She wasn't a difficult person to be around. She wasn't easy-going or laid back, and most would say she was a bit high-strung. She could be overbearing, maybe too wary. She teetered on the edge of her anxieties and danced that edge like a ballerina, or a tight-rope walker, skillfully balancing and maneuvering herself as the wind blew different or as a bird landing up ahead sent a tremor through her rope.

That edge of oblivion was her home. She festered and waited there, speaking in tongues to the clouds as they floated idly by, never responding. It wasn't the silence that bothered her- maybe it was the height, so high that it seemed there no such thing as distance at all. Sometimes she swore that if she just jumped off of that rope, she'd realize there was nothing there but a floor for her to walk over, to stroll to a new life with, if only she had the courage.

She was trying not to think about all of that as she nursed a hot tea in her hands, rocking mindlessly back and forth on a second-hand rocking chair she had picked up at a flea market for cheap on her front porch. The air was musky and thick, pressing heat down around her on all sides. Water condensed on her skin, but still as the night fell, a little bit of a breeze picked up and made it bearable. The chill the moon brought with it played with her hair and cooled her scalp and even, if it dared, sent a shiver through her legs. She drew in a long breath and held it, looking up at the foggy sky. The stars were trying hard to poke through the haze. She didn't have the best view of the stars from her small humble home, what with the light pollution and humid smog that floated over the city. But on nights like those, when their light pierced the New Orleans sky and managed to reach her eyes, she made a point of sitting out on her porch with a cozy drink to remind herself that in the grand scheme of things, nothing really mattered. In a twisted way, she found comfort and beauty in that. The stars knew it and held it in their rays. Why shine if they knew their light would eventually go out? Because, she understood, the stars knew that even if their light flickered and died, it would travel the universe for millions of years to shine in the skies of distant planets and people. Maybe at some point in her life she had affected somebody- really, deeply affected them- and that would resonate throughout the layers of history. She would go unnamed in the chapters of the books that would talk about it, but the fates would always know. All she could do was hope that in a million years, a breath she breathed would bring air to somebody else in need.

She pulled her cup of tea up to her mouth and gave it a timid sip, careful not to burn herself as she did. She hadn't spent a night on her porch in a long time. It was much needed.

She had worked at a local dive for coming on five years. It was supposed to be a temp job, but like everything else in the world, it just happened to be the way it was. She started off on sleepy morning shifts, serving coffee to truckers passing through. Now, all that time later, she worked the bar into the early hours of the morning and picked up whatever other shifts she could get her wiry hands on. She needed the cash to keep up with the little house she had, not mention the money she'd mail off to her parents to help pay for her little sisters medical bills. That was something that had never been figured into the books, because nobody ever plans for cancer.

So it was around 3:30 in the morning and she rocked herself numb on that grungy front porch, wondering about her tight rope and her deadbeat boss and all the stars in the universe. She looked down the narrow street and thought that if she just got up and walked away, nothing would stop her. There was nobody to grab her by the arm and beg, no obligations currently wagging in her face. She forced her displeasure for life away with another sip of tea and turned her attention back to the sky, clouding up slightly more as morning began to press its heavy arms around the neck of the night. She knew she should sleep. For some reason, though, she really didn't want to leave. Sleep would make the day come sooner, and the night was much more peaceful. Cicadas and crickets chirping and buzzing in the night, fireflies framing the yellow lights that were few and far between in the houses where everybody slept. It was like a dream from her childhood. Except, in that dream, she wouldn't be alone in New Orleans living paycheck to paycheck, ready to give up on her life before it ever really even started.

She let out a gentle huff into the night and wondered if that breath would ever reach another galaxy.

That's when she heard the rev of an approaching motorcycle, humming and crackling in the quiet. She didn't mind the sound of it, but it wasn't something she had expected.

