I do not own Red vs. Blue.

There is some description of violence and mutilation. I don't think it's too graphic, but it is there.

Forbidden Research

Dr. Grey's assistants bustled about the infirmary, scrubbing down metal cots and taking inventory of their medical supplies. All of them were wearing bright-coloured scrubs, and Simmons was very conscious of the stares directed his way as he thumped across the linoleum floor in full armour. These days, he and his soulmates were the only ones who wore their full gear in public, which made them stick out like sore thumbs.

Well, more than usual, anyway.

He rapped on Dr. Grey's metal office door. When she chirped, "Come in!", Simmons stepped inside the space. His gaze fell upon the resident doctor sitting behind the second-hand wooden desk. Though he had seen her without her armour plenty of times over the course of the past three weeks, it still took his brain several seconds to process that the tall, olive-skinned woman in front of him was Dr. Emily Grey.

Chocolate brown eyes glittered at him. "Simmons! Perfectly on time as always."

"It's a talent."

He unclasped his helmet and tucked it under one arm. Dr. Grey waved him further into the room and Simmons dropped into the chair situated across from her. "I see you still haven't convinced Agent Washington to let you out of your armour," she said in amusement.

Simmons' cheeks flushed red. "He's not confident that all threats to our lives have been eliminated," he muttered. He cleared his throat, lowering his helmet to rest in his lap. "So…what did you want to talk to me about?"

"The research you've been doing on soulmates and soulmarks."

When Simmons received Dr. Grey's digital request for a meeting two days ago, he had mulled over a dozen possible reasons for why she wanted to see him. This had not been one of them. His green eyes widened with surprise. "How did you—?"

"It's the obvious assumption, since you've borrowed basically every title I own on the topic," interrupted Dr. Grey. She leaned forwards, resting her elbows against the desk. "What are you searching for?"

She was practically vibrating with excited energy. Simmons scooted his chair back a few inches. "It's, uh, just something I used to do," he said nervously. "Researching soulmarks. My schoolmates were meeting their soulmates and I wasn't. It was a problem and I wanted to solve it. I read every textbook and library book my school had on soulmates, hoping I'd be able to figure out when I'd meet mine. But that's, you know, impossible, so I gave up and enlisted in the army to get out of my shitty town. Now that I have all my soulmarks and don't have to worry about being blown up in a war, I decided to search for any recorded instance of a—"

'Soul-link' was on the tip of his tongue. Common sense caught up to him at the last second and he finished his sentence with, "—um, a, uh, person with eleven soulmates."

"That's exactly what I wanted to hear," said Dr. Grey gleefully. She stood up, her lab coat swishing behind her as she came around the desk. Simmons squeaked as she hovered over him, her fingers fluttering over his maroon armour. "You're not the only one fascinated by all those pretty, colourful marks Washington wants to keep hidden."

"I…I'm not?"

"Nope!" Dr. Grey sat on the edge of the desk, her elbows balancing against her thighs. "Ever since I learned you guys are soulmates, I've had so many questions for you. But there's not much time for such talk when you're fighting for your life. Since the war is over and we're finally living in peacetime, I would love to meet with you to discuss this phenomenon."

"You would?" asked Simmons in surprise.

"Of course! During my time on Chorus alone, I've treated hundreds of patients. The most soulmarks I've seen on a person is four. Eleven is unheard of. I want to know, what makes you so special?" She hopped to the floor, a wide grin spreading across her lips. "So what do you say, Simmons? Shall we embark on this research together?"

"Yes!" said Simmons immediately.

"Wonderful! Let's meet on Friday, after breakfast, to officially start our discussions. If that works for you."

"I'll make it work."

They bid each other goodbye and Simmons left the office, his blood pumping with anticipation. Unbeknownst to Dr. Grey, she posed the exact question he'd been trying to solve. Why was he the one deserving of eleven soulmates? What did he do to deserve such a bond?

For someone so unspecial, why did fate gift him with such special circumstances? He longed to figure out which part of himself caused fate to choose him.

Maybe, with Dr. Grey's help, he would finally arrive at a satisfying conclusion.

…

When he recounted the conversation to Grif, Sarge, Lopez and Donut, they were frustratingly unimpressed.

"So you're gonna sit around every Friday and talk about soulmarks?" Grif shoved a handful of trail mix into his mouth. "Sounds super boring, dude."

"That's all she wanted to talk to you about? What a shame," lamented Donut. "I thought maybe she wanted to make you her intern or something, and you'd get to be involved in crazy medical drama. Like Grey's Anatomy!"

