Barney expected everyone to meet at Tool's at breakfast. He had all the intel he needed for the next job and he wanted to get it started and finished before the next month was up.

Amelia and Lee showed up together, last. This wasn't an uncommon occurrence anymore, so much so that the rest of the guys didn't even bat an eye at the way Lee's hand lingered on her waist in the doorway, or the way he watch her cross the room with a gentle smile pulling at his lips. Barney just rolled his eyes and shook his head. Tool chuckled to himself, lost in a daze, bent over a tattoo design he definitely cared more about than whatever else was going on.

"Morning," Amelia said, ruffling Gunner's hair as she moved by him. He jumped, still half-asleep. He hated early morning calls. He grunted in response but didn't move.

Caesar had a small cup of coffee made and slowly cooling in front of him, his special blade held firmly in one hand while the other rested behind his neck.

"How's that gut?" Barney asked, motioning to Lee.

He shrugged and pulled up a chair. "Had worse."

"Alright then," Barney said, slapping the files down on the table. Everybody reached out and plucked one for themselves, skimming through the pages with mostly bored faces. Toll was a bit more precious with his reading, but that was just his way.

"Shit," Amelia muttered, furrowing her brows as she read the file. A small time militant group was functioning around the Kalahari Desert. They were particularly ruthless in their endeavors, slaughtering people to prove their point; some of the photos in the file showed examples of their handiwork. They were growing in numbers, and had recently acquired hostages of the American variety. They weren't political or government hostages, but they did want a ransom- a ransom that the families could not afford to deliver on. The next best step was, of course, Barney Ross. His price wasn't as high as the militant groups was. She flipped over a page in the file and viscerally cringed, seeing the heads laid out on pikes in the searing desert sun. She had to cover the image before she could get nauseous.

"They call themselves the Yena Tribe," Barney continued, flipping through the photos without a second thought. "They want to overtake the area by any means necessary. We're not going there to play politics. We're going there to get the hostages and get out."

"Yena?" Lee asked, thumbing through the photos.

"Means Hyena," Gunner grumbled, looking down at the gory mess in his own file, "was a god, I think, in Ethiopia. Enemy of man."

Amelia raised a brow at Gunner but just shrugged, tapping her fingers along the file.

"You expect this to be fast?" She asked, looking up at Barney.

"If we play our cards right," he said. "Do a little bit of recon when we get there. I've got a contact in the area, local wildlife guy, who'll help us with the cover story. This group has been scaring people away for a little while now. They recruit like any terrorist organization would."

"Hm," she said, sitting back, running through it in her mind. "How'd these Americans end up with them?"

"Big game hunting," Caesar said, reading from one of the pages. "Imagine taking down a goddamn elephant. What the hell would you even-"

"It doesn't matter," Barney said, bracing himself against the table. "The job is the job. Are we in it?"

Amelia nodded. Everybody around the table nodded. Nobody ever really said no to a job, but this time, she thought about it. She didn't particularly like the desert, and that feeling in her gut was still there and weighing on her. But she said yes anyway, looking down at the closed file in front of her. At least it wasn't fucking Russia.

There was the sound of a car parking outside and everyone looked up, confused. Barney glanced over at Tool.

"You got a customer?" He asked.

"Nah," Tool said, waving him off. "Not open right now. Only awake because of you idiots."

Amelia shrugged and turned towards the door, only to see the big bulky frame of Trench Mauser saunter in with his keys dangling from his pocket. She felt her face run cold and she tensed, her lips pressed together as he smiled at her.

"Trench," Barney said, looking him up and down. "What can I do for you?"

Amelia dropped her head to her hands and sighed. Only Barney and Lee knew about her father, but she figured that cat was about to be dragged kicking and screaming from the bag.

"Paying a visit," Trench said, holding his arms out. "What, am I not allowed to check in?"

The guys shared confused glances, closing their files and sitting back in their chairs. Lee glanced between Amelia and Barney, unsure.

"Fuck," she muttered, looking up at meeting his eyes. He smiled.

"Come on then," he said, motioning his arms out again.

She stood up and shook her head, looking back at the table as she stood roughly between Trench and Barney.

"Well," she started, shrugging awkwardly, face burning. "You guys know my father, Trench Mauser."

