Everything is just colliding and I'm just really excited that we're getting to see at least the trails of where the three stories' events are effecting each other. And I think if you're sharp you might catch onto even more than the overt ones ; ) I'm super excited here and I hope you guys are, too! Part XII is going to be something else!

Special thanks to freshzombiewriter, xhauntedangel, ephemeraltea, Yin, secretlystephaniebrown, analiarvb, washingtonstub, CABRALFAN27, staininspace, and redvsblue-ninerse for the feedback!

Recovery None
Recovery One XI: Time Travel Shenanigans

Wash's head was swimming – no. Not swimming. It was drowning in the white haze. There was snow, light – a blur of white complete with senseless noise and aggravating lurch of his stomach as he tried to tear his way through it.

He tried to remember what had happened – ground himself, make sure it wasn't all just a hesitant dream – but he didn't have too much opportunity to do that because he was being hit over his back. Hard.

"Guess he did make it, didn't he? Shame. Thought there'd only be the two of them to deal with."

The words were – vaguely threatening? Familiar? Worth the effort of getting away from the man giving them at all cost.

Wash felt the ground under his palms and knees, knew up from down, then grabbed the arm attached to the hand at his back and twisted hard to pull the red armored man down to his knees.

Red. Wash was really starting to hate that color–

"Whoa, there, fancy Freelancer britches! How am I supposed to use my shotgun without my trigger hand?"

Blinking, Wash pressed through his instincts and initial alarm to realize he was staring at the back of the Red Sarge's armor before him. "Sarge?" he asked just for punctuation.

"Whoa, what the fuck, dude! Let go of him!" Grif cried out somewhere behind them.

It all began rushing back to Wash at once. The attack on Wyoming, the blizzard from the weather machine, Alpha – it had all been happening so fast he couldn't quite place what had happened when it all went off with a bang.

Donut was standing with the others, pointing at Wash like it meant something. "I told you guys he was going to murder every Red he saw! He's an animal! And mean! And he yells because he has bad hearing. Man I'm glad I don't know anyone like that. I mean, I've been told I'm a screamer, but usually only when someone was really giving me a reason–"

"Alright, Donut! Christ! We fucking get it!" Grif yelled, throwing hands over his helmet.

Looking back at the others was when it sunk in for Wash just how terrible they and their surroundings had looked – armor scuffed and denting, Simmons seemed to be sparking at odd joints, and the surrounding plains once covered in snow were barren, wet, and desolate looking. The snow melted away.

It was also then that Wash realized that all of Red Team's weapons were pointed his way.

Without anymore hesitation, Wash dropped his hold on Sarge and held up his hands unassumedly.

The Red Team leader gathered himself up off the ground, snapping and snarling about Dirty Blue and Dirtbags as he gathered his trusty shotgun. Everyone generally seemed to be more set at ease once the Red was returned to them.

Save Caboose who was simply looking at the blackened hole in the ground toward the center of the melted snowcaps.

"What happened?" Wash asked, feeling a certain expectant unease. The kind that told him he was going to regret asking the question even before it had left his mouth.

"Well, it's going to be difficult for you to understand, Blue, because every other Blue we've explained it to already has huffed and taken off! Completely in denial of the truth!" Sarge announced proudly.

"Which is okay, I lived in denial for years," Donut explained, seemingly refreshed with Sarge back in their care. "You start to wear it like an old glove after a bit."

Wash squinted at them. "Can you not just give a straight answer?"

"No," Simmons said very firmly.

"Not in our core programming," Grif added before letting out a very fake laugh. "Get it? Because it's all Lopez's fault we're in the future?"

The comment was so ludicrous and off the cuff that Wash's mind skipped over it at first, ignoring it like he did most things that came out of the troopers' mouths in all honesty. But at some point the words replayed and he was left with the in the future phrase stuck at the forefront of his mind.

So Washington stared at them expectantly before letting out a long, painful, "What?"

"Grif! You're giving away the surprise!" Donut snapped angrily.

"What surprise? What the hell are any of you talking about?" Wash demanded angrily.

They all looked at each other, then back to the Freelancer.

"Well, Wash, we were going to tell you through an elaborate metatextual play on the subject that Donut worked very hard on writing, producing, and directing," Simmons explained.

