*Disclaimer: I own none of these fine characters. They all belong to
Marvel, Image, Sunbow, Hasbro, Devil's Due, and if there are any others, I
STILL don't own any of these guys! This is just a work of fun. I have no
intention of making money off of this story. I'm just a penniless fan.
**Just want to reiterate that this is fiction and I did NOT model the Fort Wright-Patterson Base Commander in this story after the real one. I wish the real deal the best of health and happiness.
***This chapter has been rewritten as of August 15, 2003. For those of you who are re-reading this, it is mostly unchanged but it has a new section in the middle. I hope you like it^_^
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A knock sounded over the blaring TV. "General," the muffled voice of a young man called out loudly through the heavy oak doors. "General, that group of reporters are here---"
"Go away!"
A slight moment of hesitation. "But, sir, you told me you were quite anxious to clear up any questions they had for you concerning General Aber-- -"
"I SAID GO AWAY! GET THEM OUT OF HERE BEFORE I COURT-MARTIAL YOU, LEIUTENANT!"
"Yes, SIR!"
Loud protests and offended shouts suddenly rose up and filled the hall outside the oak doors. The knobs of the heavy wooden doors rattled as some of the more daring members of the Fifth Estate tried to barge into the locked room, but they were quickly escorted away.
But not quickly enough for the General's nerves.
For once, the heavyset General in blue wasn't smoking.
He was sweating.
"What do you mean you lost the files," he hissed into the phone's receiver. "You promised me---"
"I promised we'd destroy Hawk," Zaranna's cut in, her voice sounding tinny over the speakerphone she used. "And we did. The files were just a bonus-- -"
"Don't split hairs with me, woman, you agreed to that contract!"
"And we'll fill it, luv, don't you worry," she cooed. "It's just going to take us a bit longer is all." She tsked. "Really should 'ave checked with us first before going on the air like that, duck. I figure whoever gots them files now are right pissed with you Juggler types. No telling what the bloke might do."
"WHO HAS THEM," the General demanded, clutching the phone in both hands.
"Don't know," Zaranna said cheerfully. "Yet. Don't worry, luv---"
"'Don't worry,'" he repeated incredulously.
"---we'll get it out of Hawk. 'E's tough, but all nuts crack."
"Crack him open then kill him," the man ordered. "He's too dangerous alive- --"
"Sure 'e ain't too dangerous dead," Zaranna asked shrewdly.
"Do you know what a dead Joe CO is," the General asked. He slammed his fist against his desk. "DEAD. The Joes never held up martyrs before, they're not going to now." He finally allowed himself a tight smile. "Especially with all this bad press besmirching his 'good' name." The smile vanished and he jabbed the air emphatically with his finger. "I want the intel, then I want him DEAD. I don't care how, just kill him. Is that clear?"
"Yes, General Winters," Hawk's voice grated right into his ear. "Crystal clear."
The man froze.
"Bloody 'ell," Zaranna sighed. "Zanya! Weren't you supposed t' keep the good Gen'ral under for Aunty?"
"I ain't a old folks home nurse," a girl stated sullenly over the speakerphone.
"I see you, Winters," Hawk rasped. "See you sweating in your chair."
General Winters sprang to his feet and whirled, eyes darting all over his darkened office.
"Don't let 'im get t'you, Gen'ral," Zaranna said soothingly. "'E's playing mind games with you is all. Zanya, fill that needle and give it t'the Gen'ral, be a good duck."
"Quack quack."
"Don't you give me lip, girl."
"You...should sweat, Winters," Hawk gasped, his words starting to slur. "You moved...too soon..." He laughed deep in his throat. "There's still...a musketball...with...your name...on...it."
"Damn you, Abernathy," he whispered.
"I'll give you...credit...for trying to," Hawk sneered. "But...not...much...else!"
"I don't think you gave 'im enough, ducky."
"Give it a minute, Aunty dearest."
"You're...a fool...to trust 'Noks," Hawk hissed. "They're Cobra's---mph!"
"Zanya," Zaranna said sharply over Hawk's muffled protests. "Give 'im more!"
"Alright," she huffed, "but if he croaks too soon, don't go blaming me."
"Wait," Winters boomed. "What was he trying to say?"
"Nothing important, luv. There, now, 'e's all peaceful again."
"Zaranna," Winters growled.
"Zaranna, Zanya," another man's voice called out over the speakerphone, "we're almost at the drop point. Secure the cargo."
"'Drop point,'" Winters repeated. "Just where the hell are you?"
"Well, it's been fun chatting with you, Gen'ral," Zaranna said sweetly. "Love t'continue, but I've got a date with a parachute."
"Zaranna---"
"And don't you worry, luv, we'll get you your intel." Her voice hardened. "Just don't you forget me account number in the Caymans." She laughed suddenly, and merrily said, "Toodles."
And Winters found himself listening to a dial tone.
With nerveless fingers he set his receiver back in its cradle and fell back into his comfortable black leather chair. He replayed the conversation in his mind as he reached for the humidor holding his precious Cuban cigars.
The phone rang.
He hesitated.
It rang again.
Taking a deep breath, he picked up the phone. "Winters," he said curtly.
"General, this is Colonel Lyle."
Winters grimaced. "This better be important, Colonel. I don't have time to listen to every infraction your MP's found on this base."
"No, sir, I wouldn't call you at Oh-Dark-Hundred for that. I just received several unusual reports, one from my men on stockade duty. I know this will be hard to believe, but they said that one of the GI Joe squads threw Major Kenner into their custody."
Winters felt his skin go cold. "Are you sure," he croaked.
"Yes, sir."
"Why wasn't I told," he thundered.
"I just learned about this myself. My men assumed the Major had too much to drink," the Colonel said crisply, his voice disapproving. "I believe they wanted to give him a chance to sober up without anyone the wiser but the Joe squad leader, I believe they call him Spirit, was pressing some pretty serious charges against the Major."
"Like what?"
"Attempted murder."
"WHAT?"
"My reaction exactly, sir."
"Who did he try---allegedly try to kill?"
"Apparently GI Joe's Top Kick."
Winters put his hand over the receiver and swore under his breath.
"That's not all, sir," the Colonel went on. "At first this Spirit was pretty insistent that the Major be charged. But then he got a message on those wrist coms the Joes have, and he turned right around and said they were taking the Major to the Medical Center for psychiatric evaluation."
Winters felt himself relax. He still had one operative left in the Medical Center to take care of Kenner and his stupidity before he talked. "Have you informed General Maddox about his men's aberrant behavior?"
A pause. "No, sir." Another pause. "Sir...General Maddox is in ICU."
"WHAT?!"
"The Joes said he had a heart attack---"
"'The Joes said?' 'THE JOES SAID?'" He throttled the receiver in both hands and screamed, "WHO'S IN CHARGE OF THE JOES?"
A long silence.
Winters took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "I asked you a question, Colonel."
"Yes, sir," the Colonel said coolly. "Unfortunately, the Joes wouldn't tell them. They said the new CO's identity is Classified. For security purposes. And..."
"And what," Winters growled.
"Frankly, sir, I can't blame them for being paranoid."
"Well I can," the General snapped. "Get me Kenner! I don't care how drunk he is---"
"Ah..."
"What now?"
"The Joes won't let us near him. They didn't take him to the psychiatric ward, they took him to the ICU floor and, well, they've barricaded themselves up there---"
"WHAT?"
"---and their assigned underground restricted zones. They're allowing one pair of MP's to the ICU floor at a time, but that's all. And my men can't get past the reception area. It seems the Joes have recruited one of the regular ICU nurses from the Medical Center into their ranks and...well, she was given strict orders not to let anyone without proper clearance in and by thunder, the old biddy wouldn't let my men in! Not even at gunpoint!"
"Why didn't they arrest her," Winters demanded.
"Because the Joe's cook asked them not to."
"What kind of answer is that?"
"The man was tapping a fully loaded .50 caliber Browning M-2 against his shoulder while he asked."
The General blinked.
"But he did escort my men to see the Joe in charge of security on the floor, that pretty red-head from the TV news interview. She said not to worry about the patients on the ICU floor, they managed to get doctors from somewhere. She wouldn't confirm it, but my men said the doctors smelled like spooks."
Winters became very, very still.
"She also said..." The Colonel's voice turned puzzled. "She told them to pass this message from her CO to you. She said, 'We have it.'"
Winters felt his mouth dry.
"I have no idea what that meant. Do you, sir?"
The General passed a trembling hand over his sweaty face.
"General Winters? Sir?"
"Leave the Joes alone," he whispered.
"Sir?"
"I said leave them alone," he said harshly.
"Even Lady Jaye? You said you wanted us to---"
"Are you deaf, Colonel," Winters barked. "Leave them the hell alone!" He slammed the phone down. For several long minutes, he shook in the dark.
He took a deep breath.
And another.
Finally he straightened up and dialed a number. "Our circle," he said, his deep voice suddenly too tight, "has a problem."
****************************************
Colonel Lyle stared at the cell phone buzzing in his hand.
Scarlet leaned forward in her seat and shook the man's knee. "Colonel?"
The Colonel shook himself and hung up the phone. "I was hoping you were wrong." He stood and clasped his hands behind his back, pacing the tiny break room behind the ICU nurses' station. "I just lied to my CO. With held intel."
"I wouldn't have asked you to do it if it wasn't necessary," she said. She stepped in the Colonel's path and touched his shoulder. "I'm sorry. I know what it cost you to do that."
The Colonel regarded her for a long moment. Slowly, he shook his head. "No, Commander. I don't think you do. Not really." Absently, he rubbed the heavily engraved ruby-topped gold ring on his right hand. "Not many people can."
There was a knock on the door followed by Nurse Appleton's muffled voice calling out, "It's the Captain, dear."
"Send him in," Scarlet told her.
