Above Ground

by Yin

AU. Dexter Grif really only ever wanted to keep himself and his sister out of trouble, and maybe get a few naps in while he was at it. But chance encounters end up putting him in the thick of a battle to save his home. ...Figures. {Grimmons, other pairings mentioned in fic.}

21. Chapter 21

Legal Disclaimer: I do not own Red vs. Blue or any of the show's characters. They are the rightful properties of Rooster Teeth.

Chapter Twenty-One:

Richard "Dick" Simmons sat on the couch in the "safe house" that Carolina had apparently had, body completely tense.

Seriously, who actually kept a safe house as just a regular precaution?

It was, oddly enough, a rather pleasant space now that he was in a more coherent frame of mind. It was an actual house, located close to the spacious housing for higher-up military sorts and other government officials.

It was actually near where his family's home was, now that he thought about it. Given the proximity, it was no wonder she had just "shown up" there out of the blue so long ago.

Apparently, in her spare time, the leader of the Freelancers had put in quite a bit of work to maintain the illusion that someone actually lived at this location on a regular basis. Which was probably necessary in order to avoid the prying eyes of either snooping neighbors too curious for their own good or suspicious government agents.

The garden outside was even well-maintained, most likely by a professional gardener since he couldn't really picture Carolina actually having much time for that sort of thing. On the inside, everything was in tip-top working order.

The furniture was an odd, eclectic set of things that didn't really match too well or give the space any coherent theme. It reminded him of how someone might have described his mother's sense of décor as being extremely "antique" or "classical" just to save time and fancy up the fact that she liked a lot of older pieces and designs.

Still, the pieces in Carolina's safe house were also well-cared for and just helped to give the space a sense that someone most likely lived there. Fuck, she had even put up pictures and art pieces everywhere too.

He was fairly certain the smiling faces in the frames were most likely stock photos she'd found online. Apparently Agent Washington had done a double-take upon seeing a poster of a cat on the kitchen wall earlier with a "I thought someone had thrown that out!" comment, but the pictures would have sent most curious eyes on their way without giving them a second glance.

Though all of that decor really only served as cover for the apparent armory and caches of weapons and other useful tech that the Freelancer had hidden in every single room of the house.

There was even a hallowed out storage container of weaponry inside the very couch Simmons was precariously sitting on now. Knowing that, even without being told about it explicitly thanks to his cybernetic eye picking up on the "glow" from the active security lock underneath the cushions, certainly wasn't helping his nerves any.

One of the least likely things to help matters at the moment would be if a grenade happened to accidently go off while the cyborg was sitting on top of it, no matter how unlikely that was probably to happen given how secure Carolina seemed to have everything.

It all further proved the number of years people like Carolina and Washington had been planning for things like this. All while people like him did nothing except monkey about and be useless to pretty much everyone and everything.

Thinking about it like that wasn't really helping Simmons too much either. He took in a shaking breath, feeling a spike in his nerves again and really hoping to avoid another panic attack currently.

Then again, he was pretty fucking doubtful that most things would help him at the moment.

There was a shuffling of feet by the entryway into the living room from the kitchen. The Above Grounder glanced up to see two of his teammates nervously poking their heads through the doorway. Both Sheila and Doc seemed somewhat hesitant to approach him.

Not that Simmons could necessarily blame them at the moment.

After all, he'd been a pretty irrational, panic-stricken mess just hours before. Even now, he could almost feel the build-up of nerves and fears inside of him threatening to spill out all over again.

He wouldn't want to deal with that either, if their roles had been reversed.

At the moment, everything fucking sucked: his whole situation, all the shit they had apparently all been unknowingly connected to for years, Grif…

A shudder ran through his body, and Simmons forced himself to smile weakly to alleviate some of the concerns of his friends. He had done it countless times growing up to reassure his mother after particularly stressful events, so it almost felt like second-nature now.

"S—sorry. You can come in, if you'd like."

It was probably a really big dick move for him to have taken the entire living room for himself anyways. He should have instead found a more convenient room with a fucking lock until he felt he was good and ready to leave, like a bed or bathroom.

Of course, that train of thought made him think suddenly of that one night at Grif's apartment. Fuck it! It was like Simmons was doing this on purpose to mess with his own brain.

Honestly, the redhead had been in so much of a haze when they came to the safe house that he pretty much had had no idea where he had collapsed at first. Back then, he just knew that he really needed to sit somewhere and recollect himself for a few minutes. Which, of course, had ended up probably being more like hours when it was all said and done. Simmons hadn't been paying too much attention to the time either.

"Are you sure?" Doc took a step in carefully, as if approaching an animal that could potentially respond with a fight or flight reflex, "We don't want to intrude."

"We simply wished to see how you were feeling, Private Simmons." Sheila spoke up from behind him.

The medic nodded his head in earnest agreement, brown eyes filled with concern, "Are you feeling any better?"

It was beyond kind for the two of them to not directly mention the panic attack he'd had before. Simmons felt a slight tearing up in his organic eye at the notion that they understood him well enough to know that he was still probably trying to process things, and that he would get even more out of sorts and embarrassed if that was brought up.

The cyborg nodded his head shakily in response to Doc's question, not quite ready to vocalize too much. But, given the circumstances, he knew he was probably feeling as okay as he would be.

That gesture was all of the confirmation the two needed to settle into the living room with him. Doc sat on the opposite end of the neutral, nonmatching beige couch Simmons was currently on. Sheila chose to sit down on the adjoining loveseat of a shockingly purple color that was a louder shade than Doc's armor.

A heavy, suffocating silence fell over the room.

After a few moments and another shaky breath into his nonexistent lungs, Simmons finally managed to squeak out a shaky, "S—sorry."

He wasn't even sure what he was apologizing for, really.

The apology could have been for the massive information dump they'd just been let in on about their current situation. Or it could have been about how so much of their past as a team had been manipulated by things like Freelancer and the Council's machinations.

Maybe Simmons was just sorry about how he'd lost it at the end of the last mission for very personal reasons, or how he'd made them all worry as a result?

It was probably for all of those things and more, given how pathetic the cyborg could be.

Surprisingly, Doc shook his head rather emphatically no sooner than the word had left his teammate's mouth, "There's nothing to apologize for, Simmons." He told him, voice sympathetic.

"B—but—!"

Simmons was going to protest because he felt that what Doc said wasn't true at all, but Sheila cut him off.

"Doc is correct." The robot stated matter-of-factly, "You were under high levels of emotional duress."

His brown-haired friend nodded quickly, taking over for her, "We all were, to some degree." Doc said, looking thoughtfully at the wall across from them with a faraway expression, "All of this has been pretty intense, huh?"

"Tell me about it." Despite himself, Simmons couldn't help but smile a little at the medic's very obvious understatement.

A thought suddenly crossed his mind then, and Simmons felt rather guilty that he hadn't even thought about it until just now given everything they had learned in the past hours.

Admittedly, he had lost a lot of focus when he had heard the news about Grif. Still, there was so much else going on too just in terms of their own team. There was the surprising Flowers bombshell. The fact that Church was actually an A.I. too. There was also the reveal that apparently both Simmons and Sheila were being used as unwitting spies.

Sheila not only had to contend with all of that, but she also had learned that, like Church and Carolina, she too had altered memories to cover up what Church had always been.

Not to mention that his teammate had also encountered the V.I. she was most likely an offshoot of, only for that aspect of F.I.L.S.S. to sacrifice herself so that they could escape.

Robot or no, he doubted those were easy things to deal with and Sheila had always tried looking out for him. Simmons felt more than just a bit guilty that he hadn't even really thought about what she was possibly going through during the mission until just now after it had ended.

He turned to the V.I. sitting nearby, "What about you, Sheila? How are you doing?"

She tilted her helmeted head slightly at the redhead's inquiry, perhaps taken aback by it given how beside himself he had been earlier.

"Yeah, I can't imagine things have been easy for you to process." Doc chimed in, following Simmons' lead.

"They…" Sheila paused, as if trying to find the right words to describe how she was viewing the situation, "They have not been. Not really." The admission seemed to give her the push she needed to further elaborate though, "But, I am trying to process what has happened as best I can."

The medic nodded his head in quiet understanding, smiling as encouragingly as usual, "Well, if you ever need to talk, we're always here. Church is too."

"Yes, I know." There was an obvious smile to her voice as she added, "Thank you."

Doc tapped his pink-rimmed glasses in a way that had become rather subconscious on his part by now, "If we ever run into him again, I'm sure Lopez would probably be able to provide more of a fellow robot perspective too."

Sheila glanced from the medic to Simmons, as if afraid for a second that the mention of Grif's teammate would have some kind of negative reaction.

The cyborg smiled back weakly to reassure her, and the robot seemed rather relieved.

"I hadn't really thought about talking to Lopez again. Given the circumstances." She stated in a surprisingly soft voice, "But I would like to talk to him about this at some point. I would like to talk to him about a lot of things. If I could."

Concepts like "love" and "like" could definitely do strange things even to robots, it seemed. Neither human wanted to give Sheila any doubts behind her wishful thinking. After all, well beyond any of them, she more than likely knew what the odds were about having that chance.

"I think we all have people like that." Doc's smile had taken on a wistful edge too, and his voice carried a worried tone.

No one said anything for a long while, a lingering stillness hanging over their heads after Doc's last remark.

Simmons tried not to think about the gnawing hurt building up in his chest as a result of the direction the conversation had headed towards. Definitely not good to go down that route again if he could avoid it, especially given that his friends also had people they were worried about.

Perhaps thinking it best to say something to avoid having too much time for them to think about how hopelessly lost they were currently, Doc spoke up again to ask a question: "This is all just so bizarre, huh? I mean, the whole bomb thing is terrible enough as it is, and then there's the Church situation…"

Yeah, that was definitely true. Church going from a regular grumpy guy to being a grumpy ghost A.I. who could inhabit robot bodies was all sorts of brain-breaking.

Looking back, the whole thing actually made a twisted sort of sense to the point where it was surprising that their team hadn't thought of it before. But, in fairness to them, the entire story did take a whole lot to fully process.

In a way, it was still insane to think that anyone would be that methodical in trying to cover up their actions to the world.

"Then there's what Church and Delta found out about Captain Flowers too."

Doc mentioned that part quietly, a frown forming on his face.

It had always been a terrible tragedy that Captain Butch Flowers had been killed in action. To finally learn about the truth of their captain? Well, that was pretty much right up there with the whole reveal about Church and the altered memories of their leader, Sheila, and even Agent Carolina.

The bizarreness of Captain Flowers having been murdered by some remnant faction of the surviving Insurrection members who had made it topside while he had been "investigating" them as Agent Florida had been just another lie. Another one of the myriad of lies that Above Ground military used to cover up unpleasant truths.

Agent Florida had been, in fact, investigating Chairman Hargrove's connections to some of the more extremely confidential dirty secrets of Project Freelancer. Most likely, Church and Delta both surmised, he had been killed by someone in Hargrove's employ. A plausible "reason" for him turning up dead was created so that neither his team nor his fellow Freelancers would question things further.

In hindsight, they should have regardless. The Insurrection angle was flimsy at best. Especially given how quickly and lethally that threat had been dealt with once they had made their presence known to Above Ground.

At the time, Freelancer had more than enough problems that had all started to boil over then as well, while Flowers' team had been so shocked and grief-stricken over suddenly losing their C.O. that they didn't really contemplate the situation carefully.

Besides, they had been brought up to trust military reports despite knowing how extreme Above Ground tactics could be. So, they had taken the information given to them at face value because everyone else who appeared to be in a better position to know "more" did so as well.

Looking back now, it was all so stupidly foolish. Unfortunately, they couldn't really do much else but kick themselves over it in the present.

Perhaps they could also just try to make things right at least in some small part for Captain Flowers' memory.

"Then there was the whole thing with the two of you." Doc mumbled quietly in the aftermath of the depressing thoughts flowing through all of them at the mention of Captain Flowers.

Sheila nodded, "Yes. I would like to talk with Church later to get some clarification as to how exactly he and Delta managed to terminate the monitoring program."

Ever since arriving at the safe house, both their cobalt-armored leader and Carolina had been involved in a pretty heated conversation. So, it seemed as if Sheila was content to wait to have her query answered.

Truthfully, Sheila was handling that whole issue with a lot of grace compared to how Simmons had reacted to it initially. Perhaps, in the grand scheme of things, to his teammate it was only a tiny portion of the secrets and manipulations she had been exposed to given her memory alteration.

