Everybody had two faces; the one they wore on the outside, and the one that stayed hidden beneath that one. Peel away the skin on someones face and there would be their skull. In all her experience, the skin was what was ugly about people; bloody, wrinkled, visceral and raw. It could be twisted into lies or half-truths or manipulations. It could change. The skull, she'd learned, could never lie. It was solid and stable and structural. When somebody bared their skull for the world to see, that was when they would truly be known. She thought about this while counting down the minutes on her watch, waiting patiently to be able to deliver Sammy's next meal. Maybe it was because she saw pieces of herself within Sammy, or maybe it was because Sammy wasn't good at deceiving people with the face she wore for the world. Maybe it was instinct. She wasn't sure, and she didn't want to think about it much more than she already had.

Her watch hit 6:00 pm and she stood with the tray in her hand and headed for the hallway. Everything was narrow and grimy on the ship, only alight from the hanging fluorescents on the ceiling. There were some windows, though not necessarily in every room or space. Sammy's little cell was one of the only places Dilly went within that part of the ship that had any natural light at all.

Her boots clicked against the metal floor and she smiled politely at the few stragglers that passed her. There wasn't an overwhelming number of staff on the ship, even with its size. Conrad, as it turned out, had a lot of trust issues. Money could buy staff, but it couldn't buy loyalty. She chewed on her lip and kept going down the hall towards the small room. It was an old storage room, just dead space that hadn't been used near the engines. She didn't like the idea of having someone locked up and tortured, but then again, she didn't like most of the things Conrad decided to do. He was different than he had been when they met so long ago. Time had made him paranoid and dark and greedy. The only thing he could trust, apparently, was money and the fact that it brought power.

She pressed her hand against the door and sighed. She knew that Sammy would never get out alive, even if she gave Conrad exactly what he wanted. From her memory of Barney, she also knew that he wouldn't give up on getting her back.

"Dinner," she said as she pushed open the door. Sammy was sitting up against the wall and looking down at the bright light where it hit the floor from the window. It was golden as the day began to die, and inside of the beam there were flecks of dust flying around. Sammy didn't look up as she made her way in. She reached down to the floor to pick up the tray from breakfast and replace it with the dinner.

"You were with him," Sammy said suddenly, her voice cracking from her dry throat. Dilly put a knee on the floor to keep her balance and nodded.

"With Conrad?" She asked. "Yes. I've been with him for a long time."

Sammy turned her head towards Dilly then, her eyes sunken in and tired. She studied her for a moment, squinting to try and see through whatever facade she might have been sporting.

"You don't seem like him," she said. "You're different."

Dilly sighed and tried to keep her eyes up, but she faltered. "I guess so," she said. "He's… a busy man."

"Busy," Sammy echoed with a laugh. "That's one way to put it."

Dilly waited a few more seconds before deciding to stand and go. She knew she couldn't help Sammy, so what was the point in making herself miserable over it? Getting to know her? Feeling for her?

"Why are you with him?" Sammy asked, her eyes following her as she made for the door. Dilly drew in a breath and stopped.

"It's complicated," she said without turning back. She looked down at the tray of food in her hands.

"Do you love him?" Sammy asked.

Dilly bit her cheek and turned back to Sammy. Her mind was urging her to walk away, but her body had another idea.

"I did," she said. "For a really, really long time."

"Why don't you go then?" Sammy asked. "I can help you. We can help each other."

"It's complicated," Dilly said again. "I can't leave. I can't."

Sammy frowned. "Are you afraid?"

"Of Conrad?" Dilly asked with a chuckle. "No, he wouldn't hurt me." There was just an ounce of doubt in her voice.

"You just seem different from him," Sammy said, turning her head back so she could stare forward. "You bring me food. He brings me pain. Unless this is some kind of long-term good-cop-bad-cop routine you've got going on, I'd say you both don't have much in common."

Dilly held her breath for a moment and thought about it. Sure, she wasn't a fan of the meaningless violence. She didn't like his methods of getting things done. He was different than he was when they met all those years ago. She could remember loving him and promising to follow him to the end of the earth if she needed to. He had been worth that, once upon a time. They had their love and loyalty and past in common. They had shared trauma. It seemed, though, that he was stuck in that jungle amidst the gunfire and bombs and death and destruction. Dilly had left that as far back as she could manage to bury it. She knew that it was a useless game to try and pull him towards her and away from the pain. The jungle seemed to be a bloodletting for him; he was convinced it was the cure and not the problem- that getting revenge on Barney would bring him peace and not cause him more trouble.

"I can't help you, Sammy," she said after a moment. "Tell him what he wants to know. It's just easier that way."