Captain America, fully clad in a fresh Greenshirt uniform, slipped in. At the sight of Colonel Lyle he stopped short with surprise. Both the Colonel and Scarlet snapped to attention and fired off salutes. "At ease," Steve told them, returning the gesture. He shut the door. "Scarlet. Do you have an explanation," he asked neutrally, nodding to Lyle.
"Sir," Scarlet said formally. "This is Colonel Walter Lyle. He commands the MPs here at Wright-Patterson." She took a deep breath. "He's also agreed to assist us in keeping the Base Commander in the dark about...certain things."
Steve looked at her sharply. "I didn't ask you to do that, solider."
"Well you should have," she snapped. "I'm Counter-Intelligence, dammit! It's my job to feed the enemy false intel so YOU can do yours. USE me!"
Steve's eyes sparked as he opened his mouth...and shut it with a snap. "I'm...not used to directing Counter-Intelligence," Steve admitted.
Scarlet's expression didn't soften. "Because you find it distasteful?"
Steve looked her straight in the eye. "Yes."
"Well," Scarlet said. "So do I. But it needs to be done."
"Apparently," Steve grimaced. He took a deep breath. "So what have you two been feeding the Base Commander?"
"Mostly the truth," Scarlet said, "except we didn't tell him you're here."
Colonel Lyle nodded. "And I told my men who knows you're on base that you're presence here is Top Secret. They won't blab."
"It'll take the Base Commander a little while to discover that you're the new Joe CO, Captain," Scarlet continued. "And it should take even longer for him to figure out that you're not on base." Then she grinned maliciously. "But we told him that you have the item, so that should stall him long enough for you to get Hawk home, ready for the warpath."
Colonel Lyle scowled. "And that's the only reason I'm going along with this."
Steve blinked. "How do you know about---"
"There's always an item," Scarlet said impatiently. "Doesn't matter if you have it or not, so long as HE believes you do."
Steve blinked again. "Mother and Country," he breathed. "You're evil."
"I'm pissed," she corrected. "And I'll take it out on whoever I can however I can."
Steve pulled at his collar a bit. "Well, get it under control, Commander. We've got another hovercar coming in and I think it's hauling in our boys this time."
"About damned time," she muttered, grabbing her crossbow.
Steve turned to the Colonel and clapped the younger man's shoulder. "Thank you, Colonel. Hawk must be a very good friend for you to be doing this."
He shook his head with a grimace. "Actually, the only time I ever talk with General Tomahawk is when one of his misfits gets into more than the usual amount of mischief. And it's usually not pleasant when we, ahem, converse."
Steve's face contorted into a frown. "Then why---"
Colonel Lyle held up his ring, showing the side with Pallas Athena's helmet and sword stamped under the words 'Duty, Honor, Country.'
Understanding dawned in the Captain's clear blue eyes.
"He's a West Pointer," Scarlet confirmed out loud. "Like Hawk. That's why I felt I could trust him."
"I won't lie any further and claim to understand or even approve of any of this," the Colonel said, drawing himself up, "but when a brother of the Long Gray Line calls for help, you can bet your last purple heart that he will be answered!"
************************************
The colored sanctuary glass proudly marked with the words 'Duty, Honor, and Country' shattered inwards like a hail of rainbows. Snakes poured in by the scores, hundreds, tearing through the starry flags flying from the walls, undulating all over the pews and gray granite floor. Low Light drew his knife and slashed desperately at the writhing tide, trying to cut a swath through them, but there were so many---
Something clamped down hard on his wrist. He cried out as his blade was wrenched from him. He grappled with the heavy coils of the serpents, trying to break free but he was slammed roughly against his back.
Pinned.
Trapped.
"LIGHT, snap out of it!"
"I've got a tranq here---"
"No more damned drugs," a familiar voice snarled.
The sniper blinked rapidly in the pre-dawn light, staring blankly into the face of a masked man in SHIELD blue.
"It's me. Wardog. C'mon, buddy, remember? Yo Joe?"
Duke.
Low Light closed his eyes and tried to slow his breathing, nodding to Duke. "Yo Joe."
The Joe Second cautiously lifted his forearm from Low Light's chest and helped him sit up, careful of the sniper's cut up arm. "He's OK."
"Ya sure," Fury asked skeptically from the front seat of the hovercar, eyeing the panting sniper.
"Yes," Duke said through grit teeth, trying to ignore the throbbing headache the struggle aggravated. Holding his head stiffly, Duke scooped the fallen knife from the hovercar's floor. "I was expecting a rough nap, Light," Duke said, eyeing the sniper as passed the blade back hilt first, "but what the hell was that?"
Low Light ran the sleeve of his borrowed SHIELD jumper over his forehead. "A bad one." He took the knife back sheepishly and sheathed it. "Real sorry about that, Du-Dog." Low Light took a deep breath, smoothing the hairs at the nape of his neck. "Must have been the drugs."
"Well, whatever ya got shot up with, I hope it's out of yer system now," Fury said gruffly, popping open the doors. "'Cause we're here."
They were back on the helipad of Wright-Patterson's Medical Center.
Fury rapped on the roof of his hovercar. "C'mon," he grated. "Don't be shy. Yer home now."
Low Light reluctantly swung his legs out of the hovercar. "Yeah," he said gloomily. "We're home." Duke slapped him encouragingly on the back and gave him a gentle shove out the hovercar.
Carter was leaning against the hood of the hovercar, arms crossed and waiting for them. She glowered at Fury. "I should be going with you."
"Hell no," Fury said calmly, chewing on his unlit stogie. "Someone needs ta be runnin' SHIELD."
"And how long will you be gone this time," she asked, her voice biting.
"As long as we need ta be," Fury said, pulling on a tan trenchcoat. "If ya wanna see him before ya take off, do it now."
Carter's hooded blue eyes looked past the men, seriously considering the offer. "No," she finally said, her voice nearly inaudible. "I wouldn't know what to say to him."
"I hear 'Sorry' goes a long way," Duke offered.
The muscles around her eyes tightened. "Is that the line you're going to use on the red-head?" Carter flashed him a humorless smile. "Charming, Lafayette. Maybe it'll impress her so much she'll throw you a boner after her ninja boyfriend kicks off."
Low Light gasped and Duke stiffened, his scarred hands balling into tight fists.
"CARTER," Fury roared.
"Bitch," Duke hissed, taking a step forward.
In an instant, Low Light was in front of him, trying to keep him away from the mocking woman. "Don't do it, man!"
"Ya didn't have ta say that," Fury snarled, roughly grabbing Carter by the arm, dragging her out of earshot from the Joes.
"Why not," she asked, glaring daggers at him. She twisted out of his grasp. "You were going to bring it up sooner or later."
He grabbed her hard again and yanked her closer. "But not yet," he hissed into her face. "Ain't ya learned anythin' from me?"
Her fists clenched in unconscious imitation of Duke's. "I learned too much."
"WHAT'S GOING ON?!"
The voice rang into the pre-dawn darkness like the peel of a giant bell, making everyone jump at once. Captain America strode out of the hospital doors accompanied by the red-haired Scarlet, swinging a loaded crossbow at her side.
An ironic chuckle escaped Carter's lips. "Speak of the devil."
"Ya findin' somethin' amusin,' Agent," Fury hissed, gripping her arm harder.
"NICK!" Steve's expression was thunderous. "Get your hands off of her!"
Fury shot Carter a murderous look before letting her go.
Steve jabbed a finger at Duke. "You. Stand down."
Still breathing heavily, angrily, Duke forced himself to take a step back from Low Light and unfisted his hands. Low Light let out a sigh of relief, relaxing.until the Captain's next question. "Mind telling me what that was all about," the new Joe CO asked flatly.
Low Light bowed his head, but discreetly looked at Fury and Carter.
Fury just struck a match, making a show of lighting his cigar.
Carter blatantly looked at Duke.
Duke refused to look at anyone...especially Scarlet. "Yes, sir," he grounded out. "I mind very much." He grabbed a bag from the hover car and stormed past them all.
Scarlet moved to go after Duke but was stopped by the Captain's hand on her shoulder. "Wardog!"
The Captain's voice froze Duke in place.
"BeachHead arranged for Psyche-Out to give you a physical. I want you to have some kind of medical clearance before I let you come," Steve said in a voice that tolerated no arguments.
Duke gave him one anyways. "Psyche-Out's a shrink, not a medical doctor," Duke said flatly, not turning.
"He's got medical training," Steve said. "And he's the only doctor BeachHead trusts to see you."
Duke rolled his shoulders once, trying to relax, then nodded curtly. He marched on, flung the hospital doors open and disappeared through them.
"Why are you letting him go with you," Carter demanded sullenly, rubbing her arm. "He's got a concussion, he's dead weight."
"Gotta agree with her," Fury said. He snorted smoke at the studiously blank looks on Steve and Scarlet's faces. "Don't try that with us. We've known who yer Dog-boy is fer a while now. A mask'll only fool us fer so long." He grinned. "Ya oughta know that, Cap." He shook his head. "Be a real shame if he died fer real."
"Nick," Steve growled warningly. "What did I say about my partners?"
Fury held up his hands. "I ain't threatenin' him, just pointin' out he's a weak link. I sure as hell don't wanna die because he's not feelin' too good."
"He did fine at the junkyard," Low Light said softly.
The pebbly eye turned its glare on the Black Bullet. "Yer not exactly the picture of health either. If ya ask me---"
"No one's asking you, Nick. If Wardog's cleared, he's coming," Steve said in a tone of finality. "The same goes for Low Light. If you have a problem with that then you're just going to have to deal." He brushed by Fury and approached Carter. His expression and voice softened as he slipped his hand under her arm and gently massaged her bruised muscle. "Are you OK?"
"Yeah," Carter said, pulling away from him. "Just peachy." She crossed her arms and turned her back on them, walking a short distance away.