Simmons imagined it wasn't so much a case of the robot necessarily wanting to demand answers. It was probably more of a way for her to be able to sort completely through what had transpired with one of her closer friends.

Sheila seemed to notice his regard, "It's nothing to worry about, Private Simmons." She informed him, polite as always and with a small tinge of gratitude present in her voice once more due to his concern.

He nodded, smiling slightly back at her.

"Your dad must have known about the cybernetic enhancement program since it was through the military. Right, Simmons?" Doc asked quietly, as if afraid to bring up the question at all, "After all, he's a general and everything. Do you think he…"

The medic trailed off, as if realizing he really wasn't comfortable finishing his thought. But it was pretty obvious what his friend had been about to ask.

"Did you think he knew about the classified additions?"

Honestly, as much as he tried to deny it, a part of Simmons already knew the answer.

"He was the one who brought up the program to me first."

Simmons remembered that succinctly. It was one of the few conversations that he and his father had that had lasted longer than ten minutes. Simmons remembered how much he had craved that connection after his mother's death.

Thinking back on it, his father had always been an ardent supporter of Chairman Hargrove as well.

The redhead sighed, "I'm pretty sure he knew all along about it."

For as long as he could remember, Simmons had always been a major disappointment to his father. He supposed that, to General Richard Simmons, a tool was an appropriate way to view someone who had consistently been nothing more than a failure as both a son and a soldier in their proud family's military history.

"S—sorry." Doc shifted uncomfortably in his seat, looking hesitant, "Are you…going to confront him over it?"

It was surprising to hear that kind of question coming from the peaceful Doc, of all people.

Caught off-guard for a moment, Simmons blinked his eyes and then shook his head. His hands were clenched tightly to his knees, and he wondered if he would break his armor again accidently because of his cybernetic strength if he wasn't too careful.

Truthfully, he wanted to confront the man. The Above Grounder wanted to find his asshole father, and then shout and curse at him with all of the might of his nonexistent lungs. He longed to just finally let it all out. To move away from his stupid, childish desire to please someone who only ever saw him as all of the imperfections and weaknesses he far too often only ever saw in himself now.

But a more rational part of Simmons knew that it wouldn't change a fucking goddamned thing, and that such an action could very possibly compromise everything they had been trying to accomplish recently.

While it was probably a long shot at best, and even thinking about it was causing Simmons to feel like he might need to vomit and cry all at the same time again, there was something even more important that he still had to do. Yes, the cyborg had another, even more selfish reason for not wanting to just say "Fuck it!" to everything.

He wanted, needed to do anything he could to help Grif. If it was possible.

Clinging to that slim hope was the only reason Simmons wasn't hyperventilating or punching mirrors right now. He couldn't do much if he let himself become an emotional mess once more, or if he did anything that might compromise their mission right now.

In that case, he wouldn't be of help to Grif. Or to anyone else for that matter.

"Right now, we have a lot of other things we need to focus on instead." Simmons said quietly in response to Doc's question.

The cyborg was surprised that his voice didn't really shake nearly as much as it usually did, despite how he was still stressed and upset on the inside. Both of his teammates nodded in agreement to his statement, but considering everything they had been through together and everything they had learned recently he had a suspicion they knew what he was covering up anyways.

From the knowing look in Doc's eye, and the sympathetic pats he received simultaneously on both of his shoulders seconds later, Simmons confirmed his hunch that both Doc and Sheila saw right through to what he was actually thinking and feeling just then.

The redhead was immensely grateful that they had the tact to not bring it up, even when he wiped hastily at his suddenly rather teary organic eye a moment afterwards.

---

There were a lot of ways in which this entire fucking plan was incredibly risky and altogether stupid.

At least, that's what Lavernius Tucker thought as the small group of six continued walking along through what seemed, for all intents and purposes, a really nice public space for outdoor activities. The Chorus Park they were currently nearby was certainly more expansive than any of the "park-esque" public areas in the Slums, what with their confined spaces and roofs always overhead.

The natural sunlight, as well as the sheer amount of trees and greenery along with the fact that Chorus looked to have actual space for people to move about when they wanted even from farther away still was both incredible and oddly disconcerting. As a Slums resident, this type of park was an utterly foreign concept for him.

Even with his negative thoughts being constantly reiterated in his head, it wasn't like Tucker had any other ideas that were any better than the one they were currently going with. At this point, the Resistance didn't really have any other options.

In fact, discussing future potential plans with others was the whole reason for why they were having this meeting in the first place. It was probably the only chance they would have to discuss things like possible rescue missions before the big showdown later.

The Resistance members were all pretty desperate at this point, and that sense of dread was only going to grow with each passing hour of inaction and not knowing.

So, yeah, it had been pretty good news earlier when they had finally gotten word from Washington and the other Above Ground military "insiders". Especially seeing as that group had been working on a way to get information on potential locations where the relic may have been taken.

Of course, given their all-around crappy situation, it was pretty much expected that the communication wasn't going to be the hopeful tidings that everyone had secretly wished it would be despite reality.

Seemed to be par the course that any amount of good news that the Resistance received was usually loaded with more than its fair share of bad news too.

Yes, Tucker could have pretty much won a killing on that if he'd bet. He hadn't though, largely because he had been inwardly hoping for something more positive himself along with everyone else despite all the evidence to the contrary.

On the bright side? Their whole first topside excursion gamble had paid off big time, and now there was a list of locales where the relic could have been taken.

That information was, unfortunately, tempered with the fact that it wasn't a short list, which meant it would be best from a strategic stance to narrow it down before attempting to take further action. At least, regarding where the potential doomsday weapon in the making was concerned.

Their resources and numbers were extremely limited compared to what Above Ground agents and those asshole mercenaries had at their disposal, and the Resistance no longer had the home-field advantage to make up for it. It was more than just a given that they would have to be damn certain before taking any kind of major offensive action now.

The information that the inside group had gotten had also contained some far more surprising and personal news too. News that Tucker still had a hard time processing, even though they had been outcomes he had been desperately trying not to get his hopes too high on.

Apparently, Junior had been mentioned in an Above Ground intelligence report. Not only him, but the chubby asshole too.

They were both alive still.

…At least, as far as that initial report had been concerned, at any rate.

Tucker wasn't going to kid himself about the possibility of that status either changing in the future or already having changed since that hacked report had been read.

After all, Above Ground tended to only keep people alive so long as they were useful. Particularly if those people came from the Slums.

He knew his son had only been kept alive simply due to him being a scientific curiosity as a half-alien hybrid. Shit, that fucker Felix had confirmed that as much during Junior's kidnapping.

But, who knew how long even that curiosity would last? What if the scientists studying the child like some freak of nature decided a dissection might be a more efficient way to conduct their research in the long run?

That line of thought had Tucker wanting to tear up and vomit, while punching a wall all at once.

The "punching a wall" thing in particular was probably not a good idea since he had already done it before. Especially given that Doctor Grey had threatened to staple his fingers together the next time he did it after he had to get his smarting digits looked at.

Even with Junior being kept alive, no one could say for sure anything on the manner of torturous tests and procedures the child had most likely been forced to endure already. Nor did most want to even hazard a guess.

Tucker knew Junior was one tough little kid, and he had always been proud of that. His son could endure a lot, but he was also just a kid. He was probably scared and no doubt hurting, and knowing that made things even worse for Tucker's own strained emotional state.

The sad truth was that Junior probably had way better odds for being kept alive longer due to his unique circumstances than Grif did.

It had actually been a huge shock to hear that his childhood friend was still alive even given the usual policies towards Resistance fighters displayed by the Above Ground military.

As much as Tucker wanted to be hopeful, there was a twisting, painful voice in the back of his mind telling him that Grif not being dead perhaps wasn't really all that much a blessing.

Tucker wasn't sure he really wanted to even know what the fat-ass had gone through since he had bought his two lieutenants time to fall back to safety. He didn't want to think on how potentially, even now, the report of his status of being alive could have changed either.

"They want to arrange a meeting. Face-to-face." Kimball informed the small group assembled before her in the bunker, after having let the information she had just thrown their way about the earlier communication sink in.

Only Kimball, Sarge, the former Freelancers, and the "senior" members of the Red and Blue Teams were in attendance.

Kimball hadn't been sure of how to best relay the information to everyone just yet, especially not when any decisions had yet to be made. On top of that, there weren't a ton of people who could be pulled away from their duties safely at the moment either.

Given the connections that most of the assembled group had to their potential allies, it certainly made the most sense to ask for their thoughts first. At least they all knew enough about the Above Grounders to perhaps make some judgment calls on trust and reliability, if necessary.

"Makes sense." York reasoned after a few seconds, "Even secure lines of communication have the potential to be picked up if used too regularly."

"If anyone starts to suspect these guys of acting remotely suspicious, the possibility of the messages being monitored is even more likely." The leader of the Resistance agreed, frowning.

"Meetings can be cancelled before they even begin, as opposed to an already sent communication. They're easier to cover up and act as if they weren't going to happen in the first place." C.T. put in and, judging by the clouded look crossing over her features, Tucker had a sneaking suspicion that she was talking from experience.

"It's also a fine way to get yourself killed if you get caught beforehand." Sarge argued, apparently not quite as on board with the notion as most of the Freelancers seemed to be.

"Yeah, but by this point that's a fairly huge risk for all of us, Sarge." The tan-armored former Freelancer had tried to make it sound like a joke, but it was a half-hearted attempt at best. The slight smile York sported didn't even seem to reach his one good eye.

The brunette's statement was probably closer to the truth than most of them wanted to think about. If this entire plan failed, nothing they did was going to matter in the slightest anyways.

"Well, we're fucked if we do, fucked if we don't." Tucker asked into the uneasy silence that had fallen after York's remark.

North smiled, the expression a bit more grimly than his usually encouraging one, "Not exactly the correct wording of that phrase, Tucker, but probably more accurate given this situation."

"So, there should be a meeting. At least to strategize potential plans." Tex surmised. She'd been standing with her arms crossed the entire time, a perpetual frown on her face as she tapped her right hand's pointer finger against the opposite upper arm in thought.

"For not only the relic thing, but for rescuing Grif and Junior too. Right?" Donut asked in a small, hopeful voice.

There was another uncomfortable silence following the lightish-red fighter's question. No one seemed quite willing to look either Donut or Tucker in the face during it.

Tucker understood why though, and he hated it.

"Fuck yeah, Donut!" He turned to the younger soldier instead, grateful that he'd asked at all, "No way do I want my kid or the fat-ass staying locked up."

Visible relief came to Donut's face then. If there had been any doubt about whether or not the young man was all right in Tucker's book, it was pretty gone now.

"The tubby asshole has a lot of groveling to do for making everybody worry," He continued, not really just for Donut's sake but for his own as well, "And Junior is getting a shitload of ice cream after this."

If he kept talking about it like that, Tucker could almost believe it was as good-as-done himself.

"He should have sprinkles with it." Caboose, who had remained quiet during the heavier discussion, spoke up now that it seemed as if something more hopeful was being talked about. The blonde was still clinging to Freckles as if he was never going to let his gun-dog go, "Sprinkles on ice cream is the best."

"The whole works, Caboose!" Tucker assured his teammate.

"As long as he does not eat it too fast." The blue-armored young man frowned as if remembering something extremely important just then, "Headaches are not as much fun."

"Well, I for one wouldn't mind trying to rescue Tucker's alien love baby," Sarge cut in with a harrumph while ignoring Tucker's "Hey!" remark and middle finger for how the older man had described Junior, "And I guess launching a rescue for the dirtbag while he's still alive would be acceptable too."

"Aw, I knew you cared, Sarge!" Donut exclaimed, all sorts of touched at their commanding officer for admitting it even in such a roundabout way.

"Of course, that would only be so that I could shoot him myself for making such a mess of things." Sarge stated without preamble, "Principles and all that."

From behind the two human members of Red Team present for the meeting, Lopez shook his head in what appeared to be disbelief.

"Wow, manera de simplemente arruinar ese momento." {"Wow, way to just ruin that moment."}

"If it's plausible, of course." Kimball, understandably, seemed hesitant to commit completely to that.

Tucker caught the momentary pained look in her brown eyes. Having to make decisions for the greater outcome, regardless of what you might actually want to do, definitely did not make high-end leadership roles seem appealing to him.

