Dreams are the gateway to an absolute truth or an absolute lie.

Whether you dream or not, the mind is always constant. The moment it stops the turning of its gears is the final breath you'll ever make.

But dreams can be confusing, even bizarre. How could you take anything from those fleeting images if you can't realistically apply them?

Maybe dreams are just the visual flavor of your emotions, a glimpse of your innermost fear.

They were quickly developing a routine after the day was over and done with on the command deck.

Numbuh 362 would patiently wait for her replacement to come and exit the deck first. Once he was relieved he would follow that very same route and find her waiting for him at the end of the hallway, sometimes on her tablet to check on her reports. Though sometimes if he could catch her unawares, he'd find her playing Bubble Shooter and then deny it when he would tease her later on.

With a lazy smile, he caught up to her and was disappointed to find her actually working instead of playing a game on her tablet. Without a single word they headed for the operative quarters together. It was a wonder how setting up something as simple as game night would easily have them attached to the hip so quickly.

"Up for another game tonight?" he asked and lightly bumped shoulders with her. In the beginning she would normally stiffen, not normally used to a companionship that involved intruding on personal space at a whim; even more so he was a boy. Such a thing would be unheard of for a child raised to be Delightful.

"If you are not exhausted, I would not mind," she answered softly and relaxed with his shoulder occasionally bumping against hers. "You were complaining about a stiff neck earlier today."

It was almost eerie how much she could glean off him and still look so disinterested. "I wouldn't mind a backrub if that's what you're implying," he said impishly and watched the base of her neck flush.

"I am not qualified for that," she responded shortly, "but I will requisition one of the physical therapists down in medical to assist you if your back is bothering you."

"Ever the romantic." His sarcastic tease made her sniff with light disdain.

Maybe that was why he found her so compelling. The back and forth between them was becoming less of a test to see how far they could press into each others' territory and more of a banter. It was like a secret handshake or a recently born language that was quickly growing in vocabulary between them.

Every Thursday was competitive Yipper depending on if either of them were busy. Then it became Tuesdays alongside Thursdays once Operations could finally make their schedules parallel. From there they quickly moved to random board games designated for combat strategy like Battleship and even chess once Rachel patiently helped him understand the pieces and strategies.

But it was Risk that was quickly became his favorite game. It was one of those rare times where he could really see Rachel become frustrated outside of work.

When he mentioned it by the time they reached his door, Rachel gave him a look that spoke volumes of exasperation.

"It would be wise to play with an extra player for Risk," she said dryly. "You often attack the neutral territory for the sake of a greater advantage."

"You're just mad because I thought of it first," he shot right on back and punched in his access code. "Maybe if you did the same…"

Her response would have been insulting to anyone else. "Not all of us have a lousy sense of tact."

A bark of laughter left his throat, but it tapered off quickly when he was held back from entering with her outstretched arm. The warm spark in her eyes were replaced with that suspicious coldness as she peered into the darkness of his quarters.

Her suspicions were justified. He never left his quarters with lights down to ten percent. Immediately they both separated and lined their backs against the wall for cover. By the time he was unhooking his S.P.L.A.N.K.E.R., Rachel was already armed with a S.P.I.C.E.R. and alight with an ammunition of chili peppers. They took turns peering in every so often for movements inside.

"The door was locked," he mouthed to her, but she shook her head. She would not take the chance while unarmed.

She tilted her head around the frame of the door and shouted, "Anyone in there?"

"You're surrounded!" he yelled. They both jumped and tumbled through the door, armed and ready for confrontation. "BATTLESTATIONS!"

"Eek!" A voice squeaked out and retreated from the safety of his divider, her hands up in surrender. "Please don't shoot!"

He lowered the barrel of his weapon from his PA's terrified face. "Numbuh 702?"

Numbuh 702 looked small and disconcerted on his couch while his XO interrogated her for information. "I didn't mean to make any trouble, sir!" she pouted and stared at her locked knees, "I was just told to put the incense in the Supreme Leader's personal quarters."

