The longest part of the proceedings was the reading the charges. Sheila Hudson shook her head at each one. Rhys offered his hand to hold but she refused it. He had known this was going to happen, she knew it, and now he knew that she did. He'd got her wrong, he realised. She may have been a cheap tart with as many addictions as clients, but she wasn't completely without intelligence. For a brief moment as the jury read its guilty verdict, he almost regretted the part he'd played in all this. Then it came to sentencing, for which the judge cleared his throat and deliberated for a matter of minutes.

"It would be all too easy to write off Mr Hudson as a psychotic or a criminal with no future," he warbled. "We have sent men guilty of less to their deaths because they have proven themselves a bane to society. Yet we cannot say this of Mr Hudson. Cold-blooded killer he may still be, but this court must not forget his celebrated elimination of the Michigan Kiddiefucker."

Rhys watched Will carefully. He'd listened remorselessly until now, but as the judge began to praise him for killing his old principal, his brow began to furrow.

"I don't believe it's in anyone's best interests to recommend Mr Hudson for a life sentence, let alone the death penalty," the judge went on. "I believe the same talents which attracted the CIA are not to be squandered. I am assured by the CIA's profile on him that Mr Hudson will be an asset to this country's defence."

Will's eyes went wide. Rhys knew what was coming.

"Therefore, I am waiving the mandatory life sentence in favour of immediate conscription into the United States Colonial Marines Corps..."

"Nooo!" screamed Will.

"This is not optional, Mr Hudson. You shall spend a minimum of twenty years in the marines before you become eligible for parole."

Will began to cry and punch himself in the head.

"Mr Hudson! Should you become incapacitated before then, this court will reconvene and reassess the possibility of giving you the death penalty. Do you understand me, Mr Hudson?"

Will broke down, kicking and screaming.

"Mr Hudson?"

Will was on the floor, rolling and bawling like a baby.

"Oh, someone take him away..."

Watching them drag his hysterical son away was painful for Rhys, but he knew it was for the best. Sheila seemed almost relieved that her son wouldn't be executed anytime soon. The judge promptly adjourned the court, so Rhys took Sheila home. She didn't say anything all the way there, then she went and curled up on Will's bed and dozed off.

When she next spoke to him, it was several hours later, after he'd showered, washed the blond dye out of his hair, shaved it short and then started shearing off his beard in large clumps.

"Why did you make yourself look so different?" she asked quietly.

"Felt like a change," he shrugged evasively.

"I barely recognised you."

"That was the idea..." he muttered.

There was a long pause, then she asked, "You're going away again, aren't you, Rhys?"

Rhys sighed. He hadn't expected to get so emotionally involved. He was beginning to wish someone else had been given his mission. "Yes," he said.

"I fucking knew it!" she began to rant. "I so fucking knew it-!"

"Will needs me in the future," he explained. "It's more important I support him there than I support you now. If you care for him, let me go to him."

Sheila snorted, took up a bottle and swigged. "So what the fuck do I do?"

"You want my honest opinion?" he wondered. "I honestly think you should get as far away from here as you can. Take the money they gave you and go before they come wanting it back.

She laughed. "Just like that, huh?"

Rhys nodded. At first she seemed against the idea, but as he watched her mull it over with help from the wine, she gradually came to agree. She put the bottle down and went to pack. In the end, she left before he did. She didn't pack much, and she stopped only briefly to say an uncomfortable, forced goodbye. Then Rhys was alone in the Hudson trailer. He tried not to think of it as destroying a family, but as creating a new one - Hudson Company.

He left the trailer door open. Since MTV took their camera away anybody could just get in anyway. They'd already had some disgruntled siblings of Will's victims piss through the broken glass. From the trailer park, Rhys caught the bus out of town. Bishop was waiting for him patiently at the warehouse.

"Is there something wrong, sergeant?" he asked.

Rhys realised his solemnity was more apparent than he'd thought. "I'm not coming back again, Bishop," he said.

Bishop said nothing, but started warming up the machine.

"Your orders are to follow me through, but leave the machine beyond use, understood?"

"Affirmative."

Rhys sat back in the machine. He'd sat here so often recently he already knew how to make himself comfortable. Bishop held up three fingers to signal the three minute countdown. Rhys acknowledged him. They didn't speak again. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again he was naked and outside the Hudson Company barracks. Bishop had finally perfected the system, he mused, as Private Thomson appeared with a gown. He knew it wasn't worth him getting properly dressed again.

"Nervous?" asked Corporal Taylor as Rhys ate in the mess hall later.

Rhys chuckled. "Feels like the last meal of a condemned man," he said.

"You regretting it yet?"

Rhys shook his head. "Never," he lied. "Well, not yet, anyway..."

As he ate, the rest of Hudson Company filed into the mess hall - but not to eat. Their grim faces began to put Rhys off his food, and he told them so. Last to join them was Captain Gray, who had with him a document sleeve made of flesh. He let Rhys finish eating first.

"These are your new papers," he explained afterwards. "They look official because they are official, they just don't exist back then yet."

"Right," said Rhys quietly. He didn't want to look at them just yet.

"We're all immensely proud of you, Carl," Gray assured him.

"Right."

Walking to the time machine was like walking the Green Mile. Everyone had turned out to watch him as if he was William Hudson himself. Rhys stopped in the doorway and watched Bishop fuss around the time machine.

"One way trip," he muttered.

"It's not too late to back out," Taylor whispered to him.

Rhys shook his head, forced a smile. "It's already happened, Taylor. That's the thing about the past. It's always gonna be there."

Taylor put a supportive hand on his shoulder and guided him into the room. A tearful Zoogy led Hudson Company in a spontaneous round of applause as Rhys settled into the time machine one final time. Taylor stayed beside him as long as he could. As he sat there, he opened the document sleeve. He took one look at his new identity and screwed up his face.

"Something wrong?" asked Taylor alarmed.

"Only the name."

"Why? What's wrong with it?"

"Tell me what isn't wrong with it."

"Well, what would you have preferred?"

"Anything," cried Rhys, tucking the file back into the sleeve just in time. "Anything but Dwayne!"

NOTES:
Dwayne being, of course, the first name of Hicks, the fanboy's second favourite marine in "Aliens". This not only throws a whole new light on the film, but also on the original "Hudson's Tale", as in that story Hudson's first consensual gay encounter is with Hicks, who now turns out to be his father too. Overall, this story didn't have quite the effect that the original did, but that's probably got something to do with the fact that most of the people who hated the first one refused to even look at this one. Ideas for a third and final part in the Hudson saga are currently fermenting, and hopefully that will both bring the story full circle but also redeem the character a bit more. I stopped thinking of him as a teenage version of the character played by Bill Paxton in the middle of this story, and want to tie it back into the "Alien" mythos. This ending doesn't sit too well with me anymore because it is pure victimisation - Will never has a say in his destiny. I want to write another one, if only to give him a fighting chance against fate.