Steve briefly closed his eyes, trying to hide the hurt that flashed in his eyes. "Low Light, get cleared with medical," he said softly. "Scarlet, please escort Director Fury downstairs and introduce him to BeachHead. I'll be there shortly."
She glanced at Carter and nodded sadly. "Yes, sir. I understand." She turned to Fury. "Colonel, I'm sorry but you'll have to put out your cigar."
Fury glared at her, taking a big puff. "I just lit it," he rasped.
"Nick, don't be difficult," Steve said sharply.
Before Fury could retort Scarlet yanked the cigar from his between his teeth. "HEY!"
"No difficulties, Captain," Scarlet assured him, tossing the cigar into the air. With one hand she smoothly drew her knife and cut the cigar in half. The lit end hit the ground. She caught the other end on the flat of her blade. Low Light tried to hide a smile as Scarlet grounded the lit butt out with her boot and offered what was left of the cigar back to Fury. "If you'll follow me now, Colonel Fury?"
Fury took the remainder of his cigar back, arching his eyebrows high. "Ya been with Abernathy long?"
"Yes, sir," Scarlet replied, sheathing her blade. "Since the beginning of GI Joe. Why?"
"It shows."
Steve waited until he and Carter were alone on the roof. "Are you sure you're OK," he asked her again.
"Yeah, yeah," she said tossing her hair over her shoulder, shifting her stance. "I've suffered worse."
Steve yanked the bulky Greenshirt helmet off his head and held it in one hand. "Sharon."
Carter stood still.
Steve cupped her cheek with his free hand, gently turning her head. "Sharon."
She let her gaze travel the length of his body, slowly, from the boots up, reluctant to meet those open blue eyes of his. "Uniform looks good on you," she managed to say.
"Feels a little odd," he admitted. "But good."
"Don't get too comfortable---"
He lifted her chin, hoping to catch her eyes. "These are good soldiers, Sharon---"
"Yeah, I keep hearing that---"
"Let me finish," he said, his voice still soft but full of.something. "These are good soldiers. They're going through a very difficult time. It doesn't help that I'm leaving them in the middle of a media storm only a few hours after taking Command. They all want to rescue Hawk, charge in and save the day, but they understand why they can't. They understand that I need the majority of the team seen here digging in for the media siege, to lull Cobra into a false sense of security. But the reporters are saying terrible things about them, about Hawk and Jaye. It's affecting them, their morale. It certainly doesn't help that I can't come right out and say I'm the new Joe CO and protect them the way Hawk wanted me to."
"What's your point, Steve," Carter sighed.
Steve leaned his cheek against her forehead. "I love you, Sharon, and I always will. I don't know what went on between you and Wardog---"
"You mean Hauser," she interrupted.
"---I don't know what went on between you two," he continued. "But whatever it was, whatever it is.cut it out."
She drew back, startled, automatically looking him in the eyes.
Old eyes, sad and too full of weary disappointment looked back at her, looked INTO her, holding her gaze in a grip like spun adamantium.
"Cut out the games and the petty power plays, Sharon. The Joes are dedicated soldiers. The best America has to offer. Don't look down on them. Don't disrespect them." He lowered his hand. "Don't play them. They don't deserve it."
"What makes you think I'm playing---"
"Stop it," he said quietly.
The wind blew over the rooftop, swirling around the couple, surrounding them with silence.
"Sharon," he whispered. "Just this once.can't you be straight with me?" He held his hand out to her. "Please?"
She tore her eyes away from his and forced herself to turn away.
Steve kept his hand out. "The Joes will follow my orders. If there's something we should be aware of, some hidden agenda that NEEDS to be done.Sharon, if you just TELL me, SHIELD and Joe can cooperate and---"
"We ARE cooperating, Steve," she cut in sharply over her shoulder. "We're doing things your way, aren't we?"
"I don't know," Steve said. "Are you?"
Carter closed her eyes. "Look. I'm tired, Steve---"
"So am I."
"You don't get sleepy."
"I wasn't talking about sleep."
She glanced at him, still holding out his hand. Her eyes softened.
Steve held perfectly still.
"I.I have to go," she said quickly, opening the door to the hovercar. "So do you."
He lowered his arm. "I know."
She swung her legs into the hovercar, feeling his eyes on her as she buckled in.
Steve grabbed the hovercar door. "Good-bye, Sharon." He moved to close it.
"Wait."
He froze, an inch shy of shutting the door. Slowly, he pulled the door wide open. Carter stared fixedly ahead, gripping the wheel with white knuckles. "Do you know that quote by Thomas Jefferson," she asked, refusing to look at him. "The one that says, 'The tree of liberty must be watered periodically with the blood of tyrants and patriots alike?'"
Her words froze Steve's heart. "What about it," he whispered.
"Remember it." She slid her eyes to the side, finally looking at him from the corner of her eyes. "Fury and I aren't the only ones keeping secrets from you."
Steve frowned. "Are you saying one of the Joes is going to betray me," he demanded incredulously. "Betray Hawk?"
"Sometime keeping secrets aren't a betrayal," she said, gripping the wheel even harder. "Sometimes it's the ultimate act of loyalty."
"What do you mean," he pressed.
"I have to go."
"Sharon," he hissed, frustrated.
"I'm not playing you, Steve," she said. "I've told you as much as I can." She dropped her eyes. "I might have told you too much."
He knelt, trying to catch her eyes. "But are you telling me the truth?"
She looked him right in the eyes. "As true as I love you."
He held her eyes. A small smile lifted his lips. "I believe you."
Carter's face softened. She released her death grip on the wheel and caressed Steve's face. "Thank you for that," she whispered, bending down to kiss him softly.
The helmet slipped from Steve's hand as he kissed her back fiercely, letting her draw him closer and hold him tightly. He slipped his arms around her, trying to crush her to his chest, trying to drink her in, tasting...
.tasting salt.
His eyes flew open and he drew back.
Sharon Carter, hard as nails Director of SHIELD, was crying.
"Sharon," he gasped. "What---"
"I have to go," she choked out. "So do you."
"Sharon---"
"Go get the 'kid.'" She planted her boot in the middle of his chest and shoved as hard as she could. Startled, Steve went flying back. "GO!"
Before he could recover she shut the door and gunned the hovercar from the roof.
By the time he got to his feet she was cloaked, gone from sight.
Almost by reflex, he touched his lips and frowned. "Secrets and loyalty."
***********************************************************
Low Light sat at the edge of the unoccupied ICU bed, peeling the tight SHIELD jumper from his pale body to the waist. The young Asian medic quickly gave him a general examination before going over the synthetic skin covering the sniper's left biceps more carefully, asking the sniper to flex and move his arm. Quietly, Low Light complied, regarding the remains of the tattoo in silence.
Death, silent and hidden had lain under that tattoo for four years.
SHIELD could have killed him at any time, for any reason.
Low Light fought back a violent shudder.
"Um, sir?"
Low Light turned eyes as empty as the pre-dawn sky on the medic. "Yes?"
"I said you're cleared for combat, sir." He inserted what looked like tiny cartridges of liquid into a new wrist com's hidden slots. "You're lucky. You got mostly surface cuts, sir. The deeper ones were along the grain of the muscles instead of cross-sliced, so you should be able to move your arm OK. But add that to the pulled muscles and you're going to hurt a lot, sir, so I'm programming your new wrist com to give you doses of ibuprofen. It'll automatically dose you the equivalent of three pills of Advil every six hours. A little high, but it'll only be for a day, two max, depending on how you're doing. You should also get an iron-rich nutrient boost at the same time."
Silently, Low Light took the wrist com from the medic. He opened the bracelet-like device.and just stared at it.
"Sir? Is everything alright?"
"Yeah," Low Light said, placing the wrist com on the bed. He jerked his chin to the olive drab duffel sitting on a chair near the door. "That my gear?"
"Yes, sir. And someone will swing by soon with your weapons." The medic picked up the bag and handed it to Low Light. "I'll go and give my report to the Captain while you change, sir."
"The jumper's fine for now. I can change on the transport." He struggled into the sleeves as he jumped down from the bed, zipping the jumper shut. "Time's wasting." He reached for the com...and pulled back his hand, hesitating.
"Sir? Is...something wrong?"
Low Light glanced at the worried medic then back at the com. "Nothing." Shaking off the sense of apprehension, he snapped the com over his wrist and slung his bag over his good shoulder. "Let's go."
The medic opened the door.
He recoiled so suddenly that Low Light pulled the knife from his sheath, ready to pounce on the intruder.
"No, sir, it's OK," the medic yelped, holding out his palm. He eased the door open further, revealing a wide-eyed Greenshirt with two types of sniper rifles slung on her back, her hand poised to knock. "It's just Adams."
"Adams?" Low Light looked at the knife self-consciously and sheathed it with a mumbled, "Sorry."
She recovered quickly, grinning broadly. "That's alright, sir. Seems like it's becoming a standard greeting between us."
Low Light stared hard at the floor, remembering the last time he and the Greenshirt had crossed weapons. "Not funny."
Her smile wilted. "I-I'm sorry, sir. I was just trying---"
"I know," he whispered. "Forget it."
She slipped inside, unbuckling one of the gun belts hugging her hips. "We, um, retrieved your firearms from the roof, sir. Here's your .45, with extra clips."
"Thanks," he said, setting his duffel down to buckle on the sidearm.
"And Commander Scarlet said I should give you a choice in rifles. Old faithful," she hooked her thumb under the strap of his favorite single bolt. "Or the new kick-ass." She plucked at the semi-automatic's strap. "Personally, sir, I'd take the semi. Never know when you'll need the fast firepower."
Low Light sighed wistfully but nodded. "Good choice."
She started to unsling the rifle from her shoulder then stopped with an ill- concealed wince.
Low Light frowned. "Adams? You OK?"
