Present Day...

Main POV

The sunlight streamed into the room softly, slicing through the early morning chill. I moved my lips softly, trying to get rid of the just slept feeling before blinking softly, trying to familiarise myself with my surroundings. I'd slept soundly through the whole night for the first time in years, and it was a good, dreamless sleep too. I was vaguely aware of arms being wrapped around my waist. I panicked momentarily when I remembered I wasn't on a spaceship with my fiancé but relaxed just as quickly when I looked over my shoulder to see who it was holding me by the waist. Wash was sleeping softly behind me, not snoring for a change. The deep dark circles he wore yesterday had lightened up and his eyes looked less sunken in. He must have been tired. And, York had tried to convince me once that sleeping next to someone you loved made you sleep better. No one believed him but maybe it was true. Wash was my best friend and last night I slept deeper than I had been able in literally years.

"Morning," Wash muttered, having woken up to me staring at him. "You okay?"

"Yeah," I agreed.

"You look like you have something on your mind," he told me.

"I was just thinking about something York said.." I replied.

"Not that oxytocin bullshit again," Wash muttered and I laughed.

"Are you saying you don't love me?" I giggled.

"Not when you wake me up this early in the morning just staring at me like a psycho," Wash grumbled, pulling his arm out from underneath me and rolling onto his other side. I smiled and moved onto my back, moving slightly away from him. I sighed contently before moving my head to the other side, ready to go back to sleep again when I noticed a rather large, fully grown, adult male sitting beside the bed in Donald Duck pyjamas. I let out a scream and Wash bolted up into a sitting position as I stared in shock at the site.

"Hello."

"Caboose what the fuck?" Wash growled.

"Washingtub I like this one, she did not hit me," Caboose said.

"I'm gonna start if you scare me like that again," I told him, before moving to start the day.

I perched on the mess's kitchen counter and ate a packet of field rations, waiting on some life coming back into blue base. Wash was currently taking a shower and he'd told Caboose to leave me alone for a little while. I didn't know what the story was with that guy but Wash says he's a little different. Considering the nervous wreck I am, I can't say much about a perfectly nice guy, not when all he is is a little different. Although he's going to have to stop waking me up like that in the morning or it's going to put me in an early grave. I'm a lot jumpier than I used to be.

"Yo, Wash! Who's fucking armour is just laying around in the bathroom?" I heard someone call before footsteps sounded in a nearby corridor. They made their way into the kitchen. They hurried up a little when they got to me and ran round the corner to face me. "Wow."

"Tucker, what the fuck are you yelling about..?" Wash called, coming into the kitchen with a towel around his neck, rubbing his hair dry as he walked. I raised a brow at the dark skinned man in front of me currently looking like all his Christmases had come at once.

"Who are you?" He grinned at me flirtatiously.

"Your worst nightmare," Wash told him. "Seriously Tucker, don't piss her off. She's from Project Freelancer."

"I like a little danger," Tucker told me more than Wash. He flipped his short, light brown dreads off his face.

"He means I'm a total head case," I told him and hopped off the counter.

"Crazy is fine so long as they're hot too," Tucker told me, spinning round to follow me.

"Wash, your base have a 'shop?" I asked.

"Yeah, what'd'ya need?" he asked.

"New battery and a respray," I replied. "And someone who knows how to repair a HUD display. I'm not touching my helmet in case I make it worse."

"You never were good with them," he laughed. "Why is that? You're fine with the rest."

"Too many circuit boards. Everything else I understand, the helmet is the brain of your suit and I'm no surgeon."

"Well if you can stomach spending the time with him, Tucker here is actually very good with HUD display," Wash told me. "Or if you can't I should be able to swing by in a couple of hours."

"No, I'd rather spend as little time as possible in civvies, Tucker will have to do," I explained. I walked into the bathroom Tucker had been complaining about and without having to be told he followed along behind me. I grabbed my now dry armour pieces and tossed him the helmet. He turned on his heel and marched quick step to the base's workshop and I followed quietly behind them.

