It was a dream, maybe. It was hard to tell.

She was standing in her front yard in New Orleans and looking up at the clear night sky and thinking about life and the mess it had made of all of them. Riley was next to her, talking about the boy she had loved the way only a fourteen year old girl could. The words, the stars, the sounds of the night; it was all a fairytale, all distant and light and built up out of things that were darker than the product.

"What was his name?" She asked, her voice the crack between reality and illusion.

Riley turned her eyes up towards her but just smiled, her cheeks turning just a little bit more red at the question, but she didn't answer. Then she looked back to the stars.

"You must have broken his heart," Sammy whispered, trying to picture the sky above her the way it had looked on her favorite nights. Only a few clouds were blowing through, the moon was dense and bright, and the stars were like eyes full of light against the darkness.

If she never found her way back, she wondered what Lee would do- would he find someone else? Fall in love again? Would he be as gentle with them as he had been with her? She hoped that he could find peace, whatever that might mean to him.

The door creaked open and Sammy felt her mind slam back into her body. The image of Riley and New Orleans dissipated and was replaced by Dilly, the woman with the bright red hair that brought her food twice a day and always tried to speak with her.

"Breakfast," Dilly said softly, glancing around the room. "Having a dream?"

Sammy stayed on her cot but watched as Dilly set the food and water down on the floor. She didn't answer, but apart of her wanted to. She wanted to tell somebody about how vivid and real Riley had felt to her, about how the stars were so bright that her eyes still hurt from staring up at them, even if they hadn't been real.

"You really should eat. I know-" she hesitated, her voice caught in her throat like she was working out what to say. "I know it's easy to give up right now. I know it's simpler to move into your head. But you need your strength."

Sammy didn't have the energy to frown, but she turned her eyes slowly up to Dilly anyway. She watched her.

"He's gonna question you again today," Dilly said softly, reaching over for the cup of water and holding it out towards Sammy. "I don't know how. I just know that he plans on getting what he wants."

Sammy tried to swallow but realized her mouth was dry. The water looked appetizing, but her brain was trying desperately to warn her against taking it. She glanced back and forth between Dilly and the cup.

Dilly looked down at the water and took a sip before holding it back out to Sammy. Her shoulders sank back and her chest deflated and she tried to slowly sit up.

She was dizzy and tired, but she took the water in her hands and drank it fast. She knew it would just make her feel more sick to down it all at once, but the second it touched her lips she couldn't help herself. She gasped for air and put the cup down on the floor with a clatter.

"Good," Dilly said, pressing a smile onto her cheeks. "You should try to eat, too."

Sammy looked down at the food and the tray it was laid out on; there were sections for each part of the meal folded into the sparkling silver. The morning sunlight was pouring in through the high window, more blue and white than last night's golden sunset. She turned her eyes back up to Dilly.

"Where are we?" She asked. She felt the water sinking down into her empty stomach, and it was good.

Dilly pressed her lips together and sighed. She tapped her fingers against the tray.

"Eat. You'll need it," she said.

Sammy reached for the fork and shoveled a bite of eggs- or what was supposed to be eggs- into her mouth. She barely chewed before she swallowed.

"Where?" She asked again.

Dilly looked up to the window and sighed. Sammy could tell that she wanted to help her. Why else would she be trying so hard to feed and care for her? Why would she warn her about what Conrad Stonebanks was planning?

"On a ship," Dilly said, her voice low and barely audible. She looked over her shoulder and motioned for Sammy to eat some more.

She took another bite and focused on Dilly's face the entire time. She barely gave herself time to taste how stale and powdery it all was.

"We left from the eastern coast and are heading towards Cuba. That's all I know," she said.

Sammy blinked and thought hard. Cuba? What could possibly be in Cuba? Would they be able to find her there?

"I'll be back for dinner," Dilly said, motioning down to the food as she stood. "It'll be alright. Just tell him what he wants to know."