"If I tell him, he'll probably kill them," Sammy said dryly. She shook her head against the wall slowly. "Maybe he'll try eventually anyway, but at least it won't be because of me."

Dilly furrowed her brows. She knew Conrad harbored a lot of anger towards Barney. They wore the same words on their skin and shared a lot of the same memories, but they were both broken. Barney shot Conrad in the chest, and maybe that bullet broke his heart. Whatever it was, he couldn't find room for forgiveness. All he wanted was power and control. He'd felt pieces of that power as a soldier. Dilly did, too. Saving lives, or in his case taking them, had given both of them a sense of importance. Conrad thought he was some sort of god amongst men and Barney had tried to squash him when he'd grown too strong. She knew it wasn't right, but like she said: she had loved him. Love could make people ignore some of the worst things.

"It's deeper than you," Dilly said finally. "It goes back a long time."

Sammy didn't react. She looked forward and tried to focus on her own breathing. Dilly felt like her best chance of getting out, but she knew she had to play her cards right. She had to get under her skin in just the right way.

"How many people have to die for one mans grudge?" She asked, sniffing and feeling the burn at the back of her throat. Her chest had been hurting too. She was vaguely aware of how tired and unwell her body was and felt. It was just a numb din in the background of her thoughts.

"As many as it takes," Dilly said, but even she wasn't convinced by her own tone. The words weren't even her own- they were Conrad's. She'd asked him countless times to leave the past behind him and move on with her. Be with her. Love her and the present and the gift they were lucky enough to have- life, each other- because they'd seen how quickly somebody could lose it all firsthand. She remembered Barney holding onto Lucie's bloodied frame in the jungle the day that everything changed. She hadn't even tried to go home and face where she came from after that, so she ran away. She ran towards the chaos she thought she could control.

"Right," Sammy said. "Because he's right, no matter the cost?"

Dilly felt herself getting irritated and pressed her lips together. She knew she could walk out, lock the door, and be done with the conversation, but something inside of her needed to hear what Sammy had to say. Maybe she needed the convincing. Maybe she already knew Sammy was right but was just too afraid to say it out loud. Even giving it anything more than fractals of a thought felt like a betrayal to Conrad.

"Right or wrong doesn't matter. There's no such thing," she said eventually.

"In this world, sure," Sammy said. "But I don't think in your world you really believe that."

They locked eyes with each other and searched each others faces for a fault or a weak point to drive into. Dilly felt her age as she looked over Sammy. She'd been younger than her when she decided to run away with Conrad. They were the same in that moment and in every other. Dilly couldn't help but think that letting Conrad kill Sammy would be like finally letting herself die. She tried to clear the thought from her mind, but it was too late: it had already been planted. A part of her wanted to get Sammy out and follow her so that she could live her own life for once, but she couldn't. She couldn't risk it. There was too much at stake.

"I can't help you," She said.

"Then why bring me food and water?" Sammy asked. "Why try to talk to me?"

"It's all I can do," Dilly said. "Drag you towards the finish line. Kicking and screaming, if I have to."

"There's no finish line, just another grave to fall into. When he's done with me, he'll move on, and it'll never be enough and it'll never be over."

Dilly frowned.

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

"Because people say they've changed, but they never really do," Sammy said. She thought back to the pain she felt when the Expendables had all said no to helping her look for Bee. "And anyone who enjoys hurting people as much as he does will never want to stop. There will always be a reason."

Dilly looked down and turned away with a huff. She reached a hand up to her chest and fingered the necklace beneath her shirt- an old locket she'd been wearing for nearly a decade. He'd given it to her. He said that once he had Barney, it would be over, and they would be together. She moved towards the door and knocked it open before she shut it closed tight behind her. She felt her eyes beginning to sting and closed them as she leaned back. She wished Sammy would just talk or Conrad would get tired of her already. She wished a lot of things, but she knew none of them would happen. Wishing was a waste of energy in this world, but she couldn't help it. She was full of wishes and want. It was all she really had.

—-

Sammy watched the door for a long time after Dilly left. She could sense the subtle animosity Dilly harbored towards Conrad, and she knew she just needed to poke it enough to irritate it, to lure it out of hiding. She was exhausted from the hours of torture and questioning she was enduring, but she knew that if she wanted to get out of the mess she was in, she couldn't rely on anyone but herself. She was used to running away from her problems, to curling up and letting tragedy sweep over her like an animal preparing to die. She was tired of it. She was tired of the fear everyone looked at her with; the unknowing and the distrust. If she was going to die, she would at least be a different person than she had been her entire life. She would be someone she could be proud of. She'd be a fighter, not a coward or a runner.