She glanced over at her neighbors house, an equally as humble thing as her own, and saw that the black tarp mound that was usually there was missing. How long had it been gone this time? She tried to remember if it had been there a few days ago, or maybe a week or two ago, but she couldn't recall. She was hardly ever around when her neighbor was. It seemed they both had odd schedules, or maybe he had a normal one and she just worked too much. She shrugged, sipping her tea again as the noise grew louder and closer until he was walking the bike up his driveway, dusty white pants reflecting the light from the porch, black leather jacket and helmet absorbing it and sinking his top half into the darkness.

She had met him years ago when she first moved in. He was nice enough, handsome, didn't overstep any boundaries. They never really interacted, but she couldn't help but wonder what his life was like. Was it like hers? Days on end of a tedious, back-breaking schedule and a boss that had a stick perpetually up his ass? He probably never got handsy with him, though. The thought made her laugh to herself, watching as he kicked the stand down on his bike and checked his phone, flipping up the visor of his helmet before he eventually tugged it off. He didn't seem to realize anyone was watching him.

Made sense, she figured. Who else would be awake and hanging around at this hour of the night?

Almost as if in response to her thoughts, he let out a heavy sigh she could hear from her spot and turned to her, lifting up a hand and holding it in the air to say hello.

She did the same and forced a smile up on her face. Her hand lingered in the air for a second before she brought it back down to warm against her tea. It was humid and warm out, but still her hands were cold. Maybe she didn't have enough iron in her blood.

He reached through the bag on the back of his bike, stuffing the helmet away and pulling out his keys. They clinked together. There was a moth buzzing by the light at the top of her porch and she glanced up at it, watched it bounce around the lightbulb like it had finally reached the moon. Poor guy, she thought. Finally reached the moon and it was just a shitty 60 watt bulb.

She heard some glass fall with a crash and snapped her attention back to her neighbor who groaned and rested a hand on the top of his head, clearly annoyed. She rocked herself up from the chair and leaned on her creaky bannister, careful not to go too far forward or else she would fall and splat like the beer on his driveway had.

"Hey," she said, catching his attention. "You alright?"

He pressed his lips together and picked up a shard of glass from one of the broken bottles. He held it up. "Fine," he said with a sigh. "Guess I'm not self-medicating tonight."

She chuckled, her laugh lingering in the air around them, stuck within the humidity.

"I might have some inside," she said. She wasn't sure what she was doing- it was the middle of the night, she hardly knew this guy, and she had picked up a shift that was a couple hours away on what was supposed to be a day off. "You can come in if you'd like."

He dropped the glass back down and brushed his hands off on his jacket, looking up at her curiously. He looked down at his watch. "Don't you want to go to sleep?"

She shrugged, motioning to the sky. "It's a beautiful night. Would've hated to miss it."

He watched her for a second and then bounced his keys in his hand, stepping over the dying garden that separated their houses. He put his hands on his hips as he neared her.

"I never really see you around," he said. "And I- I'd hate to impose."

He had a strange accent for this part of New Orleans. She remembered always wanting to ask him about it, but she never did. His hair was also buzzed, and underneath that leather jacket he seemed to carry a bit of bulk around. Maybe he was some kind of bouncer or cop.

"Not imposing," she said, sipping her tea. "I invited you. You seem to be in need of a beer, anyway."

He glanced over his shoulder at the spilled six pack and sighed. She was right, he really needed a drink. He took a few steps closer and as the light washed over his skin, she noticed the cut over his eyebrow.

"Ouch," she said, motioning up to her own forehead. "Would hate to see the other guy."

He chuckled, pulling himself up her rickety steps, exhausted. "I hate to sound like an asshole, but, uh... what's your name again?"

"Sammy," she said with a smile, reaching out one of her hands, freshly warmed from the mug of tea. "And, I guess I'm an asshole too..."

"Lee," he said, smiling back, shaking her hand. "I never really see you around."

"Always at work," she said with a shrug. "Come in."

