Barney stood in the living space of Cap's cheap apartment and shifted his weight between his feet. The floorboards creaked beneath him and he crossed his arms, looking over the place with a displeased frown. It was a comfortable enough space, clearly outdated and cheap to rent, and recently lived in. There were remnants of life that showed somebody might even want to come back to it, but there was nobody there. The couch looked like somebody had been sleeping on it too, and he awkwardly ran his finger over the cloth of an old blanket. It was fuzzy from years of use and thin from a few too many cycles in the wash. He remembered when he and Cap had exchanged the emergency information, all with the sense that if one of them found the Major, the other would call.

He ran his eyes over the chipped paint on the walls and the narrow hall that lead to what he assumed were the bedrooms. The kitchen was visible to his right, small enough to make him feel like a giant, but big enough to at least fit a small table to eat at. The entire place screamed hideout to him, and he knew from experience that any good mercenary hideout would have secrets hidden around. If Sammy had just gotten to them, they would've left in a hurry; if they hadn't, he figured he would've found them all sitting around and still deciding on what to do. The thought that Cap's group had done better by Sammy than he had stung somewhere in his chest and he swallowed. He couldn't make everyone happy, he knew that- but he could do his best to take care of the people that had real meaning in his life. He wasn't a good person, not by a long shot, but it was acts like dismissing Sammy that made him feel worse than what he knew he was.

He felt under the table in the kitchen first. There was nothing hidden beneath it and no remnant of anything ever being there to begin with. He thought that would have been too obvious for them anyway. His next step was the fridge- it smelled mildewy and old and was more empty than he had expected. There were a couple of drinks and some leftovers, but nothing interesting. He ran his hands over the walls just to be sure and sighed- nothing. A normal damn fridge. He closed the door with a thump and sighed. They were professionals- and just like the Expendables, it was rare that they would mistakes. Nothing in the apartment would ever hint at them being mercenaries. There were some packs of peas in the fridge, old and rock hard from how long they had been frozen, and Barney assumed they were used as ice packs since nothing else in the kitchen ever looked like it was really used. He turned to head out into the living room when he was met with the barrel of a pistol to his temple and the clicking sound of a safety switching off. He tensed, his jaw going tight and his muscles spamming and tugging against his bones to keep him upright as adrenaline surged through him. In a split second, he reached up and slid his head just out of the way of the gun as he knocked the hand holding it sideways and into the doorway that separated the kitchen and living room. The gun hit the wall with a clatter and the fingers that were wrapped around it clenched and loosened for a moment. Barney moved to use this to his advantage, but before he could grab the gun, the weight of a body swinging onto his back threw him off his balance and he stumbled backwards until he hit a wall. He regained his balance slightly and threw himself back again, pinning the intruder between himself and the cracking old drywall. Then there was the familiar cold press of a blade against his neck, sharp enough to shave away some of his overgrown stubble. He felt the prick of skin breaking and hesitated. The person on his back didn't feel heavy. Small- maybe a woman or a younger man. He closed his eyes and held his breath.

He pushed back against the wall one more time, so hard that the drywall cracked and they fell unsteadily through it and into the living room on the other side. He hurried to roll up onto his knees, but the other person- coughing and wheezing- was already on her feet. He made to grab for her again but stopped suddenly.

"Luna?" He asked, wiping the dust from the drywall out of his eyes.

"Barney?" She asked, knife still held out in one hand. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same damn thing," he said, motioning to the mess they had made. "And why the hell did you have a gun to me?"

She tucked her knife into her jeans and shook the pain from her head. She had a small scratch down her temple that was beginning to leak blood. Barney noticed it and felt bad for a second, but then he remembered the sound of the safety clicking off and the gun against his forehead. He decided he didn't feel that bad.

"I got a voicemail," she said as thought that would answer his question.

"Excuse me?" He asked, dropping his hands to his hips. "A voicemail?"

"When Maggie and I left," she said, brushing dust from her shirt, "the ladies and I set up a code. If we were in trouble, we'd call and let it go to voicemail and hang up. Then we'd call again, and the second time we went to voicemail, we'd ask if the other heard about the new Dutch painting exhibit at the museum."

Barney blinked for a moment. Then he chuckled. "Van Gogh?"

"Van Gogh," she said with a smile.

"So you got a call?" Barney asked, scratching the back of his head.

"I did," Luna said. "I wasn't far. I came right away."

Barney hummed and looked around.

"Did you get a call?" She asked after a beat.

"No, I didn't," he said, reaching up a hand to scratch at his stubble. "But Sammy got a letter."