Sarge looked up from his tablet to Donut's bunk, where the blonde was failing to suppress his mirth. "Son, you're not funny."

"Aw, I thought it was a good one."

"It was too obvious. I prefer subtle humour."

"Thank you, Lopez. I'm glad someone appreciates my jokes."

"I don't understand how you have no interest in this," said Simmons in annoyance, slouching against his pillows and crossing his arms over his chest.

"Interested in what?" shot back Grif, bits of pretzels and chocolate chips spewing from his lips. "You wanna know why our soul-bond is so different and I already know the answer. Fate."

"I want a better answer than that. So does Dr. Grey. And while we're trying to find that answer, I'll finally get to have an intelligent conversation." When Sarge narrowed his gaze at him, Simmons said hastily, "Excluding you, sir."

"Kiss-ass."

Donut rolled onto his stomach, folding his arms against the mattress. He tilted his head to the side and asked curiously, "Are you gonna tell her about our soul-links?"

"Um…maybe not right away," muttered Simmons.

Grif smirked. "You realize you're going to need Wash's permission for all of this, right?"

The redhead bristled. "I don't need his permission for anything."

"That's right," spoke Sarge, setting his tablet aside. "You need my permission. And I say you can have your little TMI session with Dr. Grey if Wash says you can."

Simmons' jaw dropped. "Are you serious?!"

"Boy, if Wash finds out I knew about ya blabbin' our personal soulmate business to Dr. Grey and didn't tell him about it, he's gonna bellyache about it for weeks. I hate it when he bellyaches. It's as irritating as ten-inch nails dragging down a chalkboard, over and over again until the nails are worn down to the nubs."

"I didn't know you were scared of a Blue," said Simmons with a huff.

Grif, Lopez and Donut promptly "Oooh'd" in unison. Simmons immediately regretted his retort when Sarge stood up, his grey eyes glinting with the promise of punishment. He rolled out of his bunk, smacking hard into the floor and barely avoiding Sarge's kick in the process.

"Okay, okay, I'll go talk to him!"

Simmons dove into the hallway, the door swishing shut on Grif's cry of "Coward!" and Sarge's shotgun blast. He eyed the bullet indent in the door with a scowl, grumbling under his breath as he shuffled to the Blues' bunk in their shared corridor.

The Blues' door slid open just as he approached and Wash poked his head out. "What is going on in there?" he asked in exasperation.

"The usual," replied Simmons, wincing internally when his voice rose slightly in pitch. He cleared his throat, took a quick breath and said, "I'd like to ask you something."

Wash leaned against the doorframe, his ankles crossing as he surveyed Simmons with intrigue. "Shoot."

"I had my meeting with Dr. Grey this afternoon. I've been borrowing her soulmate textbooks and she wanted to know what I was using them for. Turns out we're both really interested in the science behind soulmarks…um, our soulmarks, in particular. We thought we'd meet once a week to talk about—"

"No," said Wash, his voice hard and firm.

"You didn't even let me finish," protested Simmons.

"Bow-chicka-bow-wow!" crowed Tucker, practically slipping into the corridor in his rush to deliver his catchphrase before the moment passed.

"Shut up, you're disgusting," said Wash, glaring at Tucker before swivelling his gaze back to Simmons. "I know exactly what you're going to say next. She wants you to talk about our soul-bond."

"We want to talk about it," corrected Simmons. "To dig a little deeper into what our soul-bond means and why it's so powerful."

And to figure out why I'm a part of it.

"Absolutely not."

"Why?" demanded Simmons.

"Why?" repeated Wash incredulously. "Because our soul-bond is none of her business. Because I don't want anyone know the depth of our connection. Because 'soul-link' is a word that is only ever going to exist to us. Do I need to continue?"

"Do you not trust me?"

"Whoa, do not put words in my mouth." Wash straightened his posture and moved further into the corridor. "I trust you 100%. That is not the case for Dr. Grey."

"Dr. Grey isn't going to use anything I say to hurt us," insisted Simmons. "I know she won't. So if you trust me, then trust my judgement."

Irritation flared through their soul-link and Wash rubbed the space between his eyes. "And I'm going to need you to trust me. Under no circumstance are you going to discuss our soul-bond with Dr. Grey."

Simmons spluttered for a moment, his cheeks turning a dull red with anger. "You're impossible."

"So my sisters constantly told me," said Washington, unaffected. "We done here?"

"No! No, we're not!" he said shrilly. "Actually, wait, yeah, we are done here, because I don't know why I'm asking your permission in the first place! I'm a grown-ass man."