Considering his extremely personal stake in these two matters in particular, the Resistance fighter didn't really want to think on that possibility either even if a part of him knew it could exist.

"Arranging any meeting will be risky though." North seemed to decide getting the conversation to a less emotional one was the best way to go for now, "Too many people leaving this area all at once could lead to some unwanted attention here."

"If our insiders were to come here, they could very easily be followed." C.T. added to his point.

"There's always the potential for a spy in their ranks too," York brought up.

Fuck, apparently it wasn't just Washington and Tex who were paranoid about shit like that amongst the Freelancers. Tucker was a bit surprised at that given how easy-going York could be.

"Though that seems pretty doubtful in this case." The brunette was quick to add to his comment after a moment's consideration.

"Knowing some of the idiots helping them out, that's a given." Tex spoke up, though there seemed to be an odd tinge of fondness in her voice despite the insult, "Besides, with Carolina? Anyone she suspected of being a spy would not be a problem for too long."

"Definitely no argument there." York nodded, an almost nostalgic-looking grin forming on his face.

Kimball closed her eyes in contemplation following that, as if to formulate a strategy.

"A small group will arrange to meet up in a neutral area, away from any secure locations in order to avoid suspicion and keep places like this bunker away from attention." She stated decisively when she finally opened her eyes again about twenty seconds later, "When it has been determined by all parties that it would be safe to do so, our representatives can travel on to wherever would be most ideal for our contacts in order to discuss things openly."

"That does seem to make the most sense from a tactical stance." North said quietly afterwards, looking impressed at how quickly she had come up with the plan, "There are more of us than the inside agents, so even if things do go downhill during the meeting…"

He trailed off, not really sure he wanted to finish that more than just a little unpleasant train of thought.

Kimball, apparently, while not looking thrilled at stating it outright, felt it was important to make sure everyone knew why she had decided on what she did.

"The meeting is important, but we have to prepare for any negative outcomes that could very well occur. Making sure a majority of our fighters will still be around regardless of what happens to stop the relic is always a top priority."

So, the meeting itself was going to be potentially risky. Pretty par the course for things now with the Resistance, really.

"So, who gets to go on this little venture then?" Sarge asked. He grimaced shortly afterwards as if thinking of something unpleasant, "Much as I'd like to not be standing around here twiddling my thumbs when there's potential killing to be done—"

Tucker had to roll his eyes, because it definitely figured that the crazy old sergeant would rather be testing out his aim with his trusty weapon than waiting.

"If part of the plan involves civilian clothes for the neutral grounds meet-up, I'm pretty much out." The Red Team leader coughed slightly, glancing at the ground as he muttered, "I didn't, uh, exactly terminate my military career up here all that legally."

It was all sorts of shocking to hear the older man use something akin to common sense just then, and Sarge seemed equally as loathe to admit he had just done so himself. The former Above Grounder was fidgeting in an almost embarrassed fashion under the group's sudden scrutiny.

But, he was right. Walking around in armor out in public when not part of the actual military would definitely not be the smartest idea ever, and anyone from Above Ground with a criminal record or someone who would be more than recognizable to the general populace could easily compromise this whole arrangement before it even happened.

Thinking on it, Tucker didn't think someone like Vanessa Kimball, leader of the Slums Resistance, would be able to traipse around without her helmet on given the probably very biased news feeds civilians here were exposed to either.

"Which would definitely leave out all of us Freelancers too." York nodded his head in astute agreement with Sarge's comment.

If someone like Sarge was concerned that his past with the military could jeopardize things, it was definitely a given that the special killer agents who had defected from a top secret Above Ground military program would sure as shit do so as well.

Kimball nodded her head slightly at their assessments, but looked troubled by them all the same, "It would have been a lot more ideal if someone who was familiar with the terrain was part of the group, but even Doctor Grey was most likely issued a desertion charge by now…"

She trailed off then, frowning and looking in Caboose's direction with what could only be described as extreme hesitation.

The blonde in question let go of Freckles with one hand to give a friendly wave her way, apparently oblivious to the concerned look in her eyes, "Oh, a trip sounds like fun!"

No wonder Kimball seemed so reluctant, if she was thinking what Tucker thought she was.

"Oh, fuck no." He groaned, hoping maybe he could stop this wreck from going full-course.

"He's a Throwaway, which means he wouldn't have a criminal record." North said gently.

"Yeah, but I don't think he could find his way out of this building, let alone lead us somewhere else." Tucker grimaced, "Besides, it's been how many years since he's been up here? What makes you think he'd remember any places?"

"Oh, I am good at remembering things, Tucker!" Caboose apparently was following the conversation enough to know that he should jump in at that point, trying to look indignant at the implication otherwise and coming across more as a child who was pouting, "I remembered that I shouldn't touch the stove the other day."

His teammate's comment didn't really help his case.

"Only after you nearly burned the fucking mess hall down again!" Tucker countered in frustration.

It was a damn good thing Andersmith was apparently an expert when it came to fire prevention after having spent so much time with Caboose.

"But, that made me remember. See?" Caboose was beaming at his flawless logic.

Tucker gave up trying to argue and turned to look imploringly at Kimball instead.

She didn't seem too thrilled with the whole notion herself, but she let out a sigh in resignation, "We don't really have too many other options, Tucker."

He knew that, even though he didn't really like it. After all, Caboose was his teammate. His teammate who was way too open sometimes and not at all there in the common sense department.

It wasn't as if Tucker hadn't already decided that he was going to go to the meeting regardless, so he'd have to just make a mental note to look out for Caboose too.

Seeing Tucker deflate a bit on the issue, Kimball shot him a sympathetic look and then turned back to face Caboose, "Are there any Above Ground locations you think you could remember how to get to, Caboose?"

He frowned in thought. The expression always looked a little odd when Caboose did it, as if he was about to go cross-eyed: "There's a park with a really big statue of that planet we came from before."

"Old Earth?" Donut asked, noticing that it seemed as if Caboose wanted to actually put a name to it.

"Or the moon."

No one had the heart to correct him on that, as Caboose seemed fairly certain it was one or the other despite Old Earth's moon having never been stated as being colonized in the historical records from the colony ships.

"It was pretty." Caboose continued conversationally, "Lots of dogs peed on it though."

Something about the description lit up Sarge's eyes, "Must be Chorus." He declared, "It's the only park I know of up here with that sort of danged hippie art on display."

"You could go camping there!" Caboose nodded his head vigorously at the mention of the place's name.

York scratched his head thoughtfully then, "Isn't that the place with the underground lake everyone says is radioactive?"

"Oh, yeah, the green one!" The blue-armored fighter seemed quite pleased that he could talk about the area with people who knew about it too, "It glows all the time."

"Seriously?" Tucker shot Caboose and York deadpan looks, "Above Grounders go there to camp?"

York shrugged his shoulders and gave a goofy sort of smile, "Well, they do have a barrier to deter people from getting too close without protective gear. It's apparently within safe levels if you're not directly standing at the shore."

"You definitely should not swim in it though." Caboose intoned seriously, "Drinking it probably isn't too good either."

Tucker could only shake his head in disbelief. The recreational activities of Above Grounders were weird as fuck.

"A lot of people do camp at Chorus." North rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "We could actually use reinforced camping gear to hide armor and weapons."

"So, the group acts like they're meeting an old friend to sleep over at their house?" Donut asked, an eager light in his brown eyes, "Oh, I'm in!"

"Are you sure, Donut?" Kimball regarded him in mild surprise after his declaration, "It's more dangerous than that in reality."

Donut wasn't deterred at all, however, as he smiled in response, "Oh, I know that. But I can't let Caboose do all of the hard work."

"Lieutenant Snickerdoodle is nice!" Caboose seemed even more eager now that he knew a friend was coming along too.

"Besides, since Sarge can't come, someone has to represent the Red Team."

"Damn straight!" Sarge looked at the pink-armored fighter proudly.

"It's too bad you can't come since you can't take off your armor, huh, Lopez?" Donut turned to his teammate then, genuinely seeming upset for the robot as if he knew for certain that he would have wanted to go.

"Al estar en un viaje de campamento con ustedes dos no sería divertido, pero estoy atascado con el viejo aquí. No sé qué es peor." {"Being on a camping trip with you two would not be fun, but I am stuck with the old man here. I don't know which is worse."}

Donut nodded his head sympathetically to Lopez's plight, "Don't worry, Lopez, if we can we'll get you some souvenirs and take lots of pictures so you don't feel left out. There's always scrapbook opportunities wherever you look!"

"Por favor, no lo hagas." {"Please don't."}

Well, that pretty much further settled things for Tucker too. He sighed, "I can't let those two morons go out on their own."

Besides, if doing this would help him get to Junior and Grif sooner he was all for it, regardless of how brain-breaking a journey this might be.

With some of the things Caboose and Donut were now discussing amongst themselves, "brain-breaking" might just be a given.

Even if that Hargrove asshole was curious about his sword, like Felix's partner had said a while ago, Tucker very much doubted that he had been put on any sort of criminal list given his identity as a not well-known Resistance fighter.

He had a feeling that most things connected to the alien tech were probably kept well out of the knowledge of the public sphere for a whole shitload of paranoid reasons.

Kimball shot him a grateful look just then. The Resistance leader probably hadn't been too thrilled with the odds of Donut and Caboose attempting to do this type of mission alone either.

"Both Sarge and myself will talk to some of the lieutenants about this as well." She informed him, "Given the circumstances, they aren't currently as busy as some of the other Resistance members are."

Which was a polite way to avoid mentioning what had happened to Grif and the fact that Doctor Grey still hadn't given either Bitters or Matthews permission to take part in strenuous activities yet.

Kimball continued: "I don't necessarily think all of them should go, but if some are willing I don't think having a few more 'camping' buddies would hurt."

It seemed like a good idea, and it would probably keep Tucker from going nuts just traveling with Donut and Caboose by himself.

He nodded his head, before thinking of something and wincing slightly at the mention of the lieutenants, "Just…maybe avoid telling Kai about Grif, just yet?" Tucker asked her hopefully, "I don't want to get her hopes up."

He could see Sarge and C.T. shooting concerned looks at him, oddly enough. Though, if they didn't personally think that what he had said was the best course of action, neither said anything directly.

Tucker knew that if Kai found out about it later, he'd be on the wrong end of one of her infamous shouting matches and would probably get his balls handed to him on a silver platter for good measure as well. But, fuck it! It was bad enough that he knew about the situation when there was no real certainty either way.

If Kai somehow convinced herself this meant that Grif and Junior were definitely coming back and then it turned out to all be for nothing—well, he'd rather not even think about that possibility, if he could.

Besides, fucking knowing her, she'd also try to do something potentially very stupid, sort of like what he was planning. He knew Grif wouldn't forgive him if he allowed something that would put Kai in danger to happen.

Kimball, thankfully, seemed to understand where he was coming from with his request.

Or maybe it had more to do with the troubled look clouding over his face following it as she patted his shoulder sympathetically, "Of course." She assured Tucker, "I'll let you know when things are finalized."

…Which was what had led to him, Donut, Palomo, Andersmith, and Jensen all dressed in civilian hiking clothes following Caboose, of all people, to the meeting place hours later.

In Caboose's defense, he actually did somehow manage to avoid getting the group hopelessly lost in the first five minutes after they left the safe house.

It seemed as if this Chorus place was one that he had probably spent a lot of time in even as a little kid. As a result, Tucker's teammate seemed to be experiencing something probably akin to muscle memory given that Caboose was pretty much able to hone in on where the park was the second he saw a few familiar landmarks on streets.

It was actually pretty hard to not stop and stare at the open spaces and towering buildings that weren't built literally on top of one another in an open-mouthed, gaping way that would have definitely labeled all of the Slums residents as "clearly not from here" as much as having a huge neon sign saying it would have done.

Tucker still couldn't stop himself from doing it once or twice, though he was a bit better at schooling his expression into one of bored "same old shit" than Donut and the two younger fighters were. He'd harrumph under his throat whenever he felt they were being too "wide-eyed" about a specific sight, generally causing them to tone it down at least a little bit.

Thankfully, Andersmith was so caught up in listening to Caboose's nostalgic ramblings with his own wide-eyed, and really odd, hero worship of the younger captain that he didn't seem to be as aware of how foreign all of their surroundings were as the others.

"They have roads where you can actually fit more than one vehicle on them!" Jensen breathed out once when they were close by a main street.

