Sammy chewed on her fingernails as she read the Bible verse over and over again.
Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy.
She shook her head and sighed. The merciful. The word felt wrong to her, like it had some kind of heavy, invisible weight tied to it. It sounded just a little bit too much like what she had become: a mercenary. The two things had exactly nothing in common with each other. Had she shown anybody any mercy that day in the jungle? She'd killed people. And since then, she'd helped the Expendables line up missions where they killed people, too. Maybe she could hide behind a wall of excuses, of doing the wrong things for the right reasons, but at the end of the day, people still ended up dead- dead like her sister and her grandmother. Like the life she had left behind. Even with all the excuses, she also knew that Barney and the guys did the work because of the payout. She'd be naive to ignore the fact that they made a lot of money doing what they did. She dropped her head to her hands and felt a little queasy. Her grandmother had used to pray with her when she was young. She used to teach her about kindness and treating others the way she wanted to be treated. What would her grandmother think of her now?
She knocked herself against the table and stood up, pacing around the small kitchen for a moment as her thoughts raced. None of that mattered- Sammy Williams from upstate New York was gone. She was Gogh now. She had to be if she wanted to get to Bee. If she wanted to survive at all.
"Hey, you alright?"
Sammy turned around and found Angel standing in the doorway, leaning into her good leg with one hand dragging along the cheap drywall. She had a concerned look plastered over her face. Sammy let out a breath and bit of hair flew up from her forehead.
"Just trying to figure this out," she said. It was only a half-lie, but Sammy still sunk in on herself. Angel watched her carefully, working her lower jaw and toying with the edge of her shirt. The fabric wrinkled in her hands, her palms sweaty and softened from months of living a normal life.
"You did as much as you could already. Now we just need to figure out how to track her," Angel said, pulling herself into the kitchen and glancing at the laptop on the table. "You really know that she sent the letter?"
Sammy sucked in her bottom lip and shrugged. "It has to be. Between the call names in the letter, the date written on it, and everything we used to talk about… It can't just be a coincidence."
"If she's anything like you, then she's a trooper," Angel said.
Sammy scoffed and made her way back to the table. "She's not really like me. She- She's like-" she hesitated for a second and looked towards Angel, but there was no judgement on her face, just patience- "She's like my sister."
"What was she like?" Angel asked after a beat.
Sammy couldn't help the smile that twitched at the corner of her lips. She could hear Riley's laughter echoing around her. She could feel the warmth that followed it. She closed her eyes and leaned into the illusion, even though it had gone away as quick as it had come. The second was fleeting and sweet. She lived for those little moments, when her memory was crisp and clear.
"She was stubborn," Sammy said, licking her teeth as her smile spread wider over her cheeks. "She loved things hard. She never gave up on anything. She was a fighter."
"So are you, Gogh," Angel said.
Sammy looked up at Angel then and her smile began to fade. A hazy glaze washed over her eyes and she felt the prickling of oncoming tears behind her nose. She shook her head.
"No," she said. "Not me."
"Yes, you," Angel said, stepping towards the table and leaning on a chair. She slowly worked it out from under the table and positioned herself so that she could sit comfortably with her leg in front of herself. "You saved my life in that jungle, you know."
"You saved mine," Sammy said.
"Then let's call it even," Angel teased, leaning forward and returning Sammy's smile. They watched each other for a few seconds before Sammy looked away.
"I gave up on a lot throughout my life," she said, sitting across from Angel. "I think about Bee, and I think about my sister, and I just wonder… why am I still here, you know?"
Angel settled into herself and looked down at her prosthetic. She had asked herself that same question plenty of times before. There wasn't really an answer for it, was there? She just was, and that had to be enough. She'd lose her mind if she thought about it too hard.
"You're here because your story just isn't done yet," Angel tried. "You don't deserve to be here any less than anyone else."
Sammy pressed her lips together and looked up to examine Angel. She was a fighter. She had the physique of one, not to mention the hard-angled beauty and calloused, scarred knuckles. She had soft, kind eyes that stared just a little too hard to find comfort in. With the prosthetic, she looked a bit more worn in, too. A bit more like a mercenary. Sammy wouldn't have placed Angel on the same page as Tool or Barney before, but now… She was different now.
"Maybe you're right," Sammy said with a sigh. "I can't help but wonder what would be happening if I wasn't here now, though."
"Here in this room with me? Or here at all?" Angel asked, her expression unwavering and blank. Sammy swallowed.
"At all," she said. "Maybe everybody would just be saved the trouble."
Angel shifted and crossed her arms. "Sammy, that man traveled across the world to tell you he loved you. You saved my life, and for better or worse, you're one of us now. And you're one of them- the Expendables. And if they're anything like us, they'd rather have the trouble."
Sammy smirked and nodded. She knew Angel was right, but for some reason it wasn't making her feel much better about the whole situation.
"Before I went to training, and right after my sister died-" she started, clearing her throat of the emotion building up within it, "I tried- I tried to overdose. They- the Expendables- took care of me. Lee took care of me."
Angel listened patiently and didn't move or react.