She reached down to the tray in front of her and grabbed the plastic spoon that was always there for her to eat with. She examined it for a moment, eyes wide and red from lack of sleep, and then she pulled herself up so she was standing on the mattress and stretching towards the window. The edge of the wall was dull, but it was warmed from the direct sunlight of the afternoon and squared enough to work. She grabbed the spoon so that the handle was against the joint of the wall and the window and started grinding it against it, working it carefully so that it would begin to shape into a point. Her knuckles were dirty and her muscles ached from the movement, but she kept going, glancing back over her shoulder every once in a while to make sure nobody was coming to the door.

—-

Gunner was sitting in a shadow on the docks, his eyes trained out on the ship like they had been for the last long day. He flipped a loose bullet between his fingers, anxious to head out and find Sammy. His hair hung in his face and his long back was hunched over his knees, each one turned out over his feet. He hadn't known Sammy long, but he swore she was one of the best things to ever happen to him. Something about her woke him up. Maybe she was just holding up a mirror to him, or maybe it was something more, he couldn't be sure. All he knew was that the thought of living without her made his chest feel tight and heavy. It made his thoughts freeze up. It made his hands unsteady. It wasn't the first time he felt angry at Lee for taking her for granted, and like every other time, he swore it would be the last he ever thought about it.

"Gunner, you good?" Tool asked, stepping around the corner as he wiped a rag down the blade of his bowie knife. It was bright enough that Gunner could see himself reflected in it from where he sat.

"Yeah," Gunner grunted.

"If you've got something on your mind, you might wanna spill it before we run in there guns blazing," Tool said, leaning his shoulder against the wall. "If you wanna," he added.

Gunner looked down at the bullet in his fingers and all he could picture was it tearing through her flesh and bone and him holding her in his arms like he had that day in the shower when she overdosed. He didn't want to think about her that way. He didn't want to feel anything for anybody, because feelings were complicated and messy and they hurt- they always hurt. Then again, he didn't really know what he was feeling, he just knew that he didn't like it.

"You know, I always thought that Sammy and you had a lot in common," Tool said with a sigh, pointing his blade out towards the ship on the water. "She did a lot of good in all of our lives when she walked into the shop, but I think she might have done the most good for you."

Gunner kept his eyes trained down on the bullet as he rolled it in his fingers. He knew he was just a big bumbling guy that liked giant knives and was a decent shot on a sniper rifle. He didn't really have anything good to say about himself- he was military until he wasn't, smart until he wasn't, and an Expendable until he almost wasn't. He was an addict until he wasn't and then was again. The only reliable thing about him was that he was unreliable.

"You cleaned up," Tool went on, looking up to the sky as the sun began to set. He breathed in the colors with a hum. "I can't help but wonder what the thought process behind those big decisions were."

Gunner turned his glossy glare up at Tool and tightened his jaw. He didn't have much to say to that. He didn't really have any answers. If he understood his own mind, maybe all of this would've been easy from the start. Maybe he wouldn't have ever dropped out of school. Maybe he never would've tried drugs.

"Any reason to heal is a good reason," Tool said seriously, meeting Gunner's eyes without any hesitation or fear. "You deserve a reason, no matter what it is. Hell, we all do."

Gunner swallowed and just nodded. Tool was good at reading people, so it didn't surprise him that he could tell what he was thinking about. He still didn't like it, though.

"Let's get our girl back," Tool said, stepping forward and tapping Gunner where he knew Sammy had tattooed him. He remembered that day clearly since it was when she'd told him she was going away for basic.

Gunner closed his fist around the bullet for a moment before he stood and looked out at the water. Then, after taking a breath and closing his eyes, he flung it as hard as he could towards the ship and let out a heavy sigh. He braced himself against the unstable rail and watched the water ripple in and out between land and sea. The sunset colors reflected against his pale skin, pink and orange on his cheeks and in his hair. It made him look softer, kinder.

He wondered if Sammy always saw people in sunset colors. Maybe that was why she was so good to them all.

—-

Barney angled the plane down to land and glanced towards Lee in the copilots seat. He had that no-bullshit look in his eyes and kept his face forward. They'd left Angel and Yang back to keep an eye on Bee and packed everyone else up for the job. Tool had called and told them he changed his mind; if they were going to take the chance against Stonebanks before they lost him for good, they might as well do it all together, guns blazing. He looked down at the stretch of farmland around them and fingered his lucky ring. He knew he was really going to need it this time. Just because he already killed Conrad once didn't mean he was excited to do it again. It was one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do.