In the span of a blink Washington loomed over Simmons, his blue eyes burning with fire. Simmons shrunk back slightly, warily glancing at the clenched fists at Wash's sides. When the ex-Freelancer spoke, his voice was a growl. "And I'll kick that grown-ass of yours if you disobey me."

Tension crackled through their soul-links, thick and tight, and by this point the Blues and Reds had clustered in their respective doorframes to watch the conflict unfold. "I should give them a hug," said Caboose.

Tucker gripped his bicep. "Now is so not a good time, Caboose."

"How about we all just take a deep breath?" suggested Doc, peeking over Tucker's shoulder.

"Simmons, just let it go," hissed Grif, for Washington looked like he was seconds away from thrashing Simmons' ass right there in the corridor.

"How about I make you guys some tea?" chirped Donut. "I always feel better when something hot is sliding down my throat."

"Do you even hear yourself when you talk?"

"This is the kinda bellyachin' I was worried about," grumbled Sarge.

Washington and Simmons ignored the comments from their soulmates, engaged in a silent stare down. Simmons' body trembled; the blue eyes boring into him sending an icy chill down his spine. But he refused to step away, meeting Wash's intimidating gaze with his own fierce glare.

There was a soft schink as the door at the end of the corridor opened. Carolina stepped out, her long red hair piled at the top of her head in a bun, her bright green eyes swiftly zeroing in on Wash and Simmons. She was quick to get to Wash's side, gentle fingers touching his shoulder, and she eased her body in front of Simmons'.

"All right, what did he do now?" she asked calmly.

"Me?! I didn't do—"

Carolina held up one finger, stabbing it in Simmons' face while maintaining eye contact with Wash. The man gave a harsh sigh and moved a few steps back. "He wants to have a weekly pow-wow with Dr. Grey, discussing our soul-link," he said rigidly.

"Oh hell no," said Carolina immediately.

Simmons squawked as her hand connected sharply with the side of his head. "Hey!"

"What's wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with me? What's wrong with you two?" cried Simmons. He pressed his palm against the stinging spot on his cheek. "You're acting like dictators! I thought this team was a democracy!"

"Not when it comes to matters of your safety," said Wash passionately. "Whether you like it or not, sometimes we have to make decisions as leaders for the well-being of this team."

"What about Sarge and Church? Don't they get a say?"

"I don't care either way," said Sarge bluntly.

Church flickered into view, hovering over Carolina's shoulder. "I don't do much leading these days, so, you know, kinda an invalid argument."

"Oh my—we're safe, okay?" said Simmons, managing to keep his cool. "Dr. Grey already knows we're soulmates! Which she's kept secret, like she promised."

"Secret from everyone but her soulmate," retorted Wash, "and who knows who that could be? It's bad enough that there are at least two people who know about our soulmarks."

"Does she know about our soul-link?" asked Carolina sharply.

"No!" Simmons had the sudden, inexplicable urge to smash his head against the wall. "Am I really the only one interested in researching the phenomenon of our soulmarks?"

"Yes," chorused his soulmates.

"This conversation is ending right now. You can do all the research you want," emphasized Carolina. "But you're not discussing it with anyone outside this corridor. Do I make myself clear?"

"This isn't—"

"Do. I. Make. Myself. Clear?"

Each word was punctuated with a jab to Simmons' chest. "I'd give up now while your bones are still intact," advised Church.

"Fight! Fight! Fight!" Kai chanted from down the hall.

"Quiet," said Wash calmly, and she immediately went silent. "Well, Simmons, do you understand or not?"

Faced with two imposing, immoveable ex-Freelancers, Simmons said through gritted teeth, "I understand. I will not be speaking with Dr. Grey."

He spun on his heel and shoved past Grif, Donut, Sarge and Lopez to get into their room. He threw himself into his bunk and promptly screamed into his pillow.

"Now, now, suffocatin' yerself ain't gonna make ya feel any better," consoled Sarge, patting his back. "Suffocatin' Grif, on the other hand, always cheers me up."

Simmons didn't say a word. He let his anger burn through his veins and rumble through his soul-links. He was sick of Wash and Carolina's paranoia and trust issues dictating his life.

This was important to him.

He hoped Dr. Grey wouldn't be averse to changing the time of their meeting to before breakfast.

…

When Simmons arrived at his first appointment with Dr. Grey, the first thing he said was, "Wash and Carolina have no idea I'm here. If we could keep these talks between us, I'd really appreciate it."

"I take patient confidentiality very seriously," said Dr. Grey, unfazed. "Does Washington still think I'm going to sell your soul-bond secrets to the enemy?"