Tucker and I had been working quietly for a few hours now, despite his randy attitude earlier, he seemed to actually conscious of when people did and didn't need their space. The silence between us wasn't awkward. He seemed to be properly concentrating on my helmet. Maybe that was why, maybe he was too busy working to hit on me. I had already finished replacing the battery unit in my armour and had been working on sanding down all the old, cracked paint before I resprayed my suit. I was running out of pieces to sand before I'd have to break out the air-compresser.

"What did you mean you're a total head case?" Tucker asked, not looking up from his work. He was a few benches away from me, I don't remember if it was him or me that picked a spot so far away from the other but the distance felt comfortable. We weren't close but we weren't miles apart either.

"What did I mean?" I asked, shaking my head. "You heard Wash, I'm from Project Freelancer. Everyone who worked there is a little nuts."

"You didn't say a little nuts," Tucker replied putting his screw driver down. "You said total head case, why?"

"PTSD," I shrugged. "I'm not like Wash, like Carolina. Everything they've seen it hurts them but they can keep on going. But I can't let go. I'm still holding on. I can't forget and everything that I've seen still haunts me. And on the battlefield, that's pretty dangerous."

"In case you haven't noticed, we ain't on the battlefield no more," Tucker said. "I think you've earned a little crazy. I've heard some stories about Project Freelancer. Hell I've met Tex, craziest bitch of them all. We've dealt with her freak outs and meltdowns so we can deal with yours too. We're all damaged here. We've all had our shit, we'll carry yours with you too."

"Why?" I asked, shaking my head. If only he knew. My shit was different to Tex's. She hadn't spent any time behind enemy lines. She hadn't been held captive like I had.

"Because that's just what we do," he told me. "We're here as Project Freelancer's rehabilitation program or some shit. We got you baby."

I didn't say anything. I simply sniffed, wiped my nose and went back to sanding. It was different to hear a stranger tell me they had my back. Before it had just been my dad and my team. And my little fucked up team had been dropping off one by one until they were none. And even when they were around, they had their own shit.

I grabbed a can of undercoat and sprayed down the armour pieces I'd just sanded down, coving my face with the bandana York had given me once when I first joined up.

"Hey, Dee," York greeted. He was on his way by as I was leaning up against a corridor wall, resting for a moment after training with North. He paused in his travels to grin at me and tussle my hair. I'd been running into these officers more and more since I'd met them outside the take out shop. Everyone had been so kind to me, I was excited to join the team, should all this training pay off and I actually make it in.

"Hey!" I jerked away from his menacing hand and straightened my hair back out. He chuckled and I smiled back. Couldn't stay mad at this big dork. "York, right?"

"Yup, that's me," he grinned back at me. "You here for North?"

"No he just left, we've finished training for the day," I explained. "Why, you need him?"

"No, no, just making sure I'm not holding you up, that's all." He leaned up against the wall I was standing by with his elbow, gazing down at me. "So, what are you doing now then?"

"Oh, uh I don't know I guess," I replied. "I've got nothing planned."

"Great!" He clapped his hands together enthusiastically and pushed himself off the wall. "We can grab a coffee and you can tell me all about how the training's been going and I'll walk you home," he offered.

"Uh, sure. That sounds fun," I agreed, bending down to grab the bag I'd been storing all my gear in, and threw it over my shoulder. I walked along easily beside him, even though he was quite a lot taller than me.

"So I thought the project didn't hire under eighteen, and you're what..?" he paused as if trying to recall the fact he didn't know.

"Seventeen, but I'm turning eighteen at the start of July," I told him. Why he wanted to know, I had no idea.

"Ahhh so that's how you're getting in. You apply before your birthday but the official day you join the project you'll be legally an adult," York mused.

"Exactly," I said with a nod. "How old are you then anyway?" I asked him, figuring if he knew my age then it's only fair I knew his.

"Same age as North, twenty three going on twenty four," he mused cheerily.

