Special Agent Meghan Kelly sighed as she finally settled behind her desk. She had to admit that babysitting the two Joes had her feeling unsettled, to say the least. She still was at a loss as to why Supervisory Special Agent Anderson had emphatically not wanted any of the Joes walking around unchaperoned.

What was going on? First, they shut out Homeland, now the Joe team. Rumors were also circulating that the FBI's relationship with NCIS was becoming strained. During her time at Quantico, it was not uncommon to see the various agencies working together on cases. To have the Joe team out of the loop was not only hurting the anti-Terrorist unit, but, the FBI as well.

Her current case was an example of the need to keep each other 'in the know'. Pulling the file on her desk closer to her, she slowly flipped through the pages, skimming through her notes, the inventory of evidence and the crime scene pictures. The case, she realized, was going to become one that would never be solved. The official story, as well as news headlines, would probably read, "Biker Gang member in rival territory gets a crowbar to the head."

The autopsy report had come in and stated the obvious: cause of death was blunt force trauma to the head. Considering that his brain matter was sprayed out around his brown locks and his head had a look of a deflated volleyball, she was inclined to agree. Then there was a memo confirming that the victim's identity was Bill Winkie, a known member of the Swamp Riders Motorcycle Club.

What had her stumped was Winkie's drastic change in behavior. His life seemed to be that of an upstanding British Citizen. An ex-Royal Marine who, upon returning from Basra, Iraq, had started working as a Science teacher. He was engaged to his childhood sweetheart, and they were expecting their first child. Then one day he changed to a man that rode out of his hometown in England on a motorcycle with a rap sheet a mile long, not bothering to look back.

There were still too many questions as to why Monkeywrench threw his life away for Kelly to close the case. She knew there was an answer out there, the Joe team had the best knowledge of the Dreadnocks, but to reach out to them after being expressly told not to was a career killer.

Making a few notes that the family might be able to answer. SA Kelly then turned her attention to the claims he worked for Cobra, a terrorist organization. She figured it might be best to reach out to a friend that worked in the Counter Terrorism Unit with the FBI.

She picked up the phone, punching his number in by heart, and wrinkled her nose at the sound of her friend's voice in the recorded message. She glanced down at the time on her phone she realized it was ten till seven, no wonder her stomach was rumbling.

A sharp rap on the door to her office stopped her. Without waiting for her to grant permission to enter, she watched the door swing opened. To her surprise, Deputy Director Ivers strode in. In his early fifties and slightly balding, he was a big guy who would look more at home on a construction site then the halls of the FBI offices, especially a man who worked his way up the top through White Collar crimes.

What had her intrigued is him slumming, in the lower agent's offices and not have her summoned up to his.

"So, where are we on the investigation?" He took a seat across from her desk, reaching out, taking a picture of her and her parents when she graduated from UCLA.

"It's unclear, either the Breakers or Cobra did the deed." She closed the file; SSA Kelly let her fingers glide of the relief of the FBI seal on the cover. "His family is on their way from England; I have some follow-up questions for them. Other than that, I think it's a classic case of a Vet returning home with PTSD. Winkie goes off the rails and ends up either in the wrong place or pisses off the wrong guy. There is no hiding the fact that the Swamp Riders are Dreadnocks and we all know the Dreadnocks are guns-for-hire for Cobra."

Ivers placed the picture back on her desk, crossing his arms he studied her "He was one of the Dreadnock's that captured those two Joes not too long ago, wasn't he?"

That question caught her off guard. "I am familiar with the brief. The Joe Team never released the names of the members involved. Since I have no access to the Joe team or their records..." she shrugged. She hoped the comment might give her some insight on why they didn't want the Joe Team to find out about them having Monkeywrench's case. All she wanted to do was bring closure to a single mother of an eight-year-old daughter.

Ivers looked at her, "You're a smart agent you'll figure out a way." She was disappointed that he didn't explain. "Just like you'll figure how to make a connection between the biker and General Clayton Abernathy."