"But since you're being an ass we'll just tell you straight up. Fuck easing you into the harsh truth," Grif spat. "The harsh truth, of course, being–"

"The bomb and the weather machine doohickeys combined to detonate in Lopez's tummy. An explosion so grand, so massive, so unexpected, that it had the power to blow all of us into the far, far future," Sarge explained with grandiose hand gestures to accentuate his statements.

For a moment, Washington allowed the words to run through his mind. He stood blinking and silent, but it didn't take much longer than that for him to clench his jaw and then his fists.

"That," he said lowly. "Makes. No. Goddamn. Sense."

"Doesn't it?" Sarge pressed, getting in Wash's personal space to a rather uncomfortable degree. "Or does it just so happen to be the most sense that has ever been made utilizing the technology of a giant megaton bomb, the theoretical powers of a weather machine, and the sheer willpower embodied in a robot built by yours truly?"

Washington stared at Sarge in utter disbelief for a long few minutes before he noticed his eye was suffering from what felt like a random stigmatism. "I have never met a more ridiculous group of people before in my life, fucking hell."

Donut turned more toward Grif and Simmons, arms crossed over his chest. "I told you my play would have been the best way to break it to him. Wait! We can still do it! Quick, everybody get in position–"

"We are not in the future!" Wash roared.

"Oh, yeah? Prove it," Grif demanded.

"I don't have to prove it! There's no need for proof for something that is obvious!" Wash snapped.

"Then how do you explain the fact that, by the time we arrived in the future, the snowcaps had all melted?" Simmons asked, pointing to the melted wasteland around them. "That would have taken thousands of years!"

"First off," Wash snapped, "no, it wouldn't take that long. Have you never heard of global warming?"

"They probably don't believe it," Caboose said from right behind Wash, making the already stressed Freelancer nearly jump out of his armor. "They are Red. I think it's against their platform."

Whirling around on Caboose, Wash couldn't help but throw up his hands. "What? Caboose? Where did you– when did you move from–" He took a deep breath and shook his head. "Nevermind, it's not important." He then turned and faced the Reds again. "The reason everything melted is because of the explosion given off by those machines crossing. Not to mention we saw the power of that so-called weather machine. That had something to do with the change in weather. Not time travel."

They all stared back at him.

"That sounds stupid as fuck, Wash," Grif informed him dryly.

Reaching a point where he could justify either a rampage or trying to reach unconsciousness again, Washington opted to sigh and drop his head. There were not enough nerves in the world for him to be able to get further into the conversation.

Which made the somewhat condescending patting on his shoulder even worse as he glanced toward Caboose.

"It's okay, Agent Washington," Caboose offered. "I like your story better."

"Thanks," Wash ground out. He then looked the group over, taking a moment to be amazed with how worse for wear they all looked. "I don't know how much more this armor is going to be able to take, honestly."

Sarge hummed and put a hand on the chin of his helmet. "Time travel did seem rather difficult on it–"

"Shut up," Wash warned. He glanced toward Grif and Simmons. "You said you tried to spill this nonsense on Tex earlier and she wouldn't listen."

"Yeah, you guys in the neutral colored armors are kind of dickheads like that," Grif replied. "What? If you get to a certain level of assholery do the reward you with the special ops armor or something?"

"It's amazing you've not gotten to collect on that scale then," Simmons told Grif wryly.

"Or me," Donut said, drawing everyone's attention. "I've been collecting assholes for years–"

"Someone tell me what direction Tex walked in already, for fuck's sake!" Wash cried out. "Does anyone have any idea? Or hear what she was doing? It's important!"

They grew silent again, but only long enough for Sarge to apparently remember he had all the desired information. The old man snapped his fingers together and chuckled in celebration for what he probably figured was his own genius.

"Well, after she proved incapable of accepting the reality of our time travel–"

"Please stop talking about it like it really happened," Wash begged.

"Our temporary Red took off for the hill over there," Sarge said, pointing toward a structure in the distance that looked like fairly solid metal tucked between two rock ledges. "There was some kinda bunker over there where we stuffed Tucker before the Big Blue Bang."

"An equipment bunker," Wash elaborated, realization dawning on him. "It makes sense, there were bases here. They probably had a nearby site for storage of equipment and armor–"

"Whoa whoa! Hold up, they still make armor in the future?" Donut asked. "Did they ever get better about the coordination?"

"Why would they still make armor in the future? Are we still at war?" Simmons asked nervously.

Grif let out a low sigh, head dropping as it shook. "Of fucking course there'd still be this miserable, stupid, useless war."

