Disclaimer: I don't own anything of anyone aside from Marley. And some of the Freelancers that Rooster Teeth didn't show. Or, at least, the personalities. The idea isn't mine.

Episode 5: Why are We Here?

Training progressed well for the team over the next six months. After picking up Project Red's armor, she had come by Red Base almost every day to pick up one of more Agents for training. Mostly she trained them in hand-to-hand, though she did throw them into training matches to see how well they could work together. It was quickly apparent that Orange and Maroon worked well together, and that Red was more than a bit much for them. Added to this, she provided them with some limited weapons' training. She was really only a master with her knives and rifle, at least when it came to actively fighting. While she was limited on what she could actually teach her Agents, Marley hoped to find their specialties. Grif quickly claimed the weapons specialist spot when he confirmed Marley's suspicions about his natural talent with weapons. As for the others, Red was a close range beserker with a shotgun and Rick showed promise as an infiltrator. As for what some would call a weapon affinity, Rick favored pistols and knives. This was something Marley could teach him, but when it came to the IT and mechanical, her skills were greatly lacking. She'd have to turn him over to York for that, once she managed to rescue him. She really couldn't wait until she could take the boys to more specialized trainers. Still, things were going really well for Project Red and she had taken them all out on three more missions each, just them and her. "Hey Marley! What are we doing today!" Dex called happily as he came strolling in, armor still in Standard Mode. Marley smiled at the man, snapping from one line of musings to another. Of the lot of them, she felt Grif had grown the most. She couldn't call him a boy or a youth any longer. He was a man, and he was turning out to be a fairly good one.

"I thought we could work on some First Aid today, Dex," she said, holding up her med kit for emphasis. Dex sighed, absentmindedly switching his armor to Agent Mode.

"You know I'm no good at that kind of thing," he said, almost whining. Marley sighed and walked over to the man.

"If you want to survive... you're going to have to learn how to help yourself when there's no medic... no competent medic anyway, around. And Dex..." she sighed, looking away and rubbing her neck. She had no clue how this Grif would react to what she was about to tell him. In the visions, he'd been a crummy Sargent, and an only marginally better 'captain.' But this Grif... Dex... he was different. He was... he was Agent Orange, Weapons Specialist. 'Perhaps he'll take it well, or at least not shoot it down violently,' she thought. "You're basically my second in command here, Dex. I'm going to be trusting Agents to your care and... I need to know you can handle it. I need to know that if they get hurt when I'm not around to patch them up, you can at least get them stable. Please Dex... please," she said. Dex had been still as a statue through the mini-speech, but now he let out an explosive sigh and sank to the metal floor of The Ghost, helmet tilted up at her.

"Ya gonna get to teaching, or are you going to stand there yapping all day?" he asked. Marley smiled at the teasing lilt to the man's voice and sank to the floor beside him. It was time to commence First Aid training for Agent Orange. Sure Marly wanted all her Agents to at least know the proper method for field treating a wound, but Orange was special for some reason. Maybe it was because she felt he could actually make a decent leader, maybe it was because he gave her the feeling that he'd take a Big Brother type role for his team, but whatever it was, Marley wanted Dex to be a better medic than 'Doc.' Not that that was hard mind you, but still.

/*/

Dex sighed as he stomped off The Ghost an hour and a half later. He shook his head, shoving the Agent to the side and pulling the Slacker forward. He didn't have Split Personality Disorder, Dex wouldn't let himself fracture like that, but there were times where he found himself acting as though Grif and Dex were different people. He knew there were common traits, how could there not be, but at the same time... It was hard, keeping a semi-healthy separation between his two identities, but he managed. He had too. He shook his head once again. "Get a grip, Grif," he told himself. He settled back against his tree and closed his eyes, thinking back over what he'd been told before the lesson. Marley considered him her second in command. Him. Over that Red guy. He could hardly believe it. Was it because he was the first Agent she collected? Or was it something else, something more? Her words echoed in his mind, taunting him. She said she would trust the lives of her Agents to him. She really shouldn't. He couldn't even protect his sister. "Kai," he whispered. What was she doing these days? Did she miss him? What had his family been told? He never got any mail. Not that he really expected any. Their mom ran off when Kai was only ten and their dad began a slow, steady, decline until he reached the level of abusive drunkard. That had been when Kai was twelve. Yep, two years. Grif gave a pained sigh as he thought about his sister. How long had she been left alone with that abusive man? Two years? Three? He couldn't remember. Time seemed to have lost all meaning for him out here in this miserable canyon. He couldn't even remember how long basic had lasted.

"Grif! There you are. Come on, Sarge is about to go ballistic!" Simmons called. Grif sighed and grouched as he got up but really, he was grateful to the maroon soldier. He provided a distraction from the painful thoughts of his family. Sister really. Their parents didn't really do much besides bring them into the world.

"Tell me something I don't know," Grif muttered darkly as he followed his friend back toward the base. Simmons snorted in mild amusement, but remained silent. At least for a moment. Grif reallydidn't think Simmons was going to respond, but the lanky man surprised him.

"We got a teleporter?" Huh. Looks like he just got proved wrong. Eh, bound to happen some times right?

"... Sweet."

"I think Sarge broke it though. Everything we've sent through so far has been covered in steaming black goop," Simmons said, a little uncomfortable. Grif sighed. He could see where this was going.

"Sarge wants a live guinea pig, doesn't he?"

"Well... at least I can fix it once I know whats wrong!"

"Simmons... fix it before I go through. Please," Grif said blandly. Simmons may be a suck-up, and he might act like he wanted Grif dead when around their psychotic Sargent, but Grif actually considered the guy a friend. He was the closest he had in the canyon at any rate. And honestly, the guy didn't seem to genuinely want him dead. It was just him sucking up to Sarge. That... Grif could deal with.

/*/

Simmons winced at Grif's request. He didn't think he could do that. "Sorry Grif. I can't do that. Even if I knew what was wrong with the thing, I don't think I can fix it fast enough for it to be fully operational before Sarge pushes you through," he said. Grif sighed, slumping. Simmons blinked. Wait... he hadn't been slouching before? Looking back, he had been walking a bit like Dex. But that couldn't be... right?

"Eh, worth a shot. Hey, what's the lik..." Grif began, only to be cut off by Sarge yelling for him to hurry up. He groaned and hung his head, dragging his feet even more. Simmons actually smiled a little at the man.

"Come on, it won't be that bad," he said, trying to cheer him up.

"Sarge. Malfunctioning teleporter. Me. Of course it's going to be bad, Simmons. Sarge hates me, remember?" Simmons winced. Yeah, he had a point. Drat. He honestly thought of the other man as a friend. Sure he hated his lazy nature and his messiness, but he was better company than Sarge, that was for sure.

"I'm fairly sure you'll survive the trip at least. Just... be your usual annoying and stubborn self and come out the other side, alright?" Simmons quietly told the other soldier when they got to the aforementioned, oh-so-important, teleporter. He could have sworn Grif flashed him a jaunty grin before jogging – jogging! – through the teleporter. He dashed to the edge of the base and watched eagerly for the man to show up again. Time seemed to drag until...

"Sweet mother of Godiva! That hurt like a bad wipe out! Sarge! If it wasn't so much work, I'd kill you!" Grif shouted, emerging into the canyon... covered in steaming black gunk.

"Okay. So it's obviously a malfunction in the..." Simmons began, before he heard Grif's voice over the helmet radio.

"I have seen... The Other Side. And it is glorious. Come! Join me... on The Other Side..." the orange soldier said in a dreamy, 'enlightened' tone.

"Heck no. I need to fix this..." Simmons began, only for Grif to cut him off again.

"Simmons~! Join~ me~!"

"NO!" the tech snapped. Marley, from her safe vantage point, sighed. There they go again...

/*/

Another seven months and each Agent was sent on a mission with each of the other three Red Agents. Unsurprisingly, Orange and Maroon worked best together. What was surprising in this match up was that Orange was the one to take charge... and do it competently. Honestly, Marly was truly shocked. She was also a little surprised that Simmons still hesitated a little when she turned her voice filter off. It was slight and only for a moment, but he was slightly tense afterward and nothing she did could get him to relax again. It was... irksome. Just as she was getting ready to scream from frustration accrued by thinking of her lack of progress, she saw something... interesting. Chruch had just gone into the Blue Base... and then run up to Flowdie. From the canyon, not the base. She grinned. It was finally time for the Blue Team's Captain, Butch Flowers, to 'die' from a 'heart attack/aspirin overdose.' When Marley came to pick him up, he was rather irritated. And a little freaked out. "Oregon. How did you know?" he asked sharply, completely doing away with his usual overly cheery persona. Marley chuckled, bouncing on her toes.

"About what Flowdie? Church giving you a large injection of aspirin for a supposed heart attack or the cave system?" she asked. Flowers glared, then realized it would have very little effect through his helmet and growled to get the point across.

"Don't play with me, Oregon. How. Did. You. Know!" he bit out. Marley sighed, settling back on her feet.

"Aw~! You're no fun today Flowdie. Alright alright, I'll explain. I had visions. A lot of visions. Years worth. Three, in fact. Though, they spanned longer than that, cutting out extraneous information and day-to-day activities. I only saw the big stuff; major events, battles, Freelancers coming in and blowing stuff up, Wyoming looping, Blue Team drama, Church being Alpha, that sort of thing. Anyway, these caves were a part of it, so, naturally, I saw them. Your death was also major and necessary, and thus, shown to me. Oh and by the way, sorry about that. It was Sarge's robot body for Church that caused Gary, the A.I fragment Gamma, to mess with Church by sending him back in time. And, coincidentally, it was a future!Church that 'killed' you. So, I can't let them know you're alive until the bomb goes off. Don't worry though, we'll be able to follow them fairly easily. The armor I gave the Reds is actually the Mark VI with a few modifications, so they're unlikely to change armor. The good thing about that is, each suit has a tracking unit installed, making it as easy as pushing a button to find any of my Agents. Nice huh?" the black clad woman rattled off cheerily, still bouncing lightly on her toes.

"You... talk a lot more than I remember you doing," Flowers said after a moment, regarding her carefully. In response, Marley chuckled.

"You probably would too if you lived like I have. Besides, I have a lot to tell you. But not right now, no. I'll let you watch for yourself. Probably better that way. I'll point out the big events when they're about to happen so you don't miss 'em though. Most of them seem to focus around Blue Team. Hee, that's actually why I started Project Red to be honest," she said. Flowers sighed and sank to a rock. That was when he noticed his armor.

"Gah! Someone stripped me!" he exclaimed, staring at the regulation blue armor he was now wearing. Marley laughed full out at this.

"Yeah, that would be Tucker. He wanted out of the regulation blue. Good thing he took yours, actually. The new guy that will be coming in, Caboose, he'll be in regulation Blue. He's also a bit of an idiot. Or at least gullible. I think Church tricked him into giving himself brain damage. Though, Tex shooting at O'Malley, also known as Omega, while inside the poor guy's head might have something to do with that as well," she said, sitting down across from him. Flowers shook his head.

"You got coffee on that tin can you call home?" he asked. Marley grinned.

"Sure do. Come on, I even have a new set of armor for you," she said, holding out a hand to him. Sighing, Flowers took it and allowed her to pull him up and out onto her ship.

/*/

Marley was looking over the parameters of their next mission when Flowers walked in, decked out in his new armor. It was basically the same as Marley's, though he had cyan accents and a standard helmet. "Hey! Not bad Flowdie, you actually look kinda intimidating!" the pilot said cheerfully.

