Disclaimer: Red vs. Blue belongs to Rooster Teeth, not me. I make no profit from this, and no copyright infringement is intended.

Chapter 17

Eventually, Sister let Sven into the cockpit, after much pounding on the door and coaxing by everyone. He called into headquarters, explaining that a valuable asset needed medical care, and they were allowed to land. A team was waiting to take Connie's body. Doc went with them, but Sister honestly didn't know if she was dead or alive. The rest of them were shown to a barracks, and then they waited.

Sister stood with the others, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. She was restless, but had a desperate sort of feeling of not wanting to be noticed, so she remained still. She could only think that she wanted to be anywhere but here. She was trying to ignore the sick feeling in her stomach, and she started chewing on her lips to fight the dryness in her mouth, but they tasted bitter so she spat on the ground to get the taste out of her mouth. Her heart was still beating way too fast, like she'd had too much caffeine, though she'd had none.

She watched the others talking quietly together. They'd tried to call her over a couple of times, like she was missing a friendly conversation, but she'd just shook her head and stayed away. No one near her had ever died before; she wasn't sure how she was supposed to feel. She couldn't be useful. She couldn't contribute to the conversation. As close as she had felt to Connie, the others had all known her better. They couldn't do anything either; they just kept repeating the same phrases over and over like it would make things clearer or easier somehow. Sven frowned and wrung his hands sometimes. Rick paced and gestured, rambling fruitlessly, and she felt outside it all.

She wondered how she would react if it was Grif.

She found everyone and everything overwhelmingly annoying for some reason. She felt as if everything going on was completely pointless, and she hated it.

Eventually, a soldier came to debrief them, but he realized that Girlie needed medical attention as well. She insisted on walking there herself so the soldier began his interview with Rick. Sister waited about a minute, then went after Girlie. She found her leaning against some supply crates, wincing and breathing heavily.

"You can ask for help, you know." Sister smirked at the woman. She just glared back. Sister sighed; then she fully lifted Girlie off her feet. "Where to?"

Girlie sighed and pointed Sister toward the hospital. After Sister had made sure Girlie was tucked in with the nurses fussing over her, she turned to go.

"Hey kid."

"Yeah?"

"You go straight back to the barracks, understand me? No funny business."

"Duh, what else would I do?" Sister ignored Girlie's death glare and waved as she left the room. She went about twenty paces down the hall before she pulled out a map a nurse had given her. She memorized it, put on her very best ditzy face, threw the map in the trash, and headed for the surgery suite.

She navigated the maze of dimly lit hallways, all the while thinking how it didn't look like the bright, friendly hospitals she had visited back home when she'd gotten hypothermia on vacation and when Grif had broken his foot after crashing a motorcycle once. This place felt almost sinister. She was stopped only twice, and played the confused rookie who'd gotten lost. The doctor's directed her, and she'd circle back around once they were gone. Finally, she found what she was looking for. She saw Doc come out of surgery and speak with an older man with a long face and an English accent. They walked slowly down the hall away from her, and she waited until the rounded the corner to slip into the surgery suite.

She immediately had to duck behind a table to not be seen by the nurse still in the room cleaning up. There was blood everywhere, and Sister tried not to breathe in the smell. There was no one else here, no body, but there was another set of swinging doors on the other side of the room. Sister carefully edged her way over. When the nurse moved a tray of tools, causing a clatter, Sister shoved her way through the doors, steadying them once she was on the other side. There was no reaction from the nurse – she hadn't been seen.

Sister turned around and stifled a gasp at the sight before her. Connie – in a tube of sorts, with blinking lights and medical readouts all over it – in a cryogenic chamber. Sister could see the nasty red line down her chest where the axe had been and they'd put her together again, a stark contrast to her pale skin.

Sister placed her hands gently on the tube. "Connie," her voice was hardly a whisper. She heard a sigh behind her and whirled around, dropping her hands guiltily.

"I should have known you would find your way in here." Doc gave her a sad smile.

"Chances you can revive her?" Sister asked.

"Slim to none, but with the way you fly, probably a bit better than they would have been otherwise. Come on now, She's going to be safe and sound in cold storage, and its time for us to get some rest." Doc put an arm around Sister's slumping shoulders and led her away. Sister glanced back at the cryo tube once, noting the insignia – Charon Industries.

Doc went in first when they got back to the barracks. He pulled Rick and Sven to the side as Sister entered. Cody and Tomoko rushed to her side.

"Where've you been?" Tomoko demanded.

"She's dead, isn't she?" Cody whispered sadly. Sister didn't answer, just stood and watched Sven put a hand on Ricks's shoulder. Rick collapsed onto the taller man's shoulder and shook silently.

"He's always the strong one," Sister said quietly. "How is he always so strong?"

That night, as the others slept, Sister watched Sven's chest rising and falling slowly. She wasn't surprised when he eventually rose and stepped outside. She followed. He was standing a few feet away, just looking at the sky, and she came to stand beside him.

"You should be sleeping," he said without looking at her.

"So should you," she replied. After a quite moment, she spoke again. "Everybody needs somebody, Sven," she said as she slipped her hand into his and gave it a gentle squeeze. His almost imperceptible nod was the only response he gave.

%

The next few days were maddening for Sister. She was restricted to the barracks and cafeteria after everyone, including her, was debriefed, and no one would tell her what was going to happen next. At first she was afraid that Rick's superiors would send her away or lock her up, but nothing happened. She thought maybe she should be feeling sad, but she ended up just feeling impatient and annoyed with everyone around her. She tried to take her mind off things with the young guard on duty when she couldn't sleep, but the booze and sex didn't do as much for her as she'd expected. Disappointed, she pulled herself up to her bunk and sprawled out, resigned to restless, lackluster sleep.