It was definitely eye-opening seeing that given how the crowded streets in the Slums could barely fit one smaller vehicle. Generally, the vehicles in the Slums were antique contraptions that miners would use to get to farther away tunnels at a decent time. There were usually severe restrictions where vehicles weren't even allowed on certain Slums levels or streets at all.

"I wonder if that means public transportation isn't as huge a focus up here?" Donut looked around at one such large vehicle that seemed to stop and pick up passengers at specially marked points on the map, apparently noting that it didn't seem crammed to full capacity at all.

Whatever it was, it was definitely different from the transports that took people to the various levels in the Slums.

"Maybe not." Tucker was surprised that the Red Team member would even wonder about that of all things.

"Being shoved in a tight space really helps you get closer to your fellow man though!"

"I think I understand your point, but maybe we should change the subject right now." Tucker's nerves were on edge as it was, he didn't really want his brain broken trying to figure out some of Donut's odd word choices.

"I probably could drive better here." Jensen stated quietly then, looking at the roads almost longingly, "Maybe."

"Well, I guess more space would lower your crash rate." Donut said helpfully, "Bitters is going to be teaching you later, right?"

"Yeah, he promised!" She grinned, "He was a bit loopy from pain medication when he said that though, so I'll probably have to blackmail him into keeping his word."

"Oh, I have a few things that could work for that!" Palomo perked up at the mention of his childhood friend, "Think a picture of us dressed up as his mom for his sister's play would work? His expression is hilarious in it! First time I saw him do that frown he usually has all the time now."

"That would work, I think!" There was an obviously mischievous light in the younger girl's eyes.

Geez, she was spending way too much time around Kai for her own good.

"…Wouldn't that be just as embarrassing for you?" Tucker couldn't believe he even had to ask.

Palomo seemed unperturbed though, grinning brightly, "Oh, I made it work!"

Sometimes, Tucker was honestly not sure whether or not it was incredibly frustrating or actually impressive that his carefree subordinate had as high a level of confidence as he did. Especially since the outcome of this whole episode would no doubt be Bitters trying to strangle him.

But, it would probably be all sorts of amusing to see how it all would play out since it didn't really involve him.

The group actually found the towering globe of Old Earth near the Chorus entrance sign to be rather impressive despite Sarge's remark about it being hippie art. Though, seeing a couple of people with dogs circling around it as Caboose had mentioned, didn't exactly make them want to stick around too long to admire it.

Upon entering the actual park, it was a pretty heft hike from the outskirts of the city along well-worn trails that were surrounded with really gorgeous forest scenery.

The urge to stop and gawk was even stronger here as, while the city itself was rather foreign and alien in a lot of ways compared to living in the Slums and underground, seeing this much nature was even more mind-blowing to the Resistance fighters.

It was easy enough to imagine people retreating here on vacations from busy days at work, even if the idyllic scenery was a sharp reminder of just how much was denied to people like them who, unfortunately, just happened to be born on the wrong part of the planet.

Thankfully, since it was a shitload of walking they had just done and they were tugging along rather hefty loads of what appeared to be camping gear and tents (that, in reality, were armor and weaponry), no one seemed to be in much of a mood for observations this time around.

Instead, Caboose eagerly showed the small group the way to where the meeting was supposed to take place.

Evidently, because the universe had a sense of humor and really wanted to make Tucker dwell on the really bizarre reasoning as to why it was a good idea to have a camping spot near it in the first place, it had to be the fucking cavern where the radioactive lake was located.

Calling it a "cavern" wasn't too accurate, at least not by any definitions of people who had lived in the etched out areas of the Slums would be concerned.

It was more like a giant cave formed in a hill, rather similar to Tex's bunker, only actually naturally formed. The cave itself was perhaps only just a few meters into the crust of the planet.

There weren't even any sealed off tunnels from it into the mines sprawling into myriad catacombs and twisting mazes much farther down below. Which was probably a fucking good thing in Tucker's opinion, because the idea of a potentially radioactive lake filtering into their water supply wasn't something he really wanted to have to worry about.

The entire cave was paved in an eerie, yet oddly warm greenish glow, even from the entranceway. The source of the glow seemed to be at the far back of the space: a decent-sized pool of water that was clearly being illuminated by something quite strong given how the aura seemed to encompass everything.

There were very obvious signs set up as visible barriers to indicate what should be considered a safe distance from the site. Whether because of active radiation or because they were trying to just prevent drowning cases since the lake wasn't exactly small, he couldn't tell.

After a quick survey of the area to make sure that there were no active campers or tourists around, the group let out a collective sigh and plunked down to catch their breaths while waiting for their rendezvous to actually take place.

Well, all of them save for the freakishly strong Caboose, who seemed to have had no problem with hefting his equipment on his back all that distance.

All they had to do now if someone wandered in was just pretend to be regular campers, which shouldn't be much trouble at all.

Palomo frowned and plucked at the shirt he was wearing with a grimace on his face, "Are anyone else's clothes really itchy?"

"You should always use fabric softener, Private Palomo." Donut chided.

"I guess so. It's hard to keep track of all of that stuff though." The rookie's frown deepened as he thought of something else, "I might have shrunken them too because my underwear is riding up my—"

"Shut the fuck up, Palomo." Tucker rolled his eyes.

The dark-skinned young man pouted, but apparently the stressed out tone to Tucker's voice made any further commentary on his part stop before it began.

Jensen was glancing over at the lake, apparently deciding that changing the topic from underwear was a good idea, "Do you think it really is radioactive? Maybe there's just some kind of unique algae in it that glows?"

Admittedly, nerd topics weren't going to probably last too long amongst this crowd either. But, at least the female lieutenant had tried.

Tucker shrugged, "I have no fucking clue." He answered, seeing Palomo squirming uncomfortably on his spot on the ground, "But if Palomo mentions his underwear again, he's going for a swim."

"Aw, man." Palomo grimaced, "Complaining about it helps me take my mind off of it, Captain Tucker!"

"I'm pretty sure it's doing the exact opposite of that, Palomo." He sighed in exasperation.

Andersmith decided to take this time to ask Jensen a question rather than be stuck contemplating itchy underwear and radioactive lakes, "Did Volleyball and Kaikaina choose to stay behind then?"

More than likely, given Tucker's earlier request to Kimball, she probably hadn't even broached the subject to Kai at all.

It certainly didn't seem as if any of the lieutenants had known about the information on Grif and Junior until Tucker and Donut had filled them in on it while they had been leaving for the meeting.

The girl frowned at the mention of her two friends, "Yeah. I think Kai maybe made herself a little sick earlier, and Volleyball wanted to make sure she didn't push herself anymore than necessary."

"Understandable." Andersmith gave a slight nod at her remark, his deep voice quiet and contemplative, "Doctor Grey didn't think either Matthews or Bitters should go on any missions yet either."

"Which means it's just the two of us representing Red Team this time!" Donut added in cheerfully in an attempt to bolster the suddenly more somber mood flowing over the place.

Donut was right though, now that Tucker thought about it. All of the lieutenants who weren't on this mission were technically on Red Team save for Kai, though why their team got so many of the recruits in the first place he never had figured out.

But, given that Blue Team had a former Freelancer in their ranks and a talking gun it probably evened out. Not to mention yours truly, which really put them out of the park in terms of sheer awesomeness as far as Tucker was concerned.

Jensen gave a weak smile, concerned once again over the lieutenants left behind now that she had been reminded of them. Tucker reached over and gave her shoulder a sympathetic pat.

"I asked C.T. to keep an eye on Kai and everyone else while we're gone." He said as way of reassurance, "She'll make sure they're eating and taking care of themselves, and not doing anything too stupid."

The young girl nodded, seeming a little more at ease with the mention of there being someone more in charge who would be looking out for their little group of friends, "Thank you, sir."

"Eh, no biggie." He grinned back, "It's what I do."

Donut and Andersmith both shot him appreciative looks too. Tucker had mostly asked that favor of C.T. more as a way to assuage his own worries that everyone would be okay while they were gone. But, if it would help alleviate someone else's worry too, it was another plus in his book.

"If we're successful, we may have some good news to bring back." Andersmith reasoned as well.

One could definitely hope.

"It is oddly peaceful here." Donut spoke up just then, gazing around the rather warm cave appreciatively.

A few of the others nodded in agreement, though Tucker was still not thrilled about the potential "radioactive lake" bit. The fact that no one seemed to know for certain if it was true or not was certainly more than just a little troubling.

"Yeah, I bet a ton of the guys would like to see this." Palomo regarded the lake with undisguised curiosity brimming in his eyes, "Do you think it would be safe to get closer?"

Andersmith looked at the sign markers and frowned, "Probably not without armor on."

Well, at least one of them beyond Tucker actually seemed a little more cautious about what they happened to be shooting the breeze by.

"Which is really weird not wearing here." Jensen muttered, crossing her arms at the reminder that they were more exposed than usual in what counted as enemy territory no matter how peaceful or disconcertingly beautiful the scenery might be, "Or without weapons."

Caboose, who had been oddly quiet despite his earlier inane ramblings about everything under the sun getting there, looked over at what appeared to be a cooler he had hefted there by himself, "I didn't ask Freckles if he was scared of boxes."

"Oh, you think he might be claustrophobic?" Donut frowned, apparently not having even thought of it as a possibility before.

"That too."

Tucker wasn't really sure given the blank expression on his teammate's face if he actually knew what claustrophobic meant.

Personally, he was pretty glad he could conceal his sword more easily than most other weapons when it wasn't activated. At least they had one weapon that they wouldn't have to go through a process to retrieve if something really unexpected happened.

"I'm sure Freckles is fine, Caboose." Donut remarked kindly, "He's probably using this time to nap."

"Napping is good." Caboose seemed to bounce back pretty quickly at the assurance, looking around at everyone excitedly, "Should we sing songs?"

"That's an excellent idea, Captain Caboose!" Andersmith's enthusiasm was quite apparent in his reply.

"It is supposed to be a camping trip, right?" By her response, Jensen also didn't seem to think it was the worst idea in the world.

"Oh, oh! We should make a fire too then! I brought marshmallows!" Donut was practically jumping on the balls of his feet now, "The trick to keeping them from melting off the stick is to spear them right through the middle!"

It was probably a true blessing for Tucker's brain at that point that Caboose was suddenly staring at the cave's entrance, wide-eyed and waving with an enormous grin on his face while exclaiming: "Agent Washington can sing too!"

That got Tucker's attention, and he spun his head around to look in the direction that his teammate was waving.

Sure enough, there was Agent Washington. The Freelancer's gray eyes widened in surprise when he got closer to the small group.

"Caboose, Donut, and Tucker? You're here?"

Tucker supposed he could understand the surprise, given the circumstances. Considering how dangerous this whole meet-up could potentially be, Caboose and Donut probably were odd choices to a person with actual military training like Washington.

Maybe the Above Grounder had just assumed that Tucker wouldn't have been included simply due to the teal soldier's personal stakes regarding what the meeting was to discuss.

Still, Tucker couldn't help but be a little annoyed at the disbelief all the same, "Way to act happy to see us, jackass." He grumbled, getting up from his spot on the ground.

Washington didn't seem even slightly taken aback by the angry note in Tucker's voice, "I just…wasn't sure who to expect."

"Well, Caboose is from here after all," Tucker shrugged, before fixing the Freelancer with a look just daring him to argue with his next remark, "And it's not like I wasn't going to be coming, given what you guys sent in your last message."

An apologetic look flashed in Washington's eyes, and he nodded his head sympathetically, "Right. Of course. Sorry."

"Besides, it's important for friends to stick together too!" Donut added his own reasoning for being there, a smile bright as the sun on his face.

Tucker could definitely understand now why Grif had always referred to Donut as "way too fucking perky" in previous conversations.

"That comment really took the drama out of mine, dude." Tucker sighed and shook his head at the Red Team member.

Washington ignored them, looking over his shoulder cautiously. He was always uber-paranoid about everything, Tucker knew, but in this case it probably wasn't without reason.

The Freelancer then gave a nod in the direction of the three Resistance fighters he didn't know yet as a form of greeting, "Introductions can happen on the way, but we should get moving now."

Given the time frame they were on, Tucker was actually glad for once for the blonde's abruptness. Especially considering that the Resistance fighter had a feeling he was going to have a hefty debate on his hands about a certain topic he was planning to bring up once the meeting was underway.

---

"Stop that."

Agent Carolina's even-more-than-usual-pissed-off voice warned Leonard Church against strumming his fingers along the surface of the kitchen table again.

