice.

"Where the hell did you find a BattleMech?" George was in disbelief.

"Remember two years ago when you found me in the woods?" Lance spared no time in saying thus.

"I remember it well, boy. Probably the second stupidest thing you've done, behind not telling me all this sooner."

"Well," said Lance. "I found a 'Mech in the woods the night before you found me. A Hunchback, 4G to be specific. There's no shortage of spare parts for those things."

"Depends on the sort of damage it's sustained." said George.

"Its center torso is intact, as well as its legs. It's only missing its right torso and arm. We just need to replace its head, and it'll walk."

"You'll need it to do more than walk to persuade a mercenary. You need to show that you know your way around a 'Mech."

"Under normal circumstances, yes." said Michael. "However, it's not like we're selling a damaged 'Mech. The 'Mech comes with a couple 'MechTechs, whom they'll be paying the standard wage. If nothing else, the Hunchback will be an appealing financial asset."

"Wait," George and Lance said in unison.

"What makes you think you're coming with me?" asked Lance.

"I'm with Edmund here, Michael." said George. "He needs to go somewhere else. You do not. In fact, I'd say you're much needed here."

"I disagree." said Michael. "Look, there's something I know about Lance that you don't. Assuming you let me go with him, you don't need to. Let's just say he's going to need someone he knows and trusts in the new workplace. And I think that someone needs to be me."

"Tell you what, Mikey," said George. "You sort it out among your family, and you can go with Lance. But I won't let you up and leave your family without warning."

"That's fine." said Michael. "I doubt I'll have any trouble convincing my folks to let me go."

"But there's one more question, Edmund." said George.

"What's that?"

"With you away, who'll take care your mother?"

"I was hoping you and Lillia could take care of her."

George thought for a minute. "Yeah, we can probably make that happen. Very well. Once you two get your folks on board, we'll move forward with repairs."

Lance returned home that afternoon and found his mother resting peacefully in her room, just where she was when he left. She was sound asleep, and though her breath was shallow, it was stable.

"Hey, mom," Lance said quietly. "I finally asked for some help." He grabbed his mother's hand, and took a ragged breath. "George and Mikey are helping us out."

Lance mother awoke, and smiled at the sight of her son. "Oh, Edmund, you're home." Behind her breathless voice, there was joy, love. Lance was all she had in her current state, and they both knew it. "How was your day?" she asked.

"Eventful," Lance said. "Painful, but ultimately I think we're going to be better off for it."

"How so?" she asked, gripping Lance's hand tighter.

"The exact how or why is unimportant. The point is, something happened, and it finally convinced me to reach out. George and Mikey are lending us a hand."

Lance's mother was overjoyed. "It took you long enough!" There was rare strength in her voice. "What sort of help are they giving us?"

"That much is a long story, but it involves fixing a 'Mech I found in the woods a couple years back, and using it to..." There was a long, nervous, awkward pause.

"Using it to what, Lance? It's crazy enough that you found and want to fix a 'Mech, but what new crazy thing are you going to do with it?"

"I'm going to fix it, and use it to join a company of mercenaries." Lance flinched as if to brace for a physical attack.

"Absolutely not." said Mother. "I understand you want to help, but you need to do so the right way."

"George said something similar." Another pause.

"Listen," Lance said gently. "In order to survive, I need to be making five times what I do now. Even when I was full time, I wasn't making a third of that. Mercenary MechTechs are paid almost six times what I am now. That's more than what I need. And their MechWarriors are paid twice that!"

"But..." She tried to contest him.

"It's our only option. I won't take money from George or Mikey. I need to earn it myself."

"With you away, who'll look after the house, let alone myself?" 

"You'll be moving to George's place for a while. He and Lillia can take better care of you than I can."

She sighed, "You really thought of everything, didn't you? Fine, if it's your-" she paused to correct herself. "Our only option, then I can't stop you."

"Thanks mom." Lance fought to hold back his tears.

"Just don't do anything stupid." Mother said. "Because you're already doing something your father wouldn't do."

It took a week for Lance and his crew to excavate the Hunchback from the hillside. The entire Repair and Supply depot devoted some measure of time to clearing the way to bring Lance's Hunchback to the repair yard. As Lance looked upon all of this, as he worked among his fellow workers, he felt bitter-sweet. He lamented the fact that he could've done this so much sooner, but was moved by how quickly so many people were willing to help him.

Throughout that entire week, he'd heard the same thing he'd heard others say to him for the last two years.

"Your father was a good man."

"It's about time we help out the Trephores"

"James lived for his people. It's time the people lived for him."

It had always been clear that the entire city knew Lance's father, James Trephore, and knew him fondly. While he'd heard all this before, he always dismissed it as but common courtesy, nothing genuine.

'I guess I'm the ass.' he thought, every time someone said something of the sort to him.

Once the Hunchback was unshackled from its resting place, the crew would fasten thick cables to the Hunchback while several Vertical Take-off and Landing vehicles would lift the Hunchback into the air, and carry it to the depot. An array of air-traffic controllers and ground guides guided the VTOLs to place the Hunchback into a proper place in a 'MechBay, ready for repairs. It was covered head to toe in dirt, dust and foliage grown over God knows how long. Cleaning the machine, inside and out, took three more days.

Finally, the real work began. All that was needed was to rebuild the 'Mech's head and cockpit. A task that in the company of the entire crew didn't take nearly as long as it originally took Lance and Michael. Where it took the two boys two months, the entire crew devoted to the same task took only weeks. At the helm of this operation was Edmund Lance Trephore. Entire shifts, and well into the night he spent repairing his 'Mech while his mother lived idly, but comfortably in George's house. His obsession over his mother's wellbeing turned from a burden, to a driving force.

He visited his mother every night once he had finished his shift and thanked George for helping him to this extent. Never before had Lance even seen such an event with his own eyes, and it nearly brought him to tears every day. 

The big day came. Lance's 'Mech was far from complete, missing its right side torso and arm, but it'll walk. Now work resumed as usual until such a time as Lance and Michael could join a mercenary company.