She stood now, arms crossed tightly against her chest, leaning against the wall of the barracks in silence and tried to ignore Rick pacing back and forth as he and Sven discussed their next move. Sven sat, frowning and militantly still, on the edge of his bunk. Sister could tell he was still wasn't back to one hundred percent, because he was still wringing his hands together occasionally. The whole team were all reacting about the same. They had lost a lot more people during the attack, including the twins and Sleeves, although Demo had ended up checking in after two days, in need of rescue and another robot arm. Connie had been the key to whatever it was they were doing, and it turned out that much of the data she'd brought with her from Freelancer was incomplete or impossibly encrypted. Sister didn't need to ask why. The answer was most likely tucked away in her pocket.

Sister sighed loudly and bounced on the balls of her feet. The team ignored her. She tried to stretch nonchalantly. After about the hundredth time she heard Rick talk himself in circles she growled in frustration and stormed out of the barracks, far too restless to stay still any longer.

She looked around the base in every direction she could see, then picked a random direction and started to sprint. She didn't want to think anymore – not about the fact that Connie was basically dead, or whose fault it was, or the fact that Connie hadn't trusted these people any more than she had Freelancer, and they weren't even Insurrection freedom fighters, but something else entirely, and she'd probably gotten herself in way too deep again. She didn't stop until the only thing on her mind was her lungs burning for oxygen. Hands on her hips, Sister took in deep breaths while she stared up at the starry sky.

What should she do now? Should she leave and find Grif on her own? Go back to the moon? Would the people Sven worked for decide she knew too much? Could she trust any of them? She sighed, and cursed her own inability to be decisive when she wasn't completely flooded with adrenaline or simple impulsiveness. When she was breathing easily again, she simply took off running again.

%

Unsurprisingly, sad and bored was a dangerous combination for Sister. Soon enough she was thoroughly exploring the facility that was their temporary home, including any restricted areas she could recklessly manage to get into. It was another late sleepless night, so Sister had climbed a fence and begun exploring a new part of the base when something new caught her eye.

A transport was being prepared for what looked like a long trip – and a dangerous one. The pelican was being loaded with all types of weapons. Curious, Sister plunked herself down on top of a crate to watch the load. After several minutes, three men stepped out of the nearby building. She couldn't hear what the were saying, but it looked important, and possibly secret. The oldest of the three was the same long faced man she had seen in the hospital, and looked like he was in charge in some official way. The other two were in black power armor, not unlike the one that had attacked Connie, except theirs had colored accents. The taller of the two, a man with skin black as night and shoulder length dreadlocks, had dark green accents. The shorter man had orange accents on his suit and looked like he might be Korean. He had orange streaked through his spiky black hair and a tattoo peaking over the collar of his armor.

The taller man listened patiently to what their boss was saying, while the short one fidgeted and fingered a large knife impatiently. Finally, they both nodded. Their boss turned and re-entered the building. The two men headed for the ship. Sister saw the moment they noticed her and tensed as they both stopped in their tracks. She didn't run. She thought it would be a bad idea to run from armed soldiers in a restricted area. They approached her, hands twitching for their weapons, but she didn't move.

Finally, the orange one couldn't stand it. He threw his knife at her, but she expertly dodged, jumping and flipping to a higher crate, now in easy reach of disappearing over the solid fence. The green one held a hand out to stop the orange one's attack.

"I saw you arrive with the team that was on the Staff of Charon previously," he said with a deep elegant voice. Sister blinked, told herself swooning at the sound was silly, and nodded.

"This is a restricted area," he spoke again, and damn, Sister was pretty sure she was blushing.

"I couldn't sleep. I like exploring," she replied with a shrug.

"You're pretty young to be a soldier – even a mercenary," the orange one cut in, his voice ringing with amusement, but also what sounded like a challenge.

"I'm not really. They sort of rescued me and let me tag along since I knew a little about a project they were working on," Sister said casually.

"Does the boss know that?" Orange Guy asked.

"I dunno, I guess." Sister snorted. "Rick seems the type to report every little detail – micro manager, you know?"

Orange Guy snickered, and Sister figured it was safe to come back down. She perched on the low crate like a cat.

"Are you guys fighting Freelancer too?" Sister asked.

"There are many different projects here." was Green Guy's reply.

"Hmm..." Sister pondered this. Someone called from nearby.

"Locus, Felix. We'll be ready in a couple hours. We just need final approval on a few things from you." They both turned toward the other soldier.

"Hey," Sister called. They turned back. "You forgot you knife." She pulled it out of the side of the crate and held it out.

Orange Guy grinned at her. "You hang on to it cutie. If you stick around the business maybe we'll bump into each other again. Who knows … maybe even later tonight?" He winked at her and she returned the grin before he went on his way. She looked back over at Green Guy. He put on his helmet, a particularly threatening image, and looked back up at her.

"You should return to the unrestricted area of the base," he said.

"Sure, whatever." She gave him a playful salute and hoisted herself back over the fence.

She did run into Orange Guy again a bit later, and he did a much better job of distracting her than the guard had done the previous night. When she got back to her bunk there was a tiny flash drive on her pillow with a note.

To help you sleep. Condolences on the loss of your comrade.

It was signed only with a green X, like the man's armor. She plugged in the drive and found a long playlist of soothing classical music.

The next morning, Sister was tinkering on the albatross when the entire team came out of one of the buildings and headed her way. She didn't look up until the sound of equipment being dropped startled her out of her thoughts. She looked up to see Rick staring down at her seriously. She looked down to see a uniform and armor that matched the rest of the team's laying in front of her. She looked back up to Rick.

"We're short staffed," he said. "Suit up."