"Yes, sir," she hissed, easing the semi off. She straightened with a grimace as she held the semi out to Low Light. "Just cracked my ribs."
He took the rifle from her hands, frowning. "How?"
She dropped her eyes, suddenly very intent on unstrapping one of her bandoleers and checking each magazine in the pouches. "On the roof. The imposter...we exchanged fire and, well..." She shrugged and held the bandoleer out to him. "I got tagged."
Low Light took the bandoleer from her without meeting her eyes, his shoulders oddly hunched. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be, sir. It's not your fault."
Low Light clenched the rifle tight and squeezed his eyes shut. "Not true."
The medic huffed. "In my opinion, you're both taking on too much as it is. Don't hog all the guilt as well." The medic gently prodded her side, frowning at her reaction. "The doctors said you're on LIGHT duty, Paige. I can't believe you volunteered---"
She squirmed away. "Everyone's been doing too much, Ev. I know for a fact that this is your second shift straight."
"I'M not injured." Ev shrugged. "Besides, these SHIELD doctors are good but...well, our guys need to hear a friendly voice. Y'know?"
"I know," Low Light whispered, cracking open his eyes. "It's what Lifeline would have done. He'd...he'll be proud of you. Keep it up."
The medic ducked his head. "Thank you, sir. I will."
Low Light shifted, suddenly intensely uncomfortable. "We've got to go," he said brusquely. He glanced at his bolt rifle wistfully. "Take care of my baby, Adams."
She straightened, fighting not to frown. "Of course I will, sir!"
"Thanks." He took one step...then paused. "Adams?"
"Yes, sir?"
"You said you exchanged fire with the imposter?"
"Yes, sir."
"Tag him back?"
A feral grin lit her face. "Yes, SIR!"
Ever so slightly, the stony face cracked. "Good." And with that, he hurried out of the room, not even waiting for Ev.
"Sir! Low Light! Wait---ow!"
The sniper spun.
The Greenshirt Lieutenant was leaning against the wall, one arm wrapped around her ribs, the other held out to him. "Wait, Low Light."
"Dammit, Paige," the medic snarled, slipping an arm around her shoulders. "You need rest---"
"Shove off, Ev," she said irritably. "This is important."
"What is," he demanded.
Her face darkened. "Doing more," she said cryptically. She pushed away from the exasperated medic and walked as quickly as she could to Low Light. "Here," she said, drawing one of the smallest pistols he had ever seen from a holster at the small of her back. "Walther Model 9 Pocket Pistol. Six shots." She took a deep breath, visibly steeled herself, and offered it to him grip first. "Take it."
Low Light scowled and held his palm out, close to his chest. "Cute antique, but---"
"It would have saved us all a lot of trouble if I had it on the roof," she snapped. "It might save you a lot of trouble now." She pushed it against his unresponsive hand. "Please, sir. Just take it."
"Adams," Low Light began.
"Please."
He sighed. "This is really important to you, isn't it?"
Her clear blue eyes stared intently at him. "Yes, sir."
"Well," he sighed again, "I can't ignore that." His fingers curled around the grip.
She pulled her hand away reluctantly, regretfully. "Take care of my baby."
The stony face cracked further. "Of course, ma'am," Low Light said, touching his fingers to his temple in a mock salute.
Adams returned the gesture with parade smart sharpness. "Then carry on."
******************************
Fury placed a metal sphere on the table in the middle of the 'unused' ICU room and pressed a button. A holographic globe as large as a basketball sprang to life. "Now ya see here," he said, touching a glowing dot in the middle of the Atlantic. Instantly a holographic window, an enlarged map of the area popped up over the globe. "That's where yer bird was when it threw out that signal." He double tapped the glowing dot on the window. Another window opened, showing the schematics of a plane.
Lady Jaye rubbed her red rimmed eyes and nodded. "Of course. An Extensive Enterprise business jet."
"'Business jet,'" Fury snorted. "Damn thing's an armored supersonic!"
"Tomax and Xamot don't play nice," BeachHead rumbled. "Someone's always out to get them." He shrugged. "Mostly us, but sometimes not."
"What's their flight trajectory," Duke asked, twirling the SHIELD mask in one hand.
He closed down the map of the ocean and opened one of Europe. "They took an Arctic route. Comin' down from the north." A glowing line swooped over the United Kingdom. "My folks say they made a refueling stop in Scotland and got back in the air." The glowing line continued to thread its way over a number of countries. "They're still on the move, over the Carpathean Mountains at the moment, heading fer what looks like Trans- Carpathia."
"They're really moving," Jinx murmured.
"Heading for that damned Silent Castle of Destro's I bet," BeachHead spat.
Jaye cocked her head, her green eyes distant, as if listening to something. "I...don't think so..." she said slowly, walking up to the globe. "Colonel Fury, is there a way for me to measure the plane's altitude and speed?"
"Yeah," Fury said, stroking the line. Numbers popped up along side the globe. "Here."
"I agree with Jaye," Scarlet said. "They stopped in Scotland. My bet is they managed to smuggle Hawk off there."
"I'm telling you, they're taking Hawk to Trans-Carpathia," BeachHead insisted. "That damned castle is a bitch to break into. I recommend a bigger team---"
"Noted." Captain America said sharply. "But denied." He peered over Jaye's shoulder as she examined the plane's flight path. "That whole area's in bad diplomatic relations with this country. If we go in with anything larger than a platoon, we're going to kick up a whole mess of trouble that could get this unit disbanded."
"Nothing new," Low Light muttered under his breath.
"It's not happening on my watch," Steve snapped.
"Well, can you at least pick out a group that's more together, sir," BeachHead growled. "Low Light's a walking bruise and Psyche-Out didn't look none too pleased with Duke---"
"BEACH HEAD," Duke snapped. "You're out of order!"
"And you're dead," BeachHead retorted. "I should be the one going---"
"Like you said," Duke cut in, grinning ferally. "I'm dead. You're not."
BeachHead took a threatening step forward. "I don't like this," he hissed.
"GENTLEMEN," Steve said, stepping between them. "Do we have a problem?"
"No problem, sir," Duke said, never taking his eyes from BeachHead. "Right? Top?"
BeachHead just grunted and backed off.
"THIS mess of egos is the best anit-terrorist task force in the world?" Fury spat. "Pathetic."
"NICK," Steve roared.
"They slowed down," Jaye exclaimed suddenly.
Her words struck the whole room dumb.
"They slowed down," she repeated excitedly. "In mid-air. Right here," she said, pointing at a spot on the path near the end. "Then they sped back up."
"WHAT," Fury choked out. "Lemme see!"
"Where," Scarlet demanded.
Lady Jaye shuddered.
Blue-green eyes went round with horror. "Oh hell," Scarlet whispered. "Borovia?"
Jaye nodded.
"Uh-uh. No way," Fury said flatly. "Our satellites don't show nuthin' comin' outta that plane---"
"Would it register a High Altitude Low Opening drop," Steve asked softly.
"Look at these numbers," Fury snarled, chewing his unlit cigar flat. "Only some damned fruitcake would HALO jump from this height!"
"I've done it," BeachHead said nonchalantly.
"Ditto," Duke said raising his hand.
"Yeah, right," Fury sneered. "Anyone else?"
All the Joes raised their hands.
Fury stared at them in disbelief.
Steve tried to hide a smile behind his hand as he shrugged. "What can I say, Nick?"
The corner of Low Light's lips lifted slightly. "No one here but us fruitcakes?"
The pebbly brown eye swung to glare at the sniper. "Ya get a sense of humor NOW?"
"THE POINT," Steve said loudly, getting everyone's attention. "The point is that I'M willing to bet that the Drednoks made that jump over Borovia."
"Yer bettin' Hawk's life on that," Fury said.
Steve nodded solemnly. "I know."
Everyone became silent as the gravity of that statement sunk in.
"Status on those two hovercars," Steve asked BeachHead.
"Preped," the Ranger said shortly. "They're ready anytime y'all want to saddle up."
"Nick, I want SHEILD's computer to run a simulation on a HALO jump from those conditions," Steve said, pointing to the flight path. "I want to know where possible Landing Zones are. Then give the intel to Lady Jaye so we can narrow it down to probable LZ's."
"Understood," Jaye said gravely.
Fury nodded as he turned and muttered something into the com at his shoulder.
"Duke, Low Light. You boys need anything else in the way of gear?"
The Second held up his pack. "I'm good."
Low Light patted the rifle slung over his good shoulder. "Ready."
"Alright, people, I want to be in the air in less than fifteen minutes," Steve said. "So get a move on. Nick, Jaye, Light, Duke, stay for a minute. BeachHead."
The Ranger turned. "Yes, sir?"
Steve put both hands on the younger man's shoulders and stared deeply into his eyes. "I'm counting on you to keep this team together, solider." Steve gave his shoulders a squeeze. "Stay true to your name, son. Dig in and wait for us. Don't surrender any ground."
BeachHead straightened up. "You can count on me, sir." He saluted smartly. "Captain America. It's been an honor."
"The honor's been mine." Steve returned the salute. "Dismissed." He watched the Ranger and his bodyguard depart the room and waited several beats. "It's possible that BeachHead was right. That I should get a team that's more 'together.'" He turned to face his strike squad. "We're bruised, battered, broken hearted...all in all a pretty sorry bunch." Slowly, he looked each of them in the eyes. "But I believe that we're together enough." He held out a fist to them. "More than together."
Fury watched curiously as Duke stepped up and placed his hand over Steve's fist. Low Light and Lady Jaye followed suit. "What the hell's this? A pep rally?"
Steve locked eyes with Fury. "We made an oath, Nick," he told the spy. "We swore we wouldn't lose Hawk without a fight."
"Nuts to surrender," Duke said softly.
"Nuts," Low Light and Jaye repeated.
