Legal Disclaimer: I do not own Red vs. Blue or any of the show's characters. They are the rightful properties of Rooster Teeth.

Chapter Twelve: Thawing Out

The frantic, loud, and incessant pounding on what sounded like his neighbor's door caused Richard "Dick" Simmons to awaken only scant seconds after it had started, and he couldn't help but curse the ridiculously thin walls as well as his own heightened senses.

But the redhead's annoyance was quickly overshadowed by a surge of sudden fear. Could the people he had escaped from have tracked him down to this shitty apartment building? He felt warmth flooding to his artificial hand as a precautionary instinct.

He doubted they would be so thorough as to get the door wrong, since the mysterious group always struck him as being scarily efficient. Waking up all the neighbors wouldn't be something they'd want to do either. They were silent and quick. Like ninjas. Scary ass ninjas.

So the knocking was more-than-likely just some inconsiderate jackass' doing.

The light building up in and around his arm dissipated as he embraced that scenario as the most likely one. Simmons tried to calm down his jumbled nerves and overworked circuitry by rolling over and wrapping his thin blanket around himself in a vain attempt to fall back asleep as the knocking continued.

…Until an all-too familiar voice in a rather bored-sounding tone suddenly spoke up over the noise and filtered in to his apartment from the hallway: "Not that I don't doubt your sense of direction, but are you sure this is the right place?"

Simmons' eyes opened wide again at Dexter Grif's words. Heard here. In this apartment building. His sanctuary away from all of the Reds and Blues.

"I—I know my own apartment number, sir!" The stuttering, nervous voice that responded back to Grif belonged to the cyborg's teenaged neighbor Matthews, "I'm…I'm sure my parents will be along a—any minute!"

Given that Simmons was sympathetic to Matthews due to rather similar familial situations, he wondered if what the auburn-haired teen said would indeed be the case. None of it explained what the young man was doing pounding so urgently on his own door in the early hours of the morning though, alone in the hallway with one Dexter Grif.

Simmons got up and pulled open his own door not a second later, a "What the fuck are you doing here?" directed at Grif just as a door a few doors down opened and Antoine Bitters glared sleepily at Matthews, "You forgot your key again, didn't you?" shot in his direction.

There was an awkward pause following the questions, especially when Bitters and Simmons both got a fairly good look at how disheveled the two standing in the hallway looked. Anxiety curled around Simmons' core at the realization that there were what appeared to be fucking cuffs still on the auburn-haired youth's wrists.

"What the fuck happened?!" Both he and Bitters urgently demanded at the same time, quickly emerging into the hallway from their respective apartments.

While a sheepish Matthews quailed under their intense regard, Grif simply let out a long-suffering sigh and rubbed the back of his head, "I should have figured this would happen the second I try to do something halfway decent." He muttered to no one in particular.

The datapad beeped once more, indicating that his message was taking its time getting through all of the encrypted back-channels that they insisted David Washington use on the rare occasions when he decided to contact them. Washington tried stamping down his growing annoyance at having to wait, his foot pounding on his apartment floor's hard wooden surface.

"Agent Washington." Malcolm Hargrove's greeting was as icy and sarcastic as ever when he finally got through, "So good to hear from you again after so long."

…Like the older man really cared if one of his double agent lackeys contacted him anymore than what the terms of their agreement dictated. Washington rolled his gray eyes, glad that they never used a video feed option for these chats.

"I don't have to report in at all, you know." Washington muttered testily in response.

"That would be a rather large shame, don't you think?" Hargrove's tone took on that fake conversational one he always used while playing at being a humanitarian to the general public, "Especially since we both want the same thing."

Namely the exact whereabouts of the Meta. It was the only reason that Washington had been willing to put up with this farce of an alliance. That particular remnant of Project Freelancer was far too dangerous to let roam free, and he at least owed it to the memory of his buddy Maine to try and keep his overpowered, mindless body from continuing its relentless killing spree.

Washington scoffed, "We're not the only ones."