We walked in comfortable silence for a while, him taking uniform steps and my plucky young self, taking hap-hazardous half skips alongside him. He looked down at me occasionally and I smiled back, assuring him that I was keeping up. Although the more his did it, the less I thought that was why he was looking. We headed out of the temporary base and back onto the ground, walking past the military guard of UNICOM soldiers.

"So what kind of coffee do you like, huh? The girly stuff?" He grinned at me. "You know the kind with six different syrups and a mountain of cream, foam and frappe whatever a chinos."

"No I just like black coffee," I smiled back at him, hoping if he was trying to tease me, he'd have to find another angle than coffee.

"Ahh, you're the 40-year-old-man-who's-seen-the-horrors-of-the-world kind of coffee drinker," he replied and chuckled, finding the humour in his own joke.

"Exactly," I giggled. "And I thought my disguise was working. How did you figure out I was a actually a 40 year old man?"

"The grey hair gave it away," he pointed to my hair and I screamed, reaching up to check for the greys my rational mind would know were not there.

"What?!"

He chuckled as he walked us into the coffee shop and ordered a black coffee and an Iced Caramel Macchiato. I raised a brow at him. So he wasn't trying to tease me over coffee, he was either looking for common ground or setting me up for this little jape. He shrugged at my brow raise.

"Just because you're a 40 year old man doesn't mean I have to be," he explained while we waited for our take away cups.

"Very true," I laughed. "Didn't realise you were asking about girly coffee because you are one."

"Hey," he put a hand to his chest in mock hurt. I grinned to myself as I looked back at him through the corner of my eye. The Barista called his name and he went to get our coffees and then he handed me mine before we left the shop. He held the door open for me with one hand and held his iced beverage in the other. We walked slowly down the street, him letting me lead more now, since I was the one who knew where to from here.

"So," he started. "Tell me about yourself, got any siblings?"

"Nope," I replied, popping the 'p'. "Mom died when I was a baby and dad never remarried. It was just us until he went out on a job and never came back."

"I'm sorry," he said taking a sip of his iced coffee. He shouldn't have to be, I could have been a little less blunt about it.

"What about you, do you have any siblings?" I asked, trying to make up for my rudeness.

"Too many I used to think sometimes, but I love them really. I have four younger brothers and five little sisters," he told me, making me smile. I sometimes wondered what it would have been like to have siblings of my own. But dad and I struggled, so it was probably for the best it was just the two of us.

"I bet that would have been nice," I said softly, sipping my drink.

"It was cramped if I'm being honest, Earth was overpopulated as is, it certainly didn't need my good catholic parents adding to it," he smiled. "I wouldn't trade them for the world, though."

"Okay my turn to ask a question," I demanded. "Favourite colour?"

"Hmm, I'd go with green," he replied thinking briefly about a certain freelancer's eyes. "Yours?"

"I like purple," I told him. "And orange, they're pretty vibrant colours. They make me think of sunsets, all the cool shit you see in space."

"Purple huh?" He asked, smiling knowingly.

"Yeah," I nodded. "Your turn."

"Favourite animal?" He asked and I bit my lip, it took me a moment to think. I didn't have any pets growing up, we never went to the zoo. I only really knew about what I'd read about at school. Something that made York smile, he told me later he thought I was cute when i chewed on my lip.

"I grew up here," I said eventually. "I kind of think the Moas are really cool, but I always wanted a dog. Dogs are awesome, they're so loyal, and they love you completely unconditionally."

"Dogs are pretty cool," York agreed. "I like penguins. They're so dorky and cute. Especially the way they waddle around and stuff. You know when the male penguin wants to mate with a female he goes out and searches for the nicest rock he can fine and brings it back to her."

"That's so sweet," I gushed and York's face lit up when I did. It made me think about old fashioned romances between couples, the ones you'd see in all the movies. Rather than the registry office marriages you saw most of the time now.

"You know what else is cool about penguins?" He asked and I shook my head. "They don't lose their feathers like other birds do, who do a few at a time and then grow new ones in. Penguins do this thing they call a catastrophic malt and just shed them all at once." I giggled, images of bald penguins in the artic filling my mind. He watched me chuckle.