The offending digits were metallic underneath really disconcertingly realistic-looking synthetic skin. Fuck, even Simmons' patches of artificial skin didn't look that that real. Shuddering inwardly, he glanced from his robotic fingers to the Freelancer's face across from him.

Judging from the glowering look that was currently suffusing all of Carolina's facial features, it was probably a good idea to heed her command.

He might now know himself to be an Artificial Intelligence, but whoever had designed these stupid-ass, yet highly convenient and altogether rather handsome, human-looking robotic bodies had apparently rigged them to feel what he supposed would be the equivalent of physical pain.

Church may have come back as a ghost after getting shot, and he was pretty fucking sure that he could leave this replacement tin can anytime he wanted now that he was aware of what he was. But, still, he remembered that the getting shot thing had fucking hurt.

So he knew that if something happened to this body while he was inside it, it would hurt like a mother-fucking bitch too.

In other words, it would feel exactly like going on a date with Tex.

Which he had probably never actually done, now that Church thought about it.

Thanks to the newfound "insight" the A.I. had gotten from accidentally merging with Epsilon like he had, he could start making out some of the inconsistencies in the false memories he'd been given as Leonard Church.

Or, was it the other way around, and he was now an Epsilon that had merged with Alpha? He had a hard time really figuring out when or where one of them began and the other ended. The whole thing was way too fucking complicated to keep track of, at least from his perspective.

He was fairly certain, for instance, that he had only met Agent Texas face-to-face once. During her defection from Project Freelancer. Despite that, he was also more than certain that he had known her before then, whatever the fuck that weird sentiment truly meant.

It was all definitely way too damn confusing for his tastes. Even knowing what he did now, it seemed like he would honestly never have any true answers and that was beyond frustrating.

It was all too bizarre, and a part of Church wanted nothing more than to just jump right back into heavy denial mode.

Unfortunately, he knew enough now to recognize that that really wasn't an option anymore.

Besides, dwelling on that any longer wasn't going to earn him any brownie points with the woman glaring at him from across the kitchen table as she waited for a statement of some kind from him.

"Nice vacation house, Carolina." Church figured maybe being his usual asshole self would help soften things up a bit and help him avoid getting potentially throttled, "I don't think I've been invited here before."

"You're changing the subject." Her green eyes narrowed into dagger points, "It's not going to work."

Church sighed. He'd figured it wouldn't, not really. But, well, he'd wanted to try anyways.

"If you're still pissed about the Wyoming thing, I think I've already explained about that more than enough already." He began, his robotic body sinking back into his chair, "We needed those assholes off our backs and I had the leverage to make that happen. There wasn't enough time to ask for permission."

She stared down at the cup of coffee in front of her. Church had seen her pour the damn thing two hours ago, so it was no doubt ice cold by now.

"No, I'm not angry about that anymore." Carolina told him after a few moments, "I would have liked to have known about it beforehand, but it was the best call at the time."

"Oh?" He raised a disbelieving eyebrow, "So than, what's the reason for why you've been trying to shoot death rays at me?"

Her own eyebrows quirked upwards at his rather colorful phrase, and he knew then that the redhead probably wasn't even extremely pissed at him anymore.

Because, if she had been? He would have been a smoking heap of rubble on the floor and not just getting cross looks. Instead of responding, however, she glanced over at the doorway leading to the rest of her "home away from home".

"It seems like things for your team have calmed down somewhat."

Well, it had been awhile since that whole cluster-fuck of a mission had happened.

There had been a lot of chaos and movement in the immediate aftermath. What with Simmons' somewhat understandable but still rather frustrating freak-out over the news about Grif and all. Church had been almost convinced that Carolina had actually held an inner debate in her head back then about knocking the cyborg out just so that they could get out of the area quickly.

Then they managed to get to the safe house here undetected by some miraculous twist of fate, although Church was also fairly certain it would take him way too long to even attempt to accurately retrace their steps given all of the round-about routes Carolina had led the group on just to ensure that they lost any potential pursuers.

Following that, he was then left to explain the truth about what had happened to Captain Flowers. That information had actually hurt a surprising lot to even say out loud, given that Church was pretty sure that the blue-armored Freelancer had actually tried helping him and Sheila out by having them "recruited" to his team as he had.

Truthfully, Church had been all sorts of glad when Carolina and Washington had decided to take a break from all of the information dumping to contact the Resistance people. It was probably a good idea to let them in on what they had learned about the possible locations for this stupid relic that they needed to find before the Slums went "kaboom!" and all.

It had given the A.I. a chance to rest and catch his bearings a bit. He knew that was something his teammates had probably needed to do as well.

More than likely it was what Carolina needed also, but he was smart enough to know not to say that to her face.

"Well, look who's changing the fucking subject now." Church couldn't help but retort back, smirking slightly.

She sighed, choosing to ignore his smartass remark, "It's probably a good thing Washington volunteered to meet up with the Resistance fighters on his own."

Church had more than just a passing suspicion that Washington had only done that in order to get away from any mentions of Epsilon for a while himself.

Not that he could really blame the guy. Reliving what had happened when Epsilon had been implanted into the Freelancer's head had definitely helped him understand Washington's perspective a bit more clearly.

The guy could still be a massive tool, obviously, but now Church knew there was actual reasoning behind why that was. Washington's mind was no doubt pretty fucked up given that particular incident, not to mention along with everything else that had ended up occurring afterwards.

Besides, it wasn't like Church himself wasn't viewed as something of a giant tool in some people's eyes either. Even if he knew it was probably just because they were all massively jealous assholes.

"Yeah, I think everyone just needed some time to process things." Church stated quietly to the redhead.

She shot him a look then, "Have you?"

It was a loaded question despite how vaguely she had worded it. He frowned, mulling it over for a second or two.

"Honestly, Carolina?" Church finally said, shrugging his shoulders as he did so, "I don't really have a goddamned clue."

He still felt…well, like himself. Like he always had. Just with this sense that there was this whole other side of himself that he was also now painfully, acutely aware of too.

As scary as it probably was to admit it, Church knew that this "other side" was probably the one closest to his actual self.

Dwelling on it was confusing, terrifying, and frustrating all at once.

He was Leonard Church. He was Alpha. A part of him, a large part of him, was now Epsilon too.

He knew and remembered so many things that he had been completely ignorant on before. It seemed like it was more than any one being should have memory of, or should contain inside themselves.

Knowing that brought back all of the hurt he had been trying to ignore. Knowing just how much of the life he'd led previously had been lies? Well, that made everything all the more craptastic.

It also made Church even more fucking pissed off than he was usually, which was probably a pretty terrifying concept in and of itself as "angry and angrier" tended to be his default settings. He was especially pissed off at the people responsible for it all.

One asshole in particular…

Church regarded Carolina sitting across from him then, suspecting that for her own reasons she probably felt rather similarly.

"I really don't know." He admitted, his voice coming out a lot quieter than normal, "I'm fucking confused and upset, and goddamned pissed off though."

"So, not much of a change then?" She deadpanned without missing a beat.

Church couldn't help but snort a little. The Freelancer actually had a fucking awesome sense of humor when she wanted to show it.

"Hey, it's not my fault everyone else in the goddamned world but me happen to be jackasses and morons." He countered back, a sort-of half-smirk on his face.

Carolina shook her head and said nothing in response to his remark, looking for a moment both mildly amused and exasperated. But, despite the slight joking exchange they had just gotten into, a moment later and the expression on her face returned to its customary guarded one.

The redhead was contemplating something, and it didn't seem to be very pleasant.

"Epsilon was memory." She said finally, giving him a pointed look, "So, how much do you remember now, Church?"

He sighed, knowing she wasn't just referring to the fact that he obviously now knew what he really was, "Way too fucking much. That's for sure."

Beyond the anger Church felt, there was a whole lot of hurt too.

Looking at the person sitting across from him, at someone he still had a hard time remembering as not being family, he knew there were a whole lot of similar emotions running through Carolina as well. In a sad, twisted sort of way, Church supposed they actually were still family and that seemed even more fucked up to him for some reason.

"Do you…remember more now?" Church asked her quietly, "Or have misgivings on things?"

Carolina frowned at the questions, and Church found that he honestly wasn't sure what answers from her he wanted to hear.

In a way, this "bond" they had now, no matter how artificially produced it was in reality, was one of the constants in his life. The A.I. was rather reluctant to let go of it despite how little truth it actually had.

"Unlike you, I don't have the option to regain my unaltered memories quite as readily," she began, looking at him with a sympathetic look, "And clearly there are some negatives to that as well."

"You're telling me." He couldn't help but let out a derisive snort again, "My whole life goal of not wanting anything to do with anything? I totally fucking understand it so much better now."

Oh, those had definitely been the days.

Church let out a nostalgic sigh, never minding the fact that it hadn't been really all that long ago when he had felt that way.

"But, Delta's theory is far too plausible. You being as you are helped to further prove it. There's no use in denying what happened." There was a sharp edge to her voice as the Freelancer spoke, "It isn't even all that shocking, given what he's capable of."

"Carolina…" Church began, but then quickly stopped himself. He sucked at doling out comfort. Besides, with this situation, what could he really say?

She shot him a look of warning, apparently not wanting to hear any words of sympathy either, "All that matters now is stopping Hargrove and finding the Director."

"You want to kill him."

It was obvious from her inflection just then, and Church almost kicked himself for not really having thought of that possibility before.

"I don't see why that would be a huge shock by this point." There was barely controlled anger in Carolina's words then.

It wasn't. Not really. Given all of the shit involving Freelancer? Yeah, Carolina had more than enough reason to want to see the Director dead due to all of the suffering the man had caused.

All of these more recent revelations had only just further fueled her resolve to do so.

"Why the fuck didn't you say anything about that before?" Church groaned, once more feeling a familiar mixture of frustration and helplessness in regards to being out the loop.

It never failed. Everyone always kept him in the dark when it came to their fucking secrets, no matter how close he thought they were to him. Carolina and Tex both.

Fuck, Tex had known and even lied to his goddamned face!

"I wasn't in a position to talk about it, and I didn't want to get your team involved in the first place." Carolina shrugged, looking slightly regretful that everything had changed on that position now due to the circumstances: "Besides, I figured you would try to talk me out of it. That wasn't something I could risk."

Well, okay, that did make at least some sense. Beforehand, yeah.

Had Church known that she'd been going on some one-woman crusade to kill the Director he probably would have tried stopping her because of how potentially crazy and suicidal that was. Carolina, in turn, would have probably killed him in response. Which, admittedly, would have sucked royally for him.

Things were different now, though.

"I suppose it was for similar reasoning as to why Tex never said anything." He heard her mulling contemplatively to herself. When Carolina noticed that he was looking directly at her again, she added, "To either of us."

Church frowned, wondering just how close to home that theory was.

Tex had chosen to play a part she didn't have to, around the both of them.

Church still hated that she'd lied to his fucking face for so long, but perhaps it had been her way of shielding him and Carolina. Play the role of the crazy ex-girlfriend with anger issues in someone's memories, all in order to keep them from finding out just how broken they were.

Like Delta had done for a while there too, acting as if Church wasn't connected to him at all. Or when Washington had chosen to keep his theory about Church to himself.

"About Tex…" Church winced slightly in anticipation of possibly getting his ass kicked because that was a loaded minefield of a topic to discuss with Carolina, "Do you know that she's—"

"I was starting to have some suspicions on my own about her, even before this." She regarded him thoughtfully, "You called her 'Allison' a while ago. Remember?"

Yeah. That had actually been right around the time when he noticed Carolina starting to look at him oddly. Church had thought it was strange then, but now that a part of him was Epsilon he understood her behavior better.

Carolina continued: "He never referred to her by anything save code-name. Everything about her was always classified, even more than the other agents."

Of course the redhead would have known that. Given her role as the leader of the Freelancer group, Carolina had access to their files whenever the Director or the Councilor had thought it necessary for her to know personal information about the team.

She shrugged, a faraway look crossing over her features that made the sharp edges and seething anger that was usually present there fade into something akin to hurt instead, "It makes sense now. Why I was so fixated on beating her."

There was a slight, soft-of self-deprecating upturning of her lips as she continued without waiting for a response, "I was never able to surpass her either."

She turned her head sharply away to avoid eye contact, her red hair swaying as she did so. More than likely, the Freelancer did not enjoy the fact that she had displayed so much vulnerability just then.

