Sammy woke up the next morning and for a second she was living in a dreamworld. She was fresh out of university, Riley hadn't been diagnosed yet, and Bee was still a kid with no ties to Sammy or the army. Colors were brighter, days were longer, and she could crack a smile without the crushing force of survivors guilt crippling her at every angle.
But then she realized that she was curled up in the corner of her bed in New Orleans, and years passed her by in seconds. Grief and heartache bore down on her and she gasped, her eyes sore from crying in her sleep, and she rolled over to see if Lee was still there. He wasn't, but she could hear the shower running across the hall, and Gunner was snoring from the couch. He'd shown up in a hurry last night, mostly a mess and out of sorts, and she sleepily wondered if it was all actually because of Barney's decision on the matter of Bee or if there was something else.
Then she started to wonder about Cap and Bones and Angel. They would be expecting her soon. She wanted to dive into the problem as quickly as she could. She wanted- no, she needed- to find Bee. It wasn't a matter of bringing Riley back to life like Barney thought it might be. It was a matter of doing the right thing.
Was lying to Lee the right thing? And what about Gunner, who seemed damn near terrified of losing a friend over everything?
She shook the thoughts from her head and planted her feet on the floor as she reached for her cellphone. There were no new messages, which she expected, and she stood up with a crackling stretch. Her short hair tickled the nape of her neck and she thought again about the scar she had there.
When she woke up in the hospital after her first mission, she couldn't remember much about what happened. She could remember most of it now, though. The panic, the fear, the bubble-stars of the water catching the sun as she sunk to the bottom of the river… The rushing waves slamming her into a boulder so hard that it cracked her skull… And the dizzy, groggy fight she endured to keep Angel from dying on the side of the water. That fight had proven to her that she was doing the right thing. She wasn't just killing people; she was saving others, too. Not that she had done much killing since her short stint in the hospital. The Expendables kept her mostly chained to a desk. She dealt with it as best as she could for a long time, but it had been starting to eat at her. Not that it mattered anymore; her mind was made up. She was going to Cap to look into Bee's disappearance, and if that brought anything up, she'd chase lead after lead until it killed her, and she'd do it without the help of Lee or Barney or Gunner or any of them.
She heard the shower turn off and snapped back to reality. She looked down at her feet planted on the ground and sighed, her phone clutched in her hand. Lee came into the room then in his towel, confused to see Sammy awake and standing there.
"Sammy?" He asked, reaching for his clean clothes and keeping an eye on her.
"Morning," she said, drawing in a breath and turning around.
"You alright?" Lee asked, furrowing his brows and placing his hands on his hips. Sammy could spot the scar from when he had been shot during the ordeal with Biffo. That shot had brought her into the world of the mercenaries, and it was carved into Lee's skin so deeply that it would never fade away. She swallowed.
"I just need some time," she said quietly, focusing on her breathing. "I'm gonna call out of the shop today."
"Do you want me to stay with you?" He asked, taking a step closer to her. He was worried about leaving her alone. Just as she could see the scar on his shoulder, he could see the scars all over her body. He had read every inch of her like he might his favorite book. He knew the story and how it went, so he couldn't help but be nervous.
"No, I just-" she tried, clearing her throat as she met his eyes. "I just need to be alone for a little while. This is just… a lot."
Lee knew he wasn't in any position to make another decision for her. He felt guilty about Bee, like maybe he could've been more persuasive with Barney, but selfishly he hadn't been. Knowing where Sammy was and being near her and not having her in the line of fire had made Lee feel so much better. It was almost like it was when they had first started spending time around each other, except for one major difference: Sammy wasn't a mercenary then. It was strange to Lee how quickly things could change.
"Okay," he said finally, and he tugged his shirt on over his head. She turned her attention to her own clothes and started looking for something to wear for the day in silence. He wondered what he could do to make the grief easier, but he didn't really know. He had always just run away from pain because that felt like the obvious thing to do. Sammy, despite her limitless supply of pain, never really ran from it like that. She felt it deeply and wholly. Maybe the pain would make her run, but she never ran from it.
