A/N: Sorry for the long delay. One of the authors was in the hospital for a month, but we're back to work on the fic!

Chapter Ten: Firestarters

Things had not gone the way he had hoped lately. He had made a potentially costly mistake, and if it hadn't been caught in time - he wouldn't be around to reflect on it like he was. Or at least, around as a human. Sokka swallowed, idly playing with his bone necklace. He tried not to think about those gold eyes that should have told him everything. He tried not to think about the creature that called herself Sabrina at all.

But he was determined to make up for it. That reason was why the teenagers was crouched down in the kinnikinnick and pine needles, bronze hands pressed to his forehead as his blue eyes searched for the snare trap that had been left in this area of the forest. The last few traps were empty - one had gone off with no kill, one had gone off and something had gnawed through the rope, and the last one he had checked had a measly weird rabbit-thing stuck in it. And even though it sat draping from his belt next to his satchel - a rabbit-thing wasn't going to get him out of the polar bear-dog house, not with Wash and Ren. He let out a heavy sigh, his frame sinking under the makeshift leather armor he wore out hunting.

He had been stranded with them for six months now. At first he had been confused, as they all were, about waking up in some random forest someplace that no one knew anything about, with nothing more than his sword, boomerang, and battle armor. He had been in the middle of a battle, and then the next thing he knew he was in a remote, monster-filled forest. And it was always disorientating to think about how he had turned sixteen while lost in some weird foreign place, but at least his new roomies were both like him - normal people, non-benders. Amazing, totally kick-ass non-benders, sorta unlike him - but he was plenty ready to learn from them both to get there.

Wash was going to be the easier of the two to make it up to, Sokka thought. She was hard on him but she didn't do it without reason - she was a well-respected Lieutenant that had been in charge of a lot of people in the "colony" she came from, and outside of being a combat medic she was also an expert survivalist - she said she had trained plenty of people his age for combat and survival. Wash had more expectations and patience with him than Ren; and he felt that she was already starting to come around. Ren would be another obstacle entirely, but he would eventually forgive Sokka. Maybe. Renkotsu, or Ren as Sokka had managed to wear him down into being called, was super logical and was probably one of the smartest people Sokka had ever met; some of the machines he designed and the uses for things he came up with were incredible - Sokka was more than interested in helping him design or put inventions together. Other than the fact that the man's favorite weapons were fire and explosives and explodey fire, sometimes the man's ill-placed dark humor worried Sokka - but he had saved Sokka from monsters a handful of times, and so Sokka reasoned he just cared in his own extremely cynical way. But he had been acting weird since they had taken in the new kid a few weeks back. Sokka knew to apologize and give him space. A lot of space - a whole atmosphere of spacey spaciness. The new kid hadn't quite learned that yet; at least Sokka had a leg-up in that department.

Shaking his head at his own luck, he gave up on finding whatever might have been left of the trap in that section, and turned heel to head back home - his patched up armor softly chinking as he walked. Wash would probably scold him for losing another trap, but it wasn't his fault if the balverines kept ruining everything.

That was when he saw the figure up ahead. Seemingly impossibly tall, from the top of her head her long flowing black hair billowed out behind her like dark tendrils of smoke, and her skin and figure were all obscured by the color gray. Her eyes were all white and glowy, and the closest Sokka had ever seen of her he could barely make out what looked like tears streaming down her face. He recognized the spirit right away.

"The Crying Lady," Sokka mouthed to himself. The teenager was quite proud of that name for her; originally he had thought to call her the Really Really Sad Woman, but that just didn't stick when he had tried to tell the others about her. They all had mixed reactions - Wash shrugged it off as a trick of the light, Dip had tried to tag along once or twice to see her himself, and Ren grimly acknowledged the encounters but told Sokka to "be wary of such demons".

The Crying Lady paused, her head slowly swiveling to look at him. Silently lifting a hand, she motioned in a way that seemed as if she wanted him to follow her, before striding off in that direction. Like always, her feet didn't seem to touch the ground. Deciding that he had nothing to lose by following, Sokka went after her. After all, she had never led him to anything bad before: some supplies here and there, and after the first time he'd seen her he had come across Ren.

Leather boots trodding along as he followed, but she remained the same distance ahead of him as she glided with her mismatched steps - which Sokka couldn't decide if it was outright spooky or not.

How long had he been hanging in the tree? The stick Mabel had given him to rest on had broken, and now he only hoped his leg didn't detach and send him falling to the forest floor. Naoya had found that keeping his eyes shut made him feel less like his blood was going to pool in his brain and make his head explode.

The EGO took in a sharp breath, his eyes snapping open as something caught his attention. It was an emotion. An overwhelming emotion, flooding his senses. A tight, cold feeling gripped his chest. Tears stung his eyes. Sadness. Longing. Despair. Naoya knew the feeling of utter heartache anywhere. The mental image of a certain broody black-haired young man came to him, before Naoya stuffed the memory of his friend back as far as he could. It would do no good to lament over Kaname here, he tried to steel himself - failing when the tears broke through anyways. Great, now he was hanging upside down and he was crying over a boy who wasn't even there. Remus and Anders would have a field day - he must have looked like a complete idiot. But still, the lonely feeling continued to overwhelm his normally good emotional filter.

Oh God, he thought, his own anger at having such feelings forcibly carved into his being was growing. Whose feelings are these?

He managed to crack open his watery eyes just enough to see a face staring up at him. She had long black hair, gray skin, white-hot eyes… and no face.

"You," Naoya breathed accusedly, sniffling. She looked up at him with some sort of purpose, she must have known what she was doing to him! But instead images came to his head - seven bells, a wide river lined with black stones, nine shining stars, and flesh dissolving into light - a mental noise that caused Naoya to wince and try to block it out. But she was beyond ancient and no match for him. A name appeared in his head: Astarael.

Help. Astarael was there to help. Astarael was always going to be crying, he felt that she was lonely and heartbroken - but not in in a romantic way, though her eternal state would not stop her from intervening in the fates of those she decided were worth her help. Help you. Her way of communication was starting to push his limits.