"But sir?" Ivers' request shocked her. Even if Monkeywrench was a Dreadnock, there was a big leap from the mercenary to the leader of the GI Joe team.

"Figure it out." He's lips widened into a chilling smile. "Supervisory Special Agent Kelly."

He reached out his hand for her to take, then with a nod, he smiled, pleased. "I'm glad you see things my way." A chill ran up her spine she had never paid much attention before but there on his lapel was the Don't Tread on Me Flag.

"There he was, screaming like a little girl." To prove his point, Sam let out a scream.

"What Sam is not telling you all, is the needle he was using was not a sewing needle; the nice gentleman that had allowed us to find cover in his shop was a cobbler." Flint stopped for dramatic effect and watched as Quick Kick across from him hand went up to his neck, stomping his foot. "It was a leather needle; Sam was so drunk he didn't know the difference."

"Stop being a wussy," Sam said looking at him, "that's the problem with you soldiers, a bunch of bitchy little complainers. The scar adds character."

"Wow and with that chin, you should know all about character." Jaye quipped.

Sam looked at her wide-eyed his mouth aghast. Then he smiled. "I like her."

"I would hope so; how long did we work on her to keep her alive?" Michael asked.

"That had to be the scariest flight I have ever made," Flint admitted memories of her life blood spilling out on his Black Hawk made him cringe. Wanting to not think about how he almost lost her, before he even had a chance to know her, he turned and smiled at her tugging at a chocolate curl. "Lady Jaye, you are up."

"You know all about my embarrassing stories. I don't have that many." She said trying to get the attention off her.

"Accidentally locking yourself in a bathroom and missing a whole firefight." Quick Kick pointed out first.

"Losing your pants on a mission," Beachhead added.

Flint leaned in; he was about to tell the story of how he got his codename. Instead, she put her finger to his lips silencing him. "Two words, Chief."

He looked at her there was nothing she had on him that could top Sam's story of screaming like a little girl. "Bring it," he dared her.

"Cream Soda." He cringed instantly. He had forgotten about that part of his least favorite mission. The joint mission had the Joe team and Interpol working together to secure a toxic nerve agent for destruction still caused him to cringe.

All Dial-Tone, Cross Country, Lady Jaye and he had to do was take a classified package from a black ops site just a few miles outside of Las Vegas, to the Rocky Mountain Chemical Reservatory. From the beginning, he had his apprehensions, his last 'UPS' mission had him picking up a very short, sometimes hostile, and always sexy, Lady Jaye.

That being said, he felt relief when Dial-Tone brought the container, the size of a book, and secured it to the Armadillo. The next two hours they rode on the Nuclear Route, a carefully planned causeway for those carrying 'dirty' material, on high alert. All of them, at one time or another, looked back at the box the uneasiness apparent on their face.

Then it happened: they were attacked. The mission went then sideways, upside down and backwards, culminating in having to work with a British Spy that, in Flint's opinion, was way too interested in Lady Jaye. Though the mission became one of the ones that got told and retold, there was one particular point that the three Joes left out.

It seemed that they were the decoys to flush out Cobra. When the terrorist organization took the bait, the Joe team seemed to have the upper hand. Mindbender, in an attempt to change the tide of battle, had thrown one of the vials. Flint in a decision to save his team jumped on the 'grenade' sacrificing himself.

Matthew "Mr. Super Spy" Burke had started laughing causing them all to look at him explaining in a that the whole situation was 'Quite droll, that all the vials contained was cream soda'. The real vials had already securely made it from RMR to Ft. Colton.

The brass had wanted to see where an Interpol leak was coming from and they had found it; seems that the new secretary they had hired recently was none other than Zarana. Burke had explained then he had smiled, leaning in to Lady Jaye, wondering if she would like to go out on the town that night, check out some gambling and show. He was sure that his people could get a dress for her.

Flint had watched with humor as Jaye's eyes narrowed and that left hook of hers laid the spy low. Unbelievably, the British man had gotten up, dusted off, and left them with a 'if you change your mind'.