Well, not when he had known her, at least.
"Hey," Lee said, fully dressed, as he walked up behind her and gently pulled her into his chest, his arms lacing around her waist and hips slowly and carefully. "Call me if you need anything."
She felt bitter for a moment. He knew what she needed, but he had- like always- been afraid of what might happen. She thought back to when they nearly broke up over her very first mission, and how he had later shown up to try and win her back only to be caught in the middle of a bloody fight. Sammy loved Lee, but she wished things were a little bit different.
"I will," she said feebly. It wasn't a lie, not really. She just knew she wouldn't need anything from him. Everything she needed was being taken care of by somebody else. It made her feel like a liar, though. It settled on her skin and made her feel grimy, dirty. He didn't notice.
"I love you," he said, planting a soft kiss to her neck and cheek before pulling back.
"I love you too," she said sweetly, turning and smoothing out his shirt. Tears stung in her eyes but she forced them back. Would this be the last time she ever had a moment like this with Lee? She knew how furious he would be when he inevitably found out about her going behind his back- behind all of their backs- and it was almost enough to scare her off the edge of that precipice. Almost.
Lee pressed his lips into a smile and left then. She could hear him kicking Gunner awake from the way the snores faltered and choked before they were replaced with grumpy mumbling. She looked down at her phone again and she hoped that Bee was out there somewhere, and that this risk she was taking would be worth it.
She kept telling herself it was the right thing to do. If it was her out there somewhere, she hoped there would be someone looking for her. She pulled up Cap's contact and opened a new message.
Would love to come check in with everyone today, she wrote, her thumbs flicking over the screen swiftly. Does this afternoon work?
She watched the screen for a moment before a little bubble popped up and showed that Cap was typing on the other end. She listened as Lee and Gunner got their things together and headed to the front door.
Of course! We can't wait to see you again and catch up on things.
Sammy nodded to herself and closed out of the messages. She'd have to make sure nobody followed after her for a while if she wanted to get anything done. She tightened her jaw and called Tool, her heart picking up slightly.
He picked up after a few rings
"Sammy, how are you?" He asked, his voice thick and hoarse, probably from his morning smoke.
"I'm alright," she said with a sigh, glancing towards her window and at the morning sun against the yard. "But listen, I… I need some time off. From everything. I need to just spend some time with myself to sort things out."
There was a beat of silence and Sammy held her breath.
"Of course, darlin'," Tool said. "Is there anything I could do?"
"Not right now," she said, though a bit of anger flashed red in her eyes as she remembered him helping her the last time. That had lead to the Major.
"Okay, keep in touch, doll," he said, and she could hear some others fumbling through the doors in the background.
"Will do," she said, and she pulled the phone from her ear and let it fall down onto the unmade bed.
She turned to her closet and pulled out an old sketchbook with blank pages. She would leave a few notes to throw them off her scent, at least long enough for her to make some good progress on Bee and the Major. She also wanted to make sure they knew she still loved them, even though their decision had hurt her. Seeing Gunner so distraught the previous night had planted a lot of doubt in her mind. She also knew that there was a very real chance she could get caught up in something bad, and she wanted to make sure there was something left of her to hold onto. Riley's letter had made her feel much more whole after she died, and she hoped that she could offer that same kind of comfort to the guys if something happened to her out there.
She picked up a pen and got to work, addressing the first one to nobody in particular, because she really wasn't sure where to start.
—-
Of course! We can't wait to see you again and catch up on things.
Cap looked down at the messages and let out a heavy breath. She was anxious to start looking for the Major and to get out of that stuffy apartment she was renting. The walls did nothing but remind her that she had almost lost her two best friends- her team. Bones walked into the kitchen then, rolling her shoulder and yawning.
"Morning, Cap," she said, opening the fridge and scratching at her head while she looked for something to eat. Cap studied her for a moment, her narrow musculature, her tense and goofy posture. If she had gotten a letter that said Bones was dead, she wouldn't believe it for a second.