Gunner, Caesar, and Toll all looked up at her with wide eyes. Caesar held his coffee in his hand, hovering just under his mouth. Gunner's mouth hung half-open, looking up at them both through his eyelashes. Lee tried to smile, but Amelia just shook her head and turned to Trench.

"What the hell," she said, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Barney-"

Barney held his hands up in surrender, taking a step back and shaking his head.

"Nobody told me anything," Trench said, pulling her into a quick hug. "I just thought I'd check in. Was in the neighborhood."

"I don't need to be checked in on-" she started, watching as he moved by and to the table. He looked down at Lee.

"Mr. Christmas!" He said, nodding as a big laugh spreading over his cheeks, "it's nice to see you again. This time in pants."

Caesar spit his coffee out and bent over the table, holding his mouth and nose with one hand while the other struggled to set the cup down. Gunner raised his eyebrows and tried to suppress a laugh.

Barney dropped his head.

Lee laughed awkwardly, standing and taking Trench's hand in his own before he shifted away from the table and towards Amelia, his eyes wide. Her face was beat red, covered mostly by her hands now.

"So what's going on in the world of Barney?" Trench asked.

"Work," Barney said, motioning to the files. "We're actually gonna be leaving soon."

Trench nodded and looked around, spotting Tool in the back of the shop. "Tool!"

"Hey, brother," Tool called, lifting a hand as he chewed on a toothpick. "How're things with you?"

"Would be better if my daughter answered my calls," he said, raising an eyebrow and glancing back at her. "Then I wouldn't have to make up a lie about being in the neighborhood when I want to see how she's doing."

Tool chuckled and took the toothpick out of his mouth, holding it up to her in a mock salute. She held her temples and sighed.

"This was it," she groaned, shaking her head.

"What?" Lee asked, confused.

"This was the bad feeling," she said, looking up at Trench. "You were the bad feeling about the mission, Dad."

He crossed his arms and looked her up and town, towering over her. "What about this mission?"

"I don't usually share business with competitors," Barney said, pulling out a cigar from his pocket and handing it to trench, who nodded and slipped it between his lips.

"I'm not here on business," he said with a teasing smile, lighting the cigar. "Vacation."

"Shame," Amelia snapped, crossing her arms in a stance that looked eerily like his. "Wonder how you knew to come here."

Trench smirked over the cigar and pulled it from his lips, holding it between two large fingers. "I'm on vacation, but I am still good at my job."

"Okay, Christ, alright," she said, trying to shake off the entire interaction. "I'm fine. Everything is fine. Is that good?"

"Don't wanna spend any time with your old man?" He teased, holding his arms out again.

"Not when I have to go to the store and get shit to pack for Africa," she snapped, stepping closer to him. "Because I'm not on vacation. I'm working."

He raised an eyebrow and looked over to Barney, who dropped his head to his hands and sighed.

"Ross!" He said, a bit more anger in his tone now.

"Trench, it's fine," Barney said, squaring himself up against the giant. "We can handle it."

Trench looked around the table and made a face. "Seem a little short-staffed for that kind of operation, if you ask me."

Amelia turned to Lee and dropped her head against the boney corner of his shoulder once, twice, and then three times before he nudged her to stop.

"Listen, old man, you're not invited," Barney said. "Like the kid said. We've got work to do."

Trench smiled. "I've never been a fan of the desert," he said, motioning around with the cigar as the smoke trailed behind it, "too hot for my taste. But I do know somebody that happens to love it."

Barney dropped his head again, frustrated. "Trench-"

"She'd love a chance," he smiled.

Amelia turned around, suddenly alert and confused. "She?"

"Oh, so now you're interested," he joked.

"Let's talk about this somewhere else," Barney grumbled, looking around to the team. "Dismissed. But be back here before dinner. We're flying out tonight."

Amelia turned and Lee followed her out, his face red and flustered. Caesar was still wiping at the coffee that now stained his shirt.

—-

Amelia was slamming things into her duffel, angry and confused and ready to spend the next month or however long it took in the sweltering heat hunting down a gang of militants. Lee leaned in the doorway, watching as she silently took her anger out on her clothes.

"So..." he tried, a bit hesitant to approach.