She turned to her front screen door and pushed it open, the creak it made echoing throughout her house. It opened up into a plain hallway which in turn opened up into a nice kitchen at the end. The flooring was dark and old, worn in, and her purse was laying haphazard on the floor along with the boots she had worn all night at work. It smelled like burnt out linen candles and frozen pizza, Lee carrying with him the scent of sweat and leather. She placed her mug down on the counter and headed to her fridge, stockpiled with leftovers for the week and- thankfully- a couple bottles of beer. She pulled one out and passed it over to Lee, leaning over her counter as she took the mug back in her hands.

"Where do you work?" He asked, popping open the beer and leaning against the island, which was covered in old mail and some medical bills her parents had forwarded to her.

"This place near the middle of the city," she said. "Rico's?"

"I've seen it," he said.

"Yeah, it's fine," she said with a shrug. "Nothing spectacular, but don't tell my boss I said so."

He smiled, sipping the beer with a sigh. His head was pounding and he wanted nothing more than to pass out for the next twenty-four hours.

"What about you?" She asked, sipping her tea, which was rapidly cooling now.

"What do you mean?" He asked.

"For work," she said. "If you don't mind me asking, I mean."

He took another sip of his beer and drew in a breath through barred teeth, thinking back to the butt of the gun that had given him that wound over his eye. He shrugged.

"Business," he said. "It's boring stuff. Travel a lot, talk finances."

"Hm," she said, looking him up and down. "You must meet a lot of interesting people."

"Plenty," he said, zoning out for a second as he thought back over all the insurgents he'd killed or spoiled kids he'd saved.

"You don't come off as a business man," she said eventually, focusing in on the wound on his head.

"It pays the bills," he said. "I spend a lot of time down at this tattoo shop, though."

She nodded, "that fits a little better."

He chuckled. "Tattoos?"

She turned and put her cup with the rest of the cold tea in the sink, reaching into the fridge for another beer for Lee before she responded.

"You just look like some kinda tough guy," she joked.

He swallowed and finished off his first beer before he reached for the second one. He nodded his thanks.

"But I get it," she said. "Rico's definitely isn't my first choice but... moneys money, right?"

He nodded, focusing in on the bags under her eyes. She seemed maybe more exhausted than him, if that was even possible.

"Do you need something for that cut?" She asked.

He shook himself out of his tired daze. "What?"

"On your head," she said, moving around the counter. "It looks like maybe it needs stitches or something."

He flinched gently away from her as she neared, though he didn't mean to. She noticed and took a step back.

"Sorry," she said.

"No, no," he said, putting the beer down and leaning back towards her. "I'm sorry, I'm just... tired, you know? Been a long week."

"I can clean it up for you," she said, offering him a tired, sympathetic smile. "Guys at the bar get cut up breaking up fights sometimes. I've gotten good at it."

He looked her over, wondering if she was always this nice or just desperately lonely. Either way, he didn't think he minded. He was lonely, and the conversation was nice.

"Sure," he said finally. She smiled and reached into a cabinet for a first aid kid. When she opened it he saw that it was half used, most of the contents being alcohol swabs, a pair of wrapped up latex gloves, and a couple bandaids.

He sat down on a stool so she could reach his forehead better. He winced as she wiped an alcohol wipe over the wound, cleaning it up of a little dirt and debris. It was a nice solid line through his skin. She pulled out a couple bandaids and did her best to cover the gash up.

"Hm," she said, stepping back.

"What?" He asked, finishing off the second beer.

"It looks a little funny," she said, a smile peaking up on her cheeks. She let out a little laugh before she pulled herself together. "Sorry if you were trying to go for badass."

He smirked, watching her as she studied him. For the last week he was in deep shit somewhere in the middle east. Anyone other than the team that he had seen was either scared of his every move or was trying to kill him. It was a strange comfort having his neighbor he hardly knew patch him up so easily, so without fear.

"Are you alright?" She asked, noticing him staring.

"Huh? Oh, I-" he said, embarrassed, "sorry about that. I'm exhausted."