She left and the door closed and locked into place behind her. As much as Sammy hated to admit it, she was starved. She reached down for the tray and finished it all in a matter of minutes. Then she sat back on her cot and closed her eyes, trying to feel for the rock of the waves guiding the ship along. She could smell the salt in the air, but so far that was all the evidence she had that Dilly was telling the truth. Maybe if she could get up to that window and try and look out she would be able to tell. She wouldn't know for sure if the location was accurate, but at least she would know if she was on solid ground or not. It was something.

She thought back to the dream she'd had earlier and the letter Riley had left for her before she died. She had been a diehard optimist. Sammy wondered what Riley would make of the situation she had managed to get herself in this time. Would this life scare her?

It scared Sammy. She had no idea how she added two and two and ended up with one hundred, but she also wasn't sure she entirely regretted it. The Expendables, Cap, Bones, and Angel- they were all people she had needed, and they found her at just the right time, too. Even Bee, younger and full of hope and jokes and stories, had been important to Sammy in a way she couldn't realize at the time. Hindsight was 20/20, after all.

—-

She didn't know how much time had passed before the door opened again, except this time it wasn't Dilly exchanging one tray of food for another and a few desperate words. Stonebanks was looking down at her with a twisted scowl, his stubble a little overgrown and shaggy, his hair flopped over and greasy. A few men in foreign military uniforms came in behind him and moved towards her, awaiting their orders. She looked up at him blankly, her back pressed against the wall next to her cot, beneath the window and her only source of light.

Conrad flicked his head towards the other men and they each grabbed her under an arm and hefted her up to her feet. She didn't bother fighting them as they pulled her out of the room and into the hall, narrow and metallic and small. It definitely felt like a ship.

They gripped her tight and lugged her along, her feet bare and padding against the floor. There was nobody else in the halls as they went on, making a few turns and heading down a short, narrow staircase. In the artificial light, the bruises around her wrists looked worse. They were deep and torn, the yellow light bulbs sucking up the green and yellow tones and leaving the blue and purple to shine.

She grunted as they turned and yanked her into a room with a light that hung and swung gently from the ceiling. They must've really been on a boat, because if they weren't, that entire setup seemed way too involved. They dropped her down into a hard metal chair and made quick work of tying her wrists to the armrests. She winced as they messed with the bruises, but other than that, she refused to react. Conrad watched from in front of the closed metal door. There was a circular window on it, smeared and foggy from probably never having been cleaned once. There was also a table unfolded in the center of the room, empty. There was a bucket underneath it. She tightened her fingers on the edge of the armrests.

"I don't want to waste my time with you," Conrad said, shifting slowly closer as he rolled up his sleeves and secured them around his forearms. "It'll be better for us both if you just give me what I need."

Sammy looked up at him with blank eyes. The corners of her lips twitched downwards, but she tried her hardest to keep it concealed. His eyes seemed blank and haunting; they were cold- icy- and his nose had a small bump where it must have been broken sometime before. His lips were pressed flat and the top of his shirt was unbuttoned. His breath was hot and filled the room as he huffed in and out.

"What I need is information," he said, leaning forward against the table and looking at her sideways. She turned her head down so that a few strands of dark, greasy hair fell from her head. "Give me what I need, and I can give you a good life away from all of this. The Expendables- they can't promise you anything. They're taped and glued and stapled together and barely keeping things going. I know that-"

He moved in front of her and grabbed the arms of the chair she was tied to beneath her hands. He jolted it, and she turned her eyes up to him, her jaw closed tight.

"I know that."

He rolled up one of his sleeves and revealed the faded tattoo that she had known so well. She felt herself react before she could control herself, her brows furrowing towards her nose and her dry lips parting painfully. He chuckled and looked down at the raven and skull etched into his arm.

"I started this thing with Barney, you know," he said, crossing his arms and looking her over. "We were just a couple of damned killers who realized that the powers that be didn't want us- they wanted to use us. We were expendable to them."

Sammy swallowed. She tried to focus on the wall just passed his head but she was finding it difficult. Her eyes kept flicking back to his.

"We were brothers, Barney and I, and our team," he went on. "You ever seen a brother turn on a brother?"

Sammy blinked and tried to focus on her good memories of the guys- the late nights, the drinking, the fun they managed to make out of a shitty situation.

"It's biblical, really," Conrad said with a sigh. "You know about Cain and Abel?"

Sammy didn't respond. She tightened her fingers around the chair.

"They both made sacrifices for God. Turns out, God liked one of those gifts more, and Cain didn't appreciate that. He turned around and killed his brother," Conrad said. "Barney ever mention me?"

Sammy chewed on the inside of her lip. She ran through the path they had taken to get to that room in her mind, but other than the way back to her little prison cell, she had no idea where to go if she could get away.

"I'll take that as a no," Conrad said. "It's because he killed me- well," he stopped and held out his arms, motioning down his body, "he thought he did."

She felt her body begin to shake despite her efforts to remain still and stoic. She didn't really know much of anything about Barney when she thought about it. She knew he wore a hard shell over himself to keep everyone out, but the more she considered it, the more she wondered if it was really to keep his past inside. He was guarded, tough, and never in the mood for bullshit. Was Conrad Stonebanks the reason behind all of that?

"So you're gonna tell me every detail of his daily life. I need a moment- just a moment- where he isn't on guard. Where he isn't paying attention. Where he isn't thinking about the demons clouded around him. That's the best time to get a man- when he forgets there's someone out to get him."

Sammy pressed her lips together and swallowed. Then she shook her head.

"I won't," she said, turning up her eyes and meeting his.

He stared down at her a moment before a smile cracked across his face. He scratched at his stubble and pointed a thick finger towards her chest.

"James told me not to underestimate you," he said. Then he motioned for the men behind him to come forward and his smile dropped, a stark difference from a few seconds before. The men reached under the table for the bucket and pulled out a few dried up rags. Sammy frowned as they made their way towards her. Conrad stepped back a bit further, and she heard the squeaking and rush of water through a hose. Then the rag was over her face and she squirmed against it, but it was no use.

—-

Gunner was looking through his binoculars on the small fishing boat they'd managed to snag a ride on. Tool offered them a lot of money to stay within sight of the bigger ship, and nobody had really complained about it until they started getting closer to Cuba.

"There ain't any damn signal out here," Tool grunted, holding his phone up in the air to try and catch a few bars.

"So we're underground," Gunner said, pulling the binoculars down with a sigh. "I think they're going to Cuba."

Tool glanced between the phone in his hands and the ship in the distance. He rolled his eyes. "Wow, no shit, Sherlock."

Gunner shot him a lazy scowl and stepped down from the rail to join him on the main deck. His shirt was stained with sweat and threadbare. His bandana was soaked with cool water and currently tied around his neck. His hair flopped over his eyes and offered a little bit of protection from the sun, but the reflection from the waves below him bounced up and still burned his cheeks.

Tool sighed and stuffed his phone back into his pocket and leaned an elbow over the rail. He twisted the rings on his fingers and wondered what the hell Barney was up to, and if he and Trench had met up at the hacienda when everything seemed to have gone to shit.

"Alright big guy," he said, squinting up at Gunner. "We got this far. What's the plan to get on that ship and get her out? We don't even know where they're keeping her at."

Gunner shrugged and worked his jaw. He was never one to come up with the plans, he was just the muscle behind them. That being said, he was definitely too large to sneak aboard and go unnoticed.

"Maybe we pay these fellas a little extra to drop us off on the coast and then take it from there," Tool tried, scratching at his overgrown beard.

"Sure," Gunner said. "There was that time we boarded that ship that had been taken over by pirates. Had the whole team then, though."

Tool turned so he could lean forward on the railing. It was a cargo ship they were on, though it seemed half-loaded with containers. But what the hell did he know about cargo ships? Just that they were huge and carried cargo.