"He doesn't really trust anyone," muttered Simmons, lowering into the metal chair across from Dr. Grey's desk. He dropped his helmet to rest by his feet. "But I don't know what his deal is about keeping our soulmarks hidden. Felix is dead and Locus isn't a problem anymore."

"He's very protective of you guys."

"Too protective," said Simmons with a dry laugh. He paused for a second, recalling a point Wash had made during their fight, one he hadn't been able to shake. "Um, before we go any further, I just wanna say I trust you completely. But…can I trust your soulmates?"

"What?" asked Dr. Grey in confusion.

"You can't hide anything in the soul-realm, right? So when you're soul-bonding, there's a chance your soulmates will see our conversations, especially if they are on your mind. So do you trust them to keep all of this a secret?"

"Ah." Understanding dawned on Dr. Grey. "You don't need to worry about that. I'm a Blank."

Simmons was struck dumb for a minute. When his tongue unglued itself, it started flapping madly, his pale skin turning a deep red with mortification. "Oh my God, I am so sorry—not sorry that you're a Blank! God, no, that's nothing to-to be ashamed of, or anything, I just—I didn't mean to pry—"

"Simmons!" Dr. Grey interjected, reaching over and gripping the redhead's armour-covered wrist. "It's fine. If you're willing to share your soulmate information with me, it's only fair that I share mine." She eased back, briefly running her fingers through her dark hair, which was buzzed to just above her ears. "Being a Blank is why I'm so fascinated with soulmarks. There's a small portion of the population that are born without soulmates. Why? Why were you gifted with eleven soulmates? There's fate and then there's science. I want us to crack the science behind soulmarks."

"Where do you want to start?" asked Simmons.

"From the beginning." Dr. Grey spread her fingers. "Tell me about the day you received your soulmarks."

…

Simmons knew Washington and Carolina would find out about his deceit sooner rather than later. When your lives were so deeply entangled, when your souls yearned for one another's, secrets weren't kept for long.

That didn't mean he was prepared when their fury suddenly flooded through him, boiling hot. He sprang to his socked feet, tossed his book on the coffee table, and looked frantically at the closed rec room door. He conducted a brief internal debate, wondering if he should wait for them to find him or if he should seek them out and face the music.

His decision was made for him when the door swished open, revealing two very pissed off ex-Freelancers. Simmons held up his hands defensively. "Okay, can we just talk about—"

Carolina, her green eyes flashing, charged across the rec room. Simmons scrambled to get out of her path, but he had never been particularly speedy, and she grabbed him into a headlock. He shrieked as she lifted him over her shoulder with ease, body-slamming him into the couch cushions.

"Talk about what?" hissed Carolina, pinning Simmons' hands to the small of his back, straining the muscles uncomfortably in the process. "How you lied right to our faces?"

"How…did…you…find…out?" wheezed Simmons, trying and failing to wriggle out of Carolina's hold.

"Soul-bond with Grif," said Wash coldly. "Quite the way to find out our soulmate has gone completely behind our backs. What did you tell Dr. Grey?"

"Let…me…go…and…then…I'll…tell…you!"

Carolina released Simmons and he whined in pain as he gingerly sat up, flexing his aching arms. "You better not have told her about our soul-links," she said, quiet danger lacing her words.

"I didn't," said Simmons tightly. "We talked about the day I got my soulmarks and how it feels to be in a soul-bond."

Carolina's fist imbedded into the cushion an inch from Simmons' face. "We told you not to discuss our soulmarks with her!"

Her bellow echoed throughout the rec room, reverberating off the steel walls. Her chest started to heave with heavy breaths, her eyes growing a bit wild. Wash was there in an instant, gripping her shoulders and easing her a few steps away from the quailing Simmons.

"Lina," he said softly.

"I'm fine," Carolina said roughly, shaking off his hands. "I'm fine."

Simmons' gaze darted between Wash and Carolina. There was a haunted glaze to their pupils, a grim set to their lips, and he realized for someone who claimed to be so smart, he was very stupid.

All of their trust issues and paranoia stemmed from their experiences at Project Freelancer. Simmons thought their refusal to speak with anyone about their soulmarks was just an affect of that trauma. But now he had a horrible suspicion that there was a direct correlation.

"There's something you're not telling me, isn't there?" he asked softly. "Something way more than just not trusting Dr. Grey."

Washington and Carolina exchanged a long glance, partaking in a silent communication the rest of the Reds and Blues had not yet deciphered.

"Something far more than not trusting Dr. Grey," said Carolina, she and Wash taking a seat on the coffee table across from Simmons. The tonelessness in her voice caused a kernel of dread to settle in Simmