It was a rare day that North got off work early but a surprise blight in the lettuce crops had been discovered during harvesting and only half the expected take had actually ended up in the packaging line. And so, with several hours to go until Grif might be able to get away from the New Republic base, North had gone home. Normally, he would have gone to the bar but he'd been trying to cut back on his drinking since he'd realized how many of his thoughts centered around it.

With the hope that Grif would be able to tear himself away from the intensive five day training session that had come up unexpectedly, North didn't bother pulling off any of his armor plates, choosing instead to stretch out on the floor fully geared, hands propped behind his head as he mused that he needed to find a hobby that wasn't getting drunk.

He had nearly fallen asleep when the message icon in his HUD flashed. A surge of hope flooded through him; it had been days since Grif had made it in and longer since they'd been intimate.

(It was still amazing thinking back to their first night together as well as the following morning. Grif had teased him that being mind blowingly good at sex was a Grif family trait. North had shaken his head and scolded him for not giving him a heads up then made him massage his lower back because he wasn't going to be able to stand in the packaging line for hours after everything they'd done the night before without some kind of help. They'd both ended up late to work that day.)

And so, it was with great cheer that North opened the message Grif had just sent him.

DG: things just went weird and i don't have a lot of time but i knew i needed to get a message to you.

up front: i'm not dead or hurt. i'm not breaking up with you. no one's found out about you.

that out of the way, here's the situation.

i told you that we were training our lieutenants for a special mission. tucker went on an op and managed to grab data that told us where our friends are being held. kimball agreed to greenlight a rescue mission if we could get felix to say we'd managed to turn our troops into a suitable unit and that's what we've been doing the last few days.

well, we realized today that no matter what we do, we can't turn these kids into a bunch of badass soldiers. hell, we barely count as soldiers ourselves.

tucker called us out on it. and after talking it through, we've realized that if we're going to rescue the others, we have to do it ourselves. if we take our squad in, we're just going to get them killed. but us? we're survivors. if we have any kind of specialty, that's our's.

i know this is super shitty.

i really wish i could have had time to talk to you about this or even just tell you in person. but we have to be gone before kimball finds out our plan.

we have to do this. we're the only ones on this entire planet the others can count on and right now there's actually a decent chance we can pull this off but if we wait, this opportunity goes away.

we're not planning on dying or throwing our lives away. i sure as hell wouldn't do that to you. you don't deserve.

we'll come back and you're going to bruise a rib laughing at how weird this mission ends up being.

but, in the very, very small chance this don't go our way, well, i have a little sister out there somewhere who needs someone looking after her. i know it'd be a lot to ask but i'm hoping you'd be willing to step in if something goes wrong.

take care of yourself while we're gone. i don't want to hear from barkeep that you've been getting blackout drunk again.

i'll see you soon.

DG: i guess this is a PS or something but since i know you're a secretly a romantic at heart, i should probably tell you that i think i've fallen in love with you. please keep the teasing to a minimum when we get back. i have a reputation to maintain.

DG: oh, also, i wrote a letter for my sister. just in case. can you send it to her if something happens? thanks. ===ATTACHMENT: aloha_


Far from the battered town and the underground New Republic base, two Warthogs were tearing their way down the remains of damaged roads, following the map that would lead them to their friends.

If Simmons thought Grif was being unusually pensive as he drove their stolen military vehicle, he didn't say anything. In fact, he was being strangely quiet himself as he rode shotgun, head swerving from side to side as he kept a wary eye out for the Feds.

Grif's eyes flickered off the road briefly when a new message arrived.

ND: Please stay safe. I love you too and I'm going to yell at you for hours for pulling this when you get back.

Hands tightened on the steering wheel, the metal creaking slightly under the pressure. Grif forced himself to take several deep breaths as he refocused his attention on the road. He was glad North had read his message. Glad North had sent a message in reply. All he had to do now was rescue the other Reds and Blues and get back safely. He had extra motivation now.


Two nights after Grif had vanished with the other Simulation soldiers found North back in the bar. He was being good, though. He'd told the bartender to cut up off once he'd had enough. Grif had asked him not to drink until he passed out so he was trying not to. He would be on his own for just a few more days and then his lover would be back, ready to be yelled at for frightening him so badly with this stunt.

North didn't notice right away when the two New Republic soldiers entered the bar. He didn't think anything of their orange and yellow accented armor, not until they walked up to his booth. Looking up, North felt a block of ice form in his stomach when he took in their grim expressions.

"You're Nick, right?" the older of the two soldiers asked in a soft hesitating voice. "The guy Captain Grif has been hanging out with?"

