A/N: I own nothing except the laptop I wrote this story on.
"Preposterous. He didn't!"
"I'm telling you, he did."
"Who did what, now?"
Pequod sat down at the table in the middle of the mess hall, placing his tray on the table with a pronounced klak sound. He looked at the first person who had spoken, and then at the second, and repeated his question.
"I was just telling Rabbit over here that the Boss took a missile to the face and shook it off." That was the second voice, belonging to Wounded Fox. He was a pretty young kid, almost a year younger than Pequod himself, with freckles and blue eyes and blazing red hair. He was built like a rugby player, with a few scars on his cheeks. He claimed to anyone who asked that they should "see the other guy…s," and usually that was the end of it.
"And I was just telling Fox here that that is physically impossible." Everything that Fox was, Rabbit wasn't. Fox was tall and broad, Rabbit was short and thin. Fox was brash and blunt, Rabbit was easily flustered and a bit of a shut-in. Naturally, Fox was on the "combat" unit (though a platform for that group had yet to be constructed, rendering him little more than a "floating" member of staff) while Rabbit was R&D. He had somewhat pasty skin and coke bottle glasses. He looked like the class valedictorian, and Fox looked like the guy who cheated off of him in first period algebra to stay eligible for the football team.
Despite this, they were thick as thieves.
"You haven't said anything yet. Don't tell me you believe this chump over me!" Fox said, raising an eyebrow. Pequod returned the expression.
"Have you seen the payload my Baby carries, much less the rest of the fleet?" He asked, listlessly stirring the spaghetti around his fork head. "Someone takes one of those missiles to the face, you could clean 'em up with a mop and bucket."
Rabbit didn't look so hungry anymore. Fox just laughed.
"That just proves how badass the Boss is!" He said. "He took one of your best shots to the face and all he got was that little piece o' shrapnel stickin' out of his head. Not bad, if you ask me."
"I didn't ask you." Pequod said. "But yeah, that's pretty badass." He said. "Although, it wasn't one of my best shots. It was Cipher. And that was nine years ago. Things change."
"Yeah, well you can't deny that the Boss is made of iron." Fox said. "How many scraps did you pull 'im out of?"
"We talking last week or the last month?"
"Whichever is bigger."
"Last week I set a new record." Pequod slurped up a few of the noodles, and then made a face. They weren't that good today. "I pulled Boss out three times in one day…what, three days ago? Yeah, three days ago. I've been off for a day, so that makes it three days ago."
"Christ!" Fox said. "Does he even sleep?"
"He has to." Rabbit said. "Commander Ocelot has a rule that no member of R&D can work for more than ten hours straight, and if we go over then there's a mandatory break we have to take before we dig into our next project."
"Do you even sleep?" Fox asked.
"Little bit." Rabbit said. "Enough."
"How's that intel team plan coming, Rabbit?" Pequod asked. The smaller man adjusted his glasses.
"Until we get a platform built, it's more theoretical than anything else. But there's ten of us, including Commander Ocelot. We meet every morning and every night in the basement of the Command Platform, and then we go back to work in our regular jobs."
"So you're pulling double duty and finding time to sleep?" Fox asked. He scoffed. "I call bullshit, Rabbit. Something's gotta give: I bet it's sleep."
"Maybe it's because I don't spend all of my waking time hitting on every woman in Mother Base." Rabbit muttered, except he said it a little too loud. Far from getting upset, Fox let out a cackle and wiggled his eyebrows. Pequod just rolled his eyes.
"A man's got to have a hobby, y'know." Fox said. He looked thoughtful. "Wonder if Angel is on duty today?"
"Angel" was his name for one of the medical staffers, a member of the surgical team code-named Grey Chameleon. As far as either Pequod or Rabbit could tell, she treated Fox's "advances" (if one could even call them that) with vaguely amused annoyance. For one, he hit on everyone. And to his credit, he always stopped when she looked like she wasn't interested. Or maybe it was because she'd start sharpening one of her scalpels. It was probably the scalpels.
"Ah, I'll find out soon enough. I got a reeeeal bad hang-nail today and-" Fox cut himself off. "Yo, Big Dog! Over here!"
"Big Dog" was Fox's personal nickname for Silent Bear. He was a massive man, originally from Algeria, who had volunteered for the Diamond Dogs after an uneventful stay in the French Foreign Legion. At least, the others were left to assume it was uneventful, considering the man didn't talk much about it.