"A letter?" She asked, her blonde ponytail swinging as she matched his gaze and checked out the rest of the room. "We never talked about sending letters."

"Yeah, well," he started with a sigh, "it's a long story. But basically, Sammy's gone off on this mission, and we think she enlisted the help of her friends here."

Luna frowned thoughtfully and nodded. "If they were going along with it, why would they call me?"

"For your help?" Barney asked, confused.

"The voicemail plan was only if it was an emergency and needed to be in code. If they wanted my help with just another mission, they'd have just said that."

Barney furrowed his brows and turned away from Luna. The room was well-kept enough outside of the wall they'd just jumped through- no signs of a prior struggle or any hidden signals to let them know they were in trouble.

"Do you know what the mission is about?" Luna asked.

"We think it might connect to the Major," Barney said, turning and meeting her eyes. "I don't have any doubt in my mind that it involves him, actually. But it also involves a friend of Sammy's, and she's going after her."

"Why aren't you with her?" Luna asked. "Or Lee?"

Barney swallowed and hesitated. Luna scoffed.

"You didn't believe her," she said with a roll her eyes. "Typical."

Barney opened his mouth to try and defend himself but no words came out. Her just stared at the younger woman across from him.

"So she went to our team and they're helping her," Luna said.

"Sure," Barney said finally.

"Then why would they call me like that?" Luna asked.

Barney blinked. He didn't know. The last time he had spoken to or seen Cap, she didn't seem like the type to be forced to do anything, especially if it would put her small found-family in danger. He studied Luna, trying to see if anything was coming to her mind, and she reminded him of somebody else, like all of the other women recently had a habit of doing.

—-

New Orleans, 1973

Barney was staring in the mirror with his arms braced against the sink in front of him. His hair was slick and greasy with sweat and his jaw was unshaven and messy. His skin was oily and bruised with the remnants of healing wounds on his cheeks and nose- his nose, which was a bit more crooked than it had been the last time he studied himself so hard in the mirror. His eyes were bloodshot and his shoulders were tense and spasming, pale compared to his neck and arms. His lips were trembling uncertainly, sweat bubbling on his upper lip and dripping into his slightly parted mouth as his tried to focus his breathing. When he looked up, she saw her behind him.

He turned with a start, his chest heaving and heart pounding. His hand slipped on the porcelain of the sink as he spun around but he caught himself before he could fall. Every muscle in his body cried out against the sudden motion, but he kept his balance and looked around as he tried to catch his breath. He swallowed.

She wasn't there. Of course she wasn't there. She was dead. She was gone. Ghosts weren't real, at least not the way most people liked to believe; she was a ghost alright, but just to him. Just in his head. She haunted him because he couldn't let her go. He looked down at the knuckles of one of his shaking hands on the sink, covered in a coagulated mixture of dirt and blood and sweat. He slapped his hand to his forehead and closed his eyes while that familiar sting of tears pushed at his sinuses. He tried to sniff the feeling away, but it persisted. The light flickered above him and he sighed.

They'd just gotten back from a mission. It was one of their first serious jobs with a decent payout and it went mostly well. Every corner he turned, though, he saw her watching him. She never looked disapproving of his decision, but he knew that if she was around to talk to him about it, she would ask him if this is what he really wanted. If he wanted to spend his life shooting a gun for money. If he could deal with the consequences.

It took him a moment to realize that somebody was knocking on the door. He ran his fingers through his hair and cleared his throat before he reached forward and wrapped his fingers around the doorknob, right where he had imagined Lucie's hand to be. He pulled the door open.

"Hey brother, you alright?" Conrad asked, his brows furrowed as he studied Barney.

"Yeah, just beat," Barney said, his throat going dry. He blinked the sweat out of his eyes.

"I hear you," Conrad said, nodding along and sinking in on himself a little. He stepped back so that Barney could get through the doorway. Conrad was sweaty and dirty as well, and a little bit of blood had dried up on his shirt just around the collar. There was a harsh straight line where his vest had been, which blocked the arterial spray.

"We get the rest of the paycheck?" Barney asked, shifting his weight between his feet to try and look busy. He just wanted to be alone. Conrad was good at reading him, and he really didn't wanna talk about Lucie and everything that had happened anymore.

"Yeah, it's all squared away," Conrad said. He chewed on the inside of his cheek and glanced around the room. "Gonna get ready to head home?"

"Yeah," Barney said, nodding. "Yeah, I could use a shower."

"Right."

They stood around for a second before Barney made to move towards where he had dropped off his helmet and leather jacket. Conrad opened his mouth and drew in a sharp breath. Barney turned to him, confused.