That adorable growl of her emitting from her throat; she turned, climbed into the armadillo and scowled at them. The whole trip back, she kept glancing at him with a strange expression. As he released them once they got back to the Joe training grounds, the look intensified.

She then leaned over and her lips brushed his, it happened so quickly and had surprised him that it took Cover Girl and Clutches catcalls for him to realize it actually happened. Because by the time he got his wits together, she was gone and Cover Girl was slapping his ass saying "Good game, Chief."

The mention of the words, Cream Soda, now turned his stomach. His expression might have given away his discomfort at the situation because the table erupted in laughter. Thankfully they moved on to Quick Kick; Jessie, it seemed had a few stories of his former battle buddy.

As the night wore on, even Michael got picked on; Flint couldn't resist telling a story of the somber spy getting trapped under a bed while a corrupt Russian official his lover and mistress had quite the romp. The matter worsened when Sam had started giving Michael the blow by blow of the events above him in the voice of the Swedish Chief.

As he finished his story, he noticed that Jaye had begun leaning on him slightly and fighting off yawns. Fi was no better, her sleepy looks had Flint wondering if she would fall asleep at the table. For both women had been in not one, but three firefights. He smiled at the rest of the group and pulled her out of her seat, in the hopes of tucking her into bed.

He was almost out the door when Sam and Jessie motioned for him to stay; Flint knew what they wanted: information on Michael and his burn notice. Promising to be up to bed soon, he kissed her on the forehead, ignoring the sarcastic 'awes' that filled the room. She nodded and yawned and left; he motioned the barkeep for a beer, knowing he was going to need it.

Later…

"Damn it! Hardison!"

Flint stopped in front of the TV shaking his head. There on the screen was a man with shoulder length hair, screaming in irritation at an African American man. He turned the volume down realizing that the reruns of Lady Jaye's favorite show were playing to a sleeping audience.

He looked over on the bed, chuckling at Jaye who had, somehow, wrapped her body around her laptop in a pretzel like a shape. Pulling at the laptop he shook his head. The the girl couldn't figure out how to post to Facebook, but she knew how to use Pinterest. Currently, her screen held pictures of wedding dresses, honeymoon destinations, and Christian Kane. He examined the picture of the TV actor-slash-country-singer, wondering how she thought that he looked like him.

He placed her laptop on the side table. Flint realized he wasn't going to find a place to stretch out with her taking up the middle of the bed. At home, he would scoop her up, and unceremoniously throw her on her side of the bed. Any ruffled feathers were smoothed over with strategically placed kisses. Tonight, who knew when either of them would get a chance to relax again. Pulling at the blankets she had kicked off he tucked her back in.

He settled back into the couch, looking back over at Jaye as she mumbled something in her sleep. He sighed watching her brow begin to furrow. He pulled out his iPhone and scrolled through the numerous playlists, smiling when he found the one he was looking for called Peaceful. It contained an eclectic mix from Johnny Cash, Aerosmith, Tim McGraw and Bon Jovi that, when played, the music seemed to keep her nightmares at bay. The chords of Rose of My Heart started playing, instantly, she began to relax.

Settling down again on the couch, he pulled off his boot. He then turned to his prosthetic; rolling up his pants leg, he released the suction and the contraption fell away. With a sigh, he was happy to be free of it. The best way to describe the presence was a pair of socks worn too long on a hot summer day, under a pair of jeans, encased in a pair of work boots. It's not annoying, it just feels good to get it off.

He settled on the couch. For a second he thought about reading the book he had brought with him but gave up on the idea, afraid the light would wake up Allie. So he figured he would finish his beer and relax. Pulling out a small, flat container, he started wrapping it in sharp motions. It was a point of contention between him and his fiancée; he was trying to quit, again. Making a promise to only use snuff out in the field. But at the moment his swirling thoughts of the conversation downstairs had him worried and irritated.

Opening the container, he took a pinch of tobacco, and a slight rustling caused him to still. Looking up there stood Lady Jaye arms akimbo, one hip out, irritation on her face. He should feel guilty, but all he could think was how adorable she was when she was angry at him.

"Hi, Lil' Bit." Her look was caused him to put the pinch back in the tin, dusting his fingers off he gave her a sheepish look. "Technically, I am in the field."

He was sure that he heard a slight growl imitating from her throat. God, how sexy she looked, barefoot in a pair of boy shorts, a worn Army PT shirt that had the sleeves cut out. Her chocolate curls wild, haloing around her head.

He mimicked her expression glaring up at her, instead of yelling she walked closer looking at him with narrowed eyes. She then bent down and uncrossed his arms and crawled up on his lap. Even exhausted as he was, his body had reacted to the sight of her she arched her eyebrow but didn't comment. He bit back the comment that it was her fault that she was so damn sexy. Instead, he chuckled pulling her closer to him. "Here, I was afraid I was going to sleep on the couch."

Instead of moving them both to the bed he took a minute to enjoy having her in his arms. He knew how lucky he was to have stolen moments like these, and was going to take full advantage of it.

Jaye put her head on Dash's shoulder; with a smile, he leaned down and kissed her temple.

It was then he noticed the haunted look in her eye. A sadness that occasionally would mar her pretty features. It happens to the best of them, your thoughts take you to a dark place when you least expected it; a smell, a noise, can easily bring you back to the battlefield, a jail cell or some other horrific moment.

He hated her being in that place, he felt the need to get her to giggle. With his stoic frown in place, he took her face in his calloused hands. He crossed his eyes, stuck his tongue out, earning a half-hearted smile from her. There was no stopping him; he was on a mission, she had to laugh. So, he did the only thing he could think of: he licked the side of her face, "Flint! Eww."

"What? You know where my mouth had been." A blush covered her cheeks at the obvious commentary of what had transpired between them this afternoon. The expression on her face caused him to laugh, which had her hiding her face in his chest.

He rearranged himself, so she sat between his legs, her back leaning on his chest. Then, just to be annoying, he wrapped his legs around her torso. She gave him a look of irritation, which turned into a grin as he produced a bag of gummy bears from his pocket. With a flourish, he handed them to her. He chuckled watching as she rooted for a gummy bear that was not orange.

He put his chin on her shoulder; opening his mouth. She obliged him by putting an orange bear on his tongue. He couldn't help but pull her into a bone crushing hug.

"I can't breathe, Dash!" She giggled.

"You want to breathe? That will cost you a kiss." He used what she called his 'deranged Muppet voice'; then with a growl, he started raining kisses on her neck. She began to giggle, which just egged him on even more. He loved that sound, her laughter. It chased away his demons as he kissed her temple. He then still looking at her with an exaggerated serious look.

She returned the look. "What?"

"How am I so lucky?" He softened his look, rubbing his thumb on her scar on her temple.

"You getting mushy on me, Chief?" she looked at him in disbelief.

"Yep," He grinned. Then with audacity, he stole a green gummy bear out of the bag.

"DASHIELL RIVER FAIREBORN." She swore.

"ALLISON REBEUL HART-BURNETT SOON-TO-BE FAIREBORN."

Lady Jaye's green eye sparkled, as her face took a goofy look. He chuckled, pulling her into him tighter. She snuggled into his chest; it wasn't long before he was watching her good eye flutter fighting sleep.

He felt her sigh with content as their heart beats synched; reaching under her shirt, he let his fingers rub up and down her spine. When he heard her soft snoring, he knew that she had fallen asleep.

Allie was right, partly, early in their relationship she didn't snore. A broken nose caused the adorable noise she made when she slept. Leaning down, he kissed the bridge of her nose. Settling in he became absorbed in the show. It wasn't until the credits rolled that her brogue broke the silence. "What is our next move?"

"Lil Bit, I don't know." Here was the only person in the world he was willing to admit that he didn't know something. That was how much he trusted her. How much he knew that she wouldn't ridicule, and more importantly, her own thinking so different from his often inspired some of his tactical decisions.