"Incense?" Curious, he paced around his quarters looking for any foreign object that didn't belong. His search was a success when he found a beautifully carved rectangular box sitting on the end table next to his bed. Little puffs of smoke lazily floated out of the carvings.

He cautiously sniffed at the air and found the scent of something floral, but he couldn't pinpoint the exact flower. Botany wasn't exactly his strongest suit.

Picking up the smoking box, he returned to his living room and set it down on the coffee table. Numbuh 362 eyed it with suspicion.

"This it?" he asked.

Numbuh 702 nodded eagerly. "Yes! Numbuh 911 said you were having trouble sleeping and recommended this incense box. It's all the rage these days."

Numbuh 362 thoughtfully placed her knuckles under her chin. He didn't know why, but he liked the way she curled her fingers like that. It was sophisticated. "Aromatherapy isn't exactly true medical science. It's strange that 911 would suggest such a thing."

He raised an eyebrow. "Aromawhatsit?"

"Aromatherapy!" 702 repeated helpfully. "They're scents that's supposed to do different things like calm you down or make you happy. Everyone on the command deck has one of these."

That was news to him. He looked to his XO for verification only to receive a little shake of her head. She was just as out of the loop as he was.

702 continued to explain about Moonbase Medical's strange new fascination with aromatherapy and they had been given them away like they were candy.

During 702's explanation, Numbuh 362 had retreated to the control panel on the side of his door and examined it before glancing back at 274. "I will contact Numbuh 911 tomorrow and reprimand her for giving away her emergency medical override without proper authorization."

"It was her code you used?" he asked 702, who looked rightly chastened before nodding. "That doesn't sound like her. If she really wanted me to use that aroma junk she could have just contacted me directly instead."

702 helplessly shrugged. "I was just following the Chief Medical Operative's orders, sir."

Rachel stiffly returned to Chad's side and icily dismissed his PA without cause to report her for following orders. 702 happily ran out of his room and he ordered his lights back up to sixty percent.

"Well now, aren't you turning into a softy," he lightly teased. "I was almost afraid I'd have to step in if you threatened to court martial her."

Her gaze remained fixed on the incense box. "She had done her job. Numbuh 911 is the one at fault."

He shrugged and headed past the divider for the board game. "I suggest going easy on the old lady. She'll be thirteen in two months. Might be that preteen new age junk she got her hands on."

"Regardless," he heard her say. The Risk box under his arm, he found her sitting in her usual spot on the couch, waiting for him. Except instead of gazing up at him, her attention was focused on the incense box. She finally looked up when he placed the game on the table. "Do you still wish on keeping this?" she gestured to the incense box.

"Why? Do you want it?" She shook her head when he picked the wooden box up and tossed it onto an empty cushion. "Well I can't throw it away," he continued with a cheeky grin. "Doctor's orders, you know."

Setting up the game felt longer than usual, at least to him. Rachel made no comment about it, though he found her brow furrowed in quiet worry.

They were barely starting the third turn when he forgot what play he wanted to use. It had been a good one; it would have secured a good chunk of the Middle East in his favor.

After a long moment of frustration trying to recall the tactic, he gave up and skipped his turn, something he had never done before. That was what caused Rachel to finally pop an eyebrow in surprise. "Are you alright, Numbuh 274?"

She called him by his number. He smiled at that. "Just trying to give you an advantage for once, Rachel."

There was that tell-tale stiffening of her shoulders, but her lips quirked up a fraction. "Unnecessary. You will no doubt regret that decision."

Maybe playing so quickly after shift had not been the best idea. His eyes felt so heavy and he could feel his limbs move so sluggishly. Before he could even consider impeding on Rachel's territory on the East Asian seaboard, he stirred awake by something brushing at his hair on the back of his head.

With a start, he jerked himself away from the coffee table he had napped on and looked up to find Rachel hovering above, her dark eyes unreadable. "Is it my turn?" he murmured, shrugging off his surprise before yawning.

"We are pausing the game," she said quietly. "You have been in and out of sleep the entire time."

Her hand was retreating, but he found himself unable to let those warm fingers stop from massaging the base of his skull. He turned his head towards the touch and, with a internal yell of triumph, those fingers returned to explore and temper away the stiffness at the base of his neck.

She allowed him this treat for a minute which almost made him doze off for real this time. It was only when her touch disappeared did he snap out of some strange trance he found himself in and her quiet urging for him to go to bed.

He dreamed that he was strung up in a humiliating pose. His hands and feet were wrapped in shining silver wire that spanned upward, but no matter how far he looked up, there was no end in sight to the string.

His skin chilled and he tried to move his limbs, but to no avail. He was left hanging a few feet above the ground; the stage was empty save the polished wooden floor and the lone overhead spotlight on him.

After what seemed like hours, the wire slackened and he fell hard on the wooden floor, bruising his knees. Before he could even gasp in pain, the wire quickly grew taut again and his limbs went whichever way the puppet master forced him. There was no laughter, but he couldn't help the tears prickle in the corners of his eyes from the humiliation and the fear of his lost control.

He woke up with a start at 0400, but he had no recollection of why.


The next day, 274 found his XO true to her word and reprimanding Numbuh 911 when he went in for his routine physical before shift.

"You are aware that there are protocols in place that prevent operatives except for the chain of command from entering the Supreme Leader's personal quarters?"

"Blah, blah, blah, sir. You sound like my etiquette teacher." Numbuh 911 was a tall, statuesque beauty with long flowing brown curls and gray eyes that turned many an operative for a second look passing her by.

He leaned against the sliding door and watched them bicker with a smile, praising Zero for girls and their early growth spurts.

Though it was hardly unfair for poor 362, who was much too short to tower impressively over their CMO, and was as much of a stunner as a block of ice in Antarctica. She made up for it in the eyes though, a burning reddish brown that reminded him of the polished rosewood floors his family's timeshared winter cabin had plenty of. That perfect posture and dignified attitude came in a set.

Their preteen CMO continued to politely smile at 362 and crossed her legs. "As soon as I found the perfect blend of oils for our Supreme Leader's current mental afflictions, I wasted no time installing it in his room. I would have done it myself but, as you know, it's always swamped here. Just an hour ago we finally patched up Sectors C, K, and V after Knightbrace got a hold of them. Six hours de-wiring braces off over half of them. A little leeway for sending his PA over instead would be appreciated."

He flinched when she mentioned wiring.

Numbuh 362 inspected 911 carefully, almost suspiciously, before placing her hands behind her back. "Then a warning will suffice seeing as no harm came of it," she said. "But this aromatherapy nonsense you're sending out..."

"Uh-uh," 911 wagged a finger at her. "With all due respect sir, aromatherapy is a legit form of medicine..."

"Alternative," 362 interrupted. "Alternative medicine isn't a proven science for curing anything."

The older girl chuckled. "My, my, someone's finally doing their homework on the chain of command. You're a former Intelligence operative, so I expected nothing less." She uncrossed her legs and sauntered to her feet. "Regardless, aromatherapy isn't harmful. Most of us have been on this lifeless rock for so long we forget we're Earthlings. We need organic things like lavender and chamomile to soothe our minds and reduce space madness for the little initiates."

Straightening her pristine white lab coat, she pulled a wooden box similar to his from a cabinet and handed it to 362. "Try it out for yourself and see if it will loosen that infamously straight spine you've got there, Global Tactical Officer. Even you don't have to act like you've got a stick up your bum all the..."

He coughed loudly. They both turned and finally noticed him. "Hope I'm not interrupting," he grinned and pushed himself from the door.

362 nodded and politely retreated with the incense box though he had a sneaking feeling she was only leaving to dispose of it before returning to her post. He hopped on one of the beds and reluctantly surrendered himself to his Chief Medical Operative's questions. "Let's get this show over with, shall we?"

"Is it really so bad?" 911 smiled over her shoulder. She drew up his file on her tablet and sat down in front of him, stylus poised over the screen. "So, how are the dreams so far?"

He shrugged. "Didn't have one last night."

She hummed and tapped on the screen. "Interesting. Were you using the incense box before you went to sleep last night?"

Something strange flickered in his gut. Like he was missing something vitally important but didn't know what. "It was smoking if that's what you mean. We left it in the living room though."

"We?"

He shifted in his seat and snorted. "You know what I mean. My XO and I had our nightly board games the past few weeks."

911 looked at him peculiarly and then placed the stylus on her lap. "I had no idea you two have been growing close for so long."

"Don't you mean you're surprised that Numbuh 362 can socialize?" he teased. "Because she can."


Numbuh 702 hadn't been kidding. When he arrived on deck almost everyone had a small incense box at their workstations. He opened his mouth, almost ready to chastise them for polluting the sterile air with their aroma nonsense, but the smell of lavender and chamomile lulled at his senses.

Forgetting what he wanted to say entirely, he instead sat on his throne and got to work.

The only ones who didn't seem to have an incense on them were himself and Numbuh 362, who approached him for her daily report. It should have been as easy as breathing listening to the going ons of his base, but he drifted off and daydreamed of random things until pain struck his ear. "OW!" he cried out and pressed a hand to his ear. The deck didn't even turn to see what was going on.

Numbuh 362 looked at him with little amusement. Her fingers were poised in a flicking motion near his face from where she got him on the ear.

"Pay attention, Supreme Leader sir."

"I am!" he snapped, though it lacked any actual anger. He grabbed her hand before she could try and flick him again. "You're not still mad about what happened down in Medical, are you?"

"I am not," she said curtly and pulled away from his grasp. "But your attention has been lacking. Do you remember a single thing I have said in my report?"

He scoffed. "Of course I do! You..." No, no he didn't. Realization hit him hard and his hazy blue eyes flickered in panic before he internally grabbed a hold of himself. This wasn't like him. Not at all. "I guess I wasn't," he said apologetically. "Sorry about that."

Those dark eyes of hers flashed with something he couldn't comprehend before she handed him her tablet and returned to her workstation.

That really sucked. Having her read out the report and teasing her large vocabulary was usually one of the high points of his day.


"Have you ever considered simplifying the way you speak?"

"I beg your pardon?"

Numbuh 274 caught up with 362 during break. Usually he skipped mid-dinner traffic in favor of a quieter one in the late hours but the incense wafting thickly on his command deck was giving him a headache so he sought an escape. Much to his displeasure, some of the operatives brought their incense boxes with them, rendering his whole escape plan moot.

He wrinkled his nose at them and made to grab a can of soda only for his XO to slap it away in favor of juice. "It's just one can of soda," he protested.

"One which will no doubt keep you wired until after shift when you crash," she said, closing the matter. He didn't even realize he was checking her every so often for approval with what he should take on his tray. Thankfully, she didn't deprive him of a slice of red velvet cake. She gave him a non-committal shrug of her shoulder when he showed it to her, his not-pout telling her to cave in. "You were saying something about my speech earlier."

"I was just making note of the crew on deck the last few days," he continued when they arrived at Numbuh Change-For-A-$20's station. "I've got no problem understanding you, but the little ones can't even spell 'antiquity' let alone know what it means."

The burly operative punched up the totals from his old-fashioned cash register. Despite the recent technological switch to digital, the Cafeteria Head still refused to switch to digital. It was one of the few peeves that annoyed Numbuh 362.

Numbuh 274 grinned when Rachel frowned at the rusty old tin can called a cash register, but made no complaint about it when she had him put it on her tab.

"It's hard," she admitted quietly when they departed for their usual table next to the wall length windows overlooking the Earth rise. It was vacant for the most part as it was notable for causing motion sickness for certain operatives whenever they looked out the window.

They've long since learned to either look at one cluster of stars to avoid motion sickness or focus on each other. These days it was mostly the latter.

"Hard?" he feigned confusion, knowing exactly what she meant.