Tex had red hair too, now that he thought about it. The same shade as Carolina.

For a moment, Church wondered if there was some kind of meaning behind it.

"I'm not making any promises, Church," Carolina continued, turning around again just as suddenly and causing the odd speculations that had started forming in his head to dissipate, "But, if we ever cross paths with her again, I'll try not to go for the jugular too quickly."

Well, shit. That was pretty much the closest thing he'd heard to a milestone in regards to Carolina's opinion of Tex. It was certainly more than he'd ever expected to hear.

"Thanks." Church said, touched but honestly afraid to say more just in case he somehow fucked it up.

He shifted awkwardly in his seat, figuring it was probably best to move away from that topic while it was still on what was probably as a high note as it could get currently and move on to another murky one.

"About killing that one asshole—"

Carolina seemed to be bracing herself for some kind of argument, her green eyes clouding over and her back straightening even more as if she was planning on shooting up over the table at any second to get her point across with fists.

Church hoped his statement would make that a wasted action on her part, "I want to help find him too."

That caught the redhead off-guard, and she gaped at him in surprise, "You do?"

"Fuck, yeah, I do!" He glowered and clenched his fists tightly together, his anger growing the more vehement his statements became, "That mother fucker needs to pay for what he's done. To all of us."

Not just the Freelancers, but his teammates, and the Fragments…and to Tex too. There were way too many memories of all of the horrible shit the guy had done for him to even begin counting.

Epsilon's attempt to kill himself had failed. Because of that, all of the memories of countless betrayals, of hurt, of anger? They all remained.

They were things that they'd not only experienced themselves, but witnessed happening to others too.

One man in particular was responsible for all of it.

"Besides," Church took in a deep breath (well, it didn't do jack shit when you didn't actually have lungs but it helped center him in a way), and somehow managed a weak smile in Carolina's direction, "You shouldn't have to do that alone."

Making sure the Director paid was important to her as well for equally obvious reasons. But, he imagined shouldering all of that anger and hurt along with the constant secrecy had probably been taking more of a toll on her than she would ever fully admit.

Surprisingly, Carolina looked oddly touched as she returned his gesture, "Thank you, Church."

He shrugged, trying to play off all of the heavy talk with a dismissive gesture for both their sakes, "That's what family is for, right?"

There was a lot that wasn't said in that simple, nonchalantly asked question that he really didn't want to dwell too much on because there had been far too much feeling talk already. After all, he wasn't Doc, damn it! Still, Church was relieved to see her give a slight nod in response.

So, they still had that then. Despite the shitfest that was everything else.

Before Church could suggest some industrial strength cleaner to wipe this weirdly touching moment from their brains and maintain their respective street creds, lo and behold Doc ran into the kitchen.

"Sorry to interrupt," the medic began hurriedly at their questioning looks, "But Agent Washington just came back!"

The A.I. let out a breath of relief, "It's about fucking time."

As if on cue, Delta materialized in-between them. Church had wondered where the Fragment had been earlier, but figured he had probably decided to make himself scarce so that Carolina and Church could sort things out.

Delta had apparently used that "hiding away" time as a means to check on the situation himself when Washington had come close enough to the safe house.

"Yes, it seems as if the meeting went as planned." The miniature green figure informed them after seeing Carolina's questioning look before turning to Church, "Though it appears as if your team and Agent Washington are already acquainted with three of the Resistance fighters."

"Really?" Church frowned, pondering that for a moment.

They had only personally met a couple of the Resistance members, and one of those was definitely out of the equation…

"Aw!" Doc pouted slightly at the announcement, "I'd been hoping I could tell Church the good news!"

Delta turned to him, giving an apologetic sort of bow in mid-air, "My apologies."

Church glared at Doc suspiciously then, noticing the smile still plastered on his face and literal hum that seemed to be emanating from his lips subconsciously.

There was probably only one reason why the cheerful medic seemed even giddier than usual.

"Oh, no." Dread suddenly filled his very being, and he was pretty sure his brain was going to break again.

"Church?" Carolina was glancing his way, obviously a bit concerned by his reaction.

"It really is a great coincidence, huh? Who would have thought?" Doc was practically beaming by now, and there was red on his cheeks.

"No, no, no." If Church banged his robotic head on the wall hard enough, could he maybe still pass out?

A burst of pink came in then, and Franklin Delano Donut was waving ecstatically, "Hey, guys!" The Resistance fighter cheerfully said in way of greeting, "I have to say, I really like the design scheme for this place! Very original."

Okay, so Donut being here wasn't the end of the world. Church actually thought that the dirty blonde could be tolerable in small doses, so long as he didn't have to see him and Doc make googly-eyes at each other every single second. There was way too much love drama shit going on around here already for his taste.

Tucker peeked in behind Donut just then, before stepping into the suddenly getting extremely stuffy space with a rather awkward-looking Washington in tow.

When the dark-skinned Slums resident saw Church staring at him in what could only be described as growing terror, he grinned and actually fucking waved too, "Miss us, asshole?"

Yep, there went the eye-twitch again. Which was a really weird reaction for him to have since he wasn't really human, but, eh, Church had more important things to wonder and freak out about than that at the moment.

"Church! No one said you would be here too!" A blue blur was suddenly racing up to him while talking in a very loud and excited voice, "Oh, I am so glad we got to come to this super-secret party!"

Then Caboose was hugging him and even though Church knew now that he technically didn't breathe, he felt a growing sense of suffocation building up all the same.

"Oh, fuck no!"

---

Simmons tried not thinking too much about what was being discussed, rather loudly at that, in the kitchen area. Largely because the Above Grounder had a feeling it was getting extremely heated judging by the escalated voices and tones.

Besides, regardless of whatever was decided there, the cyborg had already decided for himself what he was intending to do. Right now, thinking too much on anything was probably not going to keep him from having a panic attack again.

So, instead of taking part in the meeting, Simmons had decided to take a look at some of the weaponry Carolina seemed to have hidden all around the house.

When he had been stressed early on as a soldier, far more times than he would ever care to admit, performing gear maintenance had been one of his favorite calming techniques.

Once, Captain Flowers had even praised him for it. Though, in light of everything, thinking back on that now made the cyborg feel rather sad.

By taking apart an assortment of guns in order to check and double-check them, before then checking them a third time, Simmons could almost tune out the loud voices. As well as his doubts, anxiety, and thoughts of Grif.

Fuck, it was even one of the few times when his cybernetic eye wasn't straining either.

He was briefly aware of Doc and Donut having returned to the living room with Caboose in tow as, apparently, Caboose really wanted to know where the bathroom was.

The little dance he was doing was just as obvious as his really anxious query at the medic, enough so that Donut chided the blonde for a moment about not having gone when they'd switched back into their armor earlier.

Doc and Donut were no doubt going to head off to talk privately elsewhere once they saw the blue-armored young man to his destination, as there were a lot of things the two needed to catch up on. Their voices sounded eager and cheerful at the prospect, despite how tense things were in the safe house.

Simmons had said hello earlier, and he was more than happy for his glasses-wearing medic friend who had blushed a ton when Donut had gushed over his "lightish-red" frames. But, the situation sort of hurt in a strange, guilt-inducing way too. Especially given the knowingly sympathetic look and surprise hug Grif's younger teammate had given him along with his "Hang in there, buddy!" greeting.

Sheila had apparently decided to show the three previously unknown Resistance fighters around the safe house in the meantime. They had been introduced to the Above Ground group as Private Palomo and Lieutenants Andersmith and Jensen, and the trio appeared grateful that Sheila's "tour" gave them an opportunity to switch back into their armor and other gear too.

The last time that he had seen or heard any of them, it had been to listen in on Sheila's polite inquiry as to how Lopez was doing.

So, it was definitely either do something or get stressed out again thinking too much. Simmons had already decided that getting upset again wasn't going to accomplish anything in the long run, so "do something" it was.

"Oh! Is that one of those new plasma rifles?"

Simmons blinked at the somewhat slurred-sounding inquiry, turning his head from the weapon he had just dismantled on the living room floor to see the female Resistance fighter, Jensen, looking eagerly over his shoulder.

She was smiling, making the retainer in her mouth rather obvious. Fuck, how old was she? Because the maroon-trimmed armor she was wearing seemed to be swimming on her.

Donut and Caboose were both younger than he was, and Private Palomo looked to be even younger than them. But, having a closer look at her, Jensen couldn't have been more than sixteen.

Why would anyone join a Resistance group that young?

Probably for a whole shitload of reasons, given the situation in the Slums.

"Er…" Simmons blinked, brain finally registering that someone had actually in fact just talked to him, "Yeah."

"Awesome!" She was practically drooling now, "We never get them in that kind of condition!"

That's right. The redhead had almost forgotten that most of the arms available in the Slums were often older variations that were pretty heavily used and pilfered from Above Ground military, due to the general reluctance of the Council to allow Slums residents easy means to arm themselves.

It was pretty rare to see most people get that excited about weaponry in general though.

"Do you…want to examine it more?" The cyborg asked, hesitatingly.

"Can I?" The brunette pretty much dove onto the ground then without waiting for further confirmation, already running her hands over the various pieces.

The grin transfusing her tanned face almost reminded him of how he probably looked in pictures or recordings when coming across something new or exciting technology-wise for the first time.

"This is definitely brand new! Never been fired before!" She said as she flipped a piece over.

Her assessment was accurate too. The kid probably dismantled quite a few weapons in her spare time from the looks of things.

"Want to reassemble it?" He offered, remembering what would have probably made him happy at that age and just going with it.

The girl looked almost sheepish then as she glanced up at him, "I'm not too familiar with this model." She said nervously, "What if I make a mistake?"

"Then it's a learning experience."

That had been one of Captain Flowers' favorite expressions whenever he or Doc had worried over potentially screwing a training exercise up. Okay, it was Simmons who had done most of the worrying and who heard it the most if he was being entirely honest.

Still, it was way better than the "you shouldn't make mistakes at all" bullshit his father had tried coercing him with before he had finally given up on talking to his son altogether when the Above Grounder had been growing up.

"Thank you, sir!" That seemed to be all the encouragement the young lieutenant needed to get started.

There were a few quiet moments following that, with Jensen figuring out where the various components of the rifle went with a look of extreme concentration plastered over her freckled face. Simmons would nod his head on occasion if she glanced over questioningly just to ensure her she was doing it correctly.

While the younger girl maybe wasn't as familiar with that particular model, she definitely had practice dismantling and reassembling gear before.

"I watched my dad do this all the time whenever he was home." She stated when he'd finally worked up the nerve to ask her how she had learned to dismantle technology, his social awkwardness still tending to make starting conversations difficult, "Ended up trying it out myself."

Simmons nodded his head slightly, figuring that was probably the end of the topic.

She frowned and continued, as if feeling like she needed to elaborate further, "He was in the Resistance before me."

There was something about the way Jensen phrased that statement, along with the odd look that crossed over her features, which made it fairly obvious why she had used the past tense just then.

Not wanting to pry into what was probably a painful topic, Simmons simply nodded again, "My dad is a soldier. That's one of the main reasons I stayed on with it too."

The cyborg was almost tempted to add "but he is a fucking asshole" after that, but it probably wasn't fair to throw his personal issues into the face of the girl's still pretty obvious grief. He could certainly still sympathize and understand a child wanting to share some aspect of a parent's life with them.

She regarded him closely then, eyes lingering on his red hair and maroon armor that matched her own trim, "Your name is Simmons, right?"

He blinked in surprise, "How did you…?"

Maybe Sheila or Doc had mentioned names when he wasn't paying attention earlier.

"I'm friends with Kai!" The lieutenant smiled brightly, "She mentions you sometimes."

That was a surprise, "R—really?"

"Yeah," and, when the girl noticed the sudden loss of color in his face, quickly amended, "Only nice things though."

Simmons paused, taking in a deep breath before awkwardly asking, "How…has she been doing?"

He was having a hard enough time processing things himself. He could only imagine what Kai was feeling given how much the Grif siblings had been through together.

Jensen's face fell at the question, but she quickly skewed a weak smile back on as if to reassure him, "Not great, honestly. But Volleyball, she's a teammate of mine, she's sticking with her."

The Above Grounder vaguely recalled a pretty blonde girl with Kai that one really awful night at Grif's when he had quite nearly died of embarrassment. He wondered if that was the oddly-named Volleyball.

"The rest of us are looking out for her too!" She assured him as well.