"Everyone stop talking about being in the future!" Wash yelled. He then hesitated, reflecting on what Sarge had said. Despite himself, he turned and looked suspiciously at the Red Team leader. "Wait. Why Big Blue Bang?"

"Because it blew up that Blue leader guy," Sarge chuckled. "Poor blue devil. Not a trace of him – Simmons thinks it's because the explosion blew him into the past."

"Not my fault," Caboose said miserably.

Washington blinked slowly, trying to let the explanation sink in, but he couldn't. He could not accept it at face value. "I… Just forget it. I don't care, and yet that's somehow still more caring than this situation deserves." He looked around to all of them. "You're all idiots."

"And now I miss Church all of the sudden," Caboose sighed.

Washington looked Caboose over before giving a frustrated sigh. He grabbed Caboose by the wrist and started for the bunker.

"Everyone come this way. I need to talk whatever happens next through with Tex," Wash ordered.

As he and Caboose found their stride, he let go of the Blue's wrist. But it wasn't long after doing so that he realized that there were not bootsteps behind them. He paused long enough to turn back and see the Reds staring at him.

"What now?" he groaned.

"Donut said you killed a Red in cold blood right in front of him," Simmons informed Wash, a worried tremor in his voice.

"Not exactly the kind of company we like to keep," Grif added.

"And I most certainly don't follow a Blue under any circumstances!" Sarge bellowed.

"Fine, stay out here and continue your shared delusion about time travel. I reallydon't care," Wash said, trying to ignore that at that point it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself of the level of his not caring rather than anyone else. "Caboose, Tucker, Tex and I will just raid the armory and get our upgraded replacement armor and weapons with plenty to spare." He turned back and nodded to Caboose. "Come on, Caboose. Let's go."

As they continued up the incline, there was a loud murmuring between the Reds before what sounded like a stampede coming up behind Wash and Caboose.

"Quick! Get those upgrades right out of their grimy Blue mitts!" Sarge order.

"Sarge, don't they already have two Blues waiting on us at the site?"

"Simmons, not now! Concentrate on storming the bunker!"

Wash and Caboose both watched as the other Blood Gulch soldiers took off past them. Though, Wash couldn't watch with anything that amounted to more than dull surprise. He merely shook his head and continued forward.

He wondered why he couldn't have taken the Tex route and just walked away from the group entirely without trying to argue.

When Tex had "woke" after the blast, she was faced with a few harsh realities.

The first was that her robotic frame was wholly unreliable at the end of the day when her enemies seemed to know more about its intricacies than she did. The second was that once more the Alph– Church – had slipped through her fingers. And the third was that in spite of everything, the simulation troopers continued to prove to be useless.

Sparking, exhausted, and madder than hell, she drug herself through the bunker. The explosion had done a number to the protective shell around her body, but the equipment inside the bunker had been advanced enough it had O'Malley and Gary's attention so she held some hope that it'd let her self repair.

Tucker had been safely kept away from the explosion and nonsense of before, still laying facedown on the floor just by the entrance, so Tex stepped over him in aggravation.

She succeeded in saving Tucker, but not in saving Church from the very monsters who wanted to shock him with his friend's demise. Tex couldn't help but wonder if that was any degree of irony.

Tex shifted through the available tools and equipment before finding some parts and a trove of Mark V armors that she hadn't even been aware were out of testing yet. Though, as she considered it, she supposed they probably weren'tand that would have been why they were there to begin with.

"It'll do," she decided before getting into working on them.

Completely concentrated on her repairs, Tex tried to ignore the nagging sensation in the back of her head, the one that begged her to consider just whyher old AI and Wyoming took Church, what could have possibly been gained by it all.

And she tried to not consider just why the very AI that had once sat horrifically obsessed with her, with fueling her sense rage and betrayal, seemed suddenly disinterested enough to leave her behind.

It felt like the more that Tex accepted that being Beta was a part of her, the less she understood about what exactly that meant.

Her repairs were well underway when her sensors picked up on something just outside the bunker door.

In less than a breath, Tex as on her feet and aiming her sidearm at the door as it opened only to be faced with Wash's familiar frame. He gave her a look that spoke volumes even through their armors and Tex lowered her weapon just as Caboose came lumbering in.

"There's Tex!" Caboose informed Wash and the group of Reds trailing in behind them. "Oh… but there's Tucker. Aw. Well, maybe if Tex is here and Tucker is here, Church will be here! I'll start looking!"