"Might you be referring to Agent Carolina?" Hargrove questioned, not really giving the blond-haired man time to answer before going on to his next question, "Does her presence also concern you?"

Concern. Yes, it concerned him just like how the involvement of the Reds and Blues did. Concern was one of the reasons he decided to tag along with them so much. In response to Hargrove's query, he shrugged, "Not really. She is more than capable of taking care of herself," Washington's eyes narrowed in thought, "And it's not like she'll get very far on her own."

Yes, Carolina was far too stubborn to ask for help or assistance from others, and past experiences would have her keeping Church and his friends at arm's length for anything as dangerous as the Meta situation was. He could actually understand her reasoning far too well.

"Do you feel that the team the younger Church has assembled will be a problem?" Hargrove asked, "You have been associating with them a bit more than necessary."

Ah, leave it to Hargrove to keep tabs on him too, just to ensure that he kept to their bargain. Still, the older man didn't sound annoyed or frustrated. Hargrove had come across as more infuriatingly bemused, really. Which kind of pissed Washington off more, but he stamped down on that irritation too.

"You don't seem too shocked," Washington observed instead, "I'm surprised you don't disapprove."

"That is because currently I do not care." The former Freelancer could almost picture the thin smile that never quite met the old man's eyes as Hargrove patronizingly added, "Don't worry, we are currently monitoring the situation and will only ever ask you to step in should it prove absolutely necessary."

Washington hated how much relief he felt at that statement.

"Currently, I'm more focused on other tasks that still need to be completed." Hargrove noted rather distantly, "Such as reclaiming information on Specials that were compiled by Freelancer and given to less deserving sources."

Washington raised an eyebrow inquisitively, wondering how someone could consider a facility such as a hospital "less deserving" of medical information.

"Isn't that what you have the Triplets doing?" Washington asked before bitterly adding, "You never informed me that they were working for you too."

Of course he wasn't stupid or naïve enough to believe that Hargrove wasn't keeping him in the dark. But considering that the Triplets were his friends and no one from Freelancer had ever bothered telling him what had happened to them…! Well, he was pissed.

"The…Triplets, is it?" Hargrove seemed amused by the name, "They are collecting simpler and easier to obtain pieces of intel than what you will be going after." Washington could picture the older man raising an eyebrow too as he continued, "Is this really an issue considering that you aren't even teammates anymore?"

"Not really," Washington tried convincing himself that wasn't a lie and failed miserably at it, "But I'd still prefer them not to be involved in anything too risky." The blond let out a tired sigh, "Likewise, I would like some assurance that whatever plans you might have for Specials in the area, it won't be anything too dangerous."

"There is no progress without risk, Agent Washington," Hargrove's voice lacked any of the amusement that had laced it before, "And I feel you have been making more than enough demands on us as it is."

"I know that, but…!"

"Simply focus on your retrieval assignments." Hargrove cut Washington off rather curtly, "Our other agents will handle the rest."

The line went completely dead, signaling the end of the conversation. Washington sighed, wondering yet again what exactly he had gotten himself into and if it was truly worth it.

He was quickly distracted from his troubled musings by a loud knock on his door, and was further surprised to find Junior and Tucker in the doorway. He supposed it being a weekend was one of the main reasons the boy was still up, even picturing Junior making Tucker promise he would wake him the second he came back from his mission. The boy seemed happy and excited to just be reunited with his father after their day of separation earlier.

"Hey, man, are you hungry?" Tucker asked Washington without any preamble, "Because I make a killer Mac and Cheese and we always have a shit-ton of extras."

Washington blinked, trying to process what was happening and failing miserably, "It's early morning." He finally stated lamely.

"Like there's ever a wrong time for Mac and Cheese." Tucker scoffed at the notion before grinning down conspiratorially at his son, "Am I right, little dude, or what?"

Washington wanted to argue that it was simply far too early for them to even be up, but Junior happily nodding his head in response to his father's question and then turning his large, pleading brown eyes onto Washington gave him pause.

…Especially when he saw the same look reflected on his dad's face a moment later.