"Me too," she said with a sigh. "Want another?"

"Nah, nah, I'm good. Thank you," he said, standing back up and pushing the stool under the counter. "This was nice."

"Anytime," she said. "It was nice to have some company."

He smiled, not really inclined to move.

"Well," she said, "do you need help getting that glass off your driveway?"

"No," he said, shoving his hands back in his pockets as they started wandering over to the front door. "I'll deal with it in the morning. You've done more than enough for me tonight." He looked down at his watch again. 4 am.

"I think we could both use a good nights sleep," she said, pulling the creaky screen door open.

He noticed the damaged lock on it and frowned, giving the knob a little spin as he walked out. "That all the security you got?"

"It's not big deal," she said. "I'm hardly ever here."

"Hm," he said, frowning. "Maybe I can fix that up for you. Repay you for the beer."

"You don't have to," she said with a smile, leaning over the loose bannisters as he made his way down the stairs. "I'll see you when I see you, Lee."

He raised his hand, treading backwards as he waved goodbye. "You too, Sammy."

She watched him go back towards his bike before she turned and went inside, fiddling with the lock on the screen door before she huffed and gave up.

Lee picked up the bag he had left by his bike and pulled the tarp over it, struggling to keep his eyes open. The beer had definitely taken an edge off the pain, but nothing worked as well as the conversation. Talking about random things really took his mind off stuff, which is maybe why even when the team wasn't working they were all together shooting the shit at Tool's.

He glanced back up at her house and noticed her fiddling with the screen door before her porch light went out. He'd fix that for her sometime. She seemed nice.

He found himself thinking about the bags under her eyes as he let himself into his own house, his door locked with a few different locks that only he had the keys for. He turned on the lights and dropped his bag, pulling his phone from his pocket and wishing for a second he had gotten her number.

—-

The next morning, around 11, Sammy wandered into work with a yawn and dropped her purse into her little cubby. She wondered if inviting her neighbor in last night had been a dream, but when she woke up and saw the beer bottles on the counter and half-empty tea cup in the sink, she knew it had been real.

She was never one to invite strangers anywhere. Still, it filled her with a sense of thrill, like she was finally doing more than just working her life away and signing checks over to her parents for the sake of her baby sister. She was working the counter this morning, the usual regulars stopping in for their coffee and breakfast, some of them asking for a beer despite the time. Who was she to judge? If she was nice about it, maybe she'd get a good tip. She usually kept her tips for herself, using them for groceries (on the rare occasions she'd cook) or for things around her house. She was running a rag over the counter to clean up some grease and a ring of orange juice when the bell over the door went off and in walked somebody she'd never served before. Surprised, she tucked the rag into her apron and leaned forward.

"Lee," she said with a smirk, "couldn't say away, could ya?"

He laughed, looking around the place- it was a medium-sized restaurant, booths and tables empty except for a few stragglers. The counter she was working at seemed to be out of a diner, but around the corner there was a bar where nobody sat yet. He tapped his fists on the counter as he sat, looking over the menu as she handed it to him.

"Took your bandaids off?" She asked, looking over the white strips that replaced her handiwork. "I don't blame you, but I'm still offended."

"Ah, sorry darling," he said, and his accent and forwardness made her swallow hard. He didn't notice, looking through the breakfast and lunch options on the menu as he spoke. "Anything you'd recommend?"

"Depends," she said, grabbing a glass and filling it with water. "How early in life do you wanna have a heart attack?"

He pressed his lips together as though seriously considering the answer. "Maybe yesterday."

"Was I really so bad last night?" She teased, smiling even though she was trying hard to pout.

He smiled and rolled his eyes, shifting his sore muscles. He didn't know why he had gone to her work for breakfast. He had woken up and wondered about her door, and then saw that her scrappy little car wasn't there, and remembered what she had explained last night.

"Not at all," he said.