"Yeah yeah, sure. So, what'cha doin'?" Flowers asked, looking at the board. Marley sighed and ran a hand through her hair, helmet discarded while aboard her ship.

"Looking over this mission. I don't think you and I are gonna be able to pull it off. Not alone," she said. Flowers looked it over, then shook his head.

"For that, we're going to need someone like South," he said. Marly winced.

"Yeah. I was afraid of that," she said. Flowers frowned for a moment, then snapped his fingers.

"I got it! How about one of you Agents? Project Red right?" he asked, seeing this as the perfect solution.

"Sure but... they'll be getting the Warthog soon, and then it's only a few days until the rookies show up, and then it's only, like, a day and a half until Tex shows up and then she's only around for at the most a week before she gets blasted by... Yeah. I was hoping I wouldn't have to take Orange, but he's the best suited for this mission out of those near enough to be considered. Drat. Okay. You, stay out of the way while I pick him up. I don't want to have that confrontation on my ship and when, and how, I reveal you to Maroon is likely to see him muttering about knives and bullets in uncomfortable places for a while after we leave and I really..." she rattled off, already walking toward the docking bay where The Ghost rested.

"Oregon! You're rambling," Flowers cut in. Marley took a deep breath, then slowly let it out.

"You're on pilot duty. Like I said, I don't want to get the Reds to suspicious of each other. Not yet. They'll find out eventually but... not yet," she said and left it at that. Flowers sighed, but followed. He was always following her, one way or another. A few hours later, Orange was staring down at the inhospitable alien world impassively.

"So... basically what we do every time? Go in guns blazing, set a charge, come out guns blazing and screaming our lungs out?" he asked. Black nodded, giving her gun one last check. Orange sighed, then grabbed the rung near the door. "I don't get paid enough for this kind of junk," he said, then Black punched the door controls and they were plummeting to the ground. Just another mission.

/*/

It was over, the objective completed, and once again, he was bleeding. This time, however, he was also one big bruise. He'd been caught in the blast back of the explosion he, ironically enough, had set. Because he was caught in the radius of said blast, he'd flown through the air before slamming through two trees and fetching up against a large boulder with painful force. If that doesn't cause bones to break and capillaries to burst, Dex didn't know what did. "Sorry, Dex. I didn't mean..." Marley began, holding out a couple of painkillers.

"No-one really means for their comrades to get hurt, Marley, relax. It hurts like the mother of all wipe outs, but I'll live. You said it yourself. Now stop whining! You know Blood Gulch is as good as a vacation for me," he said, cutting her off, before knocking back the pills.

"What about Sarge?" Marley asked, wondering if the southerner would count as a health hazard to the laid back Hawaiian.

"Okay. I could do without him. He has all the contingency plans starting with either him or Simmons shooting me! Not cool. But! Aside from Sarge, who I can avoid fairly well, I'm in the clear," Dex said, giving the Doctor a pained smile. Marley shook her head, but he could see she was smiling softly at him. Even if she didn't want to be. 'Good old Grif family charm, working it's magic.'

"Alright. Fine. But you've got to take it easy! You didn't break a rib, thankfully, but you've still lost a lot of blood from that bullet to the side and more bruises than I care to remember. You're going to be stiff and achy for a while, so no gymnastics. And no training! Training doesn't count as taking it easy. And yes, target practice counts as training," she told him sternly. He chuckled and saluted.

"Yes ma'am, Agent Black ma'am!" he said with a chuckle, breaking it off with a wince a his injuries reminded him they were there. "Ow."

"I'm removing the limiter on your advanced health suite in your armor. It'll keep the pain under control, but it can't take all the pain away. Listen to your body, don't push it too hard, and you'll do just fine," Marley said, shaking her head at the man as she enabled full use of the advance health suite.

"I'll keep that in mind Marley," Dex said quietly before slipping into a healing sleep. Marley sighed and hugged herself while looking down at his mildly pained face.

"I didn't want to do this too you Dex," she whispered.

"We'll be touching down in an hour. I suggest you get some rest, Marley. You'll be no good to anyone if you run yourself into the ground," Flowers said from the doorway where he had watched with kind eyes as she treated her Agent. Marley sighed, but left the sleeping Agent and headed to her own quarters. Flowers took up a silent vigil over the wounded soldier outside the door, hidden from his view should he wake. "You're not half bad, Dex. And to be honest, I'm much rather have you watching my back than South," the former Blue Captain whispered. An hour seemed to pass like a minute and Marley was helping Dex out of the ship and to his favorite, hidden, napping spot. A few minutes later, Grif sighed and dragged himself to his feet.

"Time to check in," he muttered. "Ow, if only the Blues would blow themselves up, then I could just lock myself in my room until I've healed up a bit."

/*/

Four days later, Grif and Simmons were griping to each other on top of the base, about six hours after sunrise. Over the last year or so, the two had given up figuring each other out and added to the Blood Gulch illusion. Simmons decided that, in Blood Gulch, he would write Grif off as lazy and constantly hungry with one killer metabolism that prevented him from getting fat, completely disregarding the times he had seen the man in shorts and a tank top after his shower, showing muscles that spoke of long hours training. Likewise, Grif had decided to write Simmons off as a fun to annoy geek, completely ignoring the times he had caught Simmons while he absentmindedly played with a knife, or the times the 'geek' knocked him on his back when still half asleep. It was a strange game of hate/annoy/underestimate/insult/respect, but it worked for them. And as long as they weren't trying to kill each other, they were cool with it. "Hey" Simmons began.

"Hum?" Grif acknowledged, turning to his 'friend.'

"You ever wonder why we're here?"

"That... is one of life's great mysteries, isn't it?" the orange clad soldier began before going off on a philosophical tangent about fate and the hand of God on people's lives. While Grif talked, Simmons could only stare at the orange soldier and wonder, did he always think like that?

"No I mean, why are we here, in this canyon?" Simmons clarified. If his helmet had been off, Simmons was certain Grif would have had a rather flustered look on his face.

"Oh."

"What was all that about God?"

"Nothing," Grif replied. Simmons quirked an eyebrow. Was there a chance that Grif would be receptive to Jesus?

"You... want to talk about it?" he asked, semi-hopeful

"No." Bummer. That could have been such a great segway into the Gospel. Oh well. Maybe another time.

/*/

Sarge listened to his soldiers from below, smirking to himself. Like Simmons, Sarge had decided to disregard Grif, but there were times where he had to acknowledge that the man was smarter than he let on. And, likewise, he had to admit that Simmons could be more simple and straight forward than his usual manner suggested. "Well, seems like they've got things under control out there. Time to go get my jeep!" Sarge said, running out of the base to receive the shipment from command. He was pretty sure they said something about a rookie too, but he hadn't heard much past 'jeep,' 'full tank of gas,' and 'gun turret.' In his mind, those were more important than a rookie any day of the week.

/*/

From the cloaked spaceship above the box canyon, Captain Butch Flowers sighed as he watched his former team. Marley may have been bad with computers, but hacking into the live feed from the hidden cameras Freelancer had placed around the canyon wasn't to hard. Church seemed to have stepped up to take command of Tucker, but it just... didn't seem right. And Tucker had stolen his armor! Little armor thief. Oh, how he missed that cyan armor! It had served him well. "Oh stop pining! You sound like a teenaged girl when you do that!" Marly shouted from the kitchen. Captain Flowers sighed again, wincing as he realized he'd been thinking out loud. Again.

"I can't help it! That's my team down there!" 'And my armor! Little armor thief.' Marley shook her head and brought out a mug of coffee for him and a cup of Earl Grey tea for herself. Sitting down by the window, she held out the coffee. Flowers took it and took a good sip.

"Church is gonna get blown up within the next two weeks or so," Marley stated, disinterested, looking down on the two Teams like an unfeeling chess master. Flowers gaped at her, helmet forgotten by his feet.

"You know the Alpha is going to be blown up... and you're just gonna sit here... drinking tea... while it happens?!" he squawked. Marley chuckled, sipping her tea.

"Yes. His 'death' is the catalyst for the 'fun,' Flowdie. Church gets blasted by friendly fire, Tex gets called in, Church comes back as a 'ghost' to warn his team about Tex, and then... events are put into motion that will lead to these Sim. Troopers being the greatest team of soldiers in the galaxy and ending a civil war of epic proportions. Not to mention the end of Project Freelancer, the death of the Director, and the complete and utter downfall of the Chairman. Trust me, Church has to get blown up," she said, sipping on her tea like a Bond villian. Flowers could do nothing but gape at her.

"And you're telling me this now?! After over a year?!" he asked, waving his hands around in a very agitated manner. Marley chuckled. Again. Flowers glared. It was surprisingly effective, especially from a man named Flowers. His steel gray eyes stared into your soul while his close cropped brown hair bristled even as his slightly longer bangs dipped down toward his eyes. Flowers had a strong jaw and commanding presence... when he tried. Otherwise, he was just your run of the mill calm, happy, lean soldier. Which really wasn't that run of the mill, but who cares. Not Marley.

"Oh, I've known for a long time Flowdie," she said, seemingly without care.

"Not that! I meant after me knowing you were actually, secretly, alive for a year! Longer even!" he clarified, still glaring. Marley chuckled yet again.

"Anyone ever tell you you're fun to tease?" she asked, quirking her eyebrow at him as she sipped her tea. She could have sworn he blushed so hard he glowed. Oh yes. Captain Butch Flowers was a very fun man to tease. He was just so easy to rile up!

/*/

Meanwhile, on a cliff over looking Red Base, Church and Tucker were doing what they did just about every day. Spying on the Reds instead of shooting them or actively trying to blow their base up. "What are they doing?" Tucker asked. Church turned to him, the sniper rifle he was using as binoculars swinging around to point at the other Blue.

"What?!" he asked, as though he were offended Tucker would ask such a thing.

"Well I don't have the sniper rifle! So I have to ask you what the Reds are up to," Tucker shot back, as though it were the most logical thing in the world. In fact, it might well have been the most logical thing in the world. Or at least Blood Gulch. Marley considered it fact that one had to be at least mildly insane to survive in Blood Gulch for any length of time. Flowers was leaning toward agreeing, but that would mean he was calling himself mildly insane, so he didn't. He was perfectly sane thank-you-very-much! It wasn't like he was seeing dancing chickens or anything. And those chickens defiantly didn't have teeth. No sir.

"Look, they're just standing there talking. That's all their doing. That's all they ever do! And I'm getting really, really, tired of answering that dratted question!" Church growled, suddenly having his pistol in his hands instead of his sniper rifle. One must forgive Church his surliness. It was about the seventh time that day Tucker had asked. Tucker had a tendency to be a bit annoying. Still, said cyan soldier wasn't too worried. By now, he knew Church was a terrible shot.

"... What are they talking about?" Tucker asked after a moment, proving he wasn't worried by the pistol his teammate was almost aiming at him. Chances were, even if Church wasn't aiming at him, not a single bullet would even get near him. Church sighed and turned back to the Reds.

"Ya know what? I really hate you," he said. Tucker knew there was nothing to say to that, so he turned back to the Red Base, wondering what they were saying.

/*/

Back at Red Base, Grif and Simmons were continuing their conversation on the stupidity of having a Red Base in blood Gulch when there was no reason to have a base there. So what if Blue Army had two bases in a box canyon in the middle of nowhere? It was a box canyon in the middle of nowhere! "Talk about a waste of resources," Grif drawled, "I mean, we should be out there finding new and intelligent forms of life. Ya know, fight them!" Simmons nodded.

"Yea, no duh. That's why they should put us in charge," he said. Just then, Sarge returned.

"Ladies! Front and center on the double!" he called up to them. Simmons sighed while Grif muttered something about fudge and ladies. Simmons really didn't want to know.

"Yes sir!" he called before heading down to where Sarge was. Grif sighed.

"Ugh, now I have to walk all the way back down to the canyon floor," he muttered. Shaking his head and putting thoughts of his orders to rest aside, Grif headed down to see what Sarge wanted. He hissed as the stress of walking aggravated the bullet wound in his side and the bone deep bruises on his back. He could swear he still heard a ringing in his left ear from the concussive force of the blast that had knocked him flying. Stupid bombs. Evil aliens. Dratted needlers. A pox on all bad aimers. May their bacon burn. Oh, but his back hurt!

/*/

Back up in her space ship, ignoring a glaring Flowers, Marly was beginning to bounce. "It's here! It's here! The Warthog is here! Oh, the show is beginning, the show is beginning!" she sang. Flowers growled at her.

"Would you shut up and explain to me just what the heck is going on here?!" he asked, still upset over her withholding information for so long. Marley chuckled evilly, complete with evil hand rubbing.

"Oh, soon, soon Flowdie, soon you shall see that my dreams were real. They were real! The proof is right before you!" she said, pointing down at Red Base where the team was gathering around a Warthog. "Soon, Private Franklin Delano Doughnut will arrive. Then Private Michel J. Caboose and Sheila the Battle Tank. And then! Church will get shot by the tank, Tex will come and then! Oh~! Then! Then the show really begins!" she said, a touch of madness creeping into her voice as she continued her 'evil villain' monologue. Flowers sighed, but as he looked back over to her... all those unspoken feelings he'd had when she was still Agent Oregon came flooding back.

"I never said it before, Marley," he said, glancing down at his empty coffee cup, "but I..."

"Please don't tell me you love me, Flowdie," Marley cut in. "If you say you love me, you'd be lying. You thought you loved Oregon. I'm not Agent Oregon anymore. So please, don't say it," she said, voice soft and pleading. Flowers sighed and took her empty tea mug.

"You may say it's a lie, but to me," he said, standing to go to the kitchen, "it'll always be the truth." Marley sighed and dropped her head into her hands as Flowers vanished further into the ship with their dirty mugs.

"Oh Flowdie. You don't really know a thing about me. About Marlene. About Oregon. Or about Black. And the more you learn... the less you'll care," she muttered, looking at her hands. The hands that in another life had been pledged to the care and treatment of others, hands that had been drenched in blood since she was fifteen, one way or another. "I've broken more than just my Hippocratic oath, Flowdie, and that... that's a sin I'll always have to bear," she softly muttered, tears gathering in her eyes as she laid her head in her sin stained hands.

/*/

Butch Flowers busied himself with washing their mugs, trying to get the image of an emotionally broken Agent Black out of his head. Her words echoed in his ears and he scrubbed at the mugs with an added fervor. "I don't care about her past. I care about her! Her smile, her laugh, her wit, her ability to confuse anyone and everyone while still being a tactical genius. I love her healing touch, the genuine care she showed toward the other Agents, the respect she had for our enemies, the honor she held on to till the very end. Though, I suppose, she still hasn't let go. She may think I don't know. She may believe I fell in love with a dream. But if this is a dream, I don't ever want to wake up. Even if it turns to a nightmare, I don't want to wake up. Because a world without her... it just isn't worth it," he said. He thought back to the dull, worthless years where he believed her dead and shivered. He never wanted to go back there. Never again.

/?/

A/N: Okay. Confession time. I had to go back and watch webisode one of RvB for this one. Gotta keep that 'why are we here?' dialog, even if I didn't type it word for word. And I edit. Heavily. Swearing is only permissible when in excruciating pain or jumping out of an airplane. Then a swear word or two is tolerable and really, there's not much you can do to keep them from popping up in your head and then it's not much easier keeping them there.

A/N 2: So, I re-edited this chapter. Added some stuff, took some stuff out, ya know, the usual editing type things. I think it works better this way. 8/12/16