In the back of the plane, Caesar was looking down at his wallet with his lips pressed tight into a line. His nostrils flared as he breathed and rubbed at his temples. He'd been staring down at it for a while, and Cap was watching him from where she was sitting back against the wall. She leaned forward from her spot beside him and glanced at his hands. He was holding a faded photograph of himself, a woman, and two young children. The centerfold was worn and white from the wear and tear. Cap furrowed her brows and glanced up at the big man next to her.

"Is that-"

He jumped slightly and his eyes darted over to her. He folded the photo up and stuffed it back into his wallet and cleared his throat. Nobody else paid them any attention; the mood on the plane was too dark and uncertain. Everyone was lost within their own thoughts. There was too much at stake to joke around.

"Sorry, I didn't mean…" Cap started, but she closed her lips and shook her head. "It's not my business."

Caesar shrugged and tucked his wallet into his bag under the seat. He scanned the plane once more before he leaned forward and spoke.

"I don't like to talk about it," he said, clapping his hands together, elbows propped on his knees.

"I get it," she said, looking down to the floor.

Caesar didn't say anything else and neither did Cap. She chewed on the inside of her cheek and shook some loose curls out of her face as she started to feel the descent. Her heart lifted in her chest as the rest of her body followed the plane down towards the island.

"We gotta keep our family safe in any way we can," she said as the wheels bounced on the ground outside. "We all find different ways."

Caesar swallowed and nodded. He could imagine the picture in his head crystal clear; he had mastered the art of that a long time ago since his job kept him off the radar most of the time.

Cap stood and reached up to steady herself with a strap that was hanging from the ceiling and glanced over at Bones sitting in the opposite corner, her eyes closed and head tilted towards the ceiling. Cap knew Bones didn't want to leave Angel alone, even though she had one of the Expendables with her. But like a good soldier, she never fought her orders. Cap was relieved that the Major was dead and gone. Since the day she'd met the man, courtesy of Bonaparte, she felt like she was just jumping from one tragedy to the next. She never knew if she'd make it through the day- and worse than that, she never knew if her family would make it through the day. Sammy was apart of that family now, and she needed them, and they were on their way. She hoped they weren't too late and that she wasn't hurting. She knew though, probably better than anyone else on the plane, that Sammy could take of herself. She wasn't just Sammy in the field, she was Gogh.

The plane rolled to a stop and everyone else stood to start putting their supplies together. They needed to catch a ride to Havana, but they weren't terribly far. Nobody said anything while they packed extra bullets and knives.

Barney rolled a cigar between his fingers and sat back in the pilots seat as the plane whirred down after their short flight. Lee stood from his spot at Barneys right hand but didn't acknowledge him. Barney sighed.

"Don't walk out on us yet, Christmas," Barney said over his shoulder. "We don't know anything for sure."

Lee didn't respond. He moved through the back of the plane to put the rest of his stuff together and ignored the glances he could feel prickle the skin on the back of his neck.

—-

Sammy ran her finger over the short pointed plastic edge she had managed to make. It was crude, but she didn't need it to be perfect. She just needed to get her timing right. She didn't know where she would go once she got out, if she even made it that far, but she thought about going underground. She thought about catching the first flight out no matter where it went and heading towards the horizon until she couldn't hold herself up anymore. Stonebanks would be after her, and if she went back to the Expendables, she would lead him right to Barney and the guys and she couldn't bear the weight of that responsibility. She flicked her thumb over the sharp end of the shiv and bit down hard on her lower lip.

She wouldn't run away again. She wouldn't put another thing in her past. Her life in New York, her family, her life before basic, the Expendables- she'd spent her entire life running so fast towards the finish line that she forgot where she even was or what she was running for. She didn't even need to run. There was no race, no competition.

The sun was lowering still over the horizon, casting that pink and orange glow into the room. She swallowed and sat back down on the mattress in front of her untouched tray of food. When Dilly came back, she would get her to take her to the top deck. She'd get away somehow.

Sammy had a feeling that Dilly was hiding something. She didn't understand why she would want to stay. There had to be something more than loyalty to Stonebanks, no matter what the history was there. If there was any doubt in Dilly's mind, Sammy hoped she had planted enough of a spark to get her to go along with her plan easily enough. If she hadn't, then she just hoped Dilly felt bad enough for her that she would go along with it. She didn't have much else to go on, really. She didn't know exactly how long she had been on the ship after Mexico, but she did know that nobody had run to save her yet. Maybe they didn't even know where she was or that she was alive.

It didn't matter. She didn't need to rely on them to keep her alive.

She could finally do it herself.