Washington had told Caboose and the others that he would be taking a sick day today, only to have Caboose tell him that he didn't look sick, unless he had been abducted by the aliens and had gotten pregnant like Tucker once had. After Washington told the blue soldier to leave countless times, Caboose finally left when Washington offered to give him a cookie and orange juice later.

Sighing, the former Freelancer found a nice spot on the bay overlooking the sea and gazed across the ever-moving, rippling waters. He roamed and delved into memories that he had sworn to lock away forever in the deep recesses of his mind. That is, until recently, when he decided to break the binds on his nostalgia. Washington had thought that these wounds of his would mend over time, but the memories were still stinging and fresh, now exposed to the air of the present day. With incredulity, he looked down at his light blue armored hands and curled them into fists.

"Washington." A tiny figure in white armor with a bluish glow materialized behind him.

The former Freelancer didn't miss a beat. Without turning the figure's way, Washington said, "Epsilon, I'd appreciate it if you'd let me be alone for the day. I'm off work right now." Even though Washington tried to sound civil enough, Epsilon could see right through his weak attempt to conceal any remaining contempt the new blue soldier had for the AI.

"The name is Church," the figure snarled.

Grabbing tightly at the grass next to him and examining it, Washington quietly but firmly replied, "Of all people, you especially should respect what I'm asking of you." He pulled his gaze from the mangled green in his hands and pierced him with a stony stare. "You might have forgotten what had happened on this day, but I never will."

But Church did not budge. In fact, he rested on the man's shoulder. It was slight, but a tremble was running through Washington's body. This time, the AI spoke softly. "It wasn't your fault."

"That's right," the former Freelancer said quietly. "It was yours." Bitterness rolled off Washington's tongue. At this, Church gave no reply. "Just go, Epsilon. Just for today. I want to be alone."

Then Washington could hear a small voice say, "You're wrong, you know. I remember as well as you do." And soon, he found himself alone with no one beside him. His visor shielded his face, but inside the helmet, Washington was desperately trying to hold the dam he put up to keep his sadness, his anger, and his bitterness at a standstill. Reaching for a compartment in his armor, the former Freelancer pulled out a small, silver dog tag. It read:

Agent Vermont

Project Freelancer

"Hi, I'm Agent Vermont. Nice to meet you."

"You're adorable, Wash."

"Don't let go!"

"I can help you. Just tell me what's wrong."

"I'd never hate you, but I'll never forgive you if you don't keep on living."

"I love you."

I love you. The phrase rang throughout Washington's head as if someone were using his head to bang a gong. Painfully, his heart ached and the man clutched the dog tag tightly, doing what he swore never to do: he cried.

Hey, guys! Lately, I've been really obsessed with RvB, so I decided to write this. I was disappointed to see that there weren't many Wash love stories (that were my taste, anyway), so here's what I have to contribute! Chapter 1 is short, I know, but I hope you enjoyed it. Uhhh, guess that's it. 'Til next time.