"And there's the armors!" Simmons said, pointing to the cache Tex had already raided.

"Well, what do you know? A Blue didn't completely lie to our faces," Sarge guffawed. "His loss. Woulda kept that to myself. Dibs on the best one!"

"Dibs– dammit!" Grif hissed as they all piled into the bunker around Washington and the unconscious Tucker.

"What are you doing?" Wash demanded as he began to lower onto his knee and check on Tucker. "What happened here?"

"I'm repairing myself," Tex said simply. "And Tucker's fine. I knocked him out and left him here before any shit went down."

"So Sarge was telling me," Wash replied. There was a glint to his helmet as he looked up at her. "By the way, thanks, partner, for leaving me to be woken up by the Quantum Leap subscribers out there."

"Thanks for going completely nuts on me out there and leaving an opening for Wyoming to use, partner," Tex snapped back. "Now, because we couldn't get our shit together, we're stuck here with no clue where they took Church, who they're working for, or with any real soldiers to back us up once Wyoming recruits more simulation troopers."

Wash lowered his head as Tex laid out the facts, quietly stewing.

He began to sit the groaning Tucker back up before Wash got the nerve to look at her again. "And all this time you were just letting Tucker chill out on the floor?"

Tex thought about it before crossing her arms and shrugging. "He knows what he did to get on the floor to begin with."

"Agh, my jaw," Tucker moaned. "I think she broke it."

"Doubtful," Wash replied, clapping a hand on Tucker's shoulder. "For one, your helmet's not even cracked. Secondly… Well, you're talking."

"What's that got to do with a broken jaw?" Tucker asked, looking more and more awake before looking around the surroundings. "Whoa! Everyone looks like absolute shit! What'd I miss?"

"A few things," Wash informed him before nodding to where the others were messing around with the armory. "But you need to go and save yourself some decent equipment while you can. We'll catch you up on the rest soon enough." He then turned his head back meaningfully to Tex. "The Freelancers have some things to clear up first."

She held his gaze intently, ignoring how Tucker's head bobbed between herself and Wash the full time.

"Dude, what the fuck did I wake up in the middle of?" Tucker asked, sounding mildly concerned before looking over to Tex. "And where's Church?"

"We're working on figuring it out," Tex responded thinly. "Tucker, Wash is right. Go suit up. This new armor is–"

"The way of the future!" Sarge howled.

Despite himself, Washington released a full body sigh and dropped his shoulders at the Reds' enthusiastic declaration. Tex almost felt sorry for how much the sim trooper shenanigans was getting to him but, in truth, it was beginning to grate her considering just how much more time she had spent with them all.

Tucker seemed unmoved. "Tex, really, what's going on?"

"We're trying to figure it out," she said simply. "If you want a half baked explanation, ask Sarge."

For a moment, Tucker didn't seem like he was going to leave at all. Then, reluctantly, he got to his feet and headed over to the armors, waving Caboose to follow him. "Come here, Caboose – you don't even have one of your boots. Fuck's sake. Who's in charge of these armies?"

Slowly, Wash rose up to his feet and looked seriously to Tex.

"We need to get the Alpha – Church – away from them," Wash said firmly. "Whoever they're working for, I can almost guarantee that we won't like what they have planned."

"No shit, Sherlock," Tex replied dryly.

"Then what's the plan?" he asked.

"Get Church back," she said.

He appraised her for a moment before letting out a long sigh. "That's it? That'syour plan?"

"You have something more solid?" Tex demanded. "We have no idea who they're working for or what their plans are. We don't know where they're taking Church or what for. And we can't keep dragging this group around with us with a fantasy of accomplishing anything."

"I know, we're putting them at risk," Wash muttered, voice surprisingly tinged with guilt.

Tex glared at him. "No, Wash. Because they're fucking slowing us down. But yes, that, too. They're a liability if Wyoming's go-to plan was to assassinate Tucker to get to Church–"

Like the flip of a switch, Wash stiffened and grew cold. His head snapped up to look at her. "What?" he hissed icily.

"What? You think I only knocked Tucker out because he was obnoxious?" Tex asked before glancing over to the Blues. She watched as Tucker and Caboose devolved into throwing armor plating at each other to the Reds' amusement. "Asshole didn't even thank me for saving his life yet."

"We need to stop Wyoming permanently–" Wash began, turning toward the weapons.

