Lee woke up the next morning slowly, his mind blocking the events of the last twenty-four hours for a few minutes, almost as though to give himself some semblance of peace. He pulled open his eyes, looking faintly at the morning light breaking through the curtains, the bits of dust spotted floating in the air as the sunlight hit them. He was half uncovered, the blankets tugged towards Dusty's side of the bed. That's when his heavenly trance faded, and he swallowed over the dryness of his throat as he recalled Russia. Today was day one of fixing the problem, he knew, because that massacre-via-merc (female merc, nevertheless, as much as he hated to admit it), would turn some unfriendly heads the way of the Expendables. He shifted his weight and wondered if at any point throughout the night, those turning heads had called Barney, and if they did, what they might have said.

He drew in another breath, more awake, and reached over towards her as he made to sit up. All he felt was the blanket in a messed up pile beside him, the mattress empty where he had left her. His eyes darted up instinctively, but his panic settled quickly; she was sitting on the edge of the bed, her palms pressed down against her extended arms, fingers curled over the mattress. Her head sunk low between her shoulders, and her hair was a mess since she had fallen asleep on it partially wet. Her breaths just barely echoed in the rise and fall of her shoulders and upper back. Lee sensed something wrong. He was quiet suddenly, even though he hadn't said anything out loud yet. He felt like just his waking thoughts had been enough to stir whatever was going on across the bed.

Carefully he stood, his bare feet dropping against the floor with two low pats. He made his way noiselessly around the bed, swallowing his uncertainty away as he knelt down in front of her hunched over form. He didn't reach for her, or say her name, or do anything to call her back from the darkness that was encompassing her. He wasn't sure where she was, but he knew that she had gotten lost while he slept. He also knew that even if he had forced his eyes to stay open all through the night, or for the rest of his life, she was bound to get lost. She needed to get lost in the woods of her mind in order to find her way out, by herself. He saw her searching the brush in front of him, but he was helpless.

After a second of kneeling in front of her wordlessly, her eyes peaked up from the floor and she looked through her hair to find his gaze. They were red and glazed over, black and blue from crying hard, silently. He clenched his jaw and reached up a kind hand to brush some of that hair out of the way of her eyes. She trembled, her bottom lip shivering so hard that her entire frame started to quiver. After a few exhausted heaves of her chest, she lifted her hands, now shaking as well, and let her eyes drop from his and to her palms. She stared at them fruitlessly, her face twisting as though she expected to see something that wasn't there. But still, in reading her face, Lee wondered if maybe she saw something passed the clean skin that he couldn't see. Something that resided in that forest with her. He saw a tear finally drip from her cheek and land haphazardly on her thigh, but she seemed too entranced by whatever it was in her hands. The shaking grew more violent and Lee worried that maybe she was cold, because he couldn't imagine somebody trembling so much without a chill in the air. He lifted up a hand, carefully letting the tips of his fingers brush over the skin of her forearms until they locked around each of her wrists. This pulled her attention up to him, and he was taken aback by the fierce aggression and horror behind her miserable eyes.

"What did I do?" She asked, her voice just a scratch in the air around them both.

He didn't respond. He didn't know what to say, or if he should even say anything. There was this unspoken air between them both that said that this needed to happen, that in order to cope with that year she had been gone and everything since then, she had to see the imaginary blood drip from her fingertips, claiming her to the life of merc-hood. A vow sworn in blood and sweat, whispered soundlessly in the voided space that bridged humanhood and mercenaries. If this didn't happen, then maybe she would go cold. Maybe they'd lose her for good.

"Lee," she said desperately, her breaths getting away from her, "Lee, what the fuck did I do?"

He knew there was more weight behind that question, since he had been on the other end of it before. It wasn't just a matter of what she had done, because that was simple: she killed somebody, or in this case, multiple people. It was a matter of how little she felt about it, or how in some twisted way she felt nothing, or maybe even pleasure. He had gone through this in his own mind when he was bright-eyed and not yet weary, not yet stained with death. Choosing the career of a mercenary already meant that she was built out of different parts than the rest of humanity, but coming to terms with that was never, ever easy. It was like believing her entire life that a bullet was a bullet, until she shot a gun for the first time, and knew that it was, in fact, an extension of herself; that bullet would kill, but she pulled the trigger, and in turn, her soul flew along on top of it. Even with military training, that cold hard fact had haunted him until he realized that ghosts couldn't hurt him. They could scare the shit out of him, but thoughts were just thoughts, feelings usually fleeting. Those ghosts would go away for her. But before they did that, she had to understand them, and bid them their leave. Like the opposite of a vampire needing an invitation into a home, ghosts needed permission to leave, and for that, she'd have to see them first.