"Hard. I'm used to specifying my actions and taught to use more complex word structures," she frowned again and focused on her tray. "You would become penalized for using slang or ridiculed for simplifying the language."

He twisted his plate of spaghetti with his fork. "Did you learn from that private school you went to?"

She paused for a long moment, her cheeks burning with humiliation and fear. "Something like that."

He knew of her secret fear. She was afraid that if he knew she was delightfulized, he would probably toss her out of airlock or something. But he believed that she could be saved. He was almost sure of it.

"I'm an efficient guy," he began, blue eyes locking with brown. "You know that. Like I said before I can understand you just fine. It's just the little ones. Most of them aren't exactly reading past the fourth grade level to be honest. Numbuh 4's reading comprehension for instance brought the KND's reading average dragging to the floor this year."

"I know that," she quietly sighed and paused from cutting her sandwich in half when he raised an eyebrow at her. With another aggravated exhaled puff of air, she set her knife and fork down and picked up the entire sandwich with her bare hands.

He grinned. "Good girl. You'll see what I mean. Simplify a few words and you'll see the difference. Like 'I apologize'? Say 'I'm sorry' instead. Not only will they understand, but they'll read you as more sincere."

Rachel bit her lip. "Because it's more personal."

"Exactly!" he nodded and made his point by pointing his fork at her, a faux pas itself that made her frown with disapproval at him. "Table manners aren't needed here. You draw too much suspicion for it. That's why no one approaches you after hours. They're afraid of you criticizing them!"

She tilted her head. "You have approached me after hours though."

"...well, when you say it that way," he cleared his throat and folded his arms, deciding that the visual of Earth out the window was far more interesting than his XO. "I mean, you're my XO."

"Very perceptive."

"And we're friends, aren't we? I think that's..." he turned and found her as white as a sheet and gripping the table hard. "Numbuh 362? What's wrong...?"

He jumped when she abruptly stood up from her seat, her form shaking. "Please excuse me, Supreme Leader sir," she whispered and did everything but bolt from the cafeteria, leaving her tray of food behind.


He was back on that stage again bound by silver string.

This time the red curtain rose and he found his XO standing in front of him, bound and blindfolded like a prisoner waiting for a beheading. No words came when he shouted her name. Instead another wire came out of nowhere and wrapped itself tightly around his throat. With a strangled cry, he tried to claw at the wire but it seemed to be a part of him now.

"Prove that I am in control," a hypnotic disembodied voice rang from the empty seats of the theater.

From above the lights and curtains, a S.P.I.C.E.R. descended slowly, and the sound of clapping can be heard. It was the climax of the act.

He fought against his binding but he couldn't stop the wire from pulling his hand out and taking the weapon. Horror replaced humiliation when Numbuh 362 was forcibly pulled towards him and forced onto her knees. The crowd let out a bated breath. The hand holding the gun shook.

"You know what to do," the voice in his head was smiling.

No. Back off!

The wire around his throat tightened, nearly stealing his breath. Rachel let out a shuddering sigh and moved her head up in confusion. "Chad," she whispered in a half-sob. "I'm scared."

He felt his thumb click off the safety over Rachel's shaking form, but he was the one trembling the most. I won't let you control me! You think you can use me?! Numbuh 274?!

He woke up sweating, but like last time, couldn't recall the reason for it.


Numbuh 362 was avoiding him the next day, but he glimpsed her on the Leda deck in what looked to be an animated conversation with Sector V's leader, Numbuh 1. The way they stood close, obviously keeping tabs on letting their secret words to each other be heard by no one but themselves, angered 274. She'd be friends with the notoriously crazy Numbuh 1, but heaven forbid she could ever be chummy with her Supreme Leader.

The permeating incense in the air seemed to exacerbate his already foul mood. He turned on his heel and left the opposite way.

Throughout the day the thick lavender and chamomile smoke only seemed to get worse. When he ordered the command deck free of those incense boxes, he was met with glares and complaints, and he was considering tossing the whole lot of them out of airlock for insubordination. The boxes, he meant, but throwing the operatives out was a close second.