He smiled slightly, more than just a little grateful, "I'm glad."

It sounded like Kai had finally found a good group of friends. He truly was glad for that: she was a little odd and brusque, but a good kid all the same

Jensen continued looking at him as if puzzling something over though, "Kai did say you were shy around girls though, but I wouldn't really have gotten that from this conversation."

"C—come again?" Simmons blinked in surprise, having not noticed that himself until just then.

She was right though. Normally he was even more of a stuttering mess than normal around women the first time he met them, even with Kai, C.T., and Sheila. It had taken a whole lot of effort to overcome that with all of them. But, he hadn't been any more awkward around Jensen than he normally was in most conversations, now that he thought about it.

It wasn't the Resistance fighter's age either. He was extremely frightened around all women, no matter how young or old they were. Horrific memories of girls teasing him early on in school would haunt him even when he saw those scouts selling cookies door-to-door.

Before Simmons could become too "aware" of the problem and over-correct it like he usually did once something was drawn to his attention, Jensen interrupted his thought process with a knowing look on her face that seemed to oddly match Donut's earlier one, "It's because you're more worried about Captain Grif now, huh?"

That question definitely stopped him in his tracks like a deer in the headlights, "W-what?"

"It's okay! Kai said you guys were pretty much married already." The younger girl said in an attempt to probably reassure him she wasn't being judgmental.

The redhead was fairly certain he was going to die of embarrassment right then and there. For a second, the cyborg couldn't see anything and he was pretty certain the parts of his face that still had his human skin were very obviously red given how hot all of his face felt suddenly.

"She's really pulling for you." Jensen continued, not apparently noticing Simmons' growing urge to flee from the room as she smiled even more, "All of us are! Captain Grif is a really nice guy, and you seem like one too!"

"Er—"

The lieutenant had finished assembling the rifle by then. As he was still in the process of trying to get his mind back into something akin to working order, the brunette held it up for inspection.

"How's this, sir?"

At least Simmons could focus on something else besides the fact that it sounded like apparently everyone in the Resistance but Grif knew about his feelings by looking at the weapon being proffered out to him.

"You did great." The redhead gave a slight nod as he looked over her work, though he honestly didn't even really need to examine it too carefully to know that the kid had done the job correctly.

Jensen beamed, and Simmons returned the expression awkwardly. He was actually a little envious of Grif and the others in the Resistance now, for getting to help out newer recruits like this on a daily basis.

He wouldn't have thought that that would have been something he'd enjoy at all given how much pressure it would probably be, but talking to the young lieutenant about weaponry had been oddly enjoyable. At least, if the Above Grounder wasn't taking into account the later part of the conversation when he'd been blindsided by the fact that Kaikaina Grif apparently liked to talk about a lot of things with her fellow Resistance friends.

"If Captain Grif is okay, you really should go for it!" Jensen said suddenly, as she was putting the rifle back in the container it had come from before glancing over at him and winking, "Happy ending and all, you know?"

"Um…" His brain was back to shorting out now.

The brunette looked around and whispered conspiratorially, "The next couple of months could be really romantic in particular."

Suddenly, there was the sound of running footsteps coming towards them and then the aqua-trimmed armored Resistance fighter Simmons knew to be Private Palomo was standing there, an accusatory finger pointed at the girl.

"I heard that!" The dark-skinned rookie declared in a scandalized tone, "That's cheating, Jensen!"

"It is not! I was just giving advice on how he should do it sooner rather than later!" She countered, huffing exasperatedly at Palomo's apparent inability to see her reasoning, "Besides, that doesn't matter at all anymore if money isn't involved."

"It totally still counts as influencing the bet! Otherwise, I already would have tried playing my patented mood music for Matthews and Bitters!"

Jensen made a face, "Gross! That hasn't even worked for you yet!"

"Um, not getting punched as much definitely counts as working." Palomo countered.

Watching the exchange between the two Resistance rookies, Simmons really was at a total loss as to what was going on.

"B—bet?" The cyborg somehow managed to squeak out with effort, not really all that sure he actually wanted to know the answer to that inquiry.

Thankfully, perhaps for his continued loose grip on sanity, the two younger fighters were now locked in a heated debate about what counted as actually working and what didn't when it came to mood settings and weren't paying enough attention to elaborate further.

Still, even after witnessing that…yep, Simmons maybe was still a little envious of Grif and the others. Oddly enough, despite the earlier embarrassment of a kid like Jensen trying to give him love advice, he felt a bit calmer now.

Grif had better still be alive, damn it. Not just for his own sake, but for Kai's and all of his friends' and teammates' too.

"Goddamnit, Tucker, if you would just stop and think—!"

There was a loud commotion from somewhere else in the safe house, causing the childish argument between Palomo and Jensen to stop abruptly as a teal-armored soldier burst into the room.

Now that Simmons thought about it, he had kind of stopped paying attention to the background noise of the debate that had been going on for a while in the kitchen. What with having been engrossed in the conversation with Jensen before, and then dealing with his own confusion and embarrassment on top of the rather loud conversation currently going on between the two younger fighters.

Apparently the meeting had escalated quite a bit since then, judging by the angry look flashing in Tucker's eyes.

Scanning the living room, Tucker made a bee-line for Simmons with Agent Washington practically only a step behind and looking extremely upset himself.

From the kitchen doorway, the cyborg could spot Carolina, Church, and Delta exchanging looks before following. Their combined body language was tense and confused.

"Hey, Simmons," Tucker started without much preamble, the look in his brown eyes was reminiscent of someone desperately trying to find another person to back him up in an argument, "You definitely want to rescue the fat-ass, right?"

"Um…"

The redhead glanced at the alarmed expressions on Palomo and Jensen's faces. Palomo had actually grabbed Jensen's upper arm and hauled her a few steps away from the three older men, apparently more than just a little disturbed at his captain's actions and the look of frustration on the face of the Freelancer behind him.

From the other hallway, Simmons could make out Doc, Donut, Sheila, Andersmith, and Caboose peering into the room as well. The sight of their heads peeking cautiously into the space as if afraid there was a live grenade about to go off would have been almost comical in any other situation.

"Come on, dude. Yes or no?" Tucker's insistent voice brought him back to the situation at hand.

The cyborg blinked back his confusion, nodding his head emphatically a second later, "Of course I do!"

The dark-skinned man grinned and, to Simmons' absolute shock, slapped him comradely in the shoulder pretty hard. The redhead couldn't stop the not-at-all impressive "Ow!" from slipping out along with an accompanying wince.

"Awesome!" Tucker nodded slightly as if he had just won some argument with himself, "I knew you'd be on board!"

That statement was even more confusing to Simmons, as he was now very much under the impression that he had somehow agreed to something without any idea as to what it actually was.

Which was further confirmed when Agent Washington groaned in frustration, "Tucker! Of course he'd respond that way when you ask the question like that!"

Tucker snorted derisively, crossing his arms over his chest, "Whatever, dude. You're just fucking mad that you're being outnumbered."

"That doesn't make any sense. At all!" The vein popping up on Washington's forehead was getting even more pronounced, "You never even mentioned your plan to him!"

"P—plan?" The redhead looked between the two in confusion.

Tucker turned back to Simmons then, nodding his head vigorously, "Look, I want to save my son and my friend." He confided, "But, so far, all we've done is just sit around on our asses and wait. You know?"

Simmons couldn't help but nod, understanding well-enough the frustration he could hear in Tucker's voice.

"These two?" The teal-armored fighter gestured to Washington and Carolina further behind them, "Their idea was to go in by themselves and leave everybody else out to wait some more."

This had been the first time Simmons had actually even heard that mentioned at all. He stared at the two Freelancers with a questioning glance, only to be met with silent hesitation that pretty much confirmed Tucker's statement.

"But, that's—!"

"Bullshit, right?" Tucker nodded his head in agreement to whatever he thought the cyborg was going to say, before glaring behind him at Washington, "Especially since someone isn't supposed to be trying to get himself fucking killed after all of the shit he's pulled."

Simmons was leaning more towards saying "crazy" and how he thought it was unfair to the people who wanted to help, but he supposed that was just semantics.

"So, your idea is to get everyone involved and potentially killed instead?" Washington's voice sounded beyond strained.

"It's not, and you know that!" With how much glaring Tucker was doing at him, Simmons was honestly surprised that Washington hadn't burst into flames yet, "Two teams of volunteers at each site, while someone else provides a distraction at the main base where those mercenary dicks hang out."

Tucker grinned before adding, "In particular, someone with a bitching alien sword."

The Freelancer shook his head, "That's—"

"It would have a higher percentage of success, Agent Washington." Delta had appeared next to the blonde, Carolina and Church approaching as well.

"He's right. The earlier plan had a lot of risks, and it was pretty much guaranteed that both of us would have been exposed as spies in the process." Carolina frowned as she spoke up, "I'm not too pleased with the odds of this new one either. But, if we could avoid losing that tactical advantage entirely and can make sure this all wasn't a phenomenal waste of time, it could be worth it."

"Yeah! What the angry hot chick said!" Tucker nodded his head again in agreement.

Carolina turned to glare holes at the Resistance fighter then, "Say that again and I will end you."

"What if you die, Tucker?" Washington sighed, looking a bit more defeated now that Delta and Carolina had put in their two cents, "What about Junior then? Or your friend's sister?"

Jensen made a strangled noise. Palomo patted her shoulder awkwardly, apparently not at all sure of what else to do in the situation. Andersmith, Caboose, and Donut all looked rather ashen-faced at Washington's inquiries as well.

It made sense, Simmons supposed, given how well all of them knew Grif, Junior, and Tucker.

"I'm not going to just sit around waiting for someone else to do something anymore!" Tucker stated angrily, ignoring the somber air that had fallen over most of the group, "Especially not when Junior, Grif, and just about everyone else can die with everything that's going on! Even stubborn, paranoid assholes!"

Washington seemed momentarily taken aback at the sudden jab at him. For a second, there even seemed to be an odd splotch of red across his face, but it dissipated a second later as he shook his head once and let out another sigh, "You getting yourself killed won't change that."

Tucker scoffed, "They're less likely to kill me because of the alien tech."

The Above Grounder raised a blonde eyebrow, glancing at the sword hilt at Tucker's side before focusing on his face again, "Not by a very wide margin, Tucker. I can guarantee that being captured alive wouldn't be good either."

"There are two people I know going through that shit already." The Resistance fighter countered, "Kind of helps further my cause, don't you think?"

Washington frowned, but was cut off from arguing further by Carolina, "We can prep him with the layout and have an escape plan arranged, Washington."

The younger Freelancer glared at her, an expression which didn't seem to bother her in the slightest, while Tucker shot her a grateful look.

"Fine. It doesn't seem like there's any way to change your mind at this point." Washington rolled his eyes and threw his hands up in the air before fixing the Resistance fighter with a level stare, "I told you that I would help you get Junior back."

"Yeah, and I'm pretty sure you dying while doing that wasn't part of the deal either." Tucker reminded him, smirking.

Washington muttered something about the other man being impossible to deal with sometimes under his breath, while Tucker turned his attention back to Simmons.

"So, now that you know all of that shit, you still in or what?" The teal-armored soldier asked, sounding like he was almost pleading again, "I have a feeling I won't have to worry as much about Grif if you're looking for him."

For once, Simmons ignored the sudden influx of heat he felt blooming all over his face at the remark and nodded, "Of course!"

Normally Simmons would agonize over even the simplest of choices for hours on end, so this probably one of the easiest decisions he'd ever made. It was an oddly great sensation, feeling like he had a say in what was happening around him for once.

Especially since it meant he could possibly help Grif too.

"Well, of course, he'd say yes." He heard Church mutter underneath his breath.

"I'll help too!" Doc called out, giving an encouraging nod to his maroon-armored friend as he apparently felt it was now safe to step inside the living room.

Donut was right behind him, "Don't count me out! I have a whole lot of tosses left in me!"

"Please tell me you're talking about grenades." Church looked exasperated at the dirty blonde's odd phrasing.

"It's one of those things that's probably best left to your imagination, dude." Tucker responded without batting an eye.

"This will be like a party!" Caboose seemed pretty excited himself, "But with explosions! So, a party run by the red sergeant!"

"Geez, way to remind me of one of the worst birthday parties ever, Caboose." Tucker shuddered at whatever memory his teammate's comment had drudged up in his mind.