"I'm not in the mood," she mumbled, closing her duffel with a sharp hiss of the zipper. She pulled off her shirt and dug around for something more comfortable for the plane ride.

"Do you have any idea who he meant?" Lee asked.

"Lee, I said I'm not in the damn mood-" she snapped, turning to him as she pulled a baggy long-sleeved shirt over her chest. She saw him glance at the scar on her waist- the one she had gotten in the jungle, when the guy she was fighting had managed to snag one of Lee's knives away from her. She softened then, his gaze quickly finding her own, his jaw stiffening.

She skulked over to him and studied his face. "I don't know who he was talking about," she said, reaching for his shoulder. "But you know Barney. Nothing will come of it."

Lee weighed the thought and nodded, reaching a hand down to her waist, rubbing his fingers along the scar through her shirt. His stern expression faltered slightly, and she sighed.

"Lee," she said, covering his hand with her own. "What is it?"

"I hate to see it," he said, letting out a heavy sigh. "Sometimes I forget, but then it'll catch the light the right way, and..."

She shook her head and searched his face, waiting for his eyes to find her own. "I'm alive, Lee. I'm not going anywhere."

He let out a bit of a breath and pulled her into him, locking her in his arms as he pressed his lips to the top of her head.

Since the last confrontation with Trench, Lee had done a lot of thinking. She'd been right- he would never understand exactly what happened to her, because he would never have to do the things she did in order to survive. He would never have to fear the same abuse that she feared happening to himself. She was a capable, stubborn, and strong person. Still, sometimes he would look at her and it would be like the first time he ever saw her, when she walked into Tool's shop with her bow slung over her shoulder in that scruffy little soft case, and his heart would just stop. He'd want to corner her, shield her, keep her away from everything and keep her safe. But then he'd see that glimmer in her eye, or that flash of a shadow across her face, or the way her fingers would twitch like she was itching for a gun or a knife. She was't the person who walked in all that time ago. She was darker, stronger, and much better at her job. Lee would be the first to admit it- she'd never been particularly bad at it, but after everything she'd been through, she was good at it.

Then he would see the scar, and he'd feel like it was his fault those shadows danced over her features. He'd beat himself up for it relentlessly. If he had just run to her and put everything else aside, that scar wouldn't be there.

He held her close to him and breathed her in, and she melted into his warmth, feeling her anger from the morning finally begin to subside. She couldn't stand when her father got involved in anything- throughout her life, he'd been her drill sergeant. He had his nose in all of her business, all of the time. That's why she didn't want to stay and work for him. She wanted to make her own way, carve out her own path- the only thing he asked was that she let him recommend her to people he knew and trusted. Maybe he didn't like Barney, but that didn't affect how well he trusted him in the field. So she let him do that, and it lead her to that moment, standing there packing for a rescue mission to Africa, folded up against one Lee Christmas.

"Come on," she said, forcing a smile and pulling back, looking up at his face. "Let's finish packing, and then head to the hangar."

Her face was soft, but her eyes were still cold. It was a chill he had noticed after the post-traumatic episode she had in Russia. It was a dark, burning type of cold. The kind that could kill. It didn't nip or snow or melt, it froze. It devastated. It moved through her body like a glacier carving out land.

He thought that maybe he had loved her from the start, when she was warm and naive and soft and sweet and fresh and everything good. On rare occasions, he would be blessed with that presence sneaking back into her. He lived for those moments, few and far between though they were. They replaced that cold, vulnerable cadaver she had laid herself out as while she vomited up her truth to him and Barney and Trench with a damn burning phoenix. It was empowering to see her in those moments, having the nerve to be soft, smooth, and slow when the world she lived in demanded hardness, sharp edges, and deathly quick speeds.

He followed her back to her duffel and threw her it over his shoulder. He turned out the lights to the apartment while she fiddled with the keys and remembered all the times he had shown up bleeding and half-mad at her doorstep and she hadn't asked him to explain. She just patched him up, gave him a soft place to rest if he needed it, and never said a word. He tried to remember the first time he had done that, shown up at her door like it was the one place he knew he needed to be. The one place he knew he could always go.

—-

Then

He didn't know where he was going until he got there. He was angry- fuming, really- and his fists were split and bruised and bloody. The bar fight had reopened some healing scabs from their last mission and it only made him angrier. He didn't regret the fight- that wasn't the problem. He was angry that it had even happened to begin with.