After spending the last couple of hours imbibing the sickeningly sweet air, he wordlessly left the throne and escaped to his quarters before he nearly fell over from dizziness. The first thing on his agenda was getting rid of the box in his own personal quarters. It was his last safe haven he refused to be invaded by flowery crud.

He was halfway to tossing it into the trash when he felt heavy and fell over, trapped under the heady smoke.

Sight, sound, touch; everything was blurred and hazy. Someone turned him on his back. A faint, wafting scent of something warm hit his nostrils but he couldn't conjure up a name for the smell.

Prove that I am in control.

He grabbed the thin wrist pressed against his shoulder hard and felt the muscles there flex in alarm. The owner of the wrist attempted to call his codename, but everything sounded muffled. All that was clear, all he could concentrate on, was the voice in his head urging him. He squeezed the wrist in an iron grip and the owner let out a quiet gasp of pain, but he wouldn't let up.

Numbuh 274 shoved the intruder off of him and they crashed onto the metal floor with a feminine yelp. In a madness, he crawled after her and sat on her stomach, trapping the intruder. He heard another short gasp no doubt from the crushing weight and called out to him again.

You know what to do.

"Numbuh 274," the voice beneath him stuttered out. "You need to wake up!"

"Don't tell me what to do!" he snarled at the voice in his head. "You think you can control me?! ME?! NUMBUH 274?!"

The last thing he remembered was the sudden explosion of that warm fragrance coming from the intruder and the pain that erupted on the side of his temple before he blacked out completely.

What a humiliating way to die. Death by aromatherapy and a blow to the head.

When he came to, there was the whirring sound of the air conditioning. The cool air lifted the heated smoke until he could breathe nothing but purified air.

No, not just pure air. There was that something sweet from before, one he could readily recognize now that his head was clearing up. It was like honey and buttermilk.

Chad opened his eyes and found himself on his couch. Rachel was hovering over him, her features concerned, as he gasped and inhaled the clear air. "Why do I have the sudden urge to eat you?" he asked nonsensically.

"It's alright," she changed the subject, cheeks dusted with pink. "I've dispos- got rid of the box." Her fingers pressed against the side of his pounding temple, almost apologetic, and no doubt the cause of the residual pain there. It didn't bother him as much as it should, not when her fingers were lightly treading through his hair, keeping him in that between consciousness and not.

"What's going on?" he murmured. "The incense boxes..."

Her fingers paused in the middle of grazing his scalp, her eyes guarded. "Numbuh 911 was... overzealous. Or, overeager, in proving herself to the wrong people. The boxes were gifts from our teenage enemies designed to hypnotize the breathers. It seems you were one of the rare few who had almost an allergic response for it to completely alter your mind."

Her words stirred action within him. He tried to get up only to be pushed down again. "Stop, I gotta... the command deck..."

"The command deck is fine. Sector MD has brought the hazmat team in to rid of the boxes and Sector V has been dealing with the conflicts that have come from it. Do you remember Cree Lincoln?"

His eyes darkened. "She had a hand in it?" His anger dissipated once that hand returned and he almost purred. Almost.

"Something like that," she continued. "According to Numbuh 5's report, she overheard her sister offering Numbuh 911 asylum with the Teen Ninjas if she used Moonbase as a guinea pig for their new hypnotic incense combination. We intercepted the data before it returned to the former Numbuh 11."

He wanted to ask more, like how she figured it all out, but he wasn't an idiot. Numbuh 362 was still an Intelligence agent. "You couldn't tell me this ahead of time?"

She flinched and he was glad of it. "You were already suffering from the effects, but I didn't know to what extent or if 911 had already implanted suggestions in your head during the last few days. We didn't want to give it away we were onto her. I..." She looked positively chastened. "I'm sorry."

Remnants of a memory trickled in. He took down an intruder with the exact same scent his XO was wearing. It was his turn to blush. "Oh, crud. I didn't... did I...?"