"Oh, shut up," Tex snapped, grabbing the other Freelancer's attention again. "They already have Church, so their plans have changed. Not that I don't put it past Wyoming to be a petty fucker and kill Tucker for the sake of things if he gets the opening. But it's not a priority. Not anymore."

"Then what is?" Wash demanded.

"Finding out what we can and going after Church before they damage him," she said simply.

"Well, maybe that's your priority," Wash said before turning toward the others. "I have some others–"

"I need your help, Wash!" Tex admitted, gritting her teeth all the while. "I need to know where they're getting their intelligence, I need to know who's involved at the higher level here. That's the only way I'm going to get a clue about what they intend to do with Church and where they're probably going to take him. So fucking help already. I can guarantee that you have the same suspects in mind that I do, so I have to ask: do you really want to let them by with anymore than they already have?"

Stopping in his tracks, Wash seemed to consider it. He then turned and glared at Tex. "I might be able to get back in touch with Freelancer Command. I can't promise anything, but if there's a lead I'll probably be able to get it through them. And maybe contacting them now will keep them from sending out a full search for me. Buy us more time on that front. If they're not just going to bury the secret of where they hid Alpha all together."

Tex slowly nodded. "That's starting to sound like a real plan."

"It is. You're welcome," he said. Wash took a breath before turning on his heel and pointing at Tex. "You have to promise me something while I do this, though."

"Do I?" she asked sardonically.

"Yes. You do," Wash continued, unphased. "Until I'm back, make sure none of these guys are used as free brainwaves for your little AI friends. EspeciallyCaboose."

For a moment, Tex couldn't even process the comment. Then she clenched her fists. "You think I'm friends with them–"

"I don't care what you are to them," Wash said simply. "I just know you're the only thing short of ripping everyone's radios and AI slots out of armors that can stop what happened in Blood Gulch from happening again. And, Tex, I hate a lot of things right now, our mutual enemies chief among them. But more thanany of this bullshit I've been through lately, the idea of that happening again fills me with absolute rage."

"Look at that," Tex said, voice gradually becoming more guarded, "we still have something in common."

"Good," Wash said. "I'm going to get some upgrades and explain what's going on to Caboose." He paused awkwardly before adding, "He's… clingy when he doesn't have Church."

"He's clingy when he has Church," Tex reminded him.

Wash nodded and then moved on, and if he heard the sound of the nearest bench to Tex splitting when she brought her fist down on it he didn't even flinch.

Wash debated over his words as he left Tex, thinking over them and wondering if they were as necessary as they had felt in the heat of the moment. Thought about how just much he believed his own accusations or not.

He supposed it ultimately didn't matter, they still had the common goal – Wyoming wanted Alpha for whatever reason, and Wash was going to make damn sure that his former teammate didn't get anything he wanted.

And he couldn't give a damn about the AI themselves, Tex proving she was just as capable of leaving a trail of damage and pain in the wake of their own personal issues as the others just cemented his distrust for the time. He thought he'd been over it, but there was something about the way Donut's hurt and accusations were still ringing in his head that bugged him.

It wasn't Wash who was the bad guy here, it really wasn't. It was the AI – if they just knew what the AI and Freelancer did to people Donut wouldn't have been so mortified by what Wash had to do in order to protect himself.

Right?

"Caboose, goddammit stop looking at the armors like Church is going to be in one of them. You're giving me a headache!" Tucker's voice shook Wash back into reality.

The sim trooper was working with the paint tool hooked to the armory manifest computer to spray a Mark V helmet to match his particular shade of armor as Wash walked up to him. Tucker paused just long enough to look up and nod to Wash before continuing.

"Hey, man – you see this? All these lame armors are steel colored, but Donut found out that if you hook these spray can things to the computer, you can change the color of the paint," he explained. "Caboose already made you a stripe and everything."

"Huh?" Wash responded intelligently before glancing to the pile on the floor by Tucker. Sure enough, it was the Mark V with yellow accents. "I… That wasn't really necessary."

"Shut up," Tucker said with no heat or meaning to the phrase. He finished up his paint job and almost immediately began to put his helmet back on his head until Wash reached out and stopped him. "Huh?"

"You want to let the gas from the paint settle before you do that," Wash offered before glancing toward Caboose's bright blue armor. "Please tell me you guys didn't–"

"Nah, Caboose and Sarge's colors are the only ones that were available that way," Tucker said with a shrug. "Real weird, right?"

"It's standard issue, so no. Not really," Wash replied with a dull blink. He then checked out the Mark V appointed for him, testing the paint and the smell before beginning to switch out with his rather pathetic current set.