Despite the tiredness that always struck him after his dealings with Hargrove, Washington smiled, "You know what? That actually sounds like a good breakfast." He said, schedule concerns forgotten.

The blond stepped into the hallway along with father and son, though Tucker seemed to notice his shoulders slumping as Washington closed and locked his door because he was regarding the older man in mild concern, "Are you all right?" he asked the former Freelancer, genuinely curious.

Washington nodded, "I just have a lot on my plate right now."

"I can relate." Tucker patted Washington's shoulder sympathetically and the blond flinched because he didn't deserve it before turning to reassure the small boy next to him, "But I'll always have time for you, Junior. No matter what."

Washington watched the warm interaction with a smile on his face as he tried to ignore the guilt pooling in his gut.

Sherry found Ohio sitting on the rooftop of one of Charon's safe houses, the sky overhead beginning to soften lightly.

"Figured I might catch you here." The other woman with her curly black hair cut short said conversationally, "You always do seem to like going up to high places to think."

"I—I do not!" Ohio scoffed at the notion, but could only glare back at the knowing smirk that crossed the tan-skinned woman's facial features in response (dang, that made the scar under her left eye look even cooler somehow). She let out a small sigh and kicked her feet over the ledge she was sitting on instead, "Where is everybody else?"

"They're all inside playing a video game, which means we're safe from something breaking. For the moment."

There was a loud crash from inside, followed by a trio of loud, raucous laughter as a voice that belonged to Darryl distinctly went, "Oops!"

Sherry winced, "Or not." She joked, and Ohio couldn't help but giggle slightly, hiding the act with a blue glove covered in white and rubine accents. "Anyways," there was a light note of aggravated fondness in Sherry's voice as she no doubt thought of the mess that awaited them inside, "We're all trying to de-stress after that fight with those wannabe heroes."

"Yeah." Ohio nodded her head and brought her knees up to her chest, "Were the higher-ups mad with how it played out?"

Sherry sat down next to her without making it a big deal (so she wouldn't either), a thoughtful frown on her face, "They weren't exactly thrilled, but since we retrieved the data we're still in the clear."

Ohio let out a sigh of relief. The last thing any of them wanted was to be dumped out in the middle of nowhere again, or worse. Charon wasn't exactly big on second or third chances.

Sherry seemed to have become incredibly adept at reading her mind because she grinned knowingly towards her, "Hey, if it wasn't for everyone being disappointed in us, we wouldn't have even met in the first place, you know?"

Ohio's face darkened slightly in a blush, "Sh—shut up!"

They sat there in companionable silence for a few altogether pleasant minutes before Sherry cast a contemplative glance the pink-haired woman's way, "Hey, how are you doing?" She asked in earnest seriousness, "Your team seemed pretty shaken up to see some of those Specials."

Ohio frowned slightly and nodded, "Wash…Washington and Agent Carolina were Freelancers too." She explained.

Sherry let out a low whistle, "It must have been tough then, seeing them again."

"Yeah, yeah, it was." The dark-skinned woman confirmed rather quietly.

The other woman dressed in white with red trim said nothing, instead simply placing her hand on the former Freelancer's shoulder. Ohio allowed herself to lean into the touch for a few precious minutes, "What do you think Charon is going to use these files on Specials for anyways?" She finally worked up the nerve to ask when they rather reluctantly pulled apart.

Sherry frowned, "Honestly?" She asked, stretching her arms above her head, "It's probably best not to think about it."

"Oh." Ohio's expression fell even though she knew Sherry was probably right, "Then, are we doing the right thing?"

Sherry considered her answer for a moment and then shrugged, "Eh, it's pretty much all relative at this point." She finally admitted, seemingly not caring one way or the other even though she clearly had an idea.

Ohio fixed her with one of her "patented" serious expressions that Iowa and Idaho always teased her about, "Your honest opinion, then?" She pressed, wanting to know what the other thought.

Sherry sighed, her contemplative frown deepening as she rubbed the back of her head, "Not really."

"What…" Ohio swallowed, uncertainty and nerves threatening to overwhelm her, "What should we do then?"