"Cute." The spy looked bemused. "Well, then." Fury stepped up and slapped his hand on top of theirs. "Nuts ta the whole damned lot of 'em! Let's fly!"
**Just want to reiterate that this is fiction and I did NOT model the Fort Wright-Patterson Base Commander in this story after the real one. I wish the real deal the best of health and happiness.
***This chapter has been rewritten as of August 15, 2003. For those of you who are re-reading this, it is mostly unchanged but it has a new section in the middle. I hope you like it^_^
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------ .
.
.
A knock sounded over the blaring TV. "General," the muffled voice of a young man called out loudly through the heavy oak doors. "General, that group of reporters are here---"
"Go away!"
A slight moment of hesitation. "But, sir, you told me you were quite anxious to clear up any questions they had for you concerning General Aber-- -"
"I SAID GO AWAY! GET THEM OUT OF HERE BEFORE I COURT-MARTIAL YOU, LEIUTENANT!"
"Yes, SIR!"
Loud protests and offended shouts suddenly rose up and filled the hall outside the oak doors. The knobs of the heavy wooden doors rattled as some of the more daring members of the Fifth Estate tried to barge into the locked room, but they were quickly escorted away.
But not quickly enough for the General's nerves.
For once, the heavyset General in blue wasn't smoking.
He was sweating.
"What do you mean you lost the files," he hissed into the phone's receiver. "You promised me---"
"I promised we'd destroy Hawk," Zaranna's cut in, her voice sounding tinny over the speakerphone she used. "And we did. The files were just a bonus-- -"
"Don't split hairs with me, woman, you agreed to that contract!"
"And we'll fill it, luv, don't you worry," she cooed. "It's just going to take us a bit longer is all." She tsked. "Really should 'ave checked with us first before going on the air like that, duck. I figure whoever gots them files now are right pissed with you Juggler types. No telling what the bloke might do."
"WHO HAS THEM," the General demanded, clutching the phone in both hands.
"Don't know," Zaranna said cheerfully. "Yet. Don't worry, luv---"
"'Don't worry,'" he repeated incredulously.
"---we'll get it out of Hawk. 'E's tough, but all nuts crack."
"Crack him open then kill him," the man ordered. "He's too dangerous alive- --"
"Sure 'e ain't too dangerous dead," Zaranna asked shrewdly.
"Do you know what a dead Joe CO is," the General asked. He slammed his fist against his desk. "DEAD. The Joes never held up martyrs before, they're not going to now." He finally allowed himself a tight smile. "Especially with all this bad press besmirching his 'good' name." The smile vanished and he jabbed the air emphatically with his finger. "I want the intel, then I want him DEAD. I don't care how, just kill him. Is that clear?"
"Yes, General Winters," Hawk's voice grated right into his ear. "Crystal clear."
The man froze.
"Bloody 'ell," Zaranna sighed. "Zanya! Weren't you supposed t' keep the good Gen'ral under for Aunty?"
"I ain't a old folks home nurse," a girl stated sullenly over the speakerphone.
"I see you, Winters," Hawk rasped. "See you sweating in your chair."
General Winters sprang to his feet and whirled, eyes darting all over his darkened office.
"Don't let 'im get t'you, Gen'ral," Zaranna said soothingly. "'E's playing mind games with you is all. Zanya, fill that needle and give it t'the Gen'ral, be a good duck."
"Quack quack."
"Don't you give me lip, girl."
"You...should sweat, Winters," Hawk gasped, his words starting to slur. "You moved...too soon..." He laughed deep in his throat. "There's still...a musketball...with...your name...on...it."
"Damn you, Abernathy," he whispered.
"I'll give you...credit...for trying to," Hawk sneered. "But...not...much...else!"
"I don't think you gave 'im enough, ducky."
"Give it a minute, Aunty dearest."
"You're...a fool...to trust 'Noks," Hawk hissed. "They're Cobra's---mph!"
"Zanya," Zaranna said sharply over Hawk's muffled protests. "Give 'im more!"
"Alright," she huffed, "but if he croaks too soon, don't go blaming me."
"Wait," Winters boomed. "What was he trying to say?"
"Nothing important, luv. There, now, 'e's all peaceful again."
"Zaranna," Winters growled.
"Zaranna, Zanya," another man's voice called out over the speakerphone, "we're almost at the drop point. Secure the cargo."
"'Drop point,'" Winters repeated. "Just where the hell are you?"
"Well, it's been fun chatting with you, Gen'ral," Zaranna said sweetly. "Love t'continue, but I've got a date with a parachute."
"Zaranna---"
"And don't you worry, luv, we'll get you your intel." Her voice hardened. "Just don't you forget me account number in the Caymans." She laughed suddenly, and merrily said, "Toodles."
And Winters found himself listening to a dial tone.
With nerveless fingers he set his receiver back in its cradle and fell back into his comfortable black leather chair. He replayed the conversation in his mind as he reached for the humidor holding his precious Cuban cigars.
The phone rang.
He hesitated.
It rang again.
Taking a deep breath, he picked up the phone. "Winters," he said curtly.
"General, this is Colonel Lyle."
Winters grimaced. "This better be important, Colonel. I don't have time to listen to every infraction your MP's found on this base."
"No, sir, I wouldn't call you at Oh-Dark-Hundred for that. I just received several unusual reports, one from my men on stockade duty. I know this will be hard to believe, but they said that one of the GI Joe squads threw Major Kenner into their custody."
Winters felt his skin go cold. "Are you sure," he croaked.
"Yes, sir."
"Why wasn't I told," he thundered.
"I just learned about this myself. My men assumed the Major had too much to drink," the Colonel said crisply, his voice disapproving. "I believe they wanted to give him a chance to sober up without anyone the wiser but the Joe squad leader, I believe they call him Spirit, was pressing some pretty serious charges against the Major."
"Like what?"
"Attempted murder."
"WHAT?"
"My reaction exactly, sir."
"Who did he try---allegedly try to kill?"
"Apparently GI Joe's Top Kick."
Winters put his hand over the receiver and swore under his breath.
"That's not all, sir," the Colonel went on. "At first this Spirit was pretty insistent that the Major be charged. But then he got a message on those wrist coms the Joes have, and he turned right around and said they were taking the Major to the Medical Center for psychiatric evaluation."
Winters felt himself relax. He still had one operative left in the Medical Center to take care of Kenner and his stupidity before he talked. "Have you informed General Maddox about his men's aberrant behavior?"
A pause. "No, sir." Another pause. "Sir...General Maddox is in ICU."
"WHAT?!"
"The Joes said he had a heart attack---"
"'The Joes said?' 'THE JOES SAID?'" He throttled the receiver in both hands and screamed, "WHO'S IN CHARGE OF THE JOES?"
A long silence.
Winters took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "I asked you a question, Colonel."
"Yes, sir," the Colonel said coolly. "Unfortunately, the Joes wouldn't tell them. They said the new CO's identity is Classified. For security purposes. And..."
"And what," Winters growled.
"Frankly, sir, I can't blame them for being paranoid."
"Well I can," the General snapped. "Get me Kenner! I don't care how drunk he is---"
"Ah..."
"What now?"
"The Joes won't let us near him. They didn't take him to the psychiatric ward, they took him to the ICU floor and, well, they've barricaded themselves up there---"
"WHAT?"
"---and their assigned underground restricted zones. They're allowing one pair of MP's to the ICU floor at a time, but that's all. And my men can't get past the reception area. It seems the Joes have recruited one of the regular ICU nurses from the Medical Center into their ranks and...well, she was given strict orders not to let anyone without proper clearance in and by thunder, the old biddy wouldn't let my men in! Not even at gunpoint!"
"Why didn't they arrest her," Winters demanded.
"Because the Joe's cook asked them not to."
"What kind of answer is that?"
"The man was tapping a fully loaded .50 caliber Browning M-2 against his shoulder while he asked."
The General blinked.
"But he did escort my men to see the Joe in charge of security on the floor, that pretty red-head from the TV news interview. She said not to worry about the patients on the ICU floor, they managed to get doctors from somewhere. She wouldn't confirm it, but my men said the doctors smelled like spooks."
Winters became very, very still.
"She also said..." The Colonel's voice turned puzzled. "She told them to pass this message from her CO to you. She said, 'We have it.'"
Winters felt his mouth dry.
"I have no idea what that meant. Do you, sir?"
The General passed a trembling hand over his sweaty face.
"General Winters? Sir?"
"Leave the Joes alone," he whispered.
"Sir?"
"I said leave them alone," he said harshly.
"Even Lady Jaye? You said you wanted us to---"
"Are you deaf, Colonel," Winters barked. "Leave them the hell alone!" He slammed the phone down. For several long minutes, he shook in the dark.
He took a deep breath.
And another.
Finally he straightened up and dialed a number. "Our circle," he said, his deep voice suddenly too tight, "has a problem."
****************************************
Colonel Lyle stared at the cell phone buzzing in his hand.
Scarlet leaned forward in her seat and shook the man's knee. "Colonel?"
The Colonel shook himself and hung up the phone. "I was hoping you were wrong." He stood and clasped his hands behind his back, pacing the tiny break room behind the ICU nurses' station. "I just lied to my CO. With held intel."
"I wouldn't have asked you to do it if it wasn't necessary," she said. She stepped in the Colonel's path and touched his shoulder. "I'm sorry. I know what it cost you to do that."
The Colonel regarded her for a long moment. Slowly, he shook his head. "No, Commander. I don't think you do. Not really." Absently, he rubbed the heavily engraved ruby-topped gold ring on his right hand. "Not many people can."
There was a knock on the door followed by Nurse Appleton's muffled voice calling out, "It's the Captain, dear."
"Send him in," Scarlet told her.
Captain America, fully clad in a fresh Greenshirt uniform, slipped in. At the sight of Colonel Lyle he stopped short with surprise. Both the Colonel and Scarlet snapped to attention and fired off salutes. "At ease," Steve told them, returning the gesture. He shut the door. "Scarlet. Do you have an explanation," he asked neutrally, nodding to Lyle.
"Sir," Scarlet said formally. "This is Colonel Walter Lyle. He commands the MPs here at Wright-Patterson." She took a deep breath. "He's also agreed to assist us in keeping the Base Commander in the dark about...certain things."
Steve looked at her sharply. "I didn't ask you to do that, solider."
"Well you should have," she snapped. "I'm Counter-Intelligence, dammit! It's my job to feed the enemy false intel so YOU can do yours. USE me!"
Steve's eyes sparked as he opened his mouth...and shut it with a snap. "I'm...not used to directing Counter-Intelligence," Steve admitted.
Scarlet's expression didn't soften. "Because you find it distasteful?"
Steve looked her straight in the eye. "Yes."
"Well," Scarlet said. "So do I. But it needs to be done."
"Apparently," Steve grimaced. He took a deep breath. "So what have you two been feeding the Base Commander?"
"Mostly the truth," Scarlet said, "except we didn't tell him you're here."
Colonel Lyle nodded. "And I told my men who knows you're on base that you're presence here is Top Secret. They won't blab."
"It'll take the Base Commander a little while to discover that you're the new Joe CO, Captain," Scarlet continued. "And it should take even longer for him to figure out that you're not on base." Then she grinned maliciously. "But we told him that you have the item, so that should stall him long enough for you to get Hawk home, ready for the warpath."
Colonel Lyle scowled. "And that's the only reason I'm going along with this."
Steve blinked. "How do you know about---"
"There's always an item," Scarlet said impatiently. "Doesn't matter if you have it or not, so long as HE believes you do."
Steve blinked again. "Mother and Country," he breathed. "You're evil."
"I'm pissed," she corrected. "And I'll take it out on whoever I can however I can."
Steve pulled at his collar a bit. "Well, get it under control, Commander. We've got another hovercar coming in and I think it's hauling in our boys this time."
"About damned time," she muttered, grabbing her crossbow.
Steve turned to the Colonel and clapped the younger man's shoulder. "Thank you, Colonel. Hawk must be a very good friend for you to be doing this."
He shook his head with a grimace. "Actually, the only time I ever talk with General Tomahawk is when one of his misfits gets into more than the usual amount of mischief. And it's usually not pleasant when we, ahem, converse."
Steve's face contorted into a frown. "Then why---"
Colonel Lyle held up his ring, showing the side with Pallas Athena's helmet and sword stamped under the words 'Duty, Honor, Country.'
Understanding dawned in the Captain's clear blue eyes.
"He's a West Pointer," Scarlet confirmed out loud. "Like Hawk. That's why I felt I could trust him."
"I won't lie any further and claim to understand or even approve of any of this," the Colonel said, drawing himself up, "but when a brother of the Long Gray Line calls for help, you can bet your last purple heart that he will be answered!"
************************************
The colored sanctuary glass proudly marked with the words 'Duty, Honor, and Country' shattered inwards like a hail of rainbows. Snakes poured in by the scores, hundreds, tearing through the starry flags flying from the walls, undulating all over the pews and gray granite floor. Low Light drew his knife and slashed desperately at the writhing tide, trying to cut a swath through them, but there were so many---
Something clamped down hard on his wrist. He cried out as his blade was wrenched from him. He grappled with the heavy coils of the serpents, trying to break free but he was slammed roughly against his back.
Pinned.
Trapped.
"LIGHT, snap out of it!"
"I've got a tranq here---"
"No more damned drugs," a familiar voice snarled.
The sniper blinked rapidly in the pre-dawn light, staring blankly into the face of a masked man in SHIELD blue.
"It's me. Wardog. C'mon, buddy, remember? Yo Joe?"
Duke.
Low Light closed his eyes and tried to slow his breathing, nodding to Duke. "Yo Joe."
The Joe Second cautiously lifted his forearm from Low Light's chest and helped him sit up, careful of the sniper's cut up arm. "He's OK."
"Ya sure," Fury asked skeptically from the front seat of the hovercar, eyeing the panting sniper.
"Yes," Duke said through grit teeth, trying to ignore the throbbing headache the struggle aggravated. Holding his head stiffly, Duke scooped the fallen knife from the hovercar's floor. "I was expecting a rough nap, Light," Duke said, eyeing the sniper as passed the blade back hilt first, "but what the hell was that?"
Low Light ran the sleeve of his borrowed SHIELD jumper over his forehead. "A bad one." He took the knife back sheepishly and sheathed it. "Real sorry about that, Du-Dog." Low Light took a deep breath, smoothing the hairs at the nape of his neck. "Must have been the drugs."
"Well, whatever ya got shot up with, I hope it's out of yer system now," Fury said gruffly, popping open the doors. "'Cause we're here."
They were back on the helipad of Wright-Patterson's Medical Center.
Fury rapped on the roof of his hovercar. "C'mon," he grated. "Don't be shy. Yer home now."
Low Light reluctantly swung his legs out of the hovercar. "Yeah," he said gloomily. "We're home." Duke slapped him encouragingly on the back and gave him a gentle shove out the hovercar.
Carter was leaning against the hood of the hovercar, arms crossed and waiting for them. She glowered at Fury. "I should be going with you."
"Hell no," Fury said calmly, chewing on his unlit stogie. "Someone needs ta be runnin' SHIELD."
"And how long will you be gone this time," she asked, her voice biting.
"As long as we need ta be," Fury said, pulling on a tan trenchcoat. "If ya wanna see him before ya take off, do it now."
Carter's hooded blue eyes looked past the men, seriously considering the offer. "No," she finally said, her voice nearly inaudible. "I wouldn't know what to say to him."
"I hear 'Sorry' goes a long way," Duke offered.
The muscles around her eyes tightened. "Is that the line you're going to use on the red-head?" Carter flashed him a humorless smile. "Charming, Lafayette. Maybe it'll impress her so much she'll throw you a boner after her ninja boyfriend kicks off."
Low Light gasped and Duke stiffened, his scarred hands balling into tight fists.
"CARTER," Fury roared.
"Bitch," Duke hissed, taking a step forward.
In an instant, Low Light was in front of him, trying to keep him away from the mocking woman. "Don't do it, man!"
"Ya didn't have ta say that," Fury snarled, roughly grabbing Carter by the arm, dragging her out of earshot from the Joes.
"Why not," she asked, glaring daggers at him. She twisted out of his grasp. "You were going to bring it up sooner or later."
He grabbed her hard again and yanked her closer. "But not yet," he hissed into her face. "Ain't ya learned anythin' from me?"
Her fists clenched in unconscious imitation of Duke's. "I learned too much."
"WHAT'S GOING ON?!"
The voice rang into the pre-dawn darkness like the peel of a giant bell, making everyone jump at once. Captain America strode out of the hospital doors accompanied by the red-haired Scarlet, swinging a loaded crossbow at her side.
An ironic chuckle escaped Carter's lips. "Speak of the devil."
"Ya findin' somethin' amusin,' Agent," Fury hissed, gripping her arm harder.
"NICK!" Steve's expression was thunderous. "Get your hands off of her!"
Fury shot Carter a murderous look before letting her go.
Steve jabbed a finger at Duke. "You. Stand down."
Still breathing heavily, angrily, Duke forced himself to take a step back from Low Light and unfisted his hands. Low Light let out a sigh of relief, relaxing.until the Captain's next question. "Mind telling me what that was all about," the new Joe CO asked flatly.
Low Light bowed his head, but discreetly looked at Fury and Carter.
Fury just struck a match, making a show of lighting his cigar.
Carter blatantly looked at Duke.
Duke refused to look at anyone...especially Scarlet. "Yes, sir," he grounded out. "I mind very much." He grabbed a bag from the hover car and stormed past them all.
Scarlet moved to go after Duke but was stopped by the Captain's hand on her shoulder. "Wardog!"
The Captain's voice froze Duke in place.
"BeachHead arranged for Psyche-Out to give you a physical. I want you to have some kind of medical clearance before I let you come," Steve said in a voice that tolerated no arguments.
Duke gave him one anyways. "Psyche-Out's a shrink, not a medical doctor," Duke said flatly, not turning.
"He's got medical training," Steve said. "And he's the only doctor BeachHead trusts to see you."
Duke rolled his shoulders once, trying to relax, then nodded curtly. He marched on, flung the hospital doors open and disappeared through them.
"Why are you letting him go with you," Carter demanded sullenly, rubbing her arm. "He's got a concussion, he's dead weight."
"Gotta agree with her," Fury said. He snorted smoke at the studiously blank looks on Steve and Scarlet's faces. "Don't try that with us. We've known who yer Dog-boy is fer a while now. A mask'll only fool us fer so long." He grinned. "Ya oughta know that, Cap." He shook his head. "Be a real shame if he died fer real."
"Nick," Steve growled warningly. "What did I say about my partners?"
Fury held up his hands. "I ain't threatenin' him, just pointin' out he's a weak link. I sure as hell don't wanna die because he's not feelin' too good."
"He did fine at the junkyard," Low Light said softly.
The pebbly eye turned its glare on the Black Bullet. "Yer not exactly the picture of health either. If ya ask me---"
"No one's asking you, Nick. If Wardog's cleared, he's coming," Steve said in a tone of finality. "The same goes for Low Light. If you have a problem with that then you're just going to have to deal." He brushed by Fury and approached Carter. His expression and voice softened as he slipped his hand under her arm and gently massaged her bruised muscle. "Are you OK?"
"Yeah," Carter said, pulling away from him. "Just peachy." She crossed her arms and turned her back on them, walking a short distance away.
Steve briefly closed his eyes, trying to hide the hurt that flashed in his eyes. "Low Light, get cleared with medical," he said softly. "Scarlet, please escort Director Fury downstairs and introduce him to BeachHead. I'll be there shortly."
She glanced at Carter and nodded sadly. "Yes, sir. I understand." She turned to Fury. "Colonel, I'm sorry but you'll have to put out your cigar."
Fury glared at her, taking a big puff. "I just lit it," he rasped.
"Nick, don't be difficult," Steve said sharply.
Before Fury could retort Scarlet yanked the cigar from his between his teeth. "HEY!"
"No difficulties, Captain," Scarlet assured him, tossing the cigar into the air. With one hand she smoothly drew her knife and cut the cigar in half. The lit end hit the ground. She caught the other end on the flat of her blade. Low Light tried to hide a smile as Scarlet grounded the lit butt out with her boot and offered what was left of the cigar back to Fury. "If you'll follow me now, Colonel Fury?"
Fury took the remainder of his cigar back, arching his eyebrows high. "Ya been with Abernathy long?"
"Yes, sir," Scarlet replied, sheathing her blade. "Since the beginning of GI Joe. Why?"
"It shows."
Steve waited until he and Carter were alone on the roof. "Are you sure you're OK," he asked her again.
"Yeah, yeah," she said tossing her hair over her shoulder, shifting her stance. "I've suffered worse."
Steve yanked the bulky Greenshirt helmet off his head and held it in one hand. "Sharon."
Carter stood still.
Steve cupped her cheek with his free hand, gently turning her head. "Sharon."
She let her gaze travel the length of his body, slowly, from the boots up, reluctant to meet those open blue eyes of his. "Uniform looks good on you," she managed to say.
"Feels a little odd," he admitted. "But good."
"Don't get too comfortable---"
He lifted her chin, hoping to catch her eyes. "These are good soldiers, Sharon---"
"Yeah, I keep hearing that---"
"Let me finish," he said, his voice still soft but full of.something. "These are good soldiers. They're going through a very difficult time. It doesn't help that I'm leaving them in the middle of a media storm only a few hours after taking Command. They all want to rescue Hawk, charge in and save the day, but they understand why they can't. They understand that I need the majority of the team seen here digging in for the media siege, to lull Cobra into a false sense of security. But the reporters are saying terrible things about them, about Hawk and Jaye. It's affecting them, their morale. It certainly doesn't help that I can't come right out and say I'm the new Joe CO and protect them the way Hawk wanted me to."
"What's your point, Steve," Carter sighed.
Steve leaned his cheek against her forehead. "I love you, Sharon, and I always will. I don't know what went on between you and Wardog---"
"You mean Hauser," she interrupted.
"---I don't know what went on between you two," he continued. "But whatever it was, whatever it is.cut it out."
She drew back, startled, automatically looking him in the eyes.
Old eyes, sad and too full of weary disappointment looked back at her, looked INTO her, holding her gaze in a grip like spun adamantium.
"Cut out the games and the petty power plays, Sharon. The Joes are dedicated soldiers. The best America has to offer. Don't look down on them. Don't disrespect them." He lowered his hand. "Don't play them. They don't deserve it."
"What makes you think I'm playing---"
"Stop it," he said quietly.
The wind blew over the rooftop, swirling around the couple, surrounding them with silence.
"Sharon," he whispered. "Just this once.can't you be straight with me?" He held his hand out to her. "Please?"
She tore her eyes away from his and forced herself to turn away.
Steve kept his hand out. "The Joes will follow my orders. If there's something we should be aware of, some hidden agenda that NEEDS to be done.Sharon, if you just TELL me, SHIELD and Joe can cooperate and---"
"We ARE cooperating, Steve," she cut in sharply over her shoulder. "We're doing things your way, aren't we?"
"I don't know," Steve said. "Are you?"
Carter closed her eyes. "Look. I'm tired, Steve---"
"So am I."
"You don't get sleepy."
"I wasn't talking about sleep."
She glanced at him, still holding out his hand. Her eyes softened.
Steve held perfectly still.
"I.I have to go," she said quickly, opening the door to the hovercar. "So do you."
He lowered his arm. "I know."
She swung her legs into the hovercar, feeling his eyes on her as she buckled in.
Steve grabbed the hovercar door. "Good-bye, Sharon." He moved to close it.
"Wait."
He froze, an inch shy of shutting the door. Slowly, he pulled the door wide open. Carter stared fixedly ahead, gripping the wheel with white knuckles. "Do you know that quote by Thomas Jefferson," she asked, refusing to look at him. "The one that says, 'The tree of liberty must be watered periodically with the blood of tyrants and patriots alike?'"
Her words froze Steve's heart. "What about it," he whispered.
"Remember it." She slid her eyes to the side, finally looking at him from the corner of her eyes. "Fury and I aren't the only ones keeping secrets from you."
Steve frowned. "Are you saying one of the Joes is going to betray me," he demanded incredulously. "Betray Hawk?"
"Sometime keeping secrets aren't a betrayal," she said, gripping the wheel even harder. "Sometimes it's the ultimate act of loyalty."
"What do you mean," he pressed.
"I have to go."
"Sharon," he hissed, frustrated.
"I'm not playing you, Steve," she said. "I've told you as much as I can." She dropped her eyes. "I might have told you too much."
He knelt, trying to catch her eyes. "But are you telling me the truth?"
She looked him right in the eyes. "As true as I love you."
He held her eyes. A small smile lifted his lips. "I believe you."
Carter's face softened. She released her death grip on the wheel and caressed Steve's face. "Thank you for that," she whispered, bending down to kiss him softly.
The helmet slipped from Steve's hand as he kissed her back fiercely, letting her draw him closer and hold him tightly. He slipped his arms around her, trying to crush her to his chest, trying to drink her in, tasting...
.tasting salt.
His eyes flew open and he drew back.
Sharon Carter, hard as nails Director of SHIELD, was crying.
"Sharon," he gasped. "What---"
"I have to go," she choked out. "So do you."
"Sharon---"
"Go get the 'kid.'" She planted her boot in the middle of his chest and shoved as hard as she could. Startled, Steve went flying back. "GO!"
Before he could recover she shut the door and gunned the hovercar from the roof.
By the time he got to his feet she was cloaked, gone from sight.
Almost by reflex, he touched his lips and frowned. "Secrets and loyalty."
***********************************************************
Low Light sat at the edge of the unoccupied ICU bed, peeling the tight SHIELD jumper from his pale body to the waist. The young Asian medic quickly gave him a general examination before going over the synthetic skin covering the sniper's left biceps more carefully, asking the sniper to flex and move his arm. Quietly, Low Light complied, regarding the remains of the tattoo in silence.
Death, silent and hidden had lain under that tattoo for four years.
SHIELD could have killed him at any time, for any reason.
Low Light fought back a violent shudder.
"Um, sir?"
Low Light turned eyes as empty as the pre-dawn sky on the medic. "Yes?"
"I said you're cleared for combat, sir." He inserted what looked like tiny cartridges of liquid into a new wrist com's hidden slots. "You're lucky. You got mostly surface cuts, sir. The deeper ones were along the grain of the muscles instead of cross-sliced, so you should be able to move your arm OK. But add that to the pulled muscles and you're going to hurt a lot, sir, so I'm programming your new wrist com to give you doses of ibuprofen. It'll automatically dose you the equivalent of three pills of Advil every six hours. A little high, but it'll only be for a day, two max, depending on how you're doing. You should also get an iron-rich nutrient boost at the same time."
Silently, Low Light took the wrist com from the medic. He opened the bracelet-like device.and just stared at it.
"Sir? Is everything alright?"
"Yeah," Low Light said, placing the wrist com on the bed. He jerked his chin to the olive drab duffel sitting on a chair near the door. "That my gear?"
"Yes, sir. And someone will swing by soon with your weapons." The medic picked up the bag and handed it to Low Light. "I'll go and give my report to the Captain while you change, sir."
"The jumper's fine for now. I can change on the transport." He struggled into the sleeves as he jumped down from the bed, zipping the jumper shut. "Time's wasting." He reached for the com...and pulled back his hand, hesitating.
"Sir? Is...something wrong?"
Low Light glanced at the worried medic then back at the com. "Nothing." Shaking off the sense of apprehension, he snapped the com over his wrist and slung his bag over his good shoulder. "Let's go."
The medic opened the door.
He recoiled so suddenly that Low Light pulled the knife from his sheath, ready to pounce on the intruder.
"No, sir, it's OK," the medic yelped, holding out his palm. He eased the door open further, revealing a wide-eyed Greenshirt with two types of sniper rifles slung on her back, her hand poised to knock. "It's just Adams."
"Adams?" Low Light looked at the knife self-consciously and sheathed it with a mumbled, "Sorry."
She recovered quickly, grinning broadly. "That's alright, sir. Seems like it's becoming a standard greeting between us."
Low Light stared hard at the floor, remembering the last time he and the Greenshirt had crossed weapons. "Not funny."
Her smile wilted. "I-I'm sorry, sir. I was just trying---"
"I know," he whispered. "Forget it."
She slipped inside, unbuckling one of the gun belts hugging her hips. "We, um, retrieved your firearms from the roof, sir. Here's your .45, with extra clips."
"Thanks," he said, setting his duffel down to buckle on the sidearm.
"And Commander Scarlet said I should give you a choice in rifles. Old faithful," she hooked her thumb under the strap of his favorite single bolt. "Or the new kick-ass." She plucked at the semi-automatic's strap. "Personally, sir, I'd take the semi. Never know when you'll need the fast firepower."
Low Light sighed wistfully but nodded. "Good choice."
She started to unsling the rifle from her shoulder then stopped with an ill- concealed wince.
Low Light frowned. "Adams? You OK?"
"Yes, sir," she hissed, easing the semi off. She straightened with a grimace as she held the semi out to Low Light. "Just cracked my ribs."