"Good morning, brother." Bear said, sitting down.
He didn't talk much, period.
"Sleep well?" Fox asked, grinning. Bear looked at him, and was vaguely confused.
"Yes."
"Got plans today?"
"Yes."
"Jesus, it was worth a shot." Fox said, throwing up his hands in mock defeat. "At least I got a good morning out of you. That's worth something."
Bear snorted. He wasn't much bigger than the rest of them, but it was the way he carried himself that added a few inches and a few pounds of pure muscle. He loomed.
"Every morning is a good one, brother."
"How's that?" Pequod asked. Bear turned to face him, and Pequod thought he saw a smile.
"Because if you are awake for it, then it is a good morning."
"I'm guessing you didn't come here to serenade us, did you?" Fox asked. Bear shook his head.
"No, I did not. I came to sit with my friends, as well as tell you that there is CQC training for the combat staff at three today. You and I are partnered, I believe, Fox."
"Fuck!"
"Intel is excused."
"Fuck!"
"As is Pequod."
"Fuck!"
…
He tried not to move his shoulders too much, instead seeing fit to walk like a robot. He ignored the funny looks he got from a few of the base staff, and the sympathetic look he got from Commander Ocelot, who excused him from the rest of the drills, and hopped into the jeep with him. The Boss had come out to inspect how the men were developing their CQC, anyway, and Ocelot figured that the best way for them to learn was to see the master in action himself. So he took it upon himself to drive the battered soldier to the medical platform.
"Don't shift around too much. You'll just make it harder for Doc."
"I didn't take this codename for it to be literowwww-" Wounded Fox snarled as the jeep rumbled to life and rolled out of its parking space. Ocelot shot him an apologetic glance.
"Sorry. Forgot how clunky these things are."
"Don't we have airlifts?" Fox asked through gritted teeth.
"For a kid with a busted shoulder? Don't make me laugh, kiddo. Considering the budgeting we're gonna have to do for the next few months to afford construction on an Intel Platform and a Support Platform, you're lucky you're not just walking." They drove down the massive bridge between the Command Platform and the Medical Platform, seeing the heavy construction going on in the distance on the soon-to-be Combat Platform. "And look on the bright side, kid. Your unit's platform is getting built as we speak."
"Too…hurt…to comment." Fox grunted. Ocelot rolled his eyes.
"Don't be a drama queen. You just dislocated your shoulder. It's not like someone chopped your forearm off with a katana or pulled your heart out of your chest and then crushed it in his bare hands. Then you can complain like this."
"Hahahaohowowow-dammit, don't make me laugh, sir. It hurts too much."
Ocelot smirked, but held his tongue.
They pulled up to the side of the main medical building, and Ocelot was kind enough to help Fox out of his seat in the car. As soon as he was done, the Intel officer leapt back into the jeep.
"I trust that you can make your way to the med center for your eval. Listen to every word that they say, and only when you're cleared do I want you returning to active duty. Understood?" There was a brief pause, and then Ocelot seemed to think of something. "No need to salute, soldier. Don't need to exacerbate it."
Wounded Fox looked grateful. Ocelot smiled some more.
"And look on the bright side, soldier. Now you've got some more time with that one doctor you keep hittin' on. Though she's had a pretty rough day today. Try not to get her mad."
"Whuh-how did you-" Wounded Fox managed to stammer. Ocelot pointed to his temple.
"Head of intelligence, remember?" He winked, and drove off with a chuckle.
Fox was in too much pain to crack any cheesy smiles at the nurses and medical staff as he made his way to one of the rooms. He was assigned this one at the door by one of the secretarial staff, and knew from the look on her face that she was delighting in his pain.
Great, that must mean that she was having a really bad day.
He sat on the table, kicking his legs out under him like a kid. Why was it that these doctor's tables were too tall for anyone? He wasn't sure, but it did the job of making him feel like an idiot.
The door opened, and she walked in.
"What's up, Angel?" He asked, managing to flash a pained smile. She flitted her eyes briefly at him, but went right back to typing on her pad with an expressionless face.
"Fox."
He winced, but not because of the pain.
"Really? Nothing for me? Not even a 'piss off?'"
"Not today."
"Oh, that's no fun."
She turned to face him. Grey Chameleon was supposedly from California, the kid of Japanese immigrants after World War II. The "supposedly" came from the fact that she almost never talked about it, insisting on telling people "I am a Diamond Dog." And that was that. She had high cheekbones, her hair wrapped in a tight bun (although today it looked more like a short ponytail), and a rather icy stare when she wasn't pleased with something. This was one of those times.