It was late, and when he finally stopped his bike outside of Amelia's apartment, he thought about turning around and leaving. Maybe he'd crash on the couch at Tools, or maybe he'd piss off Barney, or maybe he'd go all the way out to the hangar and sleep on a cot on the plane. He just did not want to go home to Lacy.

He knocked on the door with a wince, glancing down at his knuckles. The other guy was fine, a little bit banged up, but that didn't matter. It could've b been much worse.

He didn't know what the hell he was doing there. He had never really been to her place, only in passing, and they both held each other about an arms length away. He was going to leave when he heard the locks clicking and he froze, unsure.

"Lee?" She asked, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She looked up at him with a yawn, her baggy winter pajamas slinking over her narrow frame. "What is it? Do we have a job?"

He sighed and awkwardly turned his hands around in front of himself. She looked down and caught a glimpse of the blood, and she immediately reached out and grabbed ahold of him by his fingers. He was surprised by how gentle the movement was, and how swiftly she pulled him into her apartment and flicked the lights on. She locked the door behind him and rubbed her eyes again, as though she was trying to make sure she had seen the situation clearly.

She looked up at Lee's face and noticed the scab on his cheek had opened and was dripping blood down onto his shirt.

"Lee, what happened?" She asked, looking over the rest of him.

"I don't-" he started, a bit ashamed. "It was a stupid guy. And Lacy-"

She nodded, not pushing him for more. She always seemed to understand what he was saying without needing him to finish. She pulled out a cheap first aid kit and some rags, wetting them under the faucet in the kitchen. He watched her carefully. She moved different at home than she did at work, and he guessed that made sense. Guard let down, pajamas instead of kevlar. She turned back to him and wordlessly asked for his hands.

"Is this your blood, or the other guys?" She asked quietly, gently running the rag over his knuckles.

Lee shrugged.

"Looks like it's mostly the other guys," she said eventually, patting at a narrow cut along one of his knuckles.

"I'm sorry about this," he said suddenly while she took his other hand. He was starting to really regret his decision.

She didn't look up at him or make any gesture to show that she had heard him.

"This sort of thing doesn't happen often," he continued. "Ah, I don't even know why I came here-"

"It doesn't matter," she said. "You did and you're here now, so just let me finish this."

He furrowed his brows but didn't protest, watching her intently as she awkwardly shuffled around him, head bowed like looking up would be dangerous. And he thought about the way she had said his name- a tired, soft, breathy whisper. He felt like his name didn't deserve to be said that gently. It needed to be harsh, sharp, and commanding. Those were all things that she wasn't.

"Alright," she said, tossing the rags towards the garbage. "You reopened that cut from the last mission."

He lifted a finger up and felt the dried blood.

"I'll just wipe it off. It looks like it scabbed over again."

She reached up with the corner of a new rag and bit her lip and held her breath while she scrubbed gingerly at the skin of his face, avoiding the cut itself. He watched her, though. He couldn't help it. He saw her cheeks turn pink as he stared, and it made him want to smirk. In fact, he started to smirk when she pulled away and threw out the last rag, skittering over to the sink to wash her hands.

"I don't usually get into fights outside of the office," he said, scratching the back of his neck. He cleared his throat and tried to rid his brain of those intrusive thoughts about her.

"It happens," she said, not turning back to him as she dried up her hands and the little drops of water that had fallen from them and onto the counter.

"Did I wake you?" He asked.

"Yeah, but it's fine. Don't have any good dreams anyway."

"What do you dream about?" He asked, leaning into her counter. He was internally smacking himself for it. It was all fun and games to be a tease when the rest of the team was around, but he felt guilty doing it in private.

"Your mom," she scoffed, dropping the towel down and turning to clean up the first aid kit. Lee chuckled and watched, scratching at his stubble. His knuckles were starting to bruise.

"Seriously," he asked, trying to loosen up the mood. "Sometimes it helps to talk about it. If they're nightmares, you know."

She looked up at him but still didn't respond. He could see the gears turning in her head, though. The thoughts raging around inside of her skull.

"What do you dream about?" She asked, turning back to him and crossing her arms over her chest as she finally realized that she was still in her pajamas.