"I feel wrong for walking away after everything they've done for me, after everything we've been through, but… But it feels just as wrong to do nothing," Sammy said. She locked eyes with Angel and chewed on her cheek.
"Bones took care of me," Angel said softly, her eyes flicking away from Sammy's for just a second. "When I woke up from the surgery. When I came home. She took care of me."
Sammy thought back to when she had left the hospital after her concussion. She'd been distant with Lee, but even then, he was there for her when she needed him. She felt her heart lurch slightly at the thought.
"Are you guys…" Sammy tried, glancing around the room to make sure they were alone.
Angel smiled and looked down at her hands curled up in her lap. A subtle blush washed over her cheeks and she sighed.
"I don't know," she said. "But she's the best thing that's ever happened to me. I don't know if I would've gotten through any of this without her."
Sammy nodded. She drew in a breath.
"I'm happy for you," she said. "Everything happens for a reason, right?"
Angel pressed her lips into a smile and nodded. "Right. Just like meeting Bee?"
"I guess so," Sammy said. "If it was any one of you, or one of the Expendables, I'd be doing the same thing."
"I know," Angel said. "I think you're more like your sister than you give yourself credit for, if she was what you make her out to be."
Sammy thought for a moment and Angel stood to walk away. She remembered Riley's face, still and motionless without any last "I love you" on her tongue. She remembered her first night with Lee, when he came over for some beer after shattering his own. She remembered the way Cap, Angel, Bones, Luna, and Maggie all offered her support when she needed it. Maybe she wasn't just the bad things she had done, maybe she was the sum of the people that made up her life. Maybe she was both.
She looked up and Angel had gone. She turned back to the computer and looked over the words, things that had once held meaning to her that now felt foreign, unreal.
Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy.
Maybe she could start with showing herself mercy. Maybe, for once, she could be gentle.
—-
Her car wasn't there when they pulled up. Lee felt his heart start to pound in his chest but he tried to keep himself calm. Maybe there was a good reason for it- maybe everything was just fine. He tried to keep the images of her half-dead in Tool's shower, or of her pale and wet doing CPR on Angel at bay, but anytime he managed to push that away he would picture her jumping off that cliff in the jungle and falling down into the rushing water below as he called for her.
He knocked the car door open when Barney finally rolled to a stop and stomped out. He ran his hands over his head and paced a few steps before he decided to just go in and face whatever was there waiting for him. He hoped against his better judgement that it would be her.
He hesitated when he reached the front porch. The steps creaked under his boots, the sound all too familiar to him. He had fixed up the railing and repainted the old wood, but it had always creaked like that. He tightened his hand on the bannister and sighed. He'd been standing like this the night everything began.
"Go on then," Barney said, sidling up behind him with a shrug.
"I'm not in the mood for your jokes," Lee said, not bothering to look back.
"No jokes," Barney said, stepping up onto the porch past Lee. "Just go on. Do it."
Lee met his eyes for a moment and groaned. The Expendable tattoo on his arm itched suddenly and he glanced down towards it, covered by his jacket.
"She isn't in there," Lee said, pulling himself up to stand in front of the door.
"Maybe she stepped out," Barney said, glancing around and puffing out some smoke from his cigar.
"You and I both know that's not what's happening here," Lee said, tightening his jaw and squaring himself off with the door he had installed himself not long ago. Barney didn't answer. He just shrugged and glanced around, wondering if the neighbors would notice them standing out there like creeps.
Lee pressed his fingers into his eyes and licked his teeth. Maybe Barney was right- maybe he didn't know what was going on here. Maybe he was expecting the worst. Maybe living on the edge of his own life for so long had just hammered that way of thinking into him. Maybe Sammy was just fine. Maybe she would be back any minute. Maybe she had just left her phone behind. Maybe she would be happy and relieved to hear that they were going to go find Bee, dead or alive, whatever the case may be.
He tried the door handle, and it opened. Barney looked him up and down, studying him as he reached instinctively for one of the knives in his pocket. He pushed the door fully open and made his way into the narrow hallway, listening carefully for the sound of anything out of place. It was quiet. The day rattled on outside, and Barney was breathing heavily behind him with his lungs full of smog. Lee flicked the kitchen light on and dropped his hands to his side, his fingers letting go of his knife so that it slid fully back into his pocket. He scanned the room, and everything was the way he had expected it to be- everything except for the letters resting on the island counter, which sent a chill down his spine and through his heart. He swallowed and made his way down the hall towards the bedroom and bathroom. He looked between both, images of Sammy laying soaking in Gunner's arms flashing through his mind, and then he shoved open the bathroom door. It was dark, dry, and empty. He looked in the shower. Nothing.
He gnawed on his lower lip and turned to hurry into the bedroom. The bed was made, the lights were out, and there was no sign of Sammy anywhere. The house felt cold and impersonal suddenly. Like it wasn't home, just four walls and a roof planted in the middle of nowhere special. He could feel his heart beating hard against his chest and stepped back out into the hall. Barney was at the island, looking through the letters. He held one up and caught Lee's eye.