Sherry fixed her brown-eyed gaze to the sky above them, "I have no fucking clue." She replied honestly.

Ohio joined Sherry in silently watching the sky, neither of them realizing that they were now holding the other's hand.

"I can't believe you forgot that your parents left for the week again," Antoine Bitters remarked towards Matthews as he opened the other teen's door with the spare key his own family had for when Matthews' family just upped and left for days at a time with hardly any notice, "Though I guess it's more like you never want to remember, huh?"

Bitters' mother would always sigh sadly and say that there was more than one type of abuse. Virtual abandonment, whether someone was even at home or away, was a type of one too.

Matthews' face was red as he walked into the hardly lived in space right behind his friend and neighbor, "Things would have been okay if I hadn't lost my key." He muttered lamely as he stood awkwardly like a stranger in what amounted to his own living area.

Bitters glanced at him disbelievingly, "Would it?" He asked, gesturing over at the cuts and scrapes adorning Matthews' pale face now, and the handcuffs still attached to his person. The auburn-haired young man was fortunate his glasses were all right.

Matthews' blush actually deepened on account of Bitters' continued scrutiny, and he turned his head to the side to avoid further eye contact awkwardly, "S—sorry." He mumbled, "I just…I just don't want to keep dumping things onto you and your family."

Of course the nerdy kiss-up was feeling guilty about his parents being uncaring assholes. Bitters mentally gave them both the finger, though that didn't help. Much. Finally, he told Matthews, "I think this time it's pretty different."

He turned to the small kitchen area before whatever weak protest the other boy would give, rummaging through its one cupboard until he found the rather dusty First Aid Kit in the back. He hoped the shit in it was still good since it clearly hadn't been used in, well, forever.

Matthews winced as Bitters applied antiseptic to his injuries, the dark-skinned teen frowning in thought, "Why were you jumped anyways?" He asked, genuinely curious as to why anyone would go after Matthews of all people.

Matthews looked away again, playing with his fingers in that nervous habit that Bitters had known him to have ever since they were kids, "I…I really don't know." He stammered out.

"Bullshit." Bitters could always tell when Matthews was lying, ever since the first time he had said he was "fine, really" when his parents had forgotten to leave him enough food for the day.

Matthews bit his lip but said nothing, apparently trying to be a stubborn asshole at the moment. Well, he should know well enough by now that Bitters could be one too. He glanced down to the cuffs just then instead, his stomach clenching at the thought of just how long his friend had been in them.

"I think I can get those off." He told Matthews, gesturing to the cuffs before a serious look crossed over his face as he met Matthews' hazel eyes with his own dark ones, "But promise me you won't freak out, okay?"

"Are you…?" Matthews blinked, wide-eyed underneath his glasses, "Are you going to burn them off with your power?"

Bitters gaped at him in shock, not sure how to process his secret being exposed, "How…how the fuck do you know that?" He demanded breathlessly.

Another of Matthews' stupidly cute blushes warmed his cheeks as he once more glanced to the side, "You weren't the best at controlling it when we were little, back when you didn't think anyone was looking." He admitted softly before surprising Bitters by fixing him with an even stare, "B—besides, knowing that sort of thing just comes easy to me."

Matthews smiled all the more sheepishly in response to Bitters' bewildered stare, "I—I sort of have a power too in a way, you see?" He told the teen with multi-colored hair, a self-deprecating tone to his voice as he added, "Though it isn't nearly as cool as everyone else's."

Bitters could only stare dumbfounded at Matthews for a minute more before words began tumbling out of his mouth: "You have got to be shitting me."

Grif stepped into Simmons' apartment, looking around with mild interest at the lack of pretty much any evidence to signify that someone was living there save for the organized piles of trash that Simmons still needed to throw out.

"Huh. And here I thought that some of the shitholes that Kai and I lived in were bad." The tan-skinned Special stated almost conversationally.