Rachel shook her head and he was impressed that she understood what he meant. "You took me by surprise, but I rendered... or knocked," she faintly rolled her eyes at the face he gave her. "...knocked you unconscious. I should have expected resistance, but you seemed so resistant with the incense the past few days I thought you were immune enough to ignore it completely."

"And you?" he slowly sat up. "You weren't affected by the brainwashing properties of the smoke?"

Her lips pursed. "I am... immune."

That was putting it lightly, but Chad wasn't exactly in the mood to dance around the issue about Rachel's psy-null mind. He was supposed to not know about it.

She continued, "I assume you have a lot of questions. If you are well enough, I'd be happy to tell you what I and Sector V found the last few days."

Her explanation was thorough and expected. After witnessing a few strange personality changes during her rounds, Numbuh 362 brought the incense box she was given to Intelligence and used her previous ties with them to pull an investigation. During testing, Sector V had arrived on Moonbase with Numbuh 5 at the forefront, warning she overheard Cree releasing a biological weapon on base. Even Numbuh 4 could put two and two together.

When he asked what countered the incense, her shoulders instinctively hitched up and she pointed to herself. "I borrowed this from Numbuh 3. It's an organic perfume with honey extract. One of its positive effects is that it clears anxiety and mental manipulation. KND Intelligence modified the perfume and made it a counter-agent to the boxes. Do not be alarmed to find a good number of operatives with the same scent the next couple of days. We are still in the disinfecting phase."

It smelled good and he may have hinted later on that she should keep the perfume long after it wasn't needed. He kept telling himself that it was for the benefit of future safety and little to do with the fact it was the most appealing scent to waft from his XO since sliced apples.


"You haven't pressed into my territory since this game has started, Numbuh 274. Must you resort to petty tactics every single time?"

He blew into the red dice for good luck before tossing them onto the board. "Can't win if you don't capture as many territories as possible."

Rachel, oddly enough, didn't consider it a free-for-all attacking the third neutral territory. Instead, she aggressively picked off Chad's countries one-by-one, slowly gaining what he considered after-thought territories in favor of securing more of the neutral nation's eastern ones.

It wasn't until after he captured most of the neutral territory's countries did he realize that she acquired most of the US and South America in the process, practically ousting his troops to the Atlantic border.

He hummed in mild amusement of his oversight. "How about you just accept my marriage proposal and unite our armies instead?"

Rachel's lips twitched. "My country is a democracy. Proposal denied."

"Boring," he teased and got to his feet. "More fun to play it as a dictatorship." Usually, he refused to turn his back away while waiting, too often used to people trying to cheat while he was distracted.

Fortunately for him, Rachel wasn't the type to use underhanded tactics. He's seen her enforce a strict honor code both inside and outside of work. Now he can go to the bathroom and get a snack without worrying if his opponent was trying to cheat him out of his win.

When he returned with popcorn, he found her politely waiting on the couch and taking comfort in the cushions while examining the board. Not a single one of his plastic soldiers were out of place. He gave her the bowl and used his freed hands to look around the board for an opening to take back his countries.

"What if I told you I'm a benevolent dictator?"

A look of disbelief was his answer before she popped a kernel into her mouth. "I have never heard a dictator in history who ever conquered using peace."

"That's because most of them were too ugly to pull it off," he chuckled. "I smile once and they fall over in droves. No violence necessary."

"You attacked the neutral country with your infantry, not smiles."

"I attacked them with love and rainbows and all the girly things people attribute to peace."

Her eyebrow quirked up in a way he wordlessly understood. Now see here, if you can't take this seriously, I will overthrow your dictatorship and substitute my own.

A half hour later he finally got the advantage. It came with great cost to his forces and the fact that Rachel was nodding off from the long campaign. He ended up pulling the ceasefire card, but reshuffled it back into the deck while he watched his XO curl against the arm of the couch and snooze peacefully for what looked to be the first time in the last two weeks.

As she dozed, he decided that he wasn't ready to conclude the game until he readily conquered every single territory she owned and have her bow to his superiority.

Dreams are just the visual flavor of your emotions, a glimpse of your innermost desires.