I do not own Red vs. Blue.

Sleepless in the Federal Army

When Donut arrived in the room he shared with his soulmates, he was immediately greeted with a piercing glare from Washington, whose fingers tapped an anxious rhythm against his hard, plastic lunch tray. "You're late," he snapped.

"I'm sorry," said Donut, yanking off his helmet and setting it on his cot. "I lost track of time."

"Really?" asked Wash, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I suppose the date and time function on your visor display can be easy to overlook."

Donut gave him an apologetic smile as he grasped the extra lunch tray Sarge had brought over. "Thanks for bringing me food."

"Ya owe me five fifty," said Sarge, eyeing the blonde as he sat next to him.

"We don't pay for our food in the mess hall," said Donut with a furrowed brow.

"Ya still owe me five fifty."

"Do you accept bullets as currency?"

"If we can get back on topic," interjected Wash, shooting Sarge a knowing scowl, "I would appreciate it if you would tell us why you're late."

"Um…" Donut glanced desperately at the Southern man, who shrugged.

"Distraction didn't work. You're on your own."

When Donut swivelled pleading ice blue eyes to Lopez, the robot gave a scoff. "What do you want me to do? You're the one who wandered off. Again."

"Donut," growled Wash.

"Caruthers needed some help moving supply crates to the storage facility," muttered Donut, poking at his mashed potatoes with his fork.

"You went to the other side of the compound, the most isolated part of the compound, I might add, by yourself?" demanded Wash.

"Not really by myself."

Wash's shoulders tightened and he stood up, and his food would have ended up splattered over the concrete floor if it weren't for Lopez's quick reflexes. Wash paid him no mind, his eyes blazing with anger and focussed on Donut.

"You know what I mean. Whenever you need to go out of the main complex, one of us goes with you. That was the rule we agreed on. That was the rule you agreed on. And you're the only one who has yet to follow it!"

Donut flinched at the frustration that rolled through their soul-link, heightened by anxiety and worry. "I'm sorry," he said softly, blue eyes glimmering with guilt. "He just seemed like he really needed help. He couldn't lift them. And if someone needs help getting it up, it's my duty to help them."

There was genuine remorse in his expression and Wash let out a weary sigh, rubbing the back of his neck, feeling the muscles and joints pinched together with stress.

Every time Donut left his line of sight, it was always to help someone. It was Donut's natural instinct, and as far as Wash was concerned that made him a far better person than he was. But it was a quality that could be manipulated. Considering they had been forced from their shipwreck site, separated from the rest of their soulmates, and now had to participate in a war they wanted no part of in the hopes of reuniting, Wash felt he wasn't being paranoid in assuming there was danger in every corner.

"We don't know these people, Franklin," said Wash quietly. "We can't just go off with them whenever they ask."

"Ya do it all the time," said Sarge bluntly.

"I have the skills and instincts needed to defend myself," retorted Wash.

Sarge made a noise of offense, his utensil lowering as his chin lifted so he could glare indignantly at Wash. "I may not have a fancy Freelancer background, but that didn't seem to help ya against Locus when he came after us."

"Damn. He actually has a point," said Lopez. "That doesn't happen often."

"Touché," said Wash grudgingly. "But if that was your attempt to help Donut's case you picked the wrong argument. I don't want to be anywhere near that man. I definitely don't want any of you near him without me."

The thought of the mercenary nearly put a snarl on his face, but he fought it back. Locus seemed to be keeping to his word and hadn't approached Washington, Sarge, Donut or Lopez since Dr. Grey told him off. But he wouldn't keep his distance for long and Wash knew their next interaction would be even more unpleasant than the other ones they've had.

And that was saying something.

"Just keep to the rules, all right?" finished Wash in slight exasperation. "Be punctual for our meetings in the mess hall and for curfew. Stay in pairs if you can, especially if you need to go outside the main complex. And above all else—"

"Don't let them see us without armour," finished Sarge and Donut in unison.

"Right." Wash gave a curt nod. "The last thing I want is for Locus to discover that we're all soulmates. I don't trust that guy."

"I couldn't tell," drawled Sarge.

"I think it's too late for that," said Lopez dryly as he handed Wash his tray, the meal still intact despite being flung off the man's lap.

