Vietnam, 1970

Barney was well past exhausted and could hardly stand up on his own two feet. He was starting to question his place in all the fighting. There were stories about soldiers- people like him- doing horrible things to innocent civilians, losing their minds, or deserting their posts. It was all just bad Shakespeare. It had to be. He wasn't sure if it was the sleep deprivation making him think up all those things or if they were true.

His boots were sticking in the mud and he shifted his weight between his feet to try and loosen the caked up dirt. His helmet was unclipped and crooked on his head and he had a cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth while he leaned against the door of a camouflaged M35. Sweat and dirt were pooling on his jawline and forehead, and he squinted as he watched soldiers trudge back and forth. A mosquito flew by him and he twitched, lifting up a hand to smack it down before it could land on him and bite. It squished against his hand and its long legs went crooked and limp. He made a face and wiped it down his pants while he took the cigarette from his mouth with his clean hand.

He felt it tug from his fingers and flinched, on guard and tense from days of trolling the jungle and trying to stay alive. When he looked up, he saw Lucie, and she was taking a drag of his cigarette from between her thumb and pointer finger. She coughed just a little and then pulled it back to inspect it, the smoke billowing around her and between them. He could smell it.

"Didn't know you smoke," he said awkwardly, trying to pin this image to his memories someplace where it would never get lost.

"Isn't that a stereotype about the French?" She asked, looking over the cigarette for another second before turning it back to him and planting it between his lips. "That we all smoke?"

"I guess so," he said, his voice muffled from the cigarette before he took a drag and pulled it from his mouth to fling it to the wet ground.

"I'd bet my hat those things will kill you," she said, smiling giddily and cocking her head. "Everything good has to be bad somehow."

"Oh well," he said lightly, chuckling anxiously. He cleared his throat. "What are you doing all the way out here? I thought you were posted at the other camp."

She shrugged and turned so she could lean against the truck beside him. The canvas over the back picked up and blew slightly from the wind with a heavy rush.

"They needed more combat medics," she said. "People are getting hurt out here, apparently."

Barney didn't respond. His mind was taken over by all the horrible things he had seen recently. He was sort of numb to it, but being up close and personal with the aftermath of violence never sat right in his stomach. He felt queasy just thinking about the mess. He wiped his hands long his pants again, trying to hide the invisible blood he could feel stuck to his skin.

"Hey," Lucie said, turning to him and pressing a smile onto her cheeks. He felt his heart twitch at the expression and blinked, confused and flushed. "You know it's alright if you need to talk about it, right?"

Barney furrowed his brows and looked down at the dirt beneath him. He was a soldier- he was supposed to be able to deal with war, right? It was in the job description. He thought it was, at least.

"You ever feel so tired that life doesn't seem real?" He asked carefully, not meeting her eyes. She shifted and drew in a breath.

"On occasion," she said softly. "With all the stuff I see, it's been happening more often."

Barney hummed and looked up to the sky. The jungle blurred in his peripherals and he focused on the clouds.

"This doesn't feel like war," he said thoughtfully, swallowing over a yawn and scrunching his face up as the thoughts pressed at his skull, heavy and thick. "It feels like a never-ending nightmare. I'm asleep but I can't remember how to wake up. It makes me- it makes me so angry."

Lucie was looking up at him, her eyes dark and lidded. She'd been hearing about the dark things soldiers were doing everywhere. People were getting tired of the fight. There were protests back home; violence, death. She felt a twitch in her heart as she looked up at Barney, his dark hair grown in from its buzzcut, his beard getting thick and shaggy.

"What's war supposed to feel like, then?" She asked finally. He closed his eyes and sighed.

"More noble, I think. Not whatever the hell this is."

She leaned back against the truck and her fingers flicked towards his. He felt them touch, and after a second of hesitation, he closed his hand softly around hers.

"That sounds like what they say to new recruits," she said softly, matching his gaze to the sky. "War is messy, it's always been. And soldiers have always fought them, but for what? For who?"

Barney glanced towards her and sighed. Maybe she was right. Maybe the idea of being a loyal soldier was child's play. But what else could he be?

"They wanna contain the commies," Lucie said, her voice low and pointed. "Them, not us."

"You think we shouldn't be involved?" Barney asked.

"I don't know," she said, meeting his eyes. "What would it cost if we backed out? Would it really be so bad?"

Barney shrugged. He was a smart guy, but definitely not the brightest. He was good at following orders, at taking aim and hitting his shot.

"All I'm saying is," Lucie said, pulling her hand back and stepping away from the truck, "history likes to repeat itself. We're not very good at learning from it yet, somehow."

Barney pursed his lips in thought as he watched her go. The war was so much more complicated than he could even begin to understand. He knew that he was fighting for something he figured was a good cause, but was that only because they told him so? He frowned and looked back down at his dirty, army-issued boots. He had sores all over his feet from them.

He didn't like questioning his loyalties, but Lucie had planted the thought in his mind. Was he really a soldier? Was this really his fight?

Maybe. His thoughts were clouded and heavy with exhaustion. He didn't want to think about it anymore.

He sighed and headed for his cot. He needed some sleep.

—-

Present Day

"You need to get some sleep, Gun."

Sammy was sitting with Gunner on the couch, rubbing his arm softly while Lee got some water from the kitchen. He was sweating and clammy, his hands trembling at every movement. He looked up at her and met her eyes.

"It doesn't feel right anymore," he said, his voice hoarse and worn. Lee took a few steps towards the couch, the cups of water in his hands spilling over slightly as he slowed his pace. He listened carefully.

"What doesn't?" Sammy asked, confused.

"This life," Gunner said, exasperated. He tangled his fingers in his hair and grunted. "This doesn't feel like the right thing. What are we even doing anymore? Why did you want to be apart of this?"

Sammy furrowed her brows and gently coaxed Gunner back into his slumped position. She traced her fingers along his tensed arms and sighed, thinking back to how he had protected her so long ago with no hesitation. He was good at what he did. They all were. That didn't have to mean they liked it.

"Is this because of Bee?" Sammy asked softy, glancing sidelong at Lee as he set the waters down. He tried to meet her eyes but she was focused on Gunner instead of him. A tinge of jealously pinched at his chest and he tried to shake it off.

"It's everything," Gunner said, rubbing his hands together and sniffing. "This is all I can do because it's all I'm good for, but what if we're not doing the right thing?"

"Gunner," Lee said, clearing his throat and sitting on the coffee table across from them both. "We all agreed. It- it's the best thing for us to do right now."

Sammy tightened her jaw and kept her eyes on Gunner.

"I'm not Crankenstein anymore," Gunner said, looking through his lashes at Lee, his accent thickening as it did when he was irritated. He curled his fingers up against his thighs and snarled. "Hanging pirates isn't what we do, right?"

Sammy frowned and spared Lee a confused glance, but it was a fleeting connection, and it ran cold the second his eyes met hers. She drew in a breath and tried to focus her attention back to the issue at hand.

"We're not hanging pirates," Lee said.

"At least pirates deserve to be hanged," Gunner grumbled. "This feels like we're letting someone suffer."

"What's gotten into you, Gun?" Lee asked, shaking his head. "You never cared about morals before. Hell, you'd've killed Yang if you were given the chance."

"Wasn't me," Gunner huffed.

Lee snapped his lips shut and nodded. He'd never done drugs like Gunner did. He didn't know what it was like to be overcome by something outside of himself. Some monster made up of dope and spare parts.

"It's bothering you that you aren't going after Bee?" Sammy asked, her voice cracking a little. She thought back to her conversation with Captain and bit her tongue. She couldn't tell them what she was planning or else they'd stop her or get involved.

Gunner stood and clawed at his hair. Sammy was confused. None of the Expendables had ever even met Bee, or seen her, so why would Gunner care so much? Her lack of sleep was also catching up with her. She was borderline exhausted.

"Gunner, you good?" Lee asked after a minute, standing and reaching out a hand.

Gunner sighed and slapped his hands down to his side before he turned back to them both. He looked at Sammy, his eyes glazed and sad, and thought back to the first time he had ever seen her.

He wasn't expecting it when he walked into Tool's. She was beautiful, new, and not one of them. When he found her in the bathroom, half dead, he felt his heart collapse in such a way that he swore he'd never let anything ever hurt her again. He protected her and kept her alive when Lee was hurt, and he would do that until his dying breath. But this- Sammy being one of them- it was eating at him. It had been for a long time. How many people would she have to lose, people like Bee, before she got cold? Before that warmth in her cheeks that made her feel so alive faded into concrete and scars, like all of the rest of the guys? Why did he care so much? Maybe she showed him the good in the world before, but now she was just proving to him that the good could be snuffed out like a match flame between two fingers.

He didn't know how to put it all into words. He wished he could just go and see if Bee was alive himself, and he wanted to punch Barney for writing the possibility off. It didn't sit right with him. He and Sammy were a lot alike, and he just couldn't see her letting this go.

"I just feel like using," he said. It was all he could think of saying. Sammy watched him knowingly for a long moment, entirely positive that there was more he wasn't them in on.

"At least you came here instead," Lee said, reaching out and clapping his shoulder. "Let's talk more in the morning, yeah?"

Gunner nodded and dropped his eyes to the floor.

Sammy knew that Gunner wanted to help her. She figured she'd keep that knowledge tucked away for a later time. In the meantime, though, she had to deal with the budding aggravation she had for Lee.

She gathered some sheets and made up the couch for Gunner. She didn't know how long he intended on staying for, but she did know that having to navigate around two Expendables would make her sneaking around that much harder. She made sure the water Lee brought was within arms reach of the couch and ruffled Gunner's hair as he sat down.

"I appreciate you taking this so seriously," she said, offering him a sad smile.

He looked up at her, his face hard and unchanging. Unreadable. Sammy sighed.

"Don't kill yourself, Gunner," she said softly.

He leaned his head against her hip and sighed. He closed his eyes and focused on the feeling of her hand in his hair.

"You either," he said.

She gave him one last squeeze before she headed to the bathroom to have a moment alone. When she closed the door, she pressed her back against it and covered her mouth to stop her sobs from escaping.

Going off on her own and leaving the Expendables behind would not be easy. They were her family now, and she was theirs.

Then why hadn't they wanted to help her? Clearly, Gunner wanted to help. But he wasn't.

She wiped furiously at her tears before bracing herself against the sink and in front of the mirror. She mouthed the same three things to herself, over and over again.

My name is Sammy Williams. My friends call me Gogh. I am Expendable.

—-

Tool was staring idly at the wall of Sammy's art, a pen bouncing in his fingers while the fan droned on and blew at his hair. The sound of the city outside and cars passing by on the humid pavement echoed around him, some sad song to drown out his own sorrows.

He had once considered James- the Major- a friend. He had once thought a lot of things that turned out to be false. It made him bitter.

Still, with everything that went wrong, it could have been worse. He understood Sammy's anger with him, especially now that somebody she cared about was MIA, but he also understood that the situation was a slippery slope towards growth. He'd been in the business long enough to trust that instinct.

He sighed and slapped the pen down on his desk. He hadn't been able to produce a decent work of art for weeks now. Sammy's art was staring daggers at him at every moment of the day. He could read the hurt in the lines she carved into paper and it was slowly corroding his soul. Like he always could when he was feeling that way, he heard that hopeless splash of water that signified his eternal damnation. He could've saved that woman. He could've kept Sammy safe and out of this life. But like some goddamn idiot, he helped her. He convinced himself that at the very least, giving her some training could come in handy if she was ever threatened or used against the Expendables. Maybe he should've guessed that she didn't tend to do things halfway.

He was also angry with Barney. He didn't know Bee, but if there was any chance the Major had something to do with whatever happened, he needed to get to the bottom of it. Maybe he should have a conversation with Barney about it all, try and get to the bottom of his angst lately, but even to Tool that wasn't so appealing. Lee was content with Sammy staying safe and within arms reach, and as long as Christmas had Barney's ear, that was how it would stay. He didn't really like it.

He cursed under his breath and picked up the landline that was sitting and collecting dust on his desk. He pressed the phone to the side of his face and leaned into it, the oil on his face sticking to the plastic and catching the light as he shifted in his seat. He locked his eyes on one of Sammy's tattoo designs, a drawing of the Winged Victory, except the wings were the silhouette of a raven and the missing head was just a bright gold halo of blades. He cleared his throat and decided that he had to do something right in his damn life for once, and maybe this would be it. He needed to get somebody somewhere looking into this, especially if Barney was deciding to have feelings and be stubborn about it. He clicked the numbers in quick succession and sucked in his lips as the ringing picked up in his ear.

He was convinced the call was about to fail when the ringing cut out and he could hear shuffling on the other end. He couldn't help the smirk that grew on his face and the relief he felt flood through him. He knew Barney would wanna kill him for it, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

"Well this is old fashioned," the man on the other end said over the shuffling before the noise died down.

"I've got a job, and it might be a walk in the park," Tool said, glancing around to make sure he was alone before he turned in his seat and flipped to the back of his most recent sketchbook. He picked up the pen to jot a few things down for himself as he spoke.

"Easy is cheap, not worth it," the man said.

"A man after my own heart," Tool said, doing some quick math on his fingers before sighing and scribbling down a number. "But I said it might be a walk in the park. It might be more than even I could guess to prepare you for."

There was silence on the other line and Tool took that to mean the man was interested. He chuckled lightly and checked his quick math one last time before he spoke again.

"You and I both know that what really matters here is moola. I got a retirement fund here with your name on it if you take this job."

"And why can't your little friend do it? Too busy playing in the jungle?"

Tool scoffed and shook his head, his rings knocking against the phone lightly.

"He already passed on it."

Another moment of silence passed and Tool chewed on the tip of his middle finger. He thought about Sammy and how far she had come since he first met her. Maybe she would hate him forever, but as far as he was concerned, she was family. The closest he'd ever have to a daughter, maybe. An apprentice. He taught her tattoos and the dealings of mercenaries, which was really all he figured he was worth.

"What's the price?"

"I got one point five mil here with your name on it," Tool said, and it pained him a bit to let the number escape out loud. He didn't let it show. "Little of a name as it is."

"You are not in a great position to be joking," the man said stiffly, but there was an ounce of humor there somewhere. Tool laughed.

"But you like the way this sounds?" Tool asked.

"There's a catch, isn't there?"

"Truth is, brother, I don't know. But I need this. It's, uh… personal."

The man on the other end huffed and Tool could hear him scribbling down his own information. This was a good sign.

"Send me more information. We will see where it goes."

"Right, pipsqueak, right. I'll get on that," Tool said, a smile evident in his voice.

"Watch your mouth, Toolbox. Send the info and I'll be back."

Tool chuckled and rolled his eyes as the line clicked off. He held the phone to his ear for another moment as he licked the smile from his face.

"Yeah, yeah," he said, slipping the phone back into its place and studying the marks he made in his sketchbook. "You always say you'll be back, but where do you ever even go?"

—-

Lee was waiting for Sammy in the bedroom after he left her and Gunner near the couch. Between Barney's assertion that Bee was dead and Gunner's anxiety about doing the right thing- whatever that meant- he was confused. All he wanted was Sammy to be safe and warm next to him in their bed no matter what it cost to get there.

She opened the door and he could tell she'd been crying. It was dark, the nighttime decorating the space with faded blue light that flickered as the clouds drifted over the moon. He waited until she shut the door before he spoke.

"Sammy," he said, stepping towards her desperately. "I know this is bothering you. Will you talk to me?"

Sammy looked down at her feet and held her breath. She felt like if she opened her mouth she would burst because she was tired and angry and already hiding so much.

"I really don't…" she started, shaking her head with a sigh. "I don't think that's a good idea right now."

"I think it's a great idea," Lee said. "What's going on?"

"What's going on?" Sammy asked, finally looking up at him, her gaze sad and sharp and harsh even in the soft light. "What's going on?"

Lee furrowed his brows but nodded. Her face was cast in shadow but he could see her well enough. He fingers itched for her skin and he moved towards her, but she slipped backwards and away. He thought back to how she touched Gunner. It made his chest tighten.
"What's going on is that my friend is missing," Sammy said. "And you and your team decided that she's not worth looking for."

"Me and my team? You mean our team, Sammy. You fought me so hard to be one of us," he said, forcing his voice to remain low so he didn't get Gunner involved. "She's dead. She's gone, Sammy. I'm sorry," he said.

"How do you know?" She snapped. "How?"

"Because the letter-"

"If the Major could be so deeply woven into the system, then a letter like that could be faked," Sammy hissed. "And anyway, why would I get it? Why me?"

"You said so yourself- she was your friend."

Sammy shook her head and turned away from him. Her hands were trembling with anger and hurt and anxiety and exhaustion.

"We need to keep all our eggs in one basket," Lee said, exasperated. "That basket is the Major. If she's out there and it's because of the Major, and we find him, then we'll find her. But this is a nonstarter. If it's him sending you this letter then he wants you to come running."

Sammy looked to the ceiling to try and deter the warm sting of tears reforming in her eyes. She just shook her head and tried to breathe.

"You're one of us now, just like you wanted, but you aren't the same as us. We know what we're doing here. Please, trust me."

"What about what Gunner thinks?" Sammy asked, her voice cool and flaccid.

Lee popped his lips and rubbed at his eyes. He didn't have an immediate answer for her, and that annoyed her.

"Just go to bed, Lee. Please."

He let out a breath and eventually nodded, making his way to his side of the bed before plopping down on the sheets with a groan. Sammy focused on her breathing for another long moment before she curled up on her own side of the bed, in the far corner, as distant from him as she could get. She knew she had it under control. She just couldn't let him know she'd be doing it without his help.

He hadn't really left her much choice, had he?