"Pin the Tail Through the Minefield was pretty fun." Caboose looked happily nostalgic just then, before grinning ecstatically, "Oh, I can't wait to wake up Freckles and tell him!"

"If it's all right with you, I'd like to volunteer as well, Captain Tucker." Andersmith stated, his eyes seemingly shining with admiration at Tucker's determination.

"It would probably be a good idea to have someone keep a lookout on Caboose for me." Tucker nodded appreciatively, "Thanks, Andersmith."

"I want to come too!" Jensen saluted, "If Kai were here, she would definitely go."

"Count me in!" Palomo seemed just as eager as his two lieutenant teammates at the mission prospect, "Bitters will just have to suck it later that he didn't get to go on a super-cool rescue!"

"I would like to assist as well." Sheila added in quietly following the more exuberant declarations from everyone else.

"Goddamn it! So, is everyone fucking going then?" Church shook his head and sighed while grimacing, "Fine! I might as well come too. We can all get blown up together. It'll be fucking awesome."

"That's the spirit, Church!" Doc grinned, and everyone save Carolina and Washington nodded their heads in immediate agreement.

Which was promptly followed by Church giving the entire room the finger: "All of you suck. I mean it!"

No one really paid much attention to the A.I.'s comment though, especially since the insult lacked any real bite and now there was a plan to focus on and prepare for instead.

Simmons just desperately hoped that they still had enough time to put it into action.

---

It was an odd sensation, not really knowing how much time had passed since he got there. Or, really, not even knowing where "there" was exactly.

Dexter Grif had been out of it for a good long while following the concussion-y encounter with that asshole Felix's. He only remembered vague flashes of various oh-so-helpfully nondescript sights that all sort of began blurring together into one jumbled mess after a certain point.

Given that the Slums resident wasn't even all that familiar with the terrain on the surface of the planet to begin with, and things like map specs and holographic displays could only help prep you so much when you were preoccupied with all sorts of other preparations, he was pretty much hopelessly lost.

All Grif really knew about the place he was at now was that Donut would have probably described the cold, empty room with its metal walls as "sparse at best". He even imagined hearing the words in his teammate's cheerful voice and was surprised at how that kind of hurt in a way he wasn't expecting.

The Resistance fighter was also fairly certain that the red splotches on the floor had probably come from him and weren't just creative paint choices, which would have also been something he imagined Donut having some kind of opinion on if he were around. Never could keep the lightish-red soldier quiet when it came to opinions about interior decorating, no matter how much one tried.

Those types of observations really only occurred in the more lucid moments he would occasionally have anyways.

In reality? The most that Grif was aware of currently was the pain.

Everything felt like it hurt. Even in that weird, out-of-it haze he kept slipping into where it felt like everything that was happening to him seemed to be occurring from somewhere far away.

When he was experiencing that strange mindset, Grif could almost, almost fool himself into thinking that the blade's edge was slicing down into someone else's skin now that it had become such a constant. Could almost imagine that the thrumming sound of something with a charge wasn't going to be followed through with searing pain seconds later, the type of pain that would almost certainly make him black out for a few seconds with flashes of white against his eyeballs.

It all sort of became a dull constant that more or less kept its presence annoyingly there.

In the back of his mind, the tan-skinned man could almost hear Simmons' voice explaining something about how that was some kind of coping mechanism for extreme duress. The kind that happened when the body underwent intense pain in a short amount of time.

When that happened, Grif couldn't help but almost simultaneously tear up and smile despite how much it hurt given that his lip was pretty nastily split by this point. It figured that even in his hallucinations, his redheaded friend would always have to try to show-off his nerd tendencies.

Of course, while in a way perhaps that whole coping mechanism bullshit was helping numb a little bit of what was going on, Grif hated that it even slipped into the strange snippets of memory he would have whenever he blacked out for a while. Those memories became twisted, warped nightmares that he had to witness and could do nothing to prevent.

A vision of Kai smiling as a little girl suddenly became her crying after their parents left, and he couldn't do anything about it.

Level One was burning. Tucker's mom was dead. There were guns going off in the distance. He couldn't breathe.

Matthews and Bitters were still out there, running. He hadn't bought them enough time. Sarge went down fighting. Right after Caboose, Donut, and everyone else he'd met in the Resistance.

Tucker never found Junior, but met up with a bullet instead. Kai wasn't even able to yell at him for leaving her again.

The bomb went off. None of it had mattered a fucking thing anyway.

Simmons was the one to finish him off, while the rest of the redhead's team watched in the background. They were being held up by the mercenaries too. Simmons cried when he did it, and that was the one thing that stuck with Grif when he was finally able to just let go. A scene that would torment him so he'd never have peace.

Those nightmarish images were stupid and did nothing but make Grif cry out even more the next time a cut was made into his skin or a punch was thrown at him. They were just memories of things that had happened in the past, of things that hadn't happened and hopefully wouldn't. But, they felt so damn real it was hard to get it to stick in his mind that it had all been fake whenever he did finally become more lucid.

Odds were very good, Grif kept trying to tell himself, that he'd never see any of them again. As long as none of that "future" shit actually happened that should be okay. But, even that was a lie, since fuck he didn't want to not see anyone again.

He wanted to see them all again, the people in his life like Tucker, Kai, and Simmons.

Grif saw the red pooling below him just then as he opened one eye a miniscule bit for a second, and the sudden thought of maroon armor slick wet with crimson that presented in his tired brain made him want to vomit.

It was actually terrifying, thinking that this wasn't even the worst things could get. His mind was definitely working overtime to make sure he fucking knew that before he died.

Seriously, why couldn't it just be as lazy as it usually was when it actually mattered?

"Fuck." A voice spoke up from somewhere to his left as he became slightly aware of the sparsely decorated space again, "Did you kill him?"

It was a woman's voice, dispassionate and uncaring. He vaguely recalled one of those asshole mercenaries who had shown up to collect him from the initial battlefield sounding like that.

Way too many of those dicks in steel and green for his taste on top of just the regular asshole Above Ground military types. At least if those guys had found him first they would have probably been quick about it and not even bothered with the torture bullshit.

"No, of course not." The male voice belonged to the guy who had, for as long as he'd stepped into this room, been trying way too fucking hard in Grif's opinion to imitate Felix's knife work.

The Resistance fighter almost wanted to ask why he bothered, since Grif was fairly certain given how some of the cuts had been handled that the guy was a pretty sloppy study.

The male voice scoffed at the question, "Felix said he wanted to finish off the interrogation himself once Locus came to question the guy. I am not that stupid."

Evidently, the other voice wasn't too sure about that, "Yet cutting him up like some jigsaw puzzle until he's not even with it enough to answer questions seemed like a smart move to you?"

There was a pause in the conversation there. Grif was almost tempted to try to force open his eyes to see what was happening, but if they knew he was slightly more with it than they currently thought the situation could fall back to a whole lot of pain pretty damn quickly.

Besides, at this moment, he was severely lacking the energy or drive to do so. The last couple of times he'd tried to open his eyes it was really blurry, and often he ended up seeing more hallucinations.

The feel of something wet and warm running down his face and most of his other body parts wasn't exactly encouraging him to open his eyes for a look either.

"I'll admit I might have gotten a little carried away there." Asshole Dude conceded, before taking on an almost whining tone, "But, come on! It's been way too long since we've actually had a live prisoner on our hands."

Good to know he was special.

Grif wondered if that was something he could ever shove in Sarge's face later. Or would it count as way too sad to do so? The crazy old man would probably find some way to insult the orange-armored fighter over it regardless, or just try shooting him himself to make up for the misguided strategy of the enemy.

Scarily enough, the chubby Resistance fighter would definitely have preferred that to this.

Thinking that he'd never again get threatened by his deranged commanding officer was just as devastating as thinking that he would never hear Donut's designing tips again or hear Lopez say something no one could ever remotely figure out once more.

Which was actually really fucking sad.

"That's true." For as uninterested as she sounded in the outcome of this conversation, the female could have just as easily been talking about an advertisement she was indifferent towards.

There was another lull in the conversation, as if the two were both contemplating something.

Grif thought he must have slipped into unconsciousness for a few seconds during that time because he was fairly certain he had seen Kai crying again.

Suddenly he felt like he was trying to climb up the rafters as he had attempted a while after the massacre, and he just couldn't get air into his lungs and he was shaking too hard to properly grip the ladder rungs.

Then Simmons was mentioning somewhere close by his ear that he really wished that Grif had his fucking helmet on again as that slow-ass lift was moving upwards.

The Resistance fighter never did seem to have the stupid thing when it mattered, though in Grif's defense this time it was due to it being broken and subsequently removed than his own absentmindedness.

Which then got him envisioning the lanky cyborg nerd standing there and lecturing him about all sorts of ridiculous things that really didn't matter given what was going on.

He could hear Simmons going on and on about how many germs Grif was probably getting exposed to due to open wounds, about how the whole place would probably need disinfectant due to all the blood, about how he really shouldn't be taking things so lightly as to keep blacking out, and how…yeah, early on, giving someone the finger had probably not helped anything in the long run.

It kind of sucked that Grif didn't have the energy to come up with an imaginary retort in his head.

But, all the same, he had to fight the urge to smile about how incredibly dumb a thing that was to imagine at this time. His face hurt too much to do that currently though, plus he was fairly certain a pained grimace would make it pretty known he wasn't still completely knocked out.

Still, Grif had always liked that he and Simmons could argue about that kind of stupid shit while still being happy.

The Slums resident was learning right now that he took a whole lot of things about his interactions with the people in his life for granted, and he really wished he wasn't.

"Maybe the blood loss will make him disoriented enough to let things slip, though?" The knife guy asked hopefully.

Despite hallucination-Simmons' earlier lecture on how that had not helped before, if Grif would have been able to move his limbs just then he so would have given them two extended middle fingers.

"Maybe." She sounded doubtful, "Let's let him bleed for a bit and then try the shocks again."

Oh, goodie. That was something to look forward to.

Seriously, it was actually pretty unnerving how much he honestly missed Sarge's threats by this point.

"Judging by how fat he is, maybe just withholding food for a while would do the trick." The male joked back.

Now they were being emotionally cruel on top of everything. Fat jokes were one thing, and he was actually pretty damn used to them, given how often he was called a "fat-ass" by his friends and family.

It was probably a fucking miracle that Felix had been called away on some hidden secret agenda after Grif had been captured. That mercenary asshole definitely knew which personal buttons would hurt the most to push given how much time he had spent working undercover with the Resistance before, and he certainly loved his mind games along with killing things.

Grif was honestly having enough of that with his own garbled thoughts and pain-induced hallucinations to last him several lifetimes.

"With how fat he is? That could take months." The female shot back with a scoff of her own, "As long as he doesn't die in the next couple of hours Locus should be able to get out any info he has."

Weird, to almost wish he would just slide into the sleep that was warring with the pain in his body right now. If Grif simply didn't wake up again, then none of this would matter and everyone he knew and cared for would probably be a lot better off.

But, then he was running again. Smoke was burning his lungs. There was gunfire. The Resistance. And Tucker, and Kai, and Simmons, and everything…

Grif was not only in a shitload of pain, but he was terrified too as the voices faded into indistinct noise again. Who knew what was going to happen now?

All he really knew was that everything just fucking sucked.

---

Author's Notes: Well, lots of dialogue and planning. Hopefully it all made sense and wasn't too rushed or anything! I ended up finally going into what Grif's been up to (kind of) in that last part, even though that could basically be summed up as "not too great," orz.

So, I tried to throw in lots of shipping moment hints in this chapter even if it was a case of some characters not being reunited yet and everything. Sorry about that though, as I had originally planned on extending this chapter quite a bit. But, it sort of ended up developing a life of its own and I realized it would have been nightmarishly long and taken even longer to release if I had gone with my initial plan. 0_0;

Also, finally got in a little Jensen and Simmons bonding moment too: a little bit of a surrogate father/daughter situation there (and, yep, she's right there with Kai on being a big Grimmons supporter too :D). I kind of felt bad that he was the only captain who hadn't interacted with his lieutenants yet, orz. Hopefully, the more light-hearted interactions still felt like they had a place given how serious things have gotten, and I hope explained a few more of the things that I'd brought up minimally in the last chapter.

Next up is finally the rescue plan, a bit more pairing stuff all around, and a big reunion moment! :D I just hope I can do it all justice, haha. …And there's still quite a bit left to do following that as we get closer to the finish!

Thank you, as always, for reading and I hope you enjoyed the chapter. :)