"Gogh is coming today," Cap said, leaning back against the counter and crossing her arms over her stomach.
"Already?" Bones asked, turning her attention away from the fridge. "That was fast."
"If her friend is really still alive, then there's no time to waste," Cap said. Bones shrugged and looked back to the fridge, thinking absently about the team they had partnered up with when they first worked with Sammy.
"The Expendables really didn't wanna help?" Bones asked.
"Apparently they didn't think there was anything to it," Cap said.
"Weird," Bones sighed, closing the fridge and snagging the last banana from the counter.
"Maybe they thought it was a trap or something, I don't know," Cap said, her voice a low drone as she thought out loud.
"And you don't?" Bones asked, peeling the banana and inspecting it.
"I just think that if it were you or Angel, I'd take the risk," Cap said. Bones took a bite of her banana and nodded, flicking her head over her shoulder in the direction she came from.
"Speaking of, she wants to help," Bones said.
Cap studied her for a moment, her frizzy curls swaying as her shoulders rose from her breath.
"And?" Cap asked.
"And, if we're gonna be in the field…" Bones started, frowning.
"It's her decision," Cap said with a shrug. "We can't force her to sit on the sideline. You know how well that'll go."
"Cap, she lost the lower half of her leg," Bones said, her voice dropping to a feverish whisper. "She can't go back into the field. Especially not right now. She isn't ready."
Cap considered this and pinched the bridge of her nose. Angel had fought her physical therapy for a long time after the amputation, mostly because she insisted she didn't need any help. She knew that having Angel out in the field would be a distraction, especially for Bones, who was already slightly weakened from the shot she took to the shoulder. The scar traced over her collarbone and down near her chest from the surgery they did to stop the bleeding and get the bullet out.
"Maybe I should go by myself, then," Cap offered, bracing her hands against the countertop behind her. Bones made a face and took an angry bite of her banana.
"That's bold, even for you," she grumbled. "You know damn well we won't let you go out there alone, even if Gogh is with you."
"Stubborn," Cap said, shaking her head and looking Bones up and down. "You're stubborn, the both of you."
"And it has never failed you before," Bones said, returning the glare.
"How's she doing with that prosthetic, anyway?" Cap asked, glancing towards the doorway and lowering her voice. Angel didn't like when people talked about her progress behind her back. That never stopped them from doing it, though.
Bones shrugged. "Could be better, could be worse, I guess," she said. "I mean, she moves around fine. But to be in the field?"
"There are soldiers that do it all the time," Cap offered. "I've seen it."
"After months and months of rehab," Bones said. "Angel hardly has that. She refuses help. You know this."
"But she could be worse," Cap said, echoing Bones's previous sentiment.
"Yeah, well," Bones tried, shaking her head and pursing her lips. "At least I have full range of motion back in my arm."
"You didn't lose your arm," Cap said, raising a brow.
Bones rolled her eyes and finished her banana before she tossed the peel away and turned towards the doorway. Before she left, she glanced back at Cap, a serious look on her face.
"I hope this mission is worth it," she said.
"Yeah," Cap said, nodding along. "Me too."
Bones left, and Cap sunk back and dropped her head into the palms of her hand. She hated how badly she missed being in the field. It was like a drug to her, and she was desperate for a fix. Sammy had a job she needed doing, and she'd be damned if she didn't get out there and do it. Not to mention, she still needed to find the Major and make him pay for whatever he did that sold out their mission.
She could hear Bones and Angel just barely through the wall behind her. She couldn't make out their words, but the sound of their voices was enough. They were her team. They were alive. They were there.
She just needed to make sure they stayed that way.
—-
Barney was the first to walk into the shop that morning. Tool was just getting off the phone with Sammy when he noticed the grumpy old man rooting through the fridge and eventually pulling out a beer.
"Day drinking, are we?" Tool asked, sidling up to Barney and crossing his arms. "What's the occasion?"