Lee squinted and looked up to the ceiling, trying to recall his last dream. He didn't often have good dreams, he knew that for sure.

"Was on a mission, got separated from the whole team. Waited out by the plane, nobody ever showed, and I had to go home alone."

She frowned and looked down at her feet, almost feeling guilty for asking. But he had asked first.

"Your turn," he said, reaching out and nudging her shoulder.

"I dream about... my mom, sometimes."

"Did you know her?" Lee asked.

She shook her head, almost laughing. "Not at all. She died apparently, when I was a baby. Like, a really small baby. But I'll have these really weird dreams. I don't see her or anything, but there'll be, like, this shadow... This presence... and I'll just wake up with the feeling that it was her."

Lee chewed on the inside his lip for a moment, watching as she thought about the dreams she was recounting.

"What about your dad?" He asked, his voice much softer than even he had expected. It nearly took him off guard.

"I never dream about him," she said sternly, standing up straight. "I get enough of him in the damn waking hours of the day. Lord knows I can't handle him while I'm asleep, too."

Lee could sense some pain behind the words, but he didn't bring it up or question it.

"Do you need anything else, Lee?" She asked. She wasn't trying to kick him out. In fact, her whole being wanted him to stay right where he was, maybe for the rest of eternity.

"Nah, I'll just-" He shifted awkwardly, glancing around. "I'm gonna go crash at Tool's or something. Lacy's at home and I'm just not in the mood."

"You can have the couch," she said with a shrug, motioning to the living room. "I'll probably sleep in until noon anyway."

He watched her. He studied her. Her soft features, the kindness she wore like it was some sort of defiance, like some sort badge of honor.

He ended up falling asleep on the couch and sneaking out hours before she woke. She slept in even later than she thought she would because all night she tossed and turned knowing that he was right there on the other side of the wall. And even when he was riding home, a part of him wished he had stayed. He brushed it off.

He was a good man. A good boyfriend. He drove home to Lacy, the bruises on his knuckles already going green, like he had never even been to the bar in the first place.

—-

Now

The guys were watching Lee and Amelia curiously when they pulled up to the hangar, duffels slung over their shoulders, boots unlaced at their feet. Trench was nowhere to be seen, and Amelia was relieved, finding Barney as he was adjusting something on the plane.

"Barney," she said, dropping her bag to the ground with a thump. He glanced over his shoulder at her and sighed. "What the hell?"

He fiddled with a wrench and didn't turn to look at her, interested instead on whatever it was he was fixing. "I did not have anything to do with that little show," he said absently. "How're you doing?"

She grunted and crossed her arms, glancing nervously around. "Considering that my father just outed himself to the entire team I work with-"

"They don't give a rats ass who your father is, Dusty," Barney said with a sigh and a stretch, finally turning to her. "It was a shock, but you really believe they think any differently of you now?"

"Maybe a little," she muttered, scraping her foot along the ground. "I'm not just Dusty anymore. I'm Dusty fricking Mauser."

Barney chuckled and grabbed his toolbox from the ground before he started making his way across the hangar. "Maybe being a Mauser isn't the worst thing in the world- in this line of business, at least."

"I'd rather not, thanks," she said, slinging her duffel back over her shoulder and following after him. "I'd sooner be a damn Ross- or hell, even a Jensen."

Barney smirked and offered her a shrug. She groaned and met the guys as they loaded crates onto the plane in a pregnant silence. Lee scratched at his stubble and watched her, carrying a box full of extra ammo on his shoulder.

"So, Lee," Caesar said, biting back a grin. "Trench see you without pants often?"

Lee snapped his face towards Caesar, shooting him a deathly sharp glare. Caesar chuckled, nudging Dusty's shoulder with his hand.

"Oh, hell," he said, taking a breath. "Didn't realize you had Mauser blood. Definitely too good looking to be that guys kid."

She pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed.

"I'd love to hear the story about the pants," he added, nodding to Lee, who held a straight face, still annoyed.

"Maybe," she said, exasperated, grabbing Caesar by the shoulder, "maybe one day, when you have something I wanna hear, too."

Caesar grinned and watched as she trudged onto the plane. It was mostly packed already, so she just sat down on a bench and held her head in her hands, elbows propped on her knees.

It was gonna be a long mission.