Flint's mind was still working the puzzle pieces; he couldn't help but be slightly irritated that they weren't in place. The modified reports were what had him stumped, though he relied on them, whoever modified either knew that he would not be running into Cover Girl for the oral debriefing. Very few people had access to change the report once uploaded. Let alone write access. Lady Jaye and Scarlett didn't have that kind of access. Only him, Duke, Hawk and Foxland.

GI Joe was a unit made up of the Elite Soldiers and the brightest minds of the DOD, breaking in to the Joe team servers would be cake for any of the members. He was about to tell her just as much when he noticed her bright purple toenails. "You know LT I do not think purple is an authorized color."

She gave him a mock look of surprise, then that damn sweet smile of hers; she always gave it when she was about to get them both in trouble. "Are you going to tattle on me?"

He shook his head no, but said, "Maybe." He was about to explain that she could always make up the indiscretion by some Corrective Action through Physical Education. Naked. Both of them. In Bed. When he was overtaken by a yawn.

"You need sleep." She giggled. He shook his head no, as another yawn overtook him. It was when a third one emerged that he realizes he was tired.

"Maybe your right," She went to get off his lap. Chuckling he tightened his grip on her, she glared at him as she tried to free herself, but he had made it impossible for her to move. His laughter filled the room as she struggled to escape his grasp; he wrapped his legs around her as she got creative and tried to drop her body between his legs and slide to the floor.

He soon found himself in the middle of an impromptu wrestling match with her, which ended in him tickling her until she was breathless. Gone was Flint, completely in this moment he was all Dashiell, no thinking about sneak attacks, close friends getting burned, and what damage a Pirate and Navy Seal could do at a bar. He was just a boy, spending time with the girl, who promised to spend her whole life with him.

He finally gave her relief and found himself smiling as she tried to catch her breath in galls of laughter. But he was the victor, still holding onto her tightly.

"Dash," She tried to look serious, but her laughter wouldn't let her keep a straight face, "You have to let me go."

"No, sleeping," With that he nuzzled his head on her shoulder, pretending to snore.

"Dashiell" He opened one eye looking at her, she glared at him with a mock look of irritation.

"Shhh". He took his hand, covering her eye. "I'm trying to sleep here."

"Bed with pillows," she inclined her head toward the bed piled high with pillows and covers. He blinked at her, she returned his blank look with a stern face, but her giggling was making it impossible for him to keep a straight face.

"You're my pillow," he nestled into her shoulder, taking a leg he threw it over her.

She frowned down at him, shaking her head. "I want a bed."

"Oh, you want a bed?" In an instant, he was standing; her small body nestled in his arms. Her toned arms wrapped quickly around his neck. She squealed, her merriment in his ears fueled his actions. "You better hold on, or I might drop you." With that, he let go slightly.

She let out what he could surmise was a string of curse words, he had heard some before, but others were new. He caught her quickly; the desired result was apparent she hung on tighter to his neck.

He looked down at her, how beautiful she was.

He let his eyes rake over her body; his groin tightened when she made a mewling noise. He adjusted her slightly in his arms, he felt her lips pressed a kiss on the hollow of his throat. "Baby," she begged him.

A growl ripped from his throat, she was his whole world, the only thing that kept him sane. Her innate sweetness and light kept his demons at bay. He had a purpose with her by his side. His job was to make sure that she could walk on this earth with all the skills and knowledge to keep that amazing heart of hers protected, because her heart was what protected his soul.

"Forget getting mushy, Chief, you just got liquid on me," She quipped.

He opened his mouth and realized that he had said his thoughts out loud. With a chuckle, he leaned down, scraping his teeth on Jaye's exposed shoulder. She moaned with pleasure, arching towards him, his hands already working on pulling at the waistband of her shorts. Her hands on his buckle of his belt she looked up at him with such love.

"Don't go changing on me, Lil' bit."

"I love you too, baby." She smiled.