He tightened his grip on her wrists as her body racked with sobs. It wasn't pretty. She held herself stiff against the waves of misery, but they attacked your body with the force of a tsunami. He knew that she was floating in an open ocean, unaware of how far out the current was taking her by fighting against the tensing of her muscles as her body finally remembered what she had done, what her mind had tried to keep away from her. Her fingers were still splayed out and twisting stiff, clawing at some invisible thing between them.

"It's alright," he finally said, lowering his head so he could catch a better view of her shadowed eyes.

She let out a wail that reminded him of wives laying over a solider's casket, or of mothers witnessing their children's last breath: impossibly mournful. So deeply hurt that the pain rode the sound waves and gnawed at everyone it passed by. It made his gut lock up, clenched tight and protective. She fell forward, pulling her wrists out of his grip, her arms falling over his shoulders and slipping down his arms as he fell back off of his knees, trying to hold her steady. She sobbed into his skin, tears and spit running along his pale upper body. He didn't mind. He pressed a hand flat to her back and held onto her, trying to guide her out of the forest with his even, painless breaths. She would cry herself into exhaustion before the afternoon hit at this rate, and he wondered aimlessly how long she had been awake and sitting in that swamp without him there to hold her. He'd been in her bed, mere inches away, but she was turned from him. To her, in that state, he could be across the world and it would make no difference. He knew that. But that didn't make it feel any less helpless. That didn't make him feel any less like he should've been there with her before she ever even went on that damn mission, before she ever even said yes to it, before Barney even suggested it, before it was even brought up to Barney. He wanted to hit himself for pushing off his feelings for so long.

Not like him being near her would have spared her any pain. If it was bound to happen, then it would have happened. Maybe it was a romantic way to view things, but it was the easiest way he could cope with life. He remembered her going off on him about his ego, and he decided that no matter how much he thought he could save her from his, he couldn't. He'd have to just be there until she came back to the physical world. He would just have to bear the understanding that nothing he could've done would make any difference whatsoever, because nobody could change the past. There was only the here and now, and after that, there was only what was to come; what had been always would be, and that was the cruelest joke on the planet.

His phone went off with a loud ring and it made her jump, and she squeezed his skin in her fingers and weeped harder. He pressed both hands to her back now, rubbing them up and down as if to lull her back to the floor of her bedroom. He lifted her easily and reached for his phone. Barney.

"Yeah?" Lee said, rocking her slightly, her hiccuping sobs wavering as she heard him speak.

"I take it you're still there," Barney said, his words hinting at more that he didn't want to say in case Amelia could hear. Barney and Lee didn't need so many words, though. They meshed well together and had worked side by side for too long for those pleasantries. A breath would be enough.

"Yup," Lee said, still stroking her. "Need something?"

"No, no," Barney said. "Just checking in. How's it going?"

Lee felt her tense up at the question just slightly and she buried her head further into his chest.

"Swell," he said, holding her against him as he rested himself back on the ground. "Slept pretty good."

There was bit of silence, and Lee could tell Barney was debating something. Her cries quieted, and he wondered if she had fallen asleep.

"Well, listen," Barney finally said, exhaling hard into the phone, "I was thinking about stopping by to see the kid today."

"Alright," Lee said a little hesitantly, though not unkindly.

"Anything you need?" He asked.

"Mm," Lee went over some things in his head, wondering if her first aid kid was restocked after his last couple of visits. "I don't think so, but maybe some ice packs. Some gauze maybe wouldn't hurt either."

"I'll bring a kit," he said simply.

They sat on the phone in quiet. Lee knew Barney was worried, and he knew Barney felt his own unique way about Dusty. Nobody ever really pushed her for answers regarding her family, and maybe that was because Barney seemed to be all the father she ever needed. That elusive talk of where she had come from meant nothing when Barney barked orders about her, or defended her against the guys.

"I'll see you," Barney said.

"And you."

Lee let the phone fall to the floor next to himself and put both of his hands on her back, her body firmly placed on top of his and much more calm.

"Hey," he said, voice low. She hummed absently, the sobs seeming to have been vanquished by her fear of Barney hearing them. "It's alright," Lee continued, rubbing his hands up and down her back.

She shook her head and melted into his arms regardless, sighing as he stroked her. He felt good doing that for her, that small, simple thing.

"You didn't tell me what happened last night," she said, taking him a bit off guard. The statement, which she had meant as more of a question, also took her by surprise. She hadn't expected to say it out loud.