"I'm just thinking about all those naked penguins now," I said and he laughed with me. "All the hijinks they could be getting into."

"That would be a site," York laughed. "So, your turn to ask me something."

"Okay," I paused for a moment. "What are two things, you should, know how to do, but don't?"

"Two huh?" He raised a brow and I nodded insistently. "Alright," he accepted. "First is easy, I can't cook. Not a thing. I have the diet of a first year college student when I'm not on the ship or getting takeout. What about you? Can you cook?"

"I can," I nodded. "My dad taught me when I was little. Although he was always insistent on cooking for me when he was home. Even sack lunches. He always thought I was missing out without a mom and grandma back on Earth so he always tried to do everything. He was both parents and then some."

"I'm glad he was a good dad," York said. "You're far too young to be broken."

"You still owe me a second answer? What else are you shit at?" I laughed.

"Hey," he pointed to her with one finger while the others rested snuggly around his coffee cup. "You said what don't I know how to do, not what am I shit at."

"Alright then, what else don't you know how to do?" I smiled and waited expectantly.

"I also still don't know how to back up my holoboard and files to the mains, despite having been taught several times," he said and I laughed.

"Okay I don't know how to change a tire, or jumpstart a warthog," I confessed and put a hand up to cover my blushing face.

"YOU'RE IN THE ARMY!" He threw his arms up, coffee sloshing around in the cup. "You were in UNICOM."

"I know," I hid my face, as we laughed. "Ask your question already."

"Okay," he nodded smiling at burning face. "Best and worst thing about being female?"

"Okay easily the worst thing is that it's assumed men can do better than I can because I'm a girl. I don't care at all if someone is better than me and that's why the were picked, I don't care if that person is a guy, but it has to be because he's actually better and not because I wasn't even considered because I'm a girl," explained and he nodded.

"Of all the freelancers I've met, both Tex and Carolina are easily better soldiers than I will ever be," he told her. "Although, neither of them can pick locks, that's my job."

"I'm sure that comes in very handy on the battlefield," I replied sarcastically.

"Hey, I'm useful," he said in mock offence. "We do a lot of infiltration work, doors need to be open for that to happen."

"Alright, alright, you're not useless," I put my hands up in surrender.

"Now the best part of being a girl?" York asked, leaning down and looking at her expectantly.

"I don't know," I shrugged. "Being a girl is just hard, I don't really think about any of the easy stuff."

"Come on, there must be something," he poked me. "Like I don't know, free entry to clubs or drinks or something."

"I'm seventeen," I said and he drooped.

"Oh yeah," he replied with a sigh. "But there has to be something," he perked up. "That's your homework, next time you see me you better have an answer."

"Oh shove off you," I shoved his arm lightly. "Fine, what's your answer?"

"Best part of being a girl?" He raised a brow and I rolled my eyes. We chatted like that the whole walk home. He took me right into the building and into the elevator, giggling and messing around. He walked me to my apartment door and we chatted outside for a little while too. Eventually, I realised it was getting late and he should probably be getting back. I pulled out the holo-lock and twisted the sphere, pressing the right buttons until the door release clicked and the door popped forward and slid open like the door of a van.

"Hey," York said. "In case I don't see you around before the next exam, I wanted to give you this kid," he took the bandanna he had ties around his wrist off and pulled my arm towards him. He tied it on me and then patted my head one last time. "My little brother gave this to me before I sat the Project Freelancer exam and I got in. It's supposed to be lucky, so, it's yours. But I want it back when you get in."

"Okay," I smiled. "I won't let you down."

I apparently won't give it back either, as, I'd forgotten to do exactly that when I'd gotten in. I'd worn it on my wrist almost every day. In fact the only time I'd taken it off was the day I got taken captive by the Insurrectionists. Maybe York was right, it was lucky, but, he'd been wearing it the day he lost his eye and I'd been wearing it a lot of the times I'd gotten shot, so maybe it only worked on exams. Still, I wore it every day even now. And I tied it around my face while I worked, to keep me from breathing in the undercoat and pain fumes.