Simmons bristled at the remark, "I just haven't had the chance to decorate or clean in a while, all right?" He informed Grif, though that was an outright lie. Truth was, he just hadn't seen the point when he might be leaving without any notice sometime soon. Not wanting to dwell on or reveal that unpleasant train of thought to Grif, however, he asked instead, "What were you doing here with Matthews? His condition…"

Grif sighed and sat down on Simmons' bed without asking as Simmons bit down an irritated remark in response, "Yeah. About that." The orange-wearing man began, running a tired hand over his dark eyes, "Being a fucking Good Samaritan is way more trouble than it's worth if this is going to be the thanks I get."

Simmons sighed, his annoyance ebbing away in light of what he had been able to piece together so far, "Of course it's a good thing you helped him out, Grif." He said to try and reassure the heavyset man, though he frowned a moment later, "But we still don't know why he was attacked in the first place."

That was definitely an issue. Not knowing something so vital could be dangerous in and of itself.

Grif shrugged in response, "It probably has something to do with him being a Special too."

Simmons' green and red eyes both lit up, "R—really?" He was surprised since he had had no idea Matthews was a Special too.

Grif nodded, "Yeah, though I don't know what his power is yet."

Simmons made a mental note to ask his young neighbor the very next minute he was able to do so, frowning in thought at this bit of new information, "Then the danger for Matthews might not be over." He said, frown deepening.

Grif nodded his head in agreement, "Those assholes seemed pretty serious," he explained contemplatively, "So I doubt this will be their last attempt."

Simmons barely repressed a shudder of his own, knowing just how tenacious those types of assholes could be, "We'll have to take him with us to Church's later for his own protection then." He mused, knowing how much better fortified Church's residence was compared to this crummy apartment building. Doubly so if Tex was visiting.

"This is turning out to be a shit-ton more work than I expected." Grif let out a long-suffering sigh before he stood up once more, "Might as well call Kai and let her know where I am." He muttered as he glanced over at Simmons rather expectantly, "Got any extra blankets around here?"

Simmons blinked, unsure as to why Grif was even asking, "W—why?"

Grif raised a black eyebrow as if that should have been completely obvious, "Because I'm going to be sleeping here until it's a civilized hour. Duh." He said like he was talking to an idiot.

"B—but…!" Simmons tried protesting but found he couldn't formulate proper words just then. For some reason, his face seemed to be overheating both organically and cybernetically at the prospect. He'd never had anyone sleep in his room before, regardless of who it was!

Grif waved off his weak protests easily, "It will make things easier for us to both keep an eye on the kid, right?" He asked as if it was perfectly logical.

Which it was. Despite the pounding in his chest (maybe he needed some cybernetics maintenance?), Simmons really couldn't argue with that logic.

His forced-upon him temporary roommate smirked at realizing he had won this round, "And it's also mighty generous of you to let your guest take the bed, I might add." Grif stated smugly with all the confidence of someone who could talk their way out of most situations.

Simmons let out a defeated sigh, figuring he should go and tell both Matthews and Bitters about what they were planning to do instead of trying to fight a pointless battle he knew he probably wasn't going to win at the moment.

Author's Notes: Matthews' power is Detection, for anyone who might be curious about what it is. :D Which could make him rather useful if someone was wanting to hunt down specific things or people. Hint, hint. XD

There's quite a few interactions and reveals in this chapter, but somehow it ended up not being nearly as long as the last one was? Odd, that. 0_0; But I hope that it was an enjoyable read regardless, and I will be posting AT LEAST two more chapters for Specials before switching over to another WIP this time around to make up for the updates being so lengthy and sporadic.

Next time in Specials: Church reluctantly takes in another houseguest who has a pretty much permanent visitor along with him. Ten virtual cookies if you can guess who they are! Also, Grif debates what he is going to do still but manages to invite a certain red-haired someone to stay over at his place (priorities! XD), Carolina is on the Meta's tail but runs into some journalists, and Tucker tries to give his favorite babysitter Jensen some relationship advice (which totally will work out fine, RIGHT? XD). I hope everyone is looking forward to it! :D

Thank you so much for reading! :)