"Not everything is 'fun,' Fox. I don't enjoy patching people up nearly as much as they like getting themselves broken." She stared at her notes. "Speaking of which, what did you do this time? If you say you broke your finger when in reality it's just a hang nail because you missed me, I swear I will-"
"Dislocated my shoulder." Fox said. She stared at him suspiciously, but then her eyes widened.
"Oh…oh, you aren't joking. Oh…" She sighed. "Figures. Let me guess: CQC?"
"Yep."
"You picked a fight with Bear, didn't you?"
"I thought this would be the time I threw him!"
Finally, a breakthrough. She gave a faint little smile on the corner of her lips.
"One of these days you'll do it, I'm sure, unless you die trying. And that might be a more likely outcome. There's a reason Bear is an explosive ordinance officer. He's implacable. And you…aren't." She shrugged. "Sorry."
"Stop mocking me by using your shoulders, Doc. That hurts my feelings."
Grey Chameleon responded by bobbing her shoulders with each step as she walked over to him. He snarled.
"Jerk."
"Really, that's the best you've got?" Chameleon said, taking the moment to gently examine the wounded joint. "I thought you'd call me a 'bitch' or something. Must be my lucky day." She narrowed her eyes at the sight of the damage, and nodded. "Yup. Typical anterior dislocation. Not too bad, so I'll leave it up to you: want to do this the easy way or the hard way?"
"Easy way?"
"I operate."
"…That's the easy way?"
"Well, you'll be anesthetized, silly."
"…And the hard way?"
"I ram the thing back into place. No need for anesthetic. It will hurt. Badly. Though theoretically you will be in the field quicker."
Fox considered his options. He sighed.
"Fuck it. Gimme the hard way."
"You sure?"
"Positive."
"Okay…"
She laid him down on the table, and got into proper position. She brought in one of her assistant nurses to take note, and an intern (where did they get these guys? Fox had to wonder) to observe. Grey Chameleon looked at Fox.
"Are you ready? I'll put it in place on your okay."
"Angel, the feeling of your hands on me almost makes up for this pain. So do it. Now."
She obliged.
"FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU-"
The nurse and intern covered their ears.
"-UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!"
There was silence. He was lying on the table, panting and sweating from the pain. He looked up at Grey Chameleon, who was looking at him with some degree of concern. He sighed.
"…Next time…I'll take the easy way."
That got him the first real smile she'd made all day.
…
Later that evening, Pequod was sitting on a folding chair, his feet kicked up on one of the crates he'd rolled out onto the helipad. He'd just finished washing the dirt out of Baby's armored chassis, and now was content to relax and watch the CQC drills going on in front of him. He heard the sounds of attacks being blocked, and attacks landing, as well as the sound of men and women getting thrown around and to the ground. In the middle of it all, he saw Ocelot pacing through the ranks, yelling orders and pointers while twirling one of his pistols.
He sensed movement to his right, and cleared his throat.
"Like the tape?"
There was a slight whoosh sound, and Quiet materialized next to him, leaning against the side of Baby. Normally he'd object to someone touching her so soon after a good polishing, but Quiet wasn't dirty. She was holding a tape in her hand, her expression somewhat satisfied. Pequod made eye contact and chuckled.
"Yeah, I thought you might. Considering the crazy shit we have to deal with around here on a daily basis, I thought A-Ha might give you a smile."
Quiet raised an eyebrow.
"They're Norwegian, I think. Typical Euro-pop stuff. Not always my shindig, but there's something so goddamn catchy about that new single of theirs. You like it?"
She nodded, somewhat vigorously. Pequod chuckled.
"Me personally, I like old rock n' roll. Gimme the Stones any day of the week. Maaaaybe Genesis, though I don't really care about the whole 'Gabriel versus Collins' debate crap. They're both great, just different."
Quiet flitted her eyes off to the side absently, and shifted her weight on her feet.
"…And I'm boring you. Sorry 'bout that." Pequod said. "By the way, I got a little something for ya." He reached into his flight jacket's pocket, and procured a tape cassette. He tossed it to Quiet, who deftly caught it with her gloved hand. He always wondered why she kept that thing so wrapped up. She tossed the A-Ha track back to him at the same time he'd tossed her his tape. She stared at the title written in the lining, which was clearly scribbled in blue sharpie, and then looked back at him and raised an eyebrow. Pequod chuckled.