Barney glanced sidelong at Tool and shook his head. He really didn't want to talk about it, because in truth, it was all her. The memories were nearly constant now, and so real and tangible that he almost felt like a young man again. Then he would look in the mirror and take note of his grey hair, the wrinkles in his skin, and the scars that weren't there way back when.
He frowned and shook his head.
"Jeez," Tool huffed, blowing some hair from his face. "I know this is a loaded question but, are you alright, Barns?"
Barney threw back a few sips of his beer before he let out a breath and found a seat at the rickety kitchen table. Tool sat across from him, curious, and tapped his ringed fingers restlessly while he waited. Barney reached down into his pocket with an unsteady hand and tugged out the dainty dog tag he had shoved in there last night. He had never hung it up with the others. At first, he couldn't bear to part with it, and eventually, he just forgot.
"Some anniversary or something?" Tool asked, taking note of the silver glint of the necklace. He knew it well. He'd seen many of those tags get put away over the years.
"Something like that," Barney grumbled, his voice shot from lack of sleep and frustration. He balled the tag up in his fist and slammed it down with a groan.
"Wanna talk about it, brother?" Tool asked.
Barney glanced up at him. Tool knew a lot about these things and a lot about Barney as well, but he wasn't sure if he was ready to talk about it. Saying it out loud might make it more real than it already felt, and he was borderline sure he was about to be sucked back into the past as it was.
"Not particularly," he said.
Tool hummed and sat back, knocking his fingers against the table as he watched Barney. He made no effort to move away. He wanted the grump to know that he was there if he was needed.
Barney looked down at the old silver chain in his hand and closed his eyes before rubbing them hard with his free hand.
"This shit with Sammy is just bringing up some memories," he said. "That's all I'll say."
Tool sucked in his lower lip and nodded. He didn't say anything. There wasn't really anything to say, not yet, and he knew that Barney wasn't a fan of being lectured, especially not about emotions. He got enough of that from Lee. He just sat back and waited to see if the man would open up on his own.
—-
Vietnam, 1971
Barney, Conrad, Lucie, and some others had formed quite the squadron in the field. Barney was almost surprised to still be alive, but he knew that it was mostly luck above everything else. That, and every time he thought he might die, he'd think of Lucie, and it would make him fight just that much harder. He never told her that, but he wondered if maybe she knew. Something in the way she would look at him made him think that she knew, or at the very least had some sort of idea. They'd spent the last few months stationed at the same basecamp, so whenever Barney and Conrad weren't out shooting at people, they'd hang around a fire at night and swap stories about home or dreams for after the war. Barney couldn't picture himself being anything other than a soldier, even though his talk with Lucie from a few months prior had made him wonder if that's what he really was meant to be. Pro patria mori, right? He'd grown up believing that dying for a cause was noble, but was it, really? When the cause wasn't his own? When it was somebody else's entirely, and he didn't even know the full messy story, he just did what he was told?
He was smoking another cigarette that night, sitting on a collapsable stool outside of his tent, which for once was dry and setup cleanly without any hurry. It was dark out, and the stars were bright in the jungle. Back home, the sky was pretty, but it was nothing compared to the jungle. He could see entire universes from his tiny little perch. It made him feel small and insignificant, and somehow, that was comforting.
He heard the twig snap and sat up straight, his hears twitching towards the sound. He started running down a list of what he would need if they were under attack, and he was about to call out when Lucie emerged from the darkness with an apologetic smile on her tanned, freckled face. Her cheeks were slightly sunburnt and her nose was oily and catching the light of his lamp. He sighed and stood, pulling the cigarette from his mouth and offering her a drag.
She took it and flicked it to the ground instead. He frowned, but she raised her brows and pressed a finger to her lips to signal for him to stay quiet. He obeyed, albeit confused, and watched as she unfolded another stool and set herself up beside him. She was a bit messy, which he assumed was from another long shift. Her shirt was almost halfway unbuttoned and her hair was frizzy and unstuck from its gelled down place against her head. She had some stains on her pants, probably from mud or dirt or maybe even blood. He watched as she shifted on her stool and reached into her satchel, which was decorated with a bright, slightly faded red cross on the front. She pulled out a nice looking box and smirked, and he couldn't help but admire the way the reflection of the stars twinkled in her eyes. He thought about her eyes way too much for a man at war.