"I'd recommend the breakfast of kings, then," she said, flipping back a page on the menu as she leaned over, running her finger over the words until they hovered over a long list. "A nice big stack of bacon with sausage, eggs, pancakes, and syrup."

He nodded, "I'll have that then. And a coffee?"

"Sure," she said, grabbing a mug and pouring some into it. "Anything in it?"

"Black is fine," he said.

She put it in front of him and wrote his order down on a piece of paper, clipping it up in the little window so the chefs could prepare it. She turned back to him and glanced around to make sure she wasn't missing anybody.

"I was thinking I could stop by and fix that door," he said, sipping the coffee. It was bitter, even for black coffee, but he didn't mind.

"No business today?"

He shook his head, "got a few days off."

She nodded, pulling out a card and scribbling her number down on it. "I appreciate it, Lee. My shift ends around 7 tonight."

He took the card and slid it into his pocket. "Long day," he said.

"Could be worse," she added, fiddling with the pen she hooked onto her apron. "Could've stayed to work the later shift on the bar. Hours would suck, but the tips get better the later you stay."

"I'll bet," he said.

A little ding sounded from behind Sammy and she turned, grabbing the plate in her hands and spinning it over to where Lee sat.

"Careful, it's hot," she said, placing it down and wiping her palms on the back of her pants.

"Damn," he said, raising an eyebrow. "You weren't kidding about the heart attack."

She chuckled, topping off his mug. "I don't kid, Lee. I say it like it is."

He smirked, picking up his fork and stabbing it through a few pieces of bacon. She turned to tend to some other things, leaving Lee alone with his giant plate of breakfast. He kind of wished she could just hang around him, but he knew she had other people to tend to. She walked over to an older man sitting alone at a table for two and filled up his mug with some more coffee, gently patting him on the shoulder. He smiled kindly back up at her and looked back down at his half-empty plate while some cars drove by in the distance. She made her rounds of the few people in the restaurant before she returned to the counter. Lee had eaten about half of his plate and was sitting back to stretch out.

"Not so busy, huh?" He asked, sipping the last of his coffee.

"Not yet," she said, reaching to fill his mug again.

"That's alright, I'm good," he said. She shrugged and put the pot back down to brew some more.

"You must've been starving," she said, glancing over his plate.

"Yeah," he shrugged, thinking back the shitty food they had on their last mission. It left a nasty taste in his mouth. "I hate airplane food."

She chuckled, "want me to take this?"

He nodded, helping her lift the plate before she hurried off with it into the kitchen. In the light of day, she was an interestingly beautiful woman. He knew she had lived in that broken little house next door for years, but never really saw her. He wondered why he had never come to this place before, or if he had even realized it was here, only a few blocks away from Tool's and Rusty's.

"I'll swing by after seven tonight," he said, pulling out some cash and dropping it on the counter.

"I appreciate it," she said, offering him another kind smile as he stood to go. "Gonna head to that tattoo place you mentioned?"

He looked down at his watch and shrugged. "Who knows," he said. "Might just go for a ride."

"Have fun," she said with a wave, cleaning up the spot where he had just been sitting. He walked out of the restaurant with a smile spread across his face. He knew he was going to the hangar to help Barney do some maintenance on that stupid plane, but he figured that'd be a hard thing to explain. He was surprised you remembered his mention of the tattoo shop.

He liked the idea of seeing you around more, and as he climbed onto his bike, he thought maybe he'd spend more time at home instead of killing time in Tool's garage or on Barney's couch. He could clean up a little, fix up that disgusting garden, maybe. Step one would be to fix Sammy's door, though. He was looking forward to tonight.

Before he took off on his bike, he pulled the card out of his pocket and thumbed the number into his phone, texting his name over. Before he even got his helmet on, his phone buzzed with a reply.

HI! -Sammy

He smiled, tucking the phone into his pocket and glancing up at the restaurant one last time, watching through the window as Sammy waited on the few customers that had just wandered in. He kicked off and hurried along towards the hangar, a bit of a flurry in his chest.