Zion leaned against a cold locker, studying the man stood across from her. Restlessly, he paced, running worn hands through his short hair. She rolled her eyes at the expression of energy.

"He knows I left?" Sam Braddock questioned, anxiety lacing his tone. She bit her lip and nodded.

"Look, what does it matter?" She argued, pushing away from the chilly metal.

"What does it matter? It's my life they're playing with," he responded.

"They're screwing with my life too," the woman reminded him, scowling.

He acquiesced to that fact.

"Okay, look. Let's keep this on the DL, especially from the team. We can't have anyone knowing," he informed her.

She relented, though she was loathe to hide something so important from people who meant so much.

"There's a helluva lot I'm willing to risk in this game of cat-and-mouse, but not them. Never them," these words were murmured, though they still held a potent combination of vulnerability and emotion. Sam nodded in agreement.

Wordy set a hand on the locker room door and pushed it open, stepping a few inches away from the doorway when he heard the hushed conversation. Curious, he paused, listening shamelessly. When the conversation ended, he was left with more questions then answers, especially because it involved hiding something from the close-knit team.

Wordy exited silently, and hunted for Ed, finding him in the briefing room.

"Ed, we gotta talk," he told the older man seriously. Ed nodded, eyes studying him.

Wordy sat down and relayed the conversation, adding in his concerns. Ed took in this all in, mind whirring. Why would they hide something from everyone else?

"Possibly, it's about something relating to the military," Ed inferred. Wordy weaved a pen between his fingers, bewildered and a little bit hurt, not that he'd ever admit it.

As if called, the pair entered the room, happy laughter and easy banter traded between them. Same as normal.

The tension in the room was palpable, though, and they were not immune. Both halted, observing the two men sitting at the table.

"Is there anything you'd like to share with us?" Ed inquired, folding his hands. They shared a glance, before denying it.

"Nope," Sam responded. Zion shook her head.

Two facts were obvious, even to casual passerby: one, two camps had been formed. Team Zion, intent on keeping their secret, if only to protect everyone else, and Team Wordy, intent on discovering the truth, disallowing secrets to be held. Two camps, two opposite agendas.

What could possibly go wrong?