"But the rest of the Reds put their armors on right after painting them, so…" Tucker glanced over to them, a look Wash soon matched.

Almost as expected, the Reds were huddled and arguing, though all Wash could really make out was time and future a few dozen times over before he decided he didn't want to know. So he looked back to Tucker instead.

"I can only save so many people," Wash said easily as his final bits of plating clicked into place.

As the chest piece and his back piece snapped together, Wash hissed with the unexpected sting of pressure on his shoulder. He glanced toward the old injury and attempted to weakly rotate his arm to work it out. He'd spent so long in the busted armor and then the armor they had adjusted for him at Blood Gulch that he forgot to account for the gun wound at all.

By the time he finished, Wash looked to Tucker and saw the firm scowl set on his face.

"What?" Wash asked.

"Are you ready to tell me what's going on?" Tucker asked.

"Right," Wash said slowly, glancing toward Caboose. The Blue was still checking around the leftover armors and humming to himself thoughtfully as he searched for Church. "I don't suppose you've figured out Church is missing."

"No shit," Tucker said with a roll of his eyes. He crossed his arms and waited expectantly. "Does this have anything to do with the whole not-a-war and whatever Alpha is?"

Flinching at the questions, Wash glanced to Tucker and shook his head. "Keep that stuff to yourself for now, Tucker, I'm serious. We don't know who's listening or how people are going to react. You apparently have a possible death warrant without pissing off people in higher places."

"Eh, it's what I do," Tucker shrugged. He then leaned forward and traced a line against his jawline. "Wanna see how bad Tex got me? It's awesome–"

"No, I need to start gathering supplies and looking for a quick vehicle to transport me to Command," Wash said, looking around. "We're lucky that this place seemed to be stocked up with supplies as much as it was. There's bound to be some decent vehicles, too, given how remote the outpost is. If I can get a hornet–"

"Whoa, wait!" Tucker called out. "We're leaving!?"

Before Wash could even rebut the statement, the Reds and Caboose were coming over. All equally alarmed by the assumption.

"Agent Washington, we can't leave yet!" Caboose sputtered out. "I haven't found Church! We can't go anywhere without Church!"

"How much longer is this stupid team up going to last? I'm starving already, jesus," Grif groaned, rubbing at his helmet.

"And we don't have anyone protecting our bases!" Simmons added worriedly. "Well, I mean, your tank. Oh, wait. No. It's only your tank! What about Red Base–"

"How much longer do we have to suffer this peaceful truce!?" Sarge bellowed.

Not needing it to get anymore out of control, Wash held up his hands to silence the masses. "Everyone calm down! No one's going anywhere!" He almost immediately reconsidered the thought and lowered his hands. "Actually, I am going somewhere. And you all are going back to Blood Gulch. So we're all going somewhere, but it's fine."

Caboose visibly deflated. "You're leaving us, Agent Washington?"

Tucker turned angrily on Wash, almost looking betrayed. "Yeah, man, like what the fuck? You just tell me Church is gone and then run off? What the hell?"

Even Donut was looking at Wash with some degree of shock. "You mean after all this, you're just going? You break up Team Rookies with your wanton violence and then throw us to the wolves!?"

"There is no Team Rookies," Wash clarified first and foremost. "And I'm not leaving permanently. I'm going to get what answers I can using my security clearances with Command and then will meet all of you and Tex," he said, glancing over his shoulder to her, "back at Blood Gulch when I've found out everything I can."

"Which Command? Blue Command or Red Command?" Simmons asked.

"Blue, obviously," Sarge dismissed with a wave of his hand.

"It doesn't matter," Wash grunted. "Just… try and not kill each other while I'm gone, alright? When I come back we'll all have some answers hopefully – Blue Team will know who has their leader, and Red Team will know who has their robot." He glanced to them. "If you still care about that."

Sarge crossed his arms petulantly and looked off. "Maybe."

"Oh, right! Lopez!" Donut chirped in. "I wonder if he got blown into the future or into the past. And I wonder who blew him there!"

"There was a distinct lack of Spanish in our team mutterings," Simmons added thoughtfully. "Now I know why!"

Wash pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

"You won't be gone for long… will you, Agent Washington?" Caboose asked, stepping up next to him.