"I traded a shift with this guy who just transferred here for these," she said mischievously, opening the box slowly and looking up at Barney. "They're genuine Cuban."
He raised his brows and looked down at the cigars in her lap. He was more of a cigarette guy, but they were not the easiest commodity to come by when they were out and about, so he would take what he could get, especially considering that she just flicked one of his last ones out into the jungle.
"You ever smoke one of these before?" He asked her, leaning over to get a closer look.
"Me? I tried 'em once, and I didn't like it much, but I figured it'd be a good way to celebrate," she said.
"Celebrate?" He asked, confused.
She pulled one out and sniffed it before she handed it over to him. He rolled it in his fingers and held it under his nose to breathe it in. He exhaled loudly and waited for her response.
"I got promoted," she said suddenly, her smirk growing into a wide smile that spread over her teeth. Barney raised his brows and looked over at her in disbelief.
"Promoted?" He echoed, matching her smile. "That's amazing!"
"Right?" She said, throwing her head back and laughing. She almost seemed relieved to have let the secret out.
He smiled and watched her for another moment before he cleared his throat and looked back down at the cigar in his hand. It felt heavier suddenly. Then his chest got tight, and he looked back up at her.
"So does that mean you're getting reassigned?" He asked. He tried not to sound disappointed.
"I only go where they need me to," she said, searching his eyes. "Wherever soldiers are getting hurt."
"Soldiers are getting hurt everywhere," he said a bit too suddenly. He bit his tongue and reeled himself back in. "I mean, you've been here for so long, so you know how to work with everybody and everyone trusts you-"
"It's okay," she said, reaching out suddenly and placing a hand on his knee. "I know it sucks, but it's a gig like all the rest, right?"
Barney grunted and pulled out his lighter for the cigars. He really didn't want Lucie to move to another camp, or wherever it was she would end up at. He was surprised at how much it was bothering him already. He realized that he wanted to protect her, but what could he do? If she had orders, she had orders. He couldn't change that.
He took a long drag from the cigar and sighed happily as the smoke fogged around him. Lucie watched him for a second before she took her own drag and coughed a little.
"You alright?" Barney asked.
"I could ask you the same thing," she said when she caught her breath. She waved some of the fog away and found his eyes again. He swallowed and looked away, back to the nothingness around them. She frowned.
"It's not all bad," she tried, taking another drag and managing to keep it down this time. "It's a step up. Better pay, right?"
"I thought you weren't even a huge fan of the war," he said, his voice a bit more gruff than he had intended it to be. He cleared his throat and tried to make it out to be the cigar, but he had a feeling she could see through that act.
"Not the war, but I like my job," she said, a bit more absent now. "I've met so many interesting people. I've helped them- really helped them- like, saved their lives helped them."
"If there was a way you could do it without being here, would you?" Barney asked, his eyes wandering back up to the sky.
She looked over at him and puffed out some more smoke while she thought about it.
"Like, in a hospital somewhere at home?" She asked.
"Maybe," he said thoughtfully, still looking up. "Or even just what you do now, out in the field, just… without the army? The war?"
She shrugged. "If there was a market for those sorts of things, then maybe."
"Maybe?" Barney asked, turning his attention to her again. She met his eyes and studied him, scanned his face, his stubble, his overgrown hair.
"Well what kind of thing do you mean?" She asked.
He opened his mouth to speak but then snapped it shut. The truth was, he wasn't even sure what he meant. He just didn't want her to go. He looked back to the stars.
"I think there's an entire generation of us that are doing things we'd rather not be doing," she said carefully, still watching him in the dim lamplight. "There's nothing wrong with feeling like you're in the wrong place right now."
"I don't know if I am," he said, his voice low, and he dropped his head from the sky to the ground at his feet. "You're really getting reassigned, huh?"