"For you," he said, his voice low and hoarse. Lee wiped his hand down his face and tried to breathe, but the air around him felt stiff and suffocating. His chest heaved, hard and shallow, and he closed his eyes. Barney watched him from where he was, the letter stuck in his grasp, and wondered if this was it- if this was the beginning of the end for his number two. He had known Lee was thinking about calling it quits before, but if he lost Sammy?
Barney thought back to the jungle, where he held Lucie's lifeless body while Dilly and Conrad yelled over his shoulder. That had been all it took for him to turn away from that life as a soldier. The death of the right person had changed his life. He didn't want to lose Lee, but maybe he had brought it on himself. Maybe if he had been honest from the start, the problem would've been solved already.
He slapped the letter against his hand a few times and looked around. If Sammy had run off, and if she went and got herself killed, Barney knew that would be a thick wedge forced between him and Lee. Not to mention that he would probably never be able to forgive himself, either.
—-
Tool was working up a sketch for a new tattoo design featuring his usual raven and skull. He was getting bored of the same old thing, and with the new mission for Sammy looming over him in the near future, he needed some place to put all of that anxious energy. The rest of the boys had left to prep for the job after Barney took Lee to Sammy's. He was alone, and being alone was hard without some sort of distraction- that's why he'd gotten so addicted to his damn pipe in the first place, and why he had so much art covering the walls of the studio. He needed some way to escape the memories and the life he had made for himself. Maybe he had more money than he knew what to do with- well, he used to. He had just offered most of it up to his rival mercenary team to do the job Barney had been fighting so hard against. He dropped his pen and sighed, tangled his fingers in his long greasy hair.
The phone on his desk began to ring. It startled him a bit, but he turned his gaze up at it and huffed. He reached out one weary hand and knocked the phone off the receiver before he managed to slip it between his cheek and shoulder.
"Tool," he answered, his voice dull and bored. A bit of dust blew up around him and he waved it away. The drawing in front of him seemed to be burning holes into his brain. The raven's eyes were dark and its wings were spread wide over a half-buried skull. There were some throwing knives sticking out of the sand around the bones, as well as some bullet casings and shrapnel. A loosely sketched banner framed the piece from wing to wing, the word "expendable" written in faint pencil within it, undone.
"I've got information," the man on the other end said. "I will do the job. That's half up front-"
"Yeah, yeah, and half after the fact," Tool said, closing his eyes and focusing on the sound of the old fan rattling on behind him, closer to Sammy's desk. "I appreciate you taking this on, Trench."
The other end was quiet for a minute. Tool opened his eyes and furrowed his brows while he braced himself against the table. He glanced around out of instinct, trying to make sure there was nobody there to overhear the conversation.
"What is it?" Tool asked, his voice sharper than usual. He was always so laid back, but this entire situation was setting him off- he just wished somebody would go find the damn kid already.
"Nothing, nothing," Trench said, and Tool could hear him shuffling through some papers on the other end. "This Major- he was a friend, no?"
"Sure, but that didn't turn out to mean much," Tool said, working his jaw and pinching the bridge of his nose.
"It never does, eh?"
Tool sighed and stood from his chair. His footsteps echoed around the empty shop as he walked in a slow circle around his desk. He glanced towards Sammy's workstation, more neat than his ever was or ever would be, and felt his heart twitch.
"What is it, Trench?" Tool asked.
"I'm leaving to do recon in Mexico. Somewhere south, a touristy spot. I'll call you at this number to give you updates periodically."
"The bastard is in Mexico?" Tool asked. "He had all this time to bury himself in any hole on the entire planet and he chose Mexico?"
"I hear it's nice there this time of the year," Trench offered.
"Whatever," Tool grunted, pacing as far away as he could before the cord on the phone tugged him back. "Just keep me up to date, Pipsqueak."
"What kind of name is Tool anyway?" Trench asked, laughing over the line.
Tool sighed again and looked towards the ceiling.
"Tool," he said. "I got whatever you might need. Anywhere, anytime. I can get you out of pretty much any sticky situation."
"Right," Trench said. "Like a tool."
"Look, Trench…" Tool started after a minute. "I appreciate you doing this for me, for old times sake. I just need you to get eyes on James. Contact me before taking the shot if you can. He's been a thorn in our side for a while now."
"Something you're not telling me?" Trench asked.
"Well…" Tool said, brushing his hair out of his face.
"Spit it out, Tool," Trench grumbled.
"Barney and the guys are starting to look into it now- well, they've been digging, but now they're going out and chasing a lead."
There was silence. Tool chewed on his cheek and sighed.
"So will I be meeting Mr. Ross in the field?" Trench asked.
"Hard to say," Tool said. "But the money is still good on this. We need him taken care of. It doesn't matter who the hell takes the shot. I messed up with this bastard once, and I won't do it again."
"Understood," Trench said. "But if this goes south, I better still get this check."
"Your names already on it," Tool said.
"I'll send you updates when I can. I will be traveling to Mexico by car."
"Thanks, brother," Tool said.
"Don't thank me yet. The jobs not done."
With that, the line went quiet and Tool let the phone drop back to the receiver with a clatter. He had half a mind to go out there and get the man himself. He hadn't been in the field for years, though. He dropped his head to his hands.
He was a man built out of the mistakes he had made. He didn't want this to be another one.