Lowering his hand, Wash blinked a few times at the Blue before forcing a smile. "Sure, Caboose. If I get a hornet, I'll probably almost beat you back to Blood Gulch, honestly. I just need to get into Command and use one of the central lines to get the information we're looking for. Now that I know what I'm looking for at least."

"And this is going to help us find Church?" Tucker asked, tilting his head. "What about you? Aren't you convinced these people are out to get you or something? What're they going to do when they catch you snooping around?"

"Ultimately I'm hoping to defuse the situation entirely," Wash assured them. "But even then, I don't have any intention of letting them catch me."

Tucker seemed unconvinced but reluctantly he shrugged. "Hey, what the fuck ever. You Freelancer assholes don't seem to need us watching your back so whatever you feel like doing, I guess."

"Just… trust Tex for now," Wash suggested to everyone before grabbing some weapons. "And just be grateful for the upgrades."

"From the future!" Donut exclaimed.

Wash closed his eyes to keep from rolling them and sighed. He finally put on his helmet and started out the door.

There was still something nagging at the back of his mind, so he paused and looked back at them, figuring they deserved at least a proper send off.

"I'll see–"

The screeching noise popped in his ears and Wash yelped as he grabbed the sides of his helmet, everyone save for Tex repeating the same reaction as the noise continued for a long, irritating moment.

"What–" Wash began to ask only to flinch as it all started up again.

"Wash, fucking stop yelling into your radio!" Tucker yelled. "We're all too close for that!"

"I'm–" Wash flinched again before concentrating on his volume. "I'm not yelling."

"Yeah, not anymore," Grif snapped.

"I was–"

"Used to yelling because you melodramatically ripped your radio out of your old helmet forever ago?" Donut asked snarkily.

Wash squinted at them before turning. "I'm leaving."

"ARE WE DONE YELLING YET?" Caboose screamed, making everyone shout and flinch again.

The former Freelancer could hardly get out of there fast enough.

Tex hung back, even after Wash had left.

But once he was gone, her options became more and more strikingly apparent. And the rampant bickering between the simulation trooper fractions became a droning reminder that she was not someone who worked with a team. She didn't function as a teammate, she was an outlier.

And if anyone had a chance at getting at Wyoming, O'Malley, andChurch before anything went more hellishly wrong, it all lied upon her.

The others squabbled over the remaining land vehicles and bemoaned the loss of the hornet Wash took, but Tex didn't pay them any mind.

They argued over jeeps, Tex went straight for the lone gungoose.

No one even noticed except for Tucker that she had broken from her near-stasis and began loading up the vehicle. He looked to the arguing Reds and Caboose then walked her way, brow furrowed.

Tex just eyed him as she strapped down her bags of ammunition. "Put your helmet on, Tucker."

"Wash said the fumes–"

"There aren't any fumes anymore. We've been at this for half an hour," she reminded him. When she finished up, she bothered to look at the Blue again and found him still scowling her way. "What? You look like I shot your dog. Which I haven't been paid to do yet, so I'm pretty sure I haven't done it."

"You're packing like you're leaving," he observed.

"We all are, genius," she said back.

"Yeah, but you're not packing like you're going with us to Blood Gulch," Tucker pointed out, squinting at her. "What are you doing? And what the fuck are wesupposed to do once we're back at the base? The Reds are going to reallyoutnumber us! It'll be just me, Caboose, and–"

"And Sheila," Tex reminded him. "You'll be fine. Besides, you heard Wash – he'll be back soon. He's not doing anything too hard. Don't be a baby, Tucker."

Somewhat boldly, Tucker stepped in front of her vehicle and brought his hands down on the hood. "You still haven't told us where you're going!"

She stared at him intently.

Getting the memo, Tucker lifted his hands up carefully and backed back around to the side of the vehicle instead. "Sorry," he apologized. "But you really doneed to–"

"Tucker, I don't need to do anything," she reminded him. "You and Caboose are going to go back to base, stay with Sheila, and wait for Wash and I to bring everything back to you guys." When she saw her orders only caused Tucker to tilt his head at her, she let out an aggravated groan and snapped, "I'm leaving to do something only I can. Alright? It's a ghost thing."

"Okay, fine," Tucker huffed, crossing his arms. "But after you and Church finish up doing your ghost shit, I think we should have a long talk when you get back. You know. About the fact that you're computers."

Feeling like Tucker had just slammed the breaks down in her head, Tex stared at him a good long moment. Then she revved her engine.

"No," she lied through her teeth, "we're not."

Without another word, Tex took off on her own.