Wash usually couldn't understand Lopez outside of a soul-bond, but he had a good guess as to what the robot was trying to communicate. His brown body was covered in coloured codes and he often received several curious glances. Many have asked what they symbolized.

Sarge's answer was the same each time. Simmons and Grif had decided to pull a prank and the paint just wouldn't scrub off. It was a lie that was accepted without question, and in this case, Wash wasn't worried about Locus connecting the dots. He was incapable of doing so. As far as he was concerned, they were fools for assigning meaning to mechanical beings.

"In Locus' world, it's impossible for a robot to be a soulmate, so you haven't exposed our secret." Washington cracked a small smile as he added, "After all, you're just a collection of metal and wires. Easily replaceable."

"I can have Lopez 3.0 constructed in case you fall in battle," said Sarge with a straight face.

"Can you make him now?" countered Lopez. "Then I wouldn't have a reason to be here and I can leave."

"Of course you'd still have a reason to be here," chirped Donut. "Two robots mean two mechanics!"

"I'm baffled by just how inconsistent you are when it comes to understanding Spanish."

"Hot dog, two mechanics! Think of all the vehicles we can destroy for them to fix," said Sarge dreamily.

"I hate you."

Their familiar bickering caused Washington's posture to soften and he sunk back down to his cot. He nibbled at his toast and beans, his other hand idly tracing the pink handprint on his cheek, his newest soulmark. He let their chatter become background noise as he tuned in to his bonds.

Caboose, as he usually was, was cheerfully oblivious to what was happening around him. He was happy and for that Wash was grateful. Tucker, Simmons and Grif were a lot more stressed, but other than that they were fine. Doc was more confused than anything else. Carolina was concerned and purposeful, and though Wash couldn't begin to imagine what she was up to, it was something important, and he knew she wouldn't come in search of them unless it was absolutely necessary.

She believed in him and his abilities.

So did he. He had to, if he was going to get them all out alive. And he would.

There was simply no other option.

…

They were going to be moved again.

At dawn the next morning the four would be shipped to yet another mountain range compound, escorted by a heavy guard. Even though they had been with the Federal Army of Chorus for a few weeks, no one could give them a solid answer as to why they were being shifted around so much.

Not even General Doyle knew. He merely said that Locus thought it was for the best and left it at that.

The knowledge of Locus being behind their constant relocation caused Washington's hackles to rise. But he refused to confront the mercenary about it. He doubted Locus would tell him the truth, and even if he did, Washington knew he wouldn't like his reasoning.

Every time they had to move locations, he got more and more agitated. In the hours leading up to their departure he refused to let Sarge, Lopez and Donut out of his sight. The second their daily duties were done they were to report to their room to regroup, and then whatever extra tasks needed doing, they did them together.

When night came, he didn't sleep.

He sat on the edge of his bed in full armour, his gun trained steadily at the closed door. It was a position he held every evening since they were taken by the Federal Army of Chorus. Or almost every evening. A week ago, when the ache of losing Simmons, Grif, Tucker and Caboose had been too much to bear and the walls felt like they were closing in on him, he escaped outside. Donut had come looking for him, their conversation resulting in a soul-connection, and was also the only night in the span of three weeks in which he got some proper sleep.

There was the creaking of a cot and Wash shifted his head slightly. Across the room Sarge sat up, his grey eyes cutting through the darkness, and he regarded Wash with a deep frown. "Ya can't keep doin' this."

"Go back to sleep," said Wash softly, returning his attention to the door.

"Ya need sleep more than I do, son."

A humourless smile graced Wash's features, though his visor prevented Sarge from seeing it. "We've been over this. Besides, I've gone much longer without sleep, Sarge. This is nothing."

"If that was supposed to make me feel better, it was a horrible attempt."

"I'm fine."

"That's a load of bull."

The stress flowing from Washington was far from unusual. He'd been tightly wound for the past few weeks and the others had gotten used to the anxiety fluctuating through their soul-links. But tonight, there was more than just stress and anxiety that plagued him. He was forlorn. He was sad. He was scared. It crackled through their soul-links like a hurricane.

Sarge was troubled, upset by his refusal to care properly for himself and Wash grimaced. He would have put up an emotional barrier to keep his feelings private, but that would mean blocking off Simmons, Caboose, Tucker, Grif, Carolina and Doc, and that was the last thing he wanted, especially when they were so far from him.

"Please, Sarge, just go back to sleep."

"No."

Sarge stood and reached up to the top bunk, giving Donut's leg one sharp pull. "Franklin."

It was the use of his first name more so than the jab that spurred him from slumber. "What's wrong?" he asked with a yawn. It took a second for him to process the emotions flowing through him and he said, "Oh, never mind."

Wash scowled. "You shouldn't have woken him up!"

"Wash needs to sleep," said Sarge, ignoring the ex-Freelancer. "And ya know what that means."

"Okie-dokie!"

"Lopez! Up and at 'em."

There was a soft whirr as Lopez powered up and his head turned to stare at Wash. "It's a miracle you haven't died from sleep deprivation."

"We can't," said Wash frantically, panic bubbling in his chest. "They have the master card. They can unlock this door whenever they want. What if they decide to check on us? What if they decide to move us out earlier? I'm not having them catch us in a soul-bond."

He didn't want them to have that information. As much as it hurt to go without bonding with them for so long, he wasn't going to risk it.

Lopez strode across the floor and opened the door, and Wash opened his mouth to protest. But before he could utter a word Lopez slammed his metal fist into the card scanner on the other side and swiftly retreated back into the room as the door squealed shut with a prolonged, angry beep. The locks clicked into place and Lopez said, "There. Fixed."

"Whoa, that was bad-ass," said Donut with a grin.

Sarge stared at Wash patiently, his arms crossed loosely over his chest. Wash knew he was waiting for his permission, waiting to be sure he was comfortable with what they wanted, to be sure it was what he wanted, and a lump grew in his throat.

God, how he loved them.

He stood up and removed his armour, setting the pieces at the end of his bed. He lowered onto the thin mattress and Donut and Sarge settled on either side of him. When Lopez remained by the door, Sarge said gruffly, "Lopez, get over here."

Lopez moved close enough to set his hand against his soulmark on Sarge's stomach. 'I weigh significantly more than this bed can tolerate.'

"Nonsense."

Lopez shrugged and curled behind the man, carefully putting one leg overtop Sarge's. The second he was fully sprawled out on the mattress the bed frame gave a loud screech and crumpled, bringing them to the floor with a jolt.

"Wow, Lopez, I didn't know you could be so rough," said Donut with a laugh as Wash wheezed in surprise and Sarge gave a startled grunt. He tucked himself against Washington's side and lightly set his hand against Wash's cheek.

As their souls linked together there was a strong, pleasant surge and Wash closed his eyes against the pulse that vibrated through him. Warmth and affection eased the sting of his worries and fears and Wash tried to concentrate on it.

'It's not your job to protect us,' thought Lopez, easily pinpointing Washington's primary concern.

'Yes it is.'

'I thought we've been over this,' thought Donut with a slight pout. 'We take care of each other. You don't always have to worry about us.'

'I'm always going to worry.'

'You know we'll get the others back.' Sarge smoothed his thumb over his red print on Wash's wrist. 'We ain't gonna rest until we do.'

'But I thought you wanted me to rest.'

'Oh-ho. Agent Washington has jokes.'

'I'm quite funny.'

'When you're not being angsty,' quipped Lopez.

It wasn't a slight against his wobbly emotional state and Wash made a sound that should have been indignant but came out content due to the swell of fuzzy electricity humming through his chest. 'I only have two moods.'

'Yeah, angsty and hard-ass,' snickered Sarge.

'I thought you were going to try and comfort me.'

'We are! And you are feeling much better,' thought Donut happily.

He did. The stress and worry had been consumed by their love and fondness. Wash sagged against the pillow, his head falling to rest against Sarge's shoulder. His fingers stroked a gentle pattern into Donut's forearm and he made a noise in the back of his throat at the motion.

'You're purring again,' thought Lopez in amusement.

'I do not purr!' returned Donut with a mental whine.