"Had a whole team then, though," Tool said. "Isn't that when you almost killed Yin?"

Gunner snorted and nodded, "one of them."

"We need to get closer and try and get an idea of the layout at least," Tool said, his voice dropping as he got more serious. "And we can't assume that they don't know they were followed."

They looked out at the ship as it braced the tide in the direction of Cuba, and Gunner untied the bandana from around his neck and wiped it over his face. The sky was a bit more cloudy than it had been, and he wondered if a storm would be blowing in soon. The air felt a bit more electric as the days went on, but he didn't know if maybe that was just his desire to finish the mission and get home.

—-

Bee sat with her legs folded under her and her arms crossed over her stomach. The room was barren except for the mattress in the corner and the window she was looking out of. There were bars outside of it, so nobody was worried about her breaking out and running off. She didn't turn her head as Barney came in with her lunch; a lackluster sandwich with a bottle of water and a bag of chips.

"So, Olivia," Barney said, putting the food on the table besides the empty dish from breakfast. He fiddled with his watch for a moment and tried to see what was so interesting outside the window. "Decide you want to talk yet?"

She glanced over at him and then down at the food. It didn't look appetizing, but it was all she would get, so she would take it. It wasn't like army food was much better anyway.

"You know, Sammy fought all of us to convince everyone that you were still alive," he said, looking over the smaller, younger woman in front of him. Her hair, long and blonde, hung over her shoulders. They'd offered her the shower, but she didn't seem to trust them enough to use it. "She really, really cares about you."

Bee wrinkled her nose and looked Barney up and down. She really couldn't tell what to make of him. He stood casually enough around her and talked to her like she wasn't being held hostage in some apartment in some city. Hostage felt like the wrong word, she thought, even though that was technically what she was. She felt like she could ask them for some fresh air and they'd take her for a walk. Then she thought back to the Major and everything he had told her about Sammy and the Expendables and the trio of women they ran around with. He'd said they were hitmen, cold-hearted killers that manipulated the people around them just to get their hands on some money. She was at war with what she saw and what she'd been told.

"So if you wanna talk, that'd be great," Barney said with a huff, running one hand through his greasy dark hair. "Would be a real help."

She swallowed hard and looked down at the food in front of her. At first she didn't trust anything they gave her or anything they said, but the longer she spent with them, the more she was beginning to feel like they couldn't possibly have been the people she was told so much about. It was unsettling.

Barney fiddled with his lucky ring and shrugged.

"I'll be back later," he said, motioning to the food. "Eat up. Holler if you need something."

He turned and closed the door behind him when he left. She heard a lock click into place and his footsteps retreat down the hall, and then nothing.

She dropped her feet to the ground and caught her head in her hands. Her fingers curled up in her hair and she felt tears prick at the edge of her vision. She was confused. The world felt upside-down. One second she had to fake her own death to protect everyone she loved from a gang of killers, and the next second, that gang of killers ended up seeming like the good guys. She figured that most bad guys had to seem like they were good at first, though. But it had been a week, and nothing about their behavior seemed to be changing.

She cleared her throat and reached for her plate, the sandwich sliding across it as she tugged it off the table. If the Major had lied to her about everything, then where was her family? Did they really think she was dead?

She took a bite of the sandwich and realized that food felt too heavy to keep down right then. Her mind was swirling with facts and fiction and she couldn't tell them apart. It had all seemed so believable, but in the hard light of the day, there was something just off enough that it caught her attention. She didn't doubt that Barney had blood on his hands, but they were also the hands that fed her. She didn't doubt that Sammy had done things she probably wished she didn't have to do, but that didn't make her evil. That didn't make her dangerous.

She wiped at her eyes and was grateful to at least be a little closer to home. She never wanted to head back to the rural south so badly in her life. At least things were simple there. At least there, there was more open road than there were people to decode.