"You needed to rest," he said, looking up to the ceiling. "If your brain is keeping something from you, it's usually for a good reason."

She sighed into him, somehow too tired to sleep. He figured this was the problem and just stayed there on the hard floor, fingers mindlessly roaming between her shoulder blades. He couldn't do anything about the past. He simply couldn't. Still, that didn't mean that the past didn't have a funny way of messing with his head.

—-

"Whatcha want, Barn?" Lee growled, plopping his helmet down and stalking into Tool's shop, looking over the stupid tattoo designs lining the walls. Tool kept saying he wanted to give him more ink. Lee didn't think any of his ideas would suit him, or anybody for that matter. To each their own, he figured, and he left it at that.

"Need to mull something over," Barney said, sitting with his feet up on the coffee table, resting on an old rickety chair, beer in hand. "Something to vote on."

Lee shrugged himself onto Tool's dusty old couch, cringing at the thought of what he might have been sitting on.

"A job?" He asked, catching the beer Tool tossed over to him and turning the cap, downing a long swig.

"A person," Barney said, and this caught Lee by surprise. Sometimes people would come and go from the team, most of them not cut out for the lifestyle, the hours, the requirements- but there was rarely anything serious enough to vote on. Usually the guys knew everybody that walked through that door, even if just by name, and Barney would take them on without consulting anybody, knowing that an extra hand was good to have around. All that being said, Barney's two words set Lee on edge. He already didn't like it.

"A person," Lee repeated, tossing the words around in his mouth, tasting them, running his accent along them to see how it felt. He licked his teeth.

"Somebody I know, an old friend, uh..." Barney started, taking his feet off the table and leaning in towards Lee, trying to work out the best way of explaining it all out loud. "His kid needs a job. Well, wants one, I think."

"A kid?" Lee said, raising his eyebrow. This was how it began- the kid thing. This conversation happened just before Lacy bumped and grinded her way into his life, and he was feeling a bit lonely and bitter. The last thing he wanted was to play babysitter.

"Give or take," Barney grumbled, ringing his hands and shaking his head. "Been trained all her life, a born-and-bred-merc, through and through-"

"Her?" Lee repeated, tasting this word in his mouth too. He didn't think of himself as sexist, but he knew Barney could be. This made it all the more suspicious. That, and he didn't think having a young woman on the team with the guys would allow for the most productive time spent, especially with Gunner, ever the flirt, and Yin on the prowl for that "family" he was always on about that didn't exist-

"I thought the same thing, at first," Barney said, holding his hands up in surrender, interrupting Lee's train of thought. "But, look at it as a favor, I guess. We take her on, see what kinda guts she's got, and if and when she sucks, we ship her back off to daddy and tell him it's either that or a body bag."

"Your gambling with our lives here, Barney," Lee said, thoroughly unimpressed. "When is she coming around?"

"Not for a while," Barney sat back again. "Gotta put it to a vote, anyway."

"So did you call me here to get me to vote 'yea' so daddy doesn't get pissed off?"

Barney tried to suppress a grimace but failed. Lee chuckled.

"I called you here because I wanted to let you in on it before everyone else," Barney said, feeling a tad sentimental. "And daddy ain't shit."

"So why do it in the first place?" Lee asked.

Barney tossed his head from side to side contemplatively.

"It might be fun," he said.

"You going soft on me, mate?" Lee asked.

"Don't get your knickers in a bunch," Barney teased, placing his empty beer bottle on the floor next to the chair, crossing his arms. "Think about it. Pretty thing to come home to."

"That is wrong," Lee said, baffled. "You are one nasty son of a bitch."

"Not me," Barney groaned, rubbing his hands over his face. "You, you grumpy- what's that word- uh-"

"Wanker," Tool said from behind the counter, nursing his pipe and sketching up some new tattoo designs.

"Ah, there it is. You grumpy wanker."

Lee shook his head with a hearty laugh.

"I got plenty of things to keep my company," Lee said.

"Oh, you use your left hand now, too?" Barney said.

Lee pressed his lips together and flicked his beer cap at Barney, who blocked it with his open palm and laughed.

"You get a young lady running around here, you won't be able to talk like that," Lee crooned.

"We don't know the first thing about this chick," Tool said from the counter, words garbled by the pipe.

"She's young, just your type," Lee said. Tool rolled his eyes and Barney chuckled.

"Naw, what I'm saying here, boys, is that we don't know if she's a lady or a chick. You picking up what I'm putting down?"

Lee scratched his stubble. "You getting poetic on us again, Mr. Tool?"

"He's got a point," Barney said, sinking into his chair again. "She wants a go at the life. She's young enough to be in the business a long time, keep it running. We should start looking for younger guys, anyway."

"You calling me old, fatty?" Lee said, insulted.

"Nah, you're young and prim," Barney said, unamused. "I'm saying we gotta be prepared. You know, incase Caesar throws a hip out or something."

"Right," Lee said. "But it sounds to me like she's young enough to get herself killed, too. Field experience?"

"I don't know yet," Barney said, placing a cigar between his lips and lighting it, looking down, a bit crosseyed as a puff of smoke erupted in front of his face. "Haven't gotten the resume, yet."

"I thought service was required, bare minimum," Tool chimed in, his mind elsewhere. Lee raised his eyebrows at Barney.

"I told you what I told you. A favor-"

"-for an old friend," Lee finished, watching the smoke billow up in the air. He never really liked the cigars. "You must respect this guy at least a little to even consider this."

"Respect his skills," Barney said, looking out the open garage door and into the night, "to know that if he says he trained her, he trained her good. No if's, and's, or but's about it."

Lee weighed this in his mind along with everything else. That sounded more like Barney and less like an optimistic grandpa.

"Anyway," Barney said, "there's nothing else to do. Works been dried up lately, might as well have some fun."

Lee sighed into another shrug and finished off his beer, letting the bottle clink against the floor. Tool glanced up but paid him no mind, focusing instead on his design.

"I hope she's half decent," Lee said after a comfortable silence.

"Maybe she will be, lover boy," Tool said mindlessly.

"Hm," Barney thought, a bit of hope playing in his mind. "I think it'd do us some good. Training some newbies."

"Start a school for gifted young mercenaries?" Lee pondered, breathing in the smell of cigar smoke. "Like a fucked up X-Men type deal?"

"With that accent, it'll be more like Hogwarts," Barney chided.

Lee grinned.

"Fantasize about the life all you boys want," Tool said, putting down his pencil and pulling the pipe from his lips. "We all know you're only feeling so good because it'll be nice to look at a pretty woman in the jungle instead of each others balls."

Lee cringed, shaking the image from his mind. Barney shrugged.

"Whatever happens," Lee said, sitting up and reaching into his pocket for one of his throwing knives, stabbing it into the coffee table and eyeing Barney. "It just better not get in our way."

—-

She was sitting on the counter, Lee still in his underwear as he fished around her kitchen looking for something to put together for breakfast. She watched him, half zoned out, feet mindlessly dangling a foot off the ground.

"Cereal, but... not much left," Lee said, giving the box he found a shake. "And- no milk. Right."

She wasn't paying any attention, and he knew it wouldn't matter what he fed her so long as she ate. A hot meal wouldn't make much of a difference in how the next fews would play out, especially if she'd block them from her mind eventually in order to move on. He wondered faintly if he had ever blocked anything out just to survive. He probably had, and he didn't fancy probing too far into the thought.

He poured the last of the cereal into a bowl and let the box rest on its side on the counter. He held it out for her, patient while she took a moment to notice and lift her hands up to hold it. Even once she had done that, the bowl sunk to her lap. It was fine, Lee knew, because he had patience. He crossed his arms and feet, leaning back on the island across from her.

"You know, there was this one time-"

There was a knock at the door and she jumped, a few bits of cereal slipping over the edge of the bowl. She eyed them sadly as they bounced on the floor. Lee wondered how long she would think about that and how much it would bother her.

He lifted himself up and scratched his head, trudging over to the door and stretching out his neck. It cracked and popped a few times, loudly, and he sat back in his hips, satisfied.

"Barney, you're earlier than-"

He pulled the door open and Barney was standing shoulder to shoulder next to one Trench Mauser, who towered over the both of them and had a big, rectangular head to match his big, rectangular frame. Lee raised an eyebrow at him and glanced at Barney, who looked Lee up and down and made a face.

Right, Lee thought. I'm pretty much naked.

Lee was going to open his mouth to say something about it not being the best time, but he was distracted by the sound of the bowl bouncing off the kitchen floor and the cereal spilling everywhere. He turned to look at Dusty, one of his hands still on the door, and Barney and Trench took a step in.

She hopped off the counter and eyed the man in front of her. Lee found that he could not read the expression on her face no matter how hard he tried, or how well he thought he knew her. This must've been something new, but he couldn't imagine what.

She parted her lips, her brows twitching down over her eyes, which were still bloodshot and swollen. Then she took a step, wincing against the pain in her abdomen, and hesitated.

Lee looked between her and Barney, picking up on the fact that he was not in on the joke. He shifted, very aware of his pale, bare thighs suddenly. And that's when she said it.

"Dad?"