"Look, before you go-"

Barney rolled his head back and opened his mouth to speak but Conrad held up a hand to stop him. He waited.

"I got in touch with some of our guys from the war and asked them to dig around a little, and, uh-" He hesitated as he dug around in his pocket for a moment. Barney furrowed his brows and glanced around, wondering if anyone else was watching. "They found this. I thought you'd want it."

He held out his hand and Barney took note of the silver chain that slipped through his fingers. He held his palm up and waited for Conrad to drop it. When he did, the silver glinted in the halogen lights. He blinked.

"If it's too much, I'll send it back. I thought she might want you to have it, though."

Barney pulled his hand in towards his chest and looked down at the tag in his palm. Lucie. He ran his fingers over the name and birthdate and blood type and religion all stamped into the metal and his throat began to close. He blinked and didn't dare to look back up at Conrad. It wasn't that he didn't want his friend to see him cry.

He knew that if he looked up, he'd see her again. And this time she'd be smiling.

And he couldn't handle that.

—-

The Yucatan, Mexico, Present Day

The landing was precarious.

Sammy held onto either side of the bench she sat on and tightened the belt over her waist. It was a cloudy day over the Yucatan, the biting humidity already proving to be much worse than what she was used to in New Orleans. The plane rumbled and groaned against its harrowing descent, as though it was just as displeased with it as Sammy was. Angel was strapped in a few seats down from her, but she didn't seem as visibly stressed as Sammy thought she looked herself. Her dark hair was pulled neatly back and her nose, pointed and small, was angled towards the ground. Sammy looked towards the cockpit but decided that seeing the descent was way worse than feeling it, so she closed her eyes and focused on her breathing instead.

They hit the ground with a heavy thump and rolled for a minute as they slowed and came to a stop. She didn't realize how hard she had been holding on until she finally pried her eyes open and saw her white-knuckled grip on the seat. She kept holding on as she caught her breath and steadied her heart rate. One thing at a time, she figured.

"I say when we get our next paycheck, we upgrade this thing," Bones said from the front.

"She did her job, didn't she?" Cap snapped. "Just mind your business and get your stuff together."

Bones chuckled and hefted herself up and out of the cockpit. She smirked as she took note of Sammy's stiffened posture and unsteady hands.

"You look a bit green there, Gogh," she said, shuffling by. "Need a puke bag?"

"Leave her be," Angel teased, rolling her eyes. "At least she's got the sense to be scared of this death trap."

"Careful, she might hear you call her that," Bones whispered.

"Who? Cap, or the plane?"

"Both."

Sammy couldn't help the breathy chuckle that escaped her lips. Maybe that was the point in their joking, she thought. To make her feel better. They were back on the ground and in one piece. Well, mostly one piece. Sammy couldn't help but glance down at Angel's prosthetic. She undid her belt and stood as the plane neared a stop. Her palms were slick with sweat and her forehead was greasy. The hair on the back of her neck was still standing on edge, all the way up to the stubble of her undercut, around her scar. She reached up with a narrow finger and traced the pink line that demarcated her life as a mercenary. The scarred flesh was numbly sensitive under her fingertips, but only because she touched it so much that she had learned what to expect. Her imagination filled her in on whatever she was missing. On whatever she had once felt but now didn't any longer; the pain, the tingling emptiness of a fresh wound, the gentle touch of a shaky finger.

"We'll unload most of the gear when it's dark out," Cap called as she started her post-flight checklist. She flicked a few switches and checked some gauges. "Just head out with a pack and look your part. Got those passports?"

"Right here, boss," Angel said, patting the bag at her side. She undid her own belt and shifted along the bench. Bones watched from the end of the plane as she pulled down a few bags. Angel didn't look up as she pulled out the fake passports and shifted through some loose paperwork. Sammy drew in a breath and turned to lower the stairs along the side of the plane, something she'd done before on Barney's smaller aircraft.

"Here, Gogh," Angel said, holding up a passport as she passed. "Don't forget. You're documenting us. Take pictures, ask questions, and-"

"I got it," Sammy said gently, reaching to undo the latch on the door. "It'll be fine. We just have to keep an eye out for Bee. That's all."

Angel watched her for a long moment before she nodded and looked back down at her papers. Sammy could feel Bones watching them both but didn't bother looking over. She knew Angel was hurting, and she knew that Bones wanted to make that hurt stop, but just like with Sammy and Lee- she couldn't. Sammy hoped that Bones wouldn't be blinded by that desire to love and protect. She hoped she could learn to see through it.