—-

They pulled the soaking wet towel off her face and she gasped for air, choking and spitting up water as they leaned the chair forwards instead of backwards. She gripped the armrests to keep herself steady, but her hands were trembling and she felt like she would pass out at any second.

"Come on, Sammy, this isn't fun for anybody," Conrad said, squatting in front of her. He tried his best to look empathetic, but it came off more and calculating and crooked. "Just tell me what I need to know about Barney and you can be on your way."

For some reason she didn't believe a word he said. Maybe it was the armed guards, the small and dark cell on a giant ship, or the use of torture to get what he wanted to hear. Her nose and throat were burning from the water and her eyes were sore from squinting. She was exhausted. She met his eyes and tightened her jaw.

"No," she said.

She wasn't sure where she found the strength within herself. She had thought for so long that she was weak; drugs, work, breakdowns… She believed people when they told her these things made her small. Maybe, she thought, these experiences just taught her how strong she was capable of being.

The water dripped over her forehead and down her cheeks. She shuddered and pulled both of her lips between her teeth while she focused on Conrad's eyes.

"If this is just going to be a waste of my time and resources, I could just send you overboard," he said, tugging his sleeves down so that the tattoo was covered. She was glad it was. He didn't deserve to wear it. "The sharks will clean up the mess for me."

Sammy bit her tongue and tried not to laugh. The entire situation felt so surreal to her- how had she gone from working nightmare shifts at some diner and bar to being held prisoner by some old mercenary on a ship somewhere out at sea?

"Something funny?" He asked.

"What'd you do with Bee?" Sammy asked suddenly, her voice stronger than she was prepared for. Her throat still burned from the water she had sucked in.

"Who's that? The little blondie? James's project?" Conrad asked, confused. He raised a brow and shrugged. "I needed Barney. The best way to get to Barney is through the people he cares about, and it turns out, that was you. And the best way to get you, according to James, was her."

Sammy wrinkled her nose and bobbed her head. She knew he wouldn't tell her anything if he had any intention of keeping her alive very long. It had taken her a lifetime, but she finally found some reasons to live, and they were stabbing at her heart as she imagined herself dying at Conrad's hand. She looked down to her feet, bare and clammy.

"I really do see why he liked you," Conrad said, chewing on his thumbnail and looking her over again. "Maybe if things were different, I'd offer you a job. But things aren't different, and here we are."

She braced herself for his lackeys to push back her chair and cover her face with that soaking wet rag again. No matter how angry she had been with Barney or the guys, she knew she could never give them up. They'd saved her when she was broken and lost, and she'd be damned if she didn't do the same for them.

—-

They dumped her back in the small room with the mattress some time after that. She wobbled to the floor and tried to keep her balance, but her body was trembling hard and furiously. She coughed and wheezed hard a few times, nauseous, her throat unbearably sore. She dragged herself over to the mattress and curled up on her side so that she could see the ray of light where it hit the floor. She wished she had a blanket or a fire or something to keep her body from shaking so much.

It wasn't much longer before Dilly knocked through the door and set down the dinner tray next to the bed. She sighed and reached over to Sammy, her fingers gently and nimbly pushing some frizzing hairs out of her face.

"I'll have a word with him," she said, her voice low and sharp.

Sammy turned her eyes up, her teeth chattering as she did. "Don't," she said.

Dilly frowned and leaned back, her face tightly knitted and hair pulled into a long messy bun. She shook her head.

"I can't-" she started, but she bit back her words and turned her eyes away like she knew she couldn't say much else. She looked up to the ceiling and drew in a sudden heavy breath and held it in her chest for a long few seconds.

Sammy was about to try and speak again when Dilly rose from the ground and left, the door closed and locked tight behind her. There was a cup of water, which made her feel sick, and a tray filled with some small dinner portions. Her stomach turned. Even though she'd barely eaten anything since she'd been there, the thought of it was somehow repulsive. Her heart ached in her chest and her eyelids were so heavy that it hurt.

She figured that her dreams were the best places she'd been recently anyway, and sleep didn't seem so bad.