Wash came through later, telling us we should take a break and reactivate some MREs. I agreed, feeling suddenly tired, and put my tools down, following his tugging arm to the mess. I perched on the countertop and broke the heating packages the MREs came with to activate them. I slide the packets into the pouches on the side of my pasta meatballs and shook the bag. I left it on the counter beside the sink and then looked at Wash who was doing his. I noticed he was holding a second.

"Hungry are we?" I raised an eyebrow.

"This one's for Caboose," he said. "We don't trust him to do them himself anymore, not since he proved he can make any substance volatile by starting a fire with the heating packages."

"I mean, they are a heat generating chemical reaction," I shrugged. "Perhaps it was an accident?"

"Oh, I know it was," he said. "But I'm not taking my chances and letting him do it again. One month without eyebrows is quite enough."

"His eyebrows or yours?" I asked smirking.

"Yes," he replied and handed me the other bag. I crushed the packages in my hands and slipped them into the pouches, shaking the bag again and we put each MRE on the bench beside the first one I'd done. Tucker came back from the bathroom where he'd been washing his hands and grabbed his own lunch. I was surprised actually, to see someone out here wash their hands before eating, and a sim trooper no less.

"No one told me we were playing cowboys and aliens," I heard Caboose say at my side. Damn him and his quiet footsteps.

"We're not," I told him. "I was using chemicals and needed to protect my face."

"Awww," he said. "Can we play cowboys and aliens later?" I smiled softly. Perhaps cowboys and aliens could be used to train them up to defend themselves a little better. While the paint on my armour was drying we'd need to find something to do.

"I don't see why not," I said. "If we wait till after dinner, we could invite the Reds to play."

"Uh, Dee, are you sure that's such a good idea?" Wash asked from beside me.

"Yeah, I was thinking," I said. "It was ridiculously easy to sneak into your base. I only got caught because I wasn't expecting to see what I did. Anyone targeting you would find it child's play. Your guys need some training, I figure if we make it a fun game it won't seem so much like work. That and it might help your friend Caboose here. He doesn't seem to do so well with the rules they way they are, but he's pretty set on what to do in certain circumstances. Following simple rules you set him. Give him easy tasks, create protocols for him using games, and he could be a pretty decent soldier."

"You never really left the project, did you?" he asked. "You still think like a Freelancer, trying to figure out how to make everyone work the way you want them to."

"Why are you so intent on making me the bad guy?" I asked. "Your boy here is too nice and too stupid. He's going to die."

"Why do you care?" Wash demanded.

"Because it wasn't that long ago I was too nice and too stupid," I replied. "Caboose and I aren't the same. He's special, I get that, but he's also in something bigger than he understands. And I don't want him to be taken out because of that. So just let me be the Tex to his Diana."

"You know, North helped you a lot more without having to trick you into being a halfway decent soldier," Wash pointed out.

"I'm not trying to trick him Wash," I said. "And in case you hadn't noticed... never mind."

"What?" Wash demanded. "Go on say it."

"No, forget it," I sighed.

I climbed off the counter top and headed back to the workshop. I wanted to check out the progress Tucker had made on my helmet anyway. He'd done a good job. I pulled on my helmet and ran through several sample displays. Not long now and it would be almost good as new. I tugged it off again and set it down on the bench for him to keep working on when he was done and walked over to my armour. I pulled the bandana back up, the quick-dry undercoat was set now, so I could go back to re-spraying my armour, bring it back to the original colour it was back in the good old days.

I held the can in my hand, looking down at the dark colour, it was a deep blue-green, almost black. The heat in the desert had dried it out to a crumbly, forest green and I looked almost unrecognisable. Which I supposed had kept me safe when the Director was after me but now I was looking for my friends it was kind of holding me back. Maybe Wash would have recognised me instantly when I ran into him yesterday. Even if he did, would it have changed things? A droplet of water hit the label on the back of the can. I was confused for a moment as one by one they continued to rain down. I sniffed, my nose feeling stuffy. Oh fuck, I was crying. It'd been almost ten years and I was still the crybaby of Project Freelancer.

