I had lost track of how many times I had said goodbye to them. Sometimes, my first reconnaissance mission seemed like decades ago. Other moments, I felt as though it had happened yesterday.

The boys were all lined up in the mastership plane hangar. They silently helped me check over the travel pod one last time, walking around it skeptically. Sarge and Simmons fiddled with a few of the wires beneath the ship, fixing the fuel converter with a little help from the Engineer.

I tried to stall, but, soon enough, all was prepared.

I faced my line of soldiers.

"All right." I swallowed hard. "This is goodbye."

I went around to each soldier, blinking back my watering eyes.

"Missy," Sarge said gravely. "I may not have managed to change your armor color, but I know you're a Red. You got that? You're a Red to the core."

I laughed a little. "Yes, sir."

"Don't you forget it."

I saluted and moved along down the line.

"I will be very sad with you and Church gone!" Caboose cried, hugging me tightly. "I will just have to build a new best friend instead! Maybe… maybe I will call him Freckles."

"Of course, Caboose," I chuckled, hugging him back.

"I don't see what the big deal is," Grif yawned, sucking on a soda. "I thought we'd never see you again after the last time you left. What makes this time any different?"

"In the meantime, while we wait, I'm going to send you all of my favorite recipes!" Donut said happily from beside Doc, hugging me as well. "I just discovered one for banana bread. I hope you like nuts!"

I returned the hug tightly, not having the heart to tell him he would never know my address.

"Take care of him, Doc," I said to the medic, shaking his hand as Donut wrapped an arm around him. "And… lay off the medicinal bubble baths, okay? I'm not sure oatmeal is really so great for the skin.

"And you," I continued to Simmons. "Keep Grif in line."

Simmons sniffed and laughed and I moved on before my eyes really started leaking.

"When you get back," Tucker said seriously. "We're hooking up."

Wash glared venomously as we hugged. "You'll find another girl, Tuck," I said. "Someone who'll stick around."

"Perfect for a threesome when you come back then," Tucker grinned. I rolled by eyes, moving to the last soldier in line.

Wash and I did not hug. He simply looked at me.

"Ready?"

No. No, I was not ready. I wanted the damned travel pod to malfunction. I wanted them all to be right—I wanted to see them all again.

"Yes."

We walked to the travel pod. Wash glanced back to the watching Reds and Blues.

"I'm going to make Tucker run a lap for every damn time he's hit on you," he growled, bending down. I smiled sadly and stood on his shoulders, wobbling a little as I clambered inside the cockpit. I inhaled a little, wiping my face as I checked the controls. Then, I peeked back over the side. Wash stood there, watching me. I bit my lip and then fumbled with a pocket in my armor belt.

"I have something of yours."

I reached my hand down, meaning to drop the objects in his hand, but his hand closed over mine.

"You still have them," he said quietly, his eyes widening. "Don't give them back to me."

"Wash, please. They're yours."

"I want you to remember me."

I had to let this go. I had to… I had to let him go.

"I don't need them to remember you."

I opened my hand and let his Project Freelancer dog tags fall into his hands. He held them, running his finger over his name and ID number etched in the metal. Then, he looked up.

"You're right." He paused. "And I don't need them either."

With an enormous grunt, Wash took the dog tags and threw them as hard as he could into the darkness of the rest of the air hangar. They sailed into the darkness and clattered in some unknown part of the room among the rest of the broken electronics. No one would ever find them among the mess.

And no one needed to anymore.

Before I pulled my hand back into the cockpit, Wash reached up and grabbed it.

"Eleven…"

A moment of silence.

"Goodbye."