"Stop it!" he demanded.

But Astarael only continued to stare as she dropped to the ground, a perfect circle of flora spread out from beneath her feet. There were leafy green plants mixed in with a brilliant red, drooping flower, the carpet of plant life obscured the grass and tree roots. She covered where her mouth was supposed to be with her hands and bowed her head. Help survive. Together needed, were the final mental words she gave before she disappeared - taking that horrible sadness with her.

"Wait, no, come back!" a voice called out after her.

The guy who came after the vanishing woman was around Naoya's own age, and he was kinda lanky. He wore a strange blue top and knee-high leather boots and vambraces, and some leather armor that had been mended in several places. Immediately Naoya looked for any weapons, and spotted a blade and boomerang strapped to his back. Arayashiki? No, Naoya decided this guy seemed too pleasant to be compared to them.

Only when Naoya gave a quick sniffle and attempt to wipe his face of any tears did the newcomer look up. The new guy rubbed his eyes, not sure if he was seeing things.

Naoya gave him a small wave. "Hi."

"… Hi." The other stared up skeptically, thick brows lowering, hands warily gripping the strap that held his weapons on his back.

"Um, do you think you could cut me down? I've kind of been stuck up here for a while, and my leg really hurts." It was the nicest tone Naoya could muster up.

"How do I know you're not a monster?" the other boy demanded, suddenly extremely on guard - it almost took Naoya by surprise.

Naoya studied him for a moment. If the other boy had had encounters with monsters and balverines, then it was no surprise that he was being so defensive. The EGO thought of several different alternate ways to get the stranger to cut him down, before settling on his specialty: "Because if I was, I would have transformed by now, cut myself down, and done something about that ponytail."

The other teenager let out an offended noise, defensively grabbing his tied-back dark hair. "It's a warrior's wolf tail, thank you very much!" he huffed, voice cracking. "And is that how you ask someone to cut you down?!"

"Well, since you're offering…"

"I didn't offer, you just asked me!"

"You, like, totally just offered to cut me down."

"I'm not cutting you down until you can prove to me that you're not some horrible monster." The other teen stubbornly crossed his arms over his chest. "And all you're proving right now is that you're a terrible headache."

"Imagine what happens when I shut up," Naoya commented, smiling smugly. He moved his shirt and jacket enough to expose the bandages on his stomach. "Look, I'm not a monster. I'm injured. What kind of monster admits that?"

"If you're not a monster, then what kind of girl wanders around the forest by herself?"

Naoya blinked, his brows knitting as his mouth spread out in a frown. "I'm a boy."

The other teenager immediately froze, his mouth hanging open a little. "Ah- uh-" he tried to get something out as he semi-panicked. "A-Are you sure?" was all that he managed to get out, the look on his face saying that he knew he had said something stupid. "From this angle you kinda look like a girl."

"Well," Naoya started, pointing towards his pelvis, "If you want to check…"

"No! No, no, that's not- I mean, I'm good!" He waved his hands in an exaggerated fashion. "I'll cut you down. Just… Pants on. Please."

Naoya half-chuckled. That was probably only the third time in his life someone had said that to him.

Upon drawing his blade, Naoya noted that the other boy's sword was made of strange black metal. He walked around the tree trunk and out of Naoya's sight. Naoya could hear him climbing branches, muttering quietly to himself. The rope trap jolted and Naoya dropped for a split-second before being lowered to the ground, settling down in the soft bed of red flowers and what smelled like some kind of herb. Clover soon sprouted along the rim of Astarael's plants.

"I can feel all the blood rushing out of my head and back into my body," Naoya sighed in relief, carefully patting his hazel hair back into an acceptable style.

"You get down and you start fixing your hair," the other teenager scoffed, winding some of the rope up around his forearm before her climbed back down. He carefully cut the snare from Naoya's ankle before sheathing his weapon and sliding the coiled rope onto his shoulder.

"'It's a warrior's wolf tail, thank you very much,'" Naoya semi-mockingly quoted. He closed his eyes and waited for the world to stop spinning.

With a stiff sigh, the other boy conceded: "Point taken." He looked Naoya over, seemingly deciding that maybe this wasn't some horrible monster. "My name's Sokka."

"Naoya Itsuki," Naoya introduced himself, not opening his eyes.

"So what got you?"

"Your trap."

"No," Sokka half-grunted. "What happened to your stomach."

Naoya's lips pressed tight together, before his expression rolled into a delicate pout. "An accident."

"Accidents out here can lead to some very bad things," Sokka said sternly. "Looks like you got lucky."

Long eyelashes parted and Sokka felt himself shiver as those weird amber eyes looked up at him.

"It's always some kind of luck," Naoya said sadly, almost remorsefully. "Isn't it." He frowned and shrugged lightly, then shook his head.

Sokka rolled his eyes, kneeling down to collect some of the herbs and flowers that Astarael had left. He carefully slid them into a small satchel. "How long have you been out here?"

"A week, maybe two. I've lost count," Naoya propped himself up on his elbows, watching Sokka work.

Sokka stopped, looking at him. Naoya could sense that he was only starting to feel a little bad. "Can you walk?"

Naoya sat up fully, rolling up the leg of his black jeans. An angry red covered his swollen joint, and it would certainly bruise later. He briefly wiggled his toes inside his tan sneaker. "Ow- nothing's broken, but I don't think I can walk."

Sokka glanced away for a moment, fixing his satchel shut, before he held out a hand to help Naoya up. Naoya barely came up to his nose, and he briefly wondered how someone so delicate-looking could have survived out in the woods all alone. His attention drifted down to the plants at their feet; the amaranth, the rosemary… the clover? That wasn't there before. His gaze followed it, spotting the trail of clover going off into the forest; here and there taller bunches of yellow stuck out.

"Oh, that was me," Naoya admitted. He saw Sokka's eyes following his plant trail. "It follows me-"

"-Wherever you go," Sokka finished, his tone trailing in thought.

Naoya looked up at him. "You know how it works, Sokko?"

"Sokka. And I know someone else with the same problem," he explained. Frowning, Sokka sighed.