"Hey," I heard from behind me. I turned my head toward the source of the sound, putting the can down on the counter. Fuck. I wiped my face on my arm. "Hey, it's alright."

I missed the approaching footsteps, but I didn't miss the strong arms slide around my waist and tug me back a step. I was pressed up against a hard chest and instead of flinching away from the unfamiliar touch, I sank into it. I dropped my head down, continuing to cry as I faced away from the man holding me. For the randy, flirt I'd met barely hours ago, Tucker was surprisingly kind and understanding about my issues. He knew just what to do. He stayed behind me, not seeing me cry, whispering words of encouragement into my ear, stroking my hair softly.

"Thanks," I choked out, once I thought I'd finished crying.

"It's okay," he told me. "We all gotta let out what we're holding onto. Crying is healthy. But if you can't do it in front of someone, because you wanna feel strong then that's okay too, I'll just be back here, watching your back."

"This isn't your first rodeo, is it?" I asked.

"No," he agreed. "I'm sure you know Carolina wasn't exactly the most forthcoming with her emotions, but, after everything we went through as a team, we got pretty close."

"It's hard to imagine her ever crying," I told him. "In fact, back at the project I spent most of my time with my head in her lap sobbing about stupid shit like boy trouble and bad exam scores."

"They didn't mention you much," he said. "Are you Dee?"

"Yeah," I nodded. "Diana Andrea Martinez."

"Lavernius Tucker," he introduced. "I think I only heard them mention Dee a few times in passing. I wish Dee was here, or Dee would have done this. Were you close?"

"Wash and I were best friends when we were kids, I transferred to his school when I was 6. Then he moved and we didn't run into each other again until I joined the project, but, I think I was probably closest to Tex and York. Tex was kinda like a mom to me, I'd never had one and although I never longed for one, she kinda filled the gap I didn't know was there. She was sweet to me, even though I never saw her do the same for anyone else. Even though the first time I met her we were beating the shit out of each other. And York, well, I think I reminded him of one of his younger siblings."

"You know he wanted to bang you, right?" I heard from the doorway. I pulled away from Tucker to turn to face him. "He asked North if he was gonna call dibs and when he said you were too young for him, York asked if he could shoot his shot."

"Explains the random coffee trip he took me out on one day after training," I said. "But I think that was before I officially joined. I did wonder."

"You were never really good at noticing when people liked you," he said. "I remember all those times we had shore leave..."

"Oh, some of those I noticed just fine," I replied with a smirk.

"Yes and those guys will never forget you, and their noses are probably still crooked," Wash said. "Dee, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bite your head off earlier, I actually think it's a great idea. I'm just.."

"Wash, after everything we've been through, I don't expect you to be functioning without a few trust issues," I replied. "I just, I can't quite get my head around it. I finally after all these years find what I've been searching for. It's in my grasp but it's not what I was looking for. I found you, but it can never be like it was. Everyone we've ever loved is dead. And we're all broken now. No matter how much I wanna go back to our crazy stupid firework parties in the rec-room, the will they won't they drama with everyone and their crushes all the dumb bets we had out in the field. I can't let go, not yet, and I don't expect you to either."

"You and I remember that project very differently," he said.

"All the bad stuff happened at the start, everything else was just life," I shrugged. "Back then, I had all of you to pull me through it. Now anytime anything scary happens I'm alone."

"You're not gonna be alone," he told me, coming over to me. Once he reached me he pulled me into his arms, offing me a quick tight hug. "Our family might be different now, and their might be new members, but we still have us."

"You think you could do me a favour?" I asked once he'd stepped back.

"What?"

"Stop jumping me in hallways," I said.

"Bow chicka bow wow," Tucker said from behind me, an arm behind me, resting on my waist.

"Because I'm not as put together as I appear," I finished.

"Wow," David said. "You must be really fucked up, because you don't look put together at all."

"Thanks Wash," I smiled softly.

"Anytime," he smiled back.