Molly shifted again on the hard floor. Chinook lifted his head and lot out a low whine.
"I'm sorry, hon," she said sarcastically, trying to pull the quilt further over her shoulder. Even with her sweatshirt and flannel pants, she was still cold.
A low moan came from the mattress.
"Shit, Billy," Molly was up in an instant, turning the light on. Billy blinked slowly. "Don't move," she warned, crouching over him to check his bandages.
"What the hell are you doing here?" he groaned, "where am I?"
"You got stabbed by Vilain. He runs the crime syndicate around here," she said, sitting on the edge of the mattress.
"What are you doing here?" Billy repeated.
"I live here, with my step ma and little brother. The plane only crashed about forty miles from here. Church called me and asked me to back you guys up."
"You saved my life," Billy realized.
Molly's lips twitched downwards, as if she was fighting a grimace.
"What happened to the guys?"
"They're completing the mission. On a level of one to ten, how bad is your pain?" she asked, pressing a cold hand against his warm brow. His blue eyes drifted shut.
"Your hand feels nice."
"You're running a fever. Damn it," she turned to the far cabinet in the room and began to rummage through it, looking for the strongest antibiotic she had.
"Molly, I'm ok, you saved me," Billy assured her sleepily. Molly sent him a dark look over her shoulder.
The morning's light found Molly pressing a cold compress to Billy's brow. His fever had spiked an hour ago.
"Is everything alright, dear?" Dana poked her head into the room. She immediately took note of her step daughter's tired eyes and stiff back.
"He'll be fine. His fever is coming down," Molly said grimly.
"Would you like some breakfast?" Dana asked pleasantly.
"Eggs and toast, please," Molly nodded agreeably. Dana smiled.
"Should I make extra for him?" Her eyes trailed over Billy's vulnerable, prostrate form, completely swathed in blankets.
"I'll make him something when he wakes up," Molly shrugged.
Meanwhile, many miles away, Hale was looking around the mock American city anxiously.
"What the hell just happened?" he demanded of Barney as they met in the square. Sang bodies littered the ground.
"Somebody got a little carried away," Barney said wisely, an explanation already forming in his head. If Molly was in Albania, John Booker couldn't be too far. Barney knew the rumors of the Lone Wolf's death had to be bullshit.
Nobody killed the Lone Wolf.
"Where are the shooters?" Gunnar asked, his eyes scanning the area.
"I dunno, but if they wanted us dead, we'd be dead," Barney said simply. He wasn't that worried about it. Maggie's face was drawn with fear and her hands trembled from the adrenaline.
Molly Booker would never have shown any fear, the thought came unbidden to Barney's mind. He had kept thoughts of his medic in the back of his head for the last nine months. Missing her wouldn't do him any good. Seeing her appear like some sort of f*cking guardian angel when they needed her most was nothing short of a miracle.
She had kept her head, even while she operated on a dying teammate.
"Barney," Maggie's tense voice drew him out of his head. Her eyes were trained over his shoulder. He turned to follow her gaze.
Out of the fog, like some sort of damn cowboy, strode John Booker.
"Don't freak out," Barney advised his team.
"Is that-" Hale started.
"Small world, huh, Barney?" John Booker asked, a smirk hidden under his beard. His hair was lighter and more blonde than Molly's light auburn.
"Rumor had that you were dead," Barney pointed out.
"Just a precaution. I've got a family to look out for. How's life treating you?" Booker asked, hooking the leg of his sunglasses in his shirt collar.
"Been better. You did all this?" Barney asked, gesturing to the half destroyed town. He was almost expecting Molly to come out from an alley way.
"I fly solo. I thought you knew that," Booker said gravely. His meaning was clear. I wouldn't let my daughter follow me on a mission if my life depended on it.
"I heard it, but I didn't buy it," Barney scoffed.
"Hmm, well now you do," Booker said, obviously unimpressed, "This your team?"
Barney twisted and pointed them out.
"Yeah, Gunnar, Toll Road, Hale Caesar, and Maggie."
Booker's narrowed eyes rested a little too long on the Asian woman. "She's CIA, runs with Church," Barney said. Don't worry, old man, I would never be able to find somebody to replace your daughter.
Booker nodded once at them.
"Booker," Gunnar grinned, "You're the one people call the Lone Wolf."
"I have been called that," Booker allowed, "but I have mellowed," he added, looking at Barney. The leader of the Expendables glanced around, counting the bodies.
"Not that much," Barney said, "I heard another rumor, that you were bitten by a king cobra?"
"Yeah, I was," Booker nodded gravely, "but after five days of agonizing pain, the cobra died."
"You know, that's exactly what your daughter said when I asked her about it," Barney chuckled, reaching out to hug his old friend. "It's great to see you, Booker."
"So, how'd you wind up in this godforsaken place?" Booker wondered idly.
"Got ambushed by Sangs about a hundred kilometers east of here. Nearly killed one of my men-" Barney started.
"I know. Marie was taking care of him when I got home, before she begged me to come and help you. I would be on the look out for her. I doubt she's going to sit this one out. She didn't say why you were out there by the crash site, though."
"We were trying to recover some CIA data from the plane. According to Maggie, it leads to weapons grade plutonium, left over from the Cold War."
"And now the Sangs have it," Booker said, unamused.
"Now the Sangs have it," Barney agreed.
"They are the lowest form of scum. Shooting them has been good business," Booker said knowingly.
"What do you know about a guy named Vilain?" Barney asked, thinking of how pale Molly had gotten at the thought of the crime boss.
"He pretty much runs everything in this area... You're gonna need more men if you expect to get out alive," Booker said.
"Can you help out?" Barney knew better than to get his hopes up.
"Ah, sorry, Barney, I've got a wife and a little boy that I haven't been with in nine months. She'll tan my hide if I miss another supper," Booker said apologetically.
Barney shook his hand.
"It's fine, I understand. Thanks for showin' up."
So, all that time that Molly had been in Albania, her father had been absent. Barney filed that information away for a later date. It was hardly his most pressing concern.
"My pleasure," Booker began to walk away.
"Hey! Tell Molly to take good care of Billy, alright?" Barney called. Booker waved to show he'd heard.
"Oh! There's a village down the road, Barney, they're good people, and they hate the Sangs!" Booker called as an after thought, "Maybe they can help out."
"Thanks," Barney nodded.
"Happy hunting," Booker grinned a grin that reminded Barney far too much of his medic.
"Dad, is everything ok?" Molly asked her father over the satellite phone. She was watching Adrian babble to Billy.
"Sang caught up with them, at that Soviet training facility, you know, the American city one?" John Booker said.
"Is everybody alright?" Molly's grip tightened on her phone.
"They're fine. They're going after Vilain. I sent them to that village near there."
Molly mentally calculated the time it would take her to travel there.
"You going with them?" she asked tensely.
"I work alone, Molly."
She scoffed.
"Yeah. Alright. Bye, dad," she hung up the phone. Billy and Adrian looked up at her. Billy's clear blue eyes were full of questions.
"I've gotta go save our team," she said simply.