When he saw North's slow answering nod, the soldier (Bitters, this was Bitters, wasn't it?) took a deep breath before continuing. "We- we just got word of something that we thought you should know. And we knew no one else in the New Republic would know to tell you so…" his voice trailed off. His expression was haunted.

"Felix went after the Captains," the younger soldier said, picking up where the other had left off. "To help them on their mission to rescue their friends. He told Kimball they succeeded. They, they actually did it. They found their friends. But Locus-"

"Locus killed them. All of them," Bitters finished in a flat voice. "Matthews and I, we knew you and the Captain had gotten close so we thought we should let you know. I'm really, really sorry. Captain Grif and all the others - they were really something special. Um, I'm really sorry to have to tell you this. Are you going to be okay?" The last question was spoken much more hesitantly than the preceding words.

North wanted to scream, to throw up. He felt bile rising in his throat as the weight of the two soldiers' words crashed down around him. Grif was dead. He was all alone again. He'd started pulling himself out of the hole Freelancer had left him in only for all that to be swept away.

Grif was dead.

He covered his face with his hand, squeezing his eyes shut as pressure built up in his eyes and unshed tears began to form. He took a deep breath, then another to keep from completely breaking down.

Standing next to the table, the two soldiers, hurting and grieving themselves, shared a worried look as the man they were pretty sure Captain Grif had been dating sat in silence. Then suddenly the strange blond man slammed his hand on the table and his eyes flew open. The light in them seemed to burn.

"You said Locus killed him," he snarled and jabbed a finger at the seat opposite his own. "Sit down. You're going to tell me everything you know about him."

The next several hours flew by in a blur. Matthews and Bitters, crammed into the booth, found themselves desperately groping for every piece of information and every rumor they'd ever heard about the ferocious mercenary Locus. The man sitting opposite them transformed over the course of the interrogation, changing from a mild mannered factory worker into a frighteningly intense soldier when they finally parted ways.

"That guy was insane," Bitters declared to Matthews the next morning as they headed to the mess hall. "What does he think he think he's going to do, take Locus down all by himself? Felix hasn't managed it. How could he possibly succeed on his own?"

"He can't," a cool voice interrupted them. Bitters froze as a tall soldier stepped in front of him. His armor was a mix of several different types but it was painted the tan base of the New Republic with purple and green accents. "Not yet, at least."

"You- what are you doing here?" There was a distinctly hysteric quality to Bitter's voice.

Under his helmet, North bared his teeth in a savage grin. "I signed on this morning. The recruiter was thrilled to hear heard how eager I was to fight for the New Republic. Locus works for the Federal Army. If I'm going to kill him, I need to make sure I'm on the right side."

Matthews and Bitters stared aghast at man in front of him. The voice, height - they remembered it from the night before. There was no way Captain Grif would have approved of this. His boyfriend was a civilian who'd gone out of his way to avoid picking a side in the war. But now, here he was, wearing the colors of the New Republic with a pistol at his hip and a sniper rifle on his back.

"Grif was your commanding officer, so I'll explain how this is going to work. We will, of course, happily and fervently serve the New Republic in whatever capacity it asks of us," North stated in an eerily calm voice. "But starting tomorrow, when we're not on duty, you two and the other lieutenants work for me. I'm sure you agree that the Reds and Blues didn't deserve to die. I'm sure you agree that Locus needs to pay for what he's done."

North strode forward until he was towering over the two frightened members of Gold Team. "I'm going to train you," he informed them. "It's not going to be like what the Reds and Blues did. It's not going to be like what you learned in the New Republic. It's not going to be anything Felix may have shown you. I'm going to turn all of you into a weapon I can use against Locus and together we are going to make him wish had never been born.

"You can have today," he continued in the same level tone, "to explain all of this to the others and to take time to grieve while I take care of a few loose threads. Tomorrow we get started. There will be no arguing. No reports. No complaining. Is that understood?" North eyes narrowed when there was no response. He suspected the two men were staring at him with gaping mouths. "I said, is that UNDERSTOOD?" The last word cracked like a whip.

"Sir, yes, sir," Bitters exclaimed, feeling equal parts terror and excitement. He found himself fighting the urge to salute. How was this guy- he had Private's stripes, for goodness sakes! He barked orders like an officer and carried himself like Felix. Who, no, what was he?

Beside him, Matthews didn't seemed to have the same conflict. His hand snapped to his brow like a rocket.

"Good." The man started to turn, then paused. "By the way, from now on? Call me North."