"Which means it's going to be hard helping you around if you're going to be leaving a trail. I don't know if I can carry you all the way back…"

"Carry me?" Naoya blinked. "How far is it to where you live?"

The taller teen gave a deep sigh, already tired from the thought of it. "Far enough," he muttered. Resentfully rubbing his temples, he stooped down low so that Naoya could climb onto his back. "Let's just get this over with." When Naoya carefully slid onto place on his back, he stood - shifting the other boy's weight around until he had a comfortable hold on him. "Man, you're light. From how baggy your clothes are, I was expecting you to be heavier."

"Are you calling me fat?" Naoya whined in a faux-devastated tone, which Sokka promptly ignored.

Other than the occasional comment, the two of them didn't say much since Sokka had picked him up. Whether it was because Naoya had finally held up his promise of shutting up or that he realized that Sokka was beginning to breathe hard, Sokka didn't question it. He did, however, go over fifty different scenarios as to how he was going to explain bringing home a random guy he found in the woods.

Sensing Sokka's anxiety, Naoya finally spoke up: "If you need to take a break…"

Sokka shook his head. "No," he breathed. "It's almost sunset. We don't want to be out here, trust me." He swallowed the dry lump in his throat, trying not to think about how thirsty he was. "Besides, we're almost there."

"Whatever you say, Caveman."

"My name's not 'Caveman'," Sokka mumbled.

As they came closer, the brush started to thin out into a gravelly surface - a trail where footsteps and wheels stomped the ground flat - that stretched up a slope to the mouth of a cave at the bottom of a range of great red cliffs. It was a steep, rocky incline that lead to the small cavern in the cliff face; or so it looked, Naoya could see far enough into the cave and spotted a heavy-looking metal door with the number 17 painted on it in a well-faded white. It reminded Naoya of a very crude bank vault door, except there was no wheel on the outside to open it - just a strange hole in the center, which Naoya guessed some sort of portable knob would be inserted into in the event that no one was home.

Out at the base of the slope was a woman and a younger boy; he must have been about Mabel's age, if Naoya had to guess. Upon spotting Sokka returning with someone in tow, the woman handed the boy a knife of some kind and pointed him up the hill. The psychic got the overwhelming feeling that while she was concerned about Sokka - she felt commanding, not one to be trifled with.

Naoya looked at the strange settlement up ahead, then rested his chin on Sokka's shoulder. "But you use a melee weapon and live in a fancy cave." When Sokka gave him a rough shift of weight in reply, Naoya lightly snorted. "Would you prefer Caveboy?"

"NO," Sokka defensively grumbled. He stopped, jostling Naoya around a little as a signal that it was time to get off. Naoya slowly did so, and clover spread out from under his tan sneakers.

The woman approached them. She wore gray cargo pants tucked into well-worn black combat boots and a dingy white tanktop; her black hair was pulled back tightly in a ponytail. And her eyes were dark - almost black - and tired bags were carved into her olive skin. Naoya decided she was a very youthful mid-thirty-something, military type with obvious tour-of-duty combat experience - and he felt his own posture straighten alongside Sokka's. This woman meant business.

"Wash," Sokka started, trying to watch what he said, as if he expected a lecture any which way he explained the new face. "I found him stuck in one of the traps. He's injured."

Naoya swallowed, feeling Wash's eyes sizing him up. She looked between the two of them, unimpressed, before her eyes fell on the clover at Naoya's feet.

"I made sure this time," Sokka offered, almost pleading. "He's annoying-" he gave a short, very pointed glance at Naoya "-but he's not a monster."

It was Naoya's turn to look between Sokka and Wash. He caught sight of a holstered gun of some kind on her leg, too small to be a regular sidearm. Wash caught him looking at her weapon, her chin tilting up expectantly as she reached for it. Without taking it out, she thumbed a small switch on its side, creating a high-pitched whining noise. "You know what this is," she demanded.

"Sonic pistol," Naoya replied, recognizing the whine. He had seen them before, the Organization had been testing them and was planning to release them into the human population as law enforcement weapons, though as an EGO he personally had no use for one.

"What does it do?"

"I'm assuming that if I were a monster, and I'm not, you would actually turn off that safety switch you just pretended to turn off and shoot me."

With a small, acknowledging nod, Wash flicked another switch on her weapon, the whine stopping a moment after. "We'll talk about this later," she said pointedly at Sokka. "For now, get him inside." She turned back to the boy up on the hill. "Dipper, tell Ren to open the door!" she called to him.

"Okay!" the boy called back to her, a determined expression forcing his lips into a line. Unsure of what to do with his knife, Dipper simply carried it with him. His sneakers scraped against the well-trodden path as he beelined to the massive metal door, a trail of green spreading in his wake. What looked to Naoya like miniature pine boughs sprung up directly from the ground, and it was with great frustration that Wash took to picking each of the sprouts by the roots as she slowly made to follow.

Dipper took a breath before knocking on the door. His tiny fists still made quite the boom against the steel. "Ren! Hey, Ren! Wash wants you to open the door!"

There was an awkward moment of silence in which Dipper debated whether to knock again, but when the slat in the center of the doorway slid open with an audible slam, he swallowed. The pair of eyes staring back at him were none too pleased. "What's going on?"

"Sokka found someone in the woods," the pale, curly-haired brunette explained, his hands climbing involuntarily to take his cap off his head. "He's injured."

The man's stony eyes narrowed.

"Wash says to let him in," Dipper urged.

The man behind the door sighed out his nose, softly groaning. "Very well," was all that he said before shutting the slat.

The crank behind the door turned several times, a metallic clicking noise sounding when the final needed turn had been reached. Sokka helped Naoya limp up the hill just in time for the wide, rounded door to pop open and pull back, rolling to the side and revealing it's true gear shape, exposing the rusted, metal-plated inside of an ancient antechamber.

An air lock? Naoya noted with some kind of creeping dread. Further inside a similar door was left open, and as far back as Naoya could see were dingy white halls - it reminded him horribly of a hospital or laboratory of some kind.

"Take him to the main room," the man by the door ordered. When Naoya caught a glimpse of him, he was taller than Sokka - but he wore a dark blue shirt, white pants tucked into brown boots, and a long light blue bandanna on his head. His face was adorned with odd, purple markings, which ran from the bottom of his chin to just above his eyebrows. His posture was rigid and expectant, and he held a small lit lantern out for one of the other boys to take.

"Okay," Dipper murmured, taking the lantern in his free hand. He looked between Sokka, the strange boy, and back again. He was struck with the impression of how very alone he was here, and he shook his head to get it out of mind.

The interior of the chamber was dark and overly mechanical at first glance. The door ground against metal hinges and gears as it slowly closed and sealed behind him with a venomous hiss. The grating on the floor was clear of tools and any other unnecessary hazards—their mechanic had seen to that, almost obsessively. But it didn't make Dipper want to watch his step any less as he lead the two teenagers into the belly of the earth. Their footsteps echoed in the openness of the room.

On the other side, several large, round-edged rectangles full of light bleached their eyes as they came closer, and Dipper squinted. The room was built into the rock and stood out like a rail car trying to squeeze out of a small hole. But snugly inserted under the stone, this was the first true chamber of the architectural masterpiece. Dipper held the door for them, allowing passage into the halls Naoya had seen before. It looked even more like a weird office or hospital up close, and Dipper couldn't have agreed more when the teen voiced that opinion.

"Right?" he said, wanting to dim the lantern under the fluorescent glow but frowning at his full grip. He couldn't tell if the new guy was staring at him or not, or, if he was, why. "I guess it's some kind of weird, underground doomsday vault. I thought this place was super creepy when I first got here, too, but you get used to it."

Well, a little. Sort of.

The hallway broke open to reveal a grand circular room bordered by several arched doorways that were quickly lost in shadow. Whatever was down there, Naoya couldn't see. The center of the room was dominated by a large fireplace sunk into the floor and a ventilation tube that hung from the ceiling to collect the smoke. Clearly collected from the worst catalog in existence, each piece of furniture looked nothing like the piece next to it. All of the couches and chairs were sat on a level sunken into the floor as well, creating the effect of a somewhat comfortable meeting or living space. On four points of the couch-circle, stairs led up to the regular level and Naoya could see evidence of chisel marks and obvious wear in the steps. They were hand-made, cut into the floor on purpose. So was the fireplace and the ventilation shaft, he noted. As much as the place looked pre-cut, fresh off the press, it looked in equal measure to be a heavily modified and deconstructed piece of work. Whatever this place used to be, it was something else entirely now. Something much, much more. Sokka helped him onto one of the couches and Naoya felt himself sink into the cushions just a bit, propping his injured foot up with a reluctant sigh.

"Nice place you've got here," he said. "Much better than some rock or creaky old cabin with a hole in the roof."

"Yeah, well, we try," Sokka quipped. He looked relieved to be free of Naoya's weight as he threw himself down on one of the opposite couches. The teenager relaxed for only a moment, before he jolted back up into a sitting position.

"At ease," Wash's voice came from behind Naoya. There wasn't any force to it then, and Naoya got the feeling that it was more of a semi-joking dismiss than anything else. Sokka once again flopped back into the cushions with an audible: "Thank you."

"So," Wash began, striding down some of the steps and coming to stand in front of him. "I am Lieutenant Washington. You've already met Sokka. And this is Dipper." She side-stepped and motioned to the younger boy by means of an introduction. "And you are?"

The psychic swallowed. "Naoya."

"Naoya? Well, Naoya. You could limp your here, so I don't think anything's broken. You'll just have to be off your feet for a couple days." The Lieutenant motioned for Naoya to stand up. "But a couple days isn't right now. Sit up. Empty your pockets."

Naoya looked at her incredulously for a moment, but she showed no signs of budging. He sheepishly took out the only things he had on him: his wallet, his dead cell phone, and his cigarettes. The collection was lucky to have stayed together this long, having been through the wash at Reaver's place and then through the fresh hell that was their escape. Naoya was reluctant to hand them over and Wash patted his sides to make sure he didn't have anything else. The only thing she didn't give back was the pack of smokes.

"Those are mi-"

"I bet your parents wouldn't want you having these at your age," Wash cut him off, looking inside the box. Naoya tensed. He only had one cig left from what Reaver had given him over dinner one night. "Plus, they're a fire hazard. Now, lean back again so I can look at that ankle."

With an indignant huff, Naoya leaned back again. "Doctor?"

"I was a combat medic," she said, carefully sliding off Naoya's shoe and sock as if she were expecting him to smell worse than he looked. Wash lightly frowned. "So, how long did you say you were out there?"

"A week, maybe two- Ow!" Naoya half-yelped, not expecting the sudden prick he felt on his injury. Something had cut him!

"So it's tender there," Wash idly commented.

She had her hand obscured from Dipper and Sokka, but she made it obvious to Naoya that she had something small, metallic and sharp in her hand. She locked eyes with him for a moment, and in that instance Naoya thought only one thing: Shit. There was experience in her eyes, she'd seen this game before. She knew he was overplaying it. That glower was a warning if Naoya ever knew one. When Wash glanced down at whatever it was she had pricked him with, she made an unimpressed face and shrugged before sliding it into her pocket. Naoya could sense her suspicion lessen, but not dissipate. All that he could do was muster up a smile in the face of being found out. But when Wash stood, and brushed her hands off on her pants, she said something else entirely: "Like I thought, nothing's broken."

"That's good, right?" Dipper said with a small grin. He'd been here a month too long, and he'd seen about as much as he'd wanted to of the monsters in the woods. He'd taken a seat on the other side of Naoya, and he adjusted his hat to see the teenager's face more clearly under the brim. "Where the heck did you come from, anyway? How did you not get eaten by the balverines?"

Naoya cupped his chin, using his bottom lip to blow whispy bangs from his eyes. "That's a long story."

They had jokingly taken to calling the inventor's wing of their strange shelter "Ren's Workshop". Renkotsu had begrudgingly accepted the name for his living and working quarters.

"His name is Naoya Itsuki. He says he's seventeen. From the year 2004." The man leaned back in the cushioned office chair, repeating back what they had learned about their newest addition, his grave and marked face illuminated by the crank lantern that hung in the corner off what had once been some kind of managerial office. Of all the things that Renkotsu had dug through and hooked up and invented from the scrap in the vault, of all the things he was able to find uses for… for some reason Wash felt that he was secretly very pleased with the discovery of an executive's chair, he always looked the most as ease behind his desk. "That's close to the younger boy's year, isn't it."

"Dipper's from 2012," Wash replied, resting against the doorframe. "I'm technically from 2149. And you said you're from 1546. Sokka doesn't know what we're talking about with our years. We can line all the years up, but I don't think it means anything."

"I hate to think it's random selection," Renkotsu frowned, shaking his head. When the light in the corner started flickering, he reached for it and began quickly cranking the handle, eyes narrowing in thought, before putting it back after a minute or two. "Itsuki knows of your pistol. So does Dipper."

"He knew more about it than Dipper did," Wash admitted, glancing down where the sonic weapon sat holstered. "Dipper knew how it worked - in theory - but Naoya seemed to know almost first hand."

Renkotsu was incredibly smart for someone from his time; he knew guns, explosives, tactics, and machinery in and out - it didn't surprise her when she learned he plied his skills in archaic mercenary work when he wasn't inventing. Though he didn't know exactly how some of the technology worked, but he was fast to understand it - and faster to take it apart, learn the basics, and put it back together in a manner that suited his needs. Sokka had joined him on several occasions. They were both fast learners and intelligent, but Renkotsu was moreso. Needless to say she didn't let them anywhere near her sonic pistol. "Sonic weapons would have been huge and primitive then, and certainly not public knowledge."

"And he doesn't have any weapons on him." He was trying to figure out how all the pieces fit together, and was frustrated at falling short.

"The only thing I took from him that might have been a problem is this," Wash held out the almost-empty pack of cigarettes, shaking it for emphasis. "If he got near some of the flammable stuff…"

"What on earth is it?"

"Cigarettes," Wash replied. But she had learned that the others in their little group, Ren included, sometimes didn't know about certain things; namely anything that seemed remotely close to her own time period. Save Dipper, of course. "Tobacco?" Renkotsu didn't show any signs of recognizing the words. "Drugs. They're legal, but not for someone his age." He got that one. "He had one stick left and I took it."

"So we've taken in an addict," Renkotsu sighed heavily.

"Going off cigarettes won't be as violent as you think. He'll be cranky, maybe a little jittery, while it works out of his system, but nothing worse than that."

"Why don't we just give him opium and call it a day." It was a dry, stiff humor the man with the bandana possessed.

"I wouldn't let that kid out of my sight if he was on opiates or azameth," Washington replied, folding her arms over her chest. "Not until he was clear of it."

"So other than the fact that he's an addict and knows weapons he shouldn't…" Renkotsu let his voice trail. "Nothing else?"

"I've seen his type before, he's playing dumb. It's not there on the surface, it's-" she motioned to her own eyes for emphasis "-in his eyes."

Renkotsu nodded solemnly. "I have seen things that have eyes like his," he agreed. "They weren't human. They were youkai; demons." He shook his head disapprovingly. "But I don't think he is any of those things. Nor, it seems, is he a balverine."

"I don't know about demons, but I've seen thousand-yard stares like that. He's young and has seen some kind of combat." She shook her head, trying to get the hollow eyes and gaunt faces of Somalian children out of her head.

"It's not uncommon where I'm from for people his age to have fought in a war or two. There isn't much to him, and you think he's a fighter?"

She shifted her weight, leaning back against a support beam. "I think he's killed people."

"So have you and I," Renkotsu dryly pointed out. The mercenary sighed, lacing his fingers together in thought as he leaned forwards on the desk. "But maybe that's what we need."

"A killer teen?" Washington incredulously blinked, looking at him.

"The other two either won't or are physically unable to kill the monsters out here, and there's no room for mercy with such creatures," Renkotsu explained, he was trying to keep his tone neutral but there was some force to it. "And if something as frail looking as Itsuki made it through the traps…"

"The boy might be gayer than a rainbow," the Lieutenant eyed him, catching on, though her black brows were knitted in a disapproving understanding, "But he's got to be tougher than he looks."

Renkotsu nodded. "And if Itsuki is indeed a homosexual, we won't have to worry about any more balverines pretending to be teenage girls being let inside."

Washington lightly snorted as she tried to contain a chuckle. "Not that I disagree that was a bad move, but the poor kid's lonely."

"It doesn't excuse his mistake." He crossed his arms tightly over his chest and leaned back in his seat, the end of his bandana hanging over the back of the chair. "Mistakes like that can't always be fixed. By bringing Itsuki here, he hasn't learned from last time. We were lucky that this time who he brought home wasn't trying to eat him."

"Oh, I think Naoya would still try to eat someone," she smirked, scratching her chin.

At her last comment Renkotsu sighed out of his nose, arching his brows in a dry manner before covering his face with his hands. "You and I both know that as long as his… preferences… don't get in the way of things…"There was a knock at the door, echoing against the metallic chamber like a gong. Washington looked to Ren; it was his workshop, after all. But the man only frowned.

"Come," he said, rather loudly.

At the opposite end of the room, the door groaned as it was pushed open and slammed shut on it's own once let go. Naoya hobbled his way over to the desk where Renkotsu sat and Wash watched the teen tilt his head this way and that as he examined the furnace on one wall and the many half-completed skeletons of works even she didn't understand entirely spread out across the floor space. Walking with crutches was tiresome work for one who was not used to the pressure under the arms, and Naoya winced as he finally met them, even as his amber eyes scrambled over the sooty schematics on the desk.

"You wanted to see me?" he said.

"Yes," Wash stated, her boots clacking against the metallic floor as she rounded Naoya, giving him a thorough once-over. His ankle had been wrapped and there was minimal swelling—he was healing fast. "I don't think it would be out of our way to ask you a few questions, if that's alright with you?"

The inflection rose like a question, but Naoya knew that it was anything but. "Ask away."

Wash came around to his front again, her arms crossed in front of her. She was her own wall of steel. "What is a seventeen-year-old from 2004 doing in the middle of the woods, in this monster-infested forest?"

Naoya gave her a look. "I woke up here," he said. "Same as you, if I had to guess."

"Were you alone?"

He gingerly placed his hand at his side. "There were some others," he said lowly, glancing away. "I don't know where they are now, though."

"There were others," Wash repeated, "and you were left at that trap?"

"It wasn't like they left me," Naoya shrugged. "We got scattered, and I got caught in the trap. I was lucky Sokka came by when he did."

Wash's eyes narrowed. "Scattered by what? Be straight with us, boy. You realize how this looks?"

"Balverines," Naoya said simply, moving his mouth so that there was a deep sense of purpose behind the words. "There were a lot of them." Glimmering golden eyes came to his mind, and Naoya felt himself tense. "There was a really big white one," Naoya looked back up into their faces. He gave am uneasy, sheepish smile. "Told me I would make a better toothpick than a meal..."

"It is not wrong," Renkotsu said quietly, and Naoya ignored him, focusing on Wash.

"That's why you cut me, right?"

"That's right," she said, uncrossing and then recrossing her arms. "Enough of the balverines react to silver like poison that it serves us well as a test. By now you know that they can shapeshift. I apologize for not telling you, but we couldn't risk it." She paused, considering her words. "Do you know what happened to your group?"

"No," Naoya lied. He tried his best to look solemn. "I just... heard some screams. I, uh..." He dropped his head, chewing on his lip.

Washington sighed, and she dropped her arms with a frown. "I'm sorry," she offered. "We've all been through something. But you're here now, Naoya, and what happens now is up to you."

Naoya looked up at her again. "How do you mean?"

"We do not offer resources for free," came Renkotsu's turt response. "You will either stay here and work for your keep, or you will heal, and then leave. There are no other options."

Naoya huffed. "Like I want to go back into the woods."

"Then you'll have to make yourself useful," Wash finished. "Everyone has to make sure this place runs smoothly. First you heal, and then we see what kind of weapons you can use. You won't be going out anywhere for a while. You'll lead something back here to us, so you and Dipper are on housekeeping duty until we can figure out what to do about your damned plants."

"I don't suppose you guys know anything about them...?" Naoya tried. "Why some people have them and others don't?"

"No idea," the military woman said, again in her sternest voice. "Your guess is as good as ours. But it looks like we have a long time to learn," she finished, running her hands across her tightly held ponytail.

"What are you doing here, anyway?" Naoya asked. "I found you by accident, but you guys are pretty well set up here. What are you trying to do?"

Wash looked to Ren, who returned the grim expression and a silence expanded across the gap in the conversation.

"We're just trying to survive," Wash said. "Just trying to survive..."

The room he would have to share with Dipper and Sokka was maybe appropriate for two people, three at most. The feel of this room was much more relaxed, however. Everywhere Naoya looked he saw either books, scrolls, or loose pages covered in drawings.

To the left there was a bunk bed, where the bottom was oddly bare in comparison to the mess of scribbled pages plastered in formation on the ceiling and the pile of semi-neatly folded blankets. The walls were coated in journal entries with notes scratched out in some places and overwritten in others, and there was several drawings in a row of a balverine - each depiction becoming more detailed as Naoya's gaze went down the line. It was the rendering of an artist in the making, a detailed encyclopedia waiting to be born.

The right was similar and yet immensely different: rather than pages of art and text, the full-sized bed was home to plenty of odd-looking schematics and curious trinkets, some of which dotted the foot of the bed. And carefully set across the top of the wide, six-drawered dresser placed sideways between the two sets of beds was a strange, dark blue set of armor with white furry trim. There were a few blueprints of the Vault stuck above the head of the bed and, next to those, a map that was clearly a work-in-progress stuck to the wall, each adorning many crudely-drawn creatures drawn on in either ink or charcoal - one in particular looked like an angry raisin with a top hat and four legs.

Only for the briefest of seconds did Naoya think the space on the right with the crudely drawn raisin monster belong to the thirteen year old.

"This one's mine," Sokka announced proudly, throwing himself onto the bigger mattress. "You can move the stuff on that bottom bunk, under Dipper's."

"So you're the only one with a big bed?" Naoya asked.

"Hey," Sokka started, matter-of-factly, "I had to drag up the frame pieces and mattress from the lower level by myself. I earned this bed."

"You're so strong," Naoya said, limping to inspect the bunk that had been "assigned" to him. The blankets were blue-gray, military grade probably; they were too scratchy to be hospital grade. There wasn't a pillow, and Naoya wondered if he would be better not knowing what kind of condition he'd find one in. "To move a whole mattress, and by yourself…"

When Dipper snickered, Sokka rolled onto his side to face the two of them. "You know, you could be nicer, considering that I - oh, I don't know - saved your life?"

Naoya paused before sitting softly on his new bed. "You're right," he tucked some of his hazel bangs behind his ear. "Thank you. For not letting me be eaten by horrible monsters."

"You're welcome," Sokka smugly replied.

"So," Naoya took in a breath, lightly drumming his fingers on his knees, "Where are you guys from? Not here, obviously."

"My family's from this place called California, but I was staying with some family in Oregon," Dipper idly scratched the back of his head.

"So you're American," Naoya sounded, pulling his legs up and laying down on the bunk. It creaked under him, and he tried not to think about the musty smell that had built up on the mattress. At least the blanket was clean… maybe.

"Yeah. What about you?"

"Tokyo."

"Japan?"

"Unless there's two of them where you come from…?"

"No," Dipper shook his head.

Naoya lightly laughed. "Don't think it explains anything more than that. If you asked anyone who knew me, they'd tell you I'm the least Japanese person they know," his words very prideful yet tinged with traces of bitterness.