He took the rifle from her hands, frowning. "How?"
She dropped her eyes, suddenly very intent on unstrapping one of her bandoleers and checking each magazine in the pouches. "On the roof. The imposter...we exchanged fire and, well..." She shrugged and held the bandoleer out to him. "I got tagged."
Low Light took the bandoleer from her without meeting her eyes, his shoulders oddly hunched. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be, sir. It's not your fault."
Low Light clenched the rifle tight and squeezed his eyes shut. "Not true."
The medic huffed. "In my opinion, you're both taking on too much as it is. Don't hog all the guilt as well." The medic gently prodded her side, frowning at her reaction. "The doctors said you're on LIGHT duty, Paige. I can't believe you volunteered---"
She squirmed away. "Everyone's been doing too much, Ev. I know for a fact that this is your second shift straight."
"I'M not injured." Ev shrugged. "Besides, these SHIELD doctors are good but...well, our guys need to hear a friendly voice. Y'know?"
"I know," Low Light whispered, cracking open his eyes. "It's what Lifeline would have done. He'd...he'll be proud of you. Keep it up."
The medic ducked his head. "Thank you, sir. I will."
Low Light shifted, suddenly intensely uncomfortable. "We've got to go," he said brusquely. He glanced at his bolt rifle wistfully. "Take care of my baby, Adams."
She straightened, fighting not to frown. "Of course I will, sir!"
"Thanks." He took one step...then paused. "Adams?"
"Yes, sir?"
"You said you exchanged fire with the imposter?"
"Yes, sir."
"Tag him back?"
A feral grin lit her face. "Yes, SIR!"
Ever so slightly, the stony face cracked. "Good." And with that, he hurried out of the room, not even waiting for Ev.
"Sir! Low Light! Wait---ow!"
The sniper spun.
The Greenshirt Lieutenant was leaning against the wall, one arm wrapped around her ribs, the other held out to him. "Wait, Low Light."
"Dammit, Paige," the medic snarled, slipping an arm around her shoulders. "You need rest---"
"Shove off, Ev," she said irritably. "This is important."
"What is," he demanded.
Her face darkened. "Doing more," she said cryptically. She pushed away from the exasperated medic and walked as quickly as she could to Low Light. "Here," she said, drawing one of the smallest pistols he had ever seen from a holster at the small of her back. "Walther Model 9 Pocket Pistol. Six shots." She took a deep breath, visibly steeled herself, and offered it to him grip first. "Take it."
Low Light scowled and held his palm out, close to his chest. "Cute antique, but---"
"It would have saved us all a lot of trouble if I had it on the roof," she snapped. "It might save you a lot of trouble now." She pushed it against his unresponsive hand. "Please, sir. Just take it."
"Adams," Low Light began.
"Please."
He sighed. "This is really important to you, isn't it?"
Her clear blue eyes stared intently at him. "Yes, sir."
"Well," he sighed again, "I can't ignore that." His fingers curled around the grip.
She pulled her hand away reluctantly, regretfully. "Take care of my baby."
The stony face cracked further. "Of course, ma'am," Low Light said, touching his fingers to his temple in a mock salute.
Adams returned the gesture with parade smart sharpness. "Then carry on."
******************************
Fury placed a metal sphere on the table in the middle of the 'unused' ICU room and pressed a button. A holographic globe as large as a basketball sprang to life. "Now ya see here," he said, touching a glowing dot in the middle of the Atlantic. Instantly a holographic window, an enlarged map of the area popped up over the globe. "That's where yer bird was when it threw out that signal." He double tapped the glowing dot on the window. Another window opened, showing the schematics of a plane.
Lady Jaye rubbed her red rimmed eyes and nodded. "Of course. An Extensive Enterprise business jet."
"'Business jet,'" Fury snorted. "Damn thing's an armored supersonic!"
"Tomax and Xamot don't play nice," BeachHead rumbled. "Someone's always out to get them." He shrugged. "Mostly us, but sometimes not."
"What's their flight trajectory," Duke asked, twirling the SHIELD mask in one hand.
He closed down the map of the ocean and opened one of Europe. "They took an Arctic route. Comin' down from the north." A glowing line swooped over the United Kingdom. "My folks say they made a refueling stop in Scotland and got back in the air." The glowing line continued to thread its way over a number of countries. "They're still on the move, over the Carpathean Mountains at the moment, heading fer what looks like Trans- Carpathia."
"They're really moving," Jinx murmured.
"Heading for that damned Silent Castle of Destro's I bet," BeachHead spat.
Jaye cocked her head, her green eyes distant, as if listening to something. "I...don't think so..." she said slowly, walking up to the globe. "Colonel Fury, is there a way for me to measure the plane's altitude and speed?"
"Yeah," Fury said, stroking the line. Numbers popped up along side the globe. "Here."
"I agree with Jaye," Scarlet said. "They stopped in Scotland. My bet is they managed to smuggle Hawk off there."
"I'm telling you, they're taking Hawk to Trans-Carpathia," BeachHead insisted. "That damned castle is a bitch to break into. I recommend a bigger team---"
"Noted." Captain America said sharply. "But denied." He peered over Jaye's shoulder as she examined the plane's flight path. "That whole area's in bad diplomatic relations with this country. If we go in with anything larger than a platoon, we're going to kick up a whole mess of trouble that could get this unit disbanded."
"Nothing new," Low Light muttered under his breath.
"It's not happening on my watch," Steve snapped.
"Well, can you at least pick out a group that's more together, sir," BeachHead growled. "Low Light's a walking bruise and Psyche-Out didn't look none too pleased with Duke---"
"BEACH HEAD," Duke snapped. "You're out of order!"
"And you're dead," BeachHead retorted. "I should be the one going---"
"Like you said," Duke cut in, grinning ferally. "I'm dead. You're not."
BeachHead took a threatening step forward. "I don't like this," he hissed.
"GENTLEMEN," Steve said, stepping between them. "Do we have a problem?"
"No problem, sir," Duke said, never taking his eyes from BeachHead. "Right? Top?"
BeachHead just grunted and backed off.
"THIS mess of egos is the best anit-terrorist task force in the world?" Fury spat. "Pathetic."
"NICK," Steve roared.
"They slowed down," Jaye exclaimed suddenly.
Her words struck the whole room dumb.
"They slowed down," she repeated excitedly. "In mid-air. Right here," she said, pointing at a spot on the path near the end. "Then they sped back up."
"WHAT," Fury choked out. "Lemme see!"
"Where," Scarlet demanded.
Lady Jaye shuddered.
Blue-green eyes went round with horror. "Oh hell," Scarlet whispered. "Borovia?"
Jaye nodded.
"Uh-uh. No way," Fury said flatly. "Our satellites don't show nuthin' comin' outta that plane---"
"Would it register a High Altitude Low Opening drop," Steve asked softly.
"Look at these numbers," Fury snarled, chewing his unlit cigar flat. "Only some damned fruitcake would HALO jump from this height!"
"I've done it," BeachHead said nonchalantly.
"Ditto," Duke said raising his hand.
"Yeah, right," Fury sneered. "Anyone else?"
All the Joes raised their hands.
Fury stared at them in disbelief.
Steve tried to hide a smile behind his hand as he shrugged. "What can I say, Nick?"
The corner of Low Light's lips lifted slightly. "No one here but us fruitcakes?"
The pebbly brown eye swung to glare at the sniper. "Ya get a sense of humor NOW?"
"THE POINT," Steve said loudly, getting everyone's attention. "The point is that I'M willing to bet that the Drednoks made that jump over Borovia."
"Yer bettin' Hawk's life on that," Fury said.
Steve nodded solemnly. "I know."
Everyone became silent as the gravity of that statement sunk in.
"Status on those two hovercars," Steve asked BeachHead.
"Preped," the Ranger said shortly. "They're ready anytime y'all want to saddle up."
"Nick, I want SHEILD's computer to run a simulation on a HALO jump from those conditions," Steve said, pointing to the flight path. "I want to know where possible Landing Zones are. Then give the intel to Lady Jaye so we can narrow it down to probable LZ's."
"Understood," Jaye said gravely.
Fury nodded as he turned and muttered something into the com at his shoulder.
"Duke, Low Light. You boys need anything else in the way of gear?"
The Second held up his pack. "I'm good."
Low Light patted the rifle slung over his good shoulder. "Ready."
"Alright, people, I want to be in the air in less than fifteen minutes," Steve said. "So get a move on. Nick, Jaye, Light, Duke, stay for a minute. BeachHead."
The Ranger turned. "Yes, sir?"
Steve put both hands on the younger man's shoulders and stared deeply into his eyes. "I'm counting on you to keep this team together, solider." Steve gave his shoulders a squeeze. "Stay true to your name, son. Dig in and wait for us. Don't surrender any ground."
BeachHead straightened up. "You can count on me, sir." He saluted smartly. "Captain America. It's been an honor."
"The honor's been mine." Steve returned the salute. "Dismissed." He watched the Ranger and his bodyguard depart the room and waited several beats. "It's possible that BeachHead was right. That I should get a team that's more 'together.'" He turned to face his strike squad. "We're bruised, battered, broken hearted...all in all a pretty sorry bunch." Slowly, he looked each of them in the eyes. "But I believe that we're together enough." He held out a fist to them. "More than together."
Fury watched curiously as Duke stepped up and placed his hand over Steve's fist. Low Light and Lady Jaye followed suit. "What the hell's this? A pep rally?"
Steve locked eyes with Fury. "We made an oath, Nick," he told the spy. "We swore we wouldn't lose Hawk without a fight."
"Nuts to surrender," Duke said softly.
"Nuts," Low Light and Jaye repeated.
"Cute." The spy looked bemused. "Well, then." Fury stepped up and slapped his hand on top of theirs. "Nuts ta the whole damned lot of 'em! Let's fly!"