Entangled in their arms, Washington thought of Simmons, Grif, Tucker and Caboose, who should have been there with them. Sudden ferocity charged through him, a righteous anger, and an all-consuming need to have them by his side caused his vision to blur slightly.

'Once we're in the mountain range, we're making our move. We're getting back to them.'

'About time,' thought Sarge earnestly.

'If we have to,' thought Lopez, his flippancy ruined by the tenderness that brimmed from his soul.

'Oh boy! It's like a spy mission! Double-0 Donut is back in action!'

An unyielding determination charged through them, to defy the assurances Doyle had fed them and go off on their own to save their soulmates. It would be dangerous, and a risk Wash hadn't wanted to take, but it was because he didn't want to put them in any more danger than they were already in.

But they were right.

He couldn't bear the sole responsibility of protecting them. They were a team. They did stuff together. It's why they had succeeded in bringing down Project Freelancer. And though battle was the last thing they wanted they were already involved in the war.

Might as well face it together.

'That's the spirit!' thought Sarge jovially. 'I've been dying for some action.'

'That's a poor choice of words,' Lopez remarked.

'Can I wear a jumpsuit?'

Sarge's response was immediate. 'No, Donut.'

'Awww.'

Wash grinned against Sarge's shoulder. The gloom and agitation that had consumed him for the past few weeks dispelled, evaporating from his soul. He revelled in their soul-bond, in the love and care they had for him, and he for them. Something that once terrified him was now something he was immensely grateful and proud to be a part of.

He was aware that he may never fully stop having his emotional episodes. But his soulmates had proven they were more than capable of handling his intense feelings and of helping him work through them.

They belonged together. And they would all do their part to ensure they stayed that way, no matter who tried to tear them apart.

…

"Hey! Is everything all right in there?!"

The heavy hammering and frantic calls roused Washington immediately. He blinked blearily at the stuck door and it took a minute for him to remember what Lopez had done. "Uh…yeah!" he called. "We're fine."

He would have sat up, but Donut was splayed across his chest and his arm was trapped beneath Sarge. Donut opened his eyes and peered at the door, which rattled from their attempts to get inside. "What's wrong?" he asked innocently.

Sarge gave an amused snort and Wash shushed him, failing to fight back a smile.

"We can't get the door open," said the solider in confusion. "And we really have to get on the road."

"Why won't it open?" asked Donut, and he bit down on his bottom lip to quell a giggle when Lopez shoved his shoulder.

"It looks like someone punched the card reader."

"Well, that would be stupid," said Washington, keeping a note of perplexity in his voice even as a smirk curled across his lips. "Why would someone do that?"

"I…I don't know."

Donut could not contain his laughter and he muffled it against Washington's chest. Sarge, in an attempt to get Lopez to shuffle over so he could sit up, elbowed his stomach. His yelp of pain was hastily smothered into a pillow to keep their apparent handler from overhearing.

"I'm made of metal, you moron."

"Lopez, move over!" hissed Sarge, massaging the reddened spot on his elbow. "I think ya broke something, damn it."

"Right, it's my fault. As always."

"We really need to get you guys ready to go," the solider spoke, his panic rising as he realized the situation would require a complex fix, and therefore a delayed departure. "Locus is already at the compound waiting for your arrival."

"Really?" drawled Washington.

"Is there anything you guys can do from your side?"

"Afraid not," said Sarge, even though none of them bothered to get up and check. "Seems like we're stuck tight. How long do ya think it will take to fix this?"

"A few hours," he answered, sounding despaired. "We're going to have to replace the whole thing."

"Hmm. What a shame." Wash threaded his fingers through Donut's hair, the strands soft against his skin. "I hope whoever is responsible is caught and punished severely."

"Preferably dismembered," added Sarge with a snicker.

"I'll dismember you if you don't shut up," growled Lopez, pressing the tip of his foot into Sarge's calf warningly. But Sarge found the gesture more humorous than threating and he chuckled.

A curse sounded from the other side as the solider resigned himself to the situation and stormed off to recruit some assistance. When his footsteps left their earshot Sarge said smugly, "Locus ain't gonna be happy about this."

"Nope," said Washington cheerfully, letting his head fall back against his pillow. "He's going to be pissed."