"So you guys are from the same place, then," Sokka broke into the conversation. Now sitting up, he had his arms cross over his chest and rubbed his chin - clearly thinking. "Like Wash and Ren. The same world, just different times. Which fits in with what we think is going on here."

"Oh?" Naoya curiously perked.

"Mirror worlds," Sokka said, eyes widening with the utmost seriousness.

"Mirror… worlds?" Naoya blinked.

"Parallel universes," Dipper further explained.

Naoya giggled dismissively, smoothly lounging back. "Parallel universes? That's nerd stuff."

"Laugh all you want, pretty boy, but this whole place is full of 'nerds'. Right, Dipper?" Sokka looked up to where Dipper sat in his bunk.

"No way, I'm not calling Wash or Ren nerds," Dipper said with a small, nervous wave of his hands as he leaned back, curly chestnut hair bouncing as he quickly shook his head. "Me? Sure. Them? Not so much."

"You could at least back me up!" Sokka huffed.

Naoya pointed to the bunk above him. "I don't think Dippy's a chump, he doesn't have a death wish like you do, Sokko."

"Sokka, with an 'uh' sound," Sokka once again corrected the newbie, with extra emphasis. "Is it common where you're from to do that?"

Naoya oh-so-innocently feigned thought. "I dunno, I'm usually pretty good with people. I think you're just special, Sokky." To which Sokka merely grumbled and only caused Naoya's smile to return in full force. "Is it common where you're from to do that?"

"As a matter of fact no, it's not common to be super annoying where I'm from," Sokka announced, placing a hand purposefully on his chest. He quickly sat up, putting his elbows to his knees and looking thoughtful. "You guys have like hundreds of countries, but where I'm from, there's only three," he began. "Well, four. Five?" He shook his head in a fast manner, trying to shrug off the details. "The whole world's at war, so it's kind of iffy. Point is that there's not a lot of countries. I come from the South Pole. I'm a member of the Water Tribe, and I used to travel the world with my sister, Katara, and our friend, Aang - he was this important guy called the Avatar."

"Avatar, like a person who contains another person?" When Sokka gave him an incredulous how-could-you-know-that-look, Naoya shrugged. "Look, Naoya is not good with book stuff. But that doesn't mean he's never seen a dictionary." It was a simple, mostly true answer. Naoya had heard of powerful Darklore using humans as avatars, but had only ever met one himself and he had no desire to do it again.

"When he first told me, I thought of video games," Dipper threw in.

"Oh, that's a good one, too-"

"You read dictionaries, not 'seen' them," Sokka pointed out.

The tired-looking teen on the bottom bunk only pointed a finger-gun at him and nodded. "Not good with book stuff," he repeated proudly.

Sokka rolled his eyes. "Anyways, I woke up here about six months ago. It isn't the place I imagined I would spend my sixteenth birthday, but…" His voice faded, and he gave a stiff, tired and forced shrug.

"I know the feeling," Dipper sighed, "I came here on my birthday. And that was a month ago." Dipper pulled the blue rim of his cap down over his face.

Naoya's brows pressed down in thought - his thirteenth birthday had been spent hiding in a dumpster from some agitated eastern mages who were way too eager to skewer an EGO child for wandering into an Arayashiki zone; and he had spent his own sweet sixteen with a bottle of vodka, three packs of cigarettes, a pair of jeans that were ruined with clawed holes and bloodstains, and no one home in his family's empty apartment - like many other birthdays, it wasn't worth celebrating or remembering what he did that night. It never was.

"That sucks," Naoya sincerely offered after a brief silence, with a blink he chased the mental images of his own birthday 'parties' from the forefront of his attention. "But, hey, maybe next year both you guys will be home for your birthdays."

After one week, Naoya had almost blended right into their little collective. He had his duties to perform like everyone else, and he only occasionally shirked them. It seemed that, after enough time had passed, the concern over his initial arrival had passed. Almost.

Sokka had been sitting on Wash's stern warning of "we'll talk about this later" for the entire week and nothing had come of it yet. Instead, she had barely spoken to him outside of telling him and Dipper to show Naoya how things in the Vault were done… and that one time she had laughed because he'd tricked Naoya into eating a handful of bee larvae. (The larvae, while a viable but unsavory food source, was slowly becoming a rite of passage in the Vault - plus Naoya's face was hilarious! Though it was less hilarious when the "pretty boy" freaked out and spat it out all over Sokka's boots.) He didn't understand why she was ignoring him - unless she was still upset about before. He was getting sick of his stomach sitting in knots.

Sokka had been ready to cave in and go to her directly when, during dinner the night before, she had reminded him that they were due for another hunting run.

And that was the story of how he was, once again, up before the sun and sleepily stumbling around in the room, hopping on one foot while trying to get dressed in the dim light of the small lantern. He had no exact idea how the lanterns worked, other than cranking equaled momentum that powered the itty bitty blue light, but he wasn't going to smash one to find out. That was Ren's job.

He was all set to go meet Wash by the Vault entrance when he turned and noticed a pair of amber eyes watching from the bottom bunk. "… How long have you been watching?!" he demanded in a hushed tone.

Naoya's mouth pulled into a tiny pout and he shrugged one shoulder. "Was it a secret?" he whispered back.

"It's kinda weird!"

Naoya's eyelashes fluttered as if he had never considered it. "Oh, sorry," he tiredly responded. "But, to be fair, the room's kinda small and you're jumping around." When he smiled, the puffy bags under his eyes became noticeable in the faint light - he hadn't slept again, Sokka noted.

"Ugh, just- just go to sleep," Sokka quietly growled as he left the room.

"Be careful out there, Sokky," Naoya softly called after him, Sokka successfully stopping himself from indignantly muttering about the older boy as he continued down the hallway.

Wash was right where Sokka knew he'd find her - by the front door. She was kneeling on one knee while she inspected a pack of what they'd need for the day's trip, an assault rifle strapped to her back. Gun were strange, but not entirely foreign to him. Wash was the only one who knew how to use them with any skill. With what few there were left in the Vault, she only used them in emergency situations: monsters, balverines, etc. And so she usually took one and a few "clips" with her when they went out far enough from the Vault, just in case. Ren studied them and could make cruder ones - though he specialized in explosives and heavy artillery like cannons and "bazookas" (he let Sokka shoot one once or twice, which Sokka knew he would always think of as one of the coolest things he'd ever done in his life) - Ren could make handheld guns that shot multiple times but the man couldn't make the rapid-fire, sleek guns Wash was familiar with. He didn't "have the proper tools", was the point he had stressed.

He stood back and waited for her to finish, but minutes turned into a dragging forever. "Sooo," he started, then stopped, not knowing where to go with it at first. "So, what are we going after today?" No response. "You said something about nickel, so we're hunting some of those Ovo-thingies today, right? The ones with the horns and the bright feathers?" Finally, he asked: "Are you still mad?"

"You shouldn't have been that far out by yourself," Wash said, not turning around to look at him. She then expertly pulled her hair back into a ponytail. "You said you were going to the stream to fish. Instead, you went all the way out to the snare traps."

His mind raced for a moment, he thought that she was still mad about Sabrina and instead he found himself confronted about saving Naoya. "I was trying to- I just wanted to make up for-" Sokka couldn't find his words. Instead he inhaled deeply before letting it out in a defeated breath, shrinking away from her as he glanced away. "Forget it. I'm sorry."

"I will not forget it and you should not tell me to," Wash lowly asserted, she didn't even look at him while she finished tying her boot. "I know what you were trying to do. You're still a long way from not being a kid, and there's not a lot of room for mistakes in this place - I think you've learned that the hard way. Don't try to make up for one error by purposely making another." Her well-cut features strained as she clenched her jaw, swallowing. "Something could've happened. Don't do it again. When you say you're going someplace, I expect you to actually go to that place." Sokka picked up his head and looked her way. "Or else I'm revoking your rights to go OTG," she finished, her tone taking on a more official tone.

He cocked one brow. OTG was Wash-talk for "Outside the Gate", going outside of the Vault - though he suspected she had used it long before the Vault became her "home". "Are you saying you're going to ground me?" he cracked a small, awkwardly relieved smile.

She pointedly pointed a finger at him, her fine black brows arched high on her forehead. "No, I'm saying I'll revoke your OTG privileges. Do you understand me, soldier?" When his smile only spread, Lt. Washington repeated: "I said: do you understand me, soldier?"

"Yes, ma'am!"

"Good." She nodded once at him before she stood up. "Now, did you bring the nickel wires?"

The Ovos, or Ovosaurs as Wash had called them, were strange, hip-height creatures that reminded Sokka of ostrich horses. They had two legs, small arms coated in blue and yellow feathers, and a small head covered in weird spikes - their tails were long and lizard-like and tipped by long, poofy feathers. Wash said they came from where she did, Terra Nova, and liked to chew on nickel metals. They liked light brush and trees, and were easy to trick into the snare traps with some nickel wires they ripped out of a strange machine for bait. Sokka hadn't been able to piece together much more about the day than that, and the morning being still young - his mind was still in a slight fog.

After he yawned for the twentieth time, Wash asked: "What, didn't you sleep last night?"

"Dipper somehow got a flashlight again," Sokka mumbled, rubbing his eyes. "He was up most of the night reading. You know how he gets… the whole talking to himself about the book thing."

"Again," Wash breathed, somewhat frustrated.

"Yeah, but I think he was asleep by the time I left. I mean, Naoya was up too, but I think he's having a hard time adjusting. Normally he just lays there. Though, he always looks sorta tired. Sometimes I see him shaking. He might be getting sick." He stuck out his tongue, somewhat grossed out.

Wash only sighed. She'd noticed Naoya getting jittery from getting cut off from his smokes… or smoke, he only had one left. He was going to get the shakes eventually, she had just ushered it along one cigarette quicker. Wash had noticed the shaking alright - even if his expression was neutral, it was hard to ignore the exhausted agony in those weird eyes of his. Naoya was jonesing, but she knew he wouldn't stir up too much trouble - after all, she had tossed the last cigarette into the fire. Box and all, right in front of him. Hard to jones for something that wasn't there.

"Something wrong?"

Closing her eyes, she breathed in. "I don't think we could handle someone getting sick right now," she absently said.

"He's gotta sleep eventually, right? It's not like he just doesn't sleep. I've seen him sleep once or twice."

Wash lightly snorted. "So," she said after a moment, "Do you watch him sleep and not-sleep, or do you have a list of other weird things about the new kid?"

"I have a list," Sokka proudly stated, puffing out his chest a little.

"Well, you did bring him back; good to see you taking responsibility. Just don't let him catch you watching him not-sleep. Might think you have it out for him." She ducked under a few branches.

"He's this thin-" Sokka held up his pinkie for emphasis as he also ducked "-and talks all girly. What's he going to do, tickle me?"

Wash paused and threw a glance over her shoulder at him. "Something tells me you wouldn't mind it," her eyes narrowed as she smirked, shaking her head before continuing on.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Sokka's voice defensively cracked from behind her. "I would so!"

The corner of the Lieutenant's mouth pulled up into a slant. "The whole forest can hear you, Sokka."

"I would so mind it!" Sokka repeated, quieter but no less defensive.

"I don't know, you two were laughing pretty hard about something the other night."

"We were having a pun battle, thank you. Naoya made a steak pun, he said it was a rare medium well done! I'm not you, I have weaknesses - I can't not laugh at meat-based comedy!"

"Oh great, there's two of you now," Wash lightly griped, again shaking her head.

Before Sokka could comment, the loud sound of thunder echoed through the forest, followed by a piercing scream. He jumped, his shoulders going tense as he automatically reached for the hilt of his sword. He had it half-drawn when Wash held out her hand, fingers spread, before clenching it into a fist. Quiet. They stayed still and listened for a few minutes, and when no other sounds accompanied it - she let her hand fall.

"Perimeter traps," the Lieutenant said quietly.

Mentally, Sokka thought about where those were in relation to where they were, and where they were going - which wasn't nearby, but it wasn't far either. "Do we… go check it out?"

Wash nodded. "There's someone else out there."