The door opened with a hiss and a metallic grunt and Sammy drew in a hard breath of that fresh, salty air. The sun was beating down on her so that she was squinting and holding her hand up to protect her eyes. The light was reflecting up off of the tarmac and it took a second before her eyes adjusted well enough to see anything. The airport was small with only a couple small hangars- nothing big enough to draw in crazy crowds of travelers or attention. There were palm trees near the main building and along the road that lead to the city, framed against the bright blue sky and shivering as the wind blew through them.

For the first time in a few days Sammy felt normal. The sun kissed her skin and hugged her, and if she ignored the fake passport in her hands and the camera around her neck she could almost swear she was standing on her porch basking in the New Orleans summer without a care in the world outside of what tattoo she would draw up or who she would be calling for Barney. She let out a breath and opened her eyes. She could hear the plane whirring down to rest behind her, a mechanical hum that pressed in on her harder than the sun. Bones and Angel were thumping around inside the plane, whispering to each other in hushed voices, just low enough that Sammy couldn't make out the words they were saying. There was a small building just ahead of her with what she assumed would be the security area; she'd learned a lot in her last year with the Expendables, and the biggest thing was to act like she belonged. Security was only there for people who weren't supposed to be entering.

—-

The office was small. It was a tiny airport, used mostly for wealthy locals or domestic flights. The officers there looked tired and old and glanced up at the incoming group of women with vague interest. One of them- the oldest looking of the bunch, with golden tanned skin and wrinkles around his eyes- was sipping from an old mug and squinted as he studied them over the rim. There was a TV on low in the background filling the small port with the melodic drone of Spanish. Another man, one of the younger ones, stood and tugged on his belt. He had a baton and a taser attached to it, but no visible gun. His fingers tapped along the leather of his belt like he was looking for one, though- ex cop or military maybe. Sammy shrugged her pack higher up on her shoulder and tried to sink into her submissive position as the journalist. It seemed to be working, because the eyes of most of the men were focused on Cap as she strode towards the desk with her curly hair bouncing, her eyes catching the orange lights and reflecting it along her tan cheeks. Angel was steady on her feet and as confident as Sammy had ever seen her before. She was separate from Bones, who was carrying most of the supplies, a baseball cap placed over her fuzzy head.

"Hola," the younger man said, walking slowly towards them and chewing on the inside of his cheek. "Habla espanol?"

"Un poquito, pero… English would be easier, if you could?" Cap said, and Sammy took note of how expertly she shifted her words and expressions. She adjusted herself accordingly and glanced around. Most of the men had gone back to whatever they were doing before.

"Sure, sure… Are you all from America?" He asked, stepping up behind the desk and booting up the computer. It made a loud whirring sound and Sammy assumed they didn't normally need to check passports.

"That obvious?" Cap laughed, glancing back at them. The man chuckled half-heartedly in response. "We're a small environmentalist group. Shouldn't be here too long. Just trying to document as many places as we can."

The man nodded along but his expression was empty. Sammy figured he was already bored with their conversation or didn't fully understand it. He made no indication that he did understand, but she kept her mouth shut regardless. She'd let Cap do the talking.

"Passports?" The man asked, glancing up from the screen behind the counter.

"Sure," Cap said, smiling a big toothy grin that Sammy couldn't recall ever seeing before. She dug around in her bag for a moment before she pulled out her assigned passport and slid it across the counter. Angel and Bones did the same and Sammy struggled for a minute to maneuver the pack over her shoulders so she could unzip it and grab the ID from the top. After a few seconds they had all handed the passports over and the man looked down at them. He glanced between them all and furrowed his brows as he got to Sammy.

"You look young in this picture," he said, holding it up, his arm stretched out towards her. "Solo una nina."

"Oh," Sammy said, throwing on an awkward smile. "Yeah, it- it's an old picture."

He nodded and looked at it for another moment before he scanned it into the computer. He stamped them quickly and slid all four back across the desk and nodded.

"Safe travels," he said, nodding towards Cap, who was securing her backpack with a clasp across her chest. She smiled again, bright and vibrant.

"Have a great day," she said, nodding the group along. They had to pass through a set of old metal detectors on the way out which probably didn't work, but they had left most of their equipment on the plane to collect once it got dark. They exited the building without any problems and Cap's happy face fell into a hardened glare. She let out a breath and looked around, the palm trees still swaying and a few cars whizzing by on an old paved road.

"Good," Bones said, giving Sammy a nudge. "One step closer. Ready for this?"

"I gotta be," she said, swallowing. "Do we know where we're going?"

"There's an older hotel not far from here. The good part about the Yucatan is the tourists. We can blend in," Angel said.

"And a car?" Sammy asked, glancing around.

"We'll rent one if we need it," Cap said.

Sammy furrowed her brows but didn't question it. It wasn't long before an old taxi cab pulled up in front of them and the happy older man inside waved them in as he popped the trunk.

They stuffed their bags into the back and slid into the seats. Sammy was squeezed between Bones and Angel. She thought about Bee, and what she might be going through, and hoped that they were close to getting her back. At least she could enjoy the view for a moment, if not the dusty and dank smell of the cab. The palm trees were nice to look at, and the further they drove, the more colorful and frequent the buildings became. There was some chipped artwork on the brick walls of some of the buildings, faded sunset colors broken by telephone wires and piping and time. People sat out on the sidewalks fanning themselves or watching the cars go by. Children played in the street. The air was alive with life and Sammy breathed it in, swallowed it up. She tried not to think about the fight they were probably walking into. The thought was juxtaposed with the giddy smiles of children as they chased after the cab.

She told herself that all that mattered was getting Bee back and going home. She knew there was more to it than that, but she didn't want to think about the rest. They pushed forward. That was all they could do.

—-

Lee was sitting in all of his gear and twirling a throwing blade in his fingers while Caesar, Toll, Yang, and Tool all meandered around avoiding his wrath. He had already flung a few blades across the room and hit the board mounted on the wall so hard that it was crooked. The letter from Sammy was still heavy in his pocket. Each of the guys had gotten one, most of them short and sweet, and Toll was looking down at his while he fingered Gunner's unopened one. He still hadn't gotten a response from Gunner, and if he didn't hear from him soon, he'd be left behind. They needed every hand they could get, but if Gunner was out of it, they were probably better off without him. Toll sighed and looked over to Caesar and Yang. Caesar was half asleep, his eyes closed and mouth agape. Yang stared forward and his feet hung limply from where he sat atop a crate. Tool was blowing smoke towards them from the far corner of the hangar, away from the plane.

Lee stood up with a grunt and turned to flick the knife across the room again when the door shot open. Barney flinched back as the knife hit the board with a resounding thump not far to his left.

"What the hell-"

"Where the hell did you go?" Lee asked, stomping towards him with a finger outstretched, wagging in the space between them both.

"Getting information," Barney said, crossing his arms.

"We need to find her and get in the air, not walk around and-"

He noticed Luna standing behind him them, one of her brows perked as she glanced between himself and Barney. He swallowed and blinked.

"Luna?" He asked.

"That's me," she said.

"Do you know where she went?" Lee asked, dropping his hands to his hips.

"Cutting right the chase, aren't we?" Luna teased. "No, 'hello, how are you'?"

Lee rolled his eyes and turned away. There rest of the guys were moving towards them then.

"Luna," Yang said, smiling at her. "It is nice to see you again."

She smiled back at him and nodded.

"I found Luna at Cap's foxhole," Barney said. "We looked around the place trying to find some hint of where they might be off to."

"Like they would be dumb enough to leave anything behind," Lee grunted, running his hands along his head. His brows were knotted between his eyes, stuck with frustration.

"Actually, they wouldn't be," Luna said. "Which is why it was weird when we found this."

Lee turned to her, mouth already half-opened in complaint. She unfolded and held up a torn slip of notebook paper with a couple of words scrawled across it.

Art show. Yucatan.

"You're sure it's related?" Toll asked.

"It's our only lead, and not a far flight," Barney said.

"What does it mean?" Tool asked, waving his pipe around the circle. He thought idly about Trench headed to Mexico and hoped the job would be done before Sammy even got there.

"In my opinion, it means one of 'em wants us to follow them," Barney said, sitting back in his hips and looking to Lee. "Somebody wanted us to know where they were going."

Lee watched Barney for a long moment before he nodded and turned back to the plane. He climbed in and didn't look back. Barney sighed.

"It's hitting him hard, huh?" Luna said.

"You could say that," Barney grunted.

"She does keep running away from him though, doesn't she?"

Barney huffed and glanced towards her. "You could say that," he repeated, a bit harder this time. He looked around at the rest of the guys. "Wheels up in twenty."

They nodded and got to work.

"You coming, Tool?" Barney asked.

"Nah, I'm retired," Tool said, holding up his hands and stepping back. "But you bring them all back safe."

"You got it," Barney said.

Luna sighed and looked back down at the paper. She didn't know who would write it and sell out their location, but she knew it was one of them. The 'why' didn't matter as much as getting there did, though. She made her way to the plane, her long blonde ponytail swaying behind her with every step she took.