She nodded, shifting ever so slightly closer to him. "That's the idea, I think."
He grunted his assent and took another long drag of his cigar. It wasn't half bad, he thought.
She was watching him, wondering if they'd cross paths again after she left. She couldn't turn down a promotion just to stick around for a guy. She had dreams and aspirations and a job to do. It was the right thing to do, to go. Still, after spending the last few months around Barney Ross, she couldn't help but feel bad about leaving. She would miss him. He looked up at her then, like he was reading her mind, and for a second she was worried she had been talking out loud. He met her eyes, and there was a long moment of connection that made her heart race in her chest.
Barney felt it too. He didn't realize he was reaching out towards her until he saw his own hand brushing some of her hair back and away from her face. He felt the electric pulse of his fingertips meeting her skin and he knew in that moment that he'd follow her anywhere. He'd do whatever she did. He couldn't let her go on alone, and he definitely couldn't leave her behind. He wanted to support her in anything, even if he didn't like it. If he had his way, they'd never change the way things were. Life didn't work like that, though. Life was just a series of changes, one right after another.
Lucie put out her cigar and lifted her hand to Barney's. She turned into his palm and held his hand steady there as she pressed a kiss to his skin. He shuddered and tried to twitch away, but she held him still, and suddenly he wanted to do more than just touch her. He wanted to be apart of her, to experience her. He shifted forward slightly and she met his eyes again before she leaned into him as well. One second stretched out into a million years between them before their lips touched, but when they did, it was like the breath of fresh air they had both been waiting for all along.
Barney stomped out his cigar and closed both hands around her cheeks. She tasted like tobacco and sweat and smelled like disinfectant and hair gel. She was soft, too soft for where they were. He realized that he never wanted to stop kissing her. Eventually, though, they had to come up for air.
"Barney," she said through a breath, her forehead pressed against his.
"Sh," he said, and he took her hand as he stood. He turned to the lamp and slowly put it out so that the darkness faded in towards them and the rest of the world was blacked out. All they had was each others touch, and in the dark of the night, they could only see each other when they got close.
He pulled her into his tent and she fell down on top of him, kissing him again, this time more passionately. He heard her breath catch and he shuddered, his hands exploring her back underneath her olive green button-up. Nothing had ever felt more right.
She ran her fingers through his hair and sighed into him, her lips still against his, and for a split second, she wished she didn't have to leave. She felt like her place was right there with him, wherever he was. But she couldn't let that control her. She had a job to do.
The job could wait till morning, though. Right then, they had each other.
—-
Present Day
Sammy looked down at the letters she had written and chewed on the inside of her cheek. Leaving felt wrong, but she knew she had a job to do, and promises to keep, and hope to hold onto. She wondered if Lee would want her back after realizing what she was doing.
She couldn't let herself think about that, though. That was a problem for a later time. She hefted her backpack over her shoulder and glanced towards the pictures of Riley on the counter, on display with the little battery-powered tea candle glowing in front of them. She walked over to them, her eyes heavy from the weight of uncertainty, and she let out a breath.
"I love you, Riley," she said, reaching out a hand to run a finger down one of the images. "I'm doing the right thing. I have to do this."
She knew Riley would tell her to follow her gut, and every instinct was telling her to go get Cap and Bones and Angel and start digging. Maybe, if they were lucky, they could put this entire situation with the Major to rest. Nobody would be in danger anymore. At the very least, they would know for sure if there ever even was any real danger.
She gripped the strap of her bag a little bit tighter and looked over her house solemnly. She didn't want to go, but she knew that there were just some things she had to do.
She grabbed an old picture of Riley and folded it down its old worn-in crease before she tucked it into her pocket.
It was time to go. After six years, she never felt so unsure if she'd be back or not. Maybe the letter about Bee was a trap. Even if it was, Sammy didn't care. She had some questions for the Major, and if he knew what was best for him, he'd come up with some good answers.
She just hoped that Bee was alive somewhere along the way.