"Okay, I'm cheating. It's an album, but it's not just one band. I worked with a few of my buddies in R&D and ripped some goodies off of other albums and mashed them together. All sorts of songs from all sorts of bands. Consider it a 'Greatest Hits' mash-up."
Quiet looked somewhat skeptical, and held the tape so that he could read his handwriting on the lining. He laughed.
"Yes, yes. A little self-indulgent, but I'd say that I have good taste in music. That's why I called it 'Awesome Mix, Vol. 1'."
Quiet rolled her eyes, but there was the faintest trace of a ghost of a smile on the corner of her lips.
"Of course there'll be a volume two! Just gotta find enough songs." Pequod said. He nodded. "Hope you enjoy it. Should last you a while." He suddenly had an epiphany. "And who knows, if you find a song you like, maybe we'll play it on the way home from a mission and get the Boss to crack a grin. Maybe he'll even like it!"
Quiet's expression changed. She clutched the tape close to her chest, and was that…embarrassment in her eyes? But it was gone as soon as it was there. Pequod just nodded.
"I've kept you long enough, I think. Just have fun with it and tell me what you think…uh, you know what I mean." He said. Quiet smiled slightly, and turned around to start walking away.
"Hey Quiet, wait up."
She turned around, and looked over her shoulder at him. Pequod cleared his throat.
"Um, I don't really know how to say this, but…I know you've had trouble here since coming to Base. And I know that Master Miller in particular gives you a hard time." He paused, looking for the right words. "But I just wanted to let you know that the Boss isn't the only one here that doesn't hate you. I don't hate you. I think Boss is right; I don't think you're a freak. You're just trying to find your way around here, like the rest of us. So, uh, don't think you're alone here. You got the Boss, and you got me. And I think that, in time, you're gonna have the rest of us on your side too. Even that old fuddy-duddy Miller."
She didn't show her teeth, but the smile she gave him was the warmest he'd seen since she'd come to Mother Base.
"Pequod."
The sound of the Boss' voice caused the pilot to immediately leap out of his chair, shoving the crate away and turning off the cassette tape. He stood up straight, and folded his arms across his chest.
"Sir?"
"Sorry to interrupt your break, but I need to get into Afghanistan. Don't worry, it isn't priority one, but I have a couple of assignments I'd like to take care of out there. I'll increase your compensation for helping me get these side ops out of the way."
"Say no more, Boss." Pequod put on his flight jacket, as it was starting to get cold. "Baby's fueled and ready." He hopped into the cargo hold, and made his way to the cockpit. Within moments, he had fired up the engine and could hear the rotors starting to fire up.
"You coming?" He heard the Boss ask. There was another whoosh sound, and Quiet was sitting in the cargo hold, directly behind and adjacent to Pequod. She looked at the Boss, and nodded. Her sniper rifle was still racked up from the last mission, and she made a point to lean away from it.
"Taking off, kiddos. Let's go to Afghanistan." Pequod said, turning on the microphone connected to his headphones and now broadcasting through the ACC. With ease, he lifted Baby off of the helipad and had her floating through the sky in moments. "Ladies and Gentlemen, this is your pilot speaking. We are on route to Afghanistan, the world's leading producer of my two favorite things in the world: opiates, and kicking the shit out of the Soviets. But seeing as how the former is not allowed on Mother Base-"
"Nice try, Pequod." Boss said, surprising both Quiet and pilot with his comment. Usually he was pretty quiet on the ride to and from locations. Hell, he even looked like he was smiling. He was in a good mood about something. Maybe CQC had gone well earlier.
"-then we'll have to settle for option two: kick Soviet ass. We've got a few hours ahead of us, soo…anyone got any good knock-knock jokes?"
Quiet looked like she'd had an epiphany, and rather frantically pressed something into Pequod's lap. He looked down, and a big grin spread on his face. He reached down, and fed it into the audio jack.
"Seeing as how your pilot has a bit of a sore throat right now and isn't in the mood for telling stories, why don't we listen to some tunes on the ride in?"
"Tunes?" Snake asked. He noticed the eager look in Quiet's eye, and sighed defeatedly. "Alright, fine. What kind of tunes?"
Pequod grinned.
"Awesome tunes, sir." He said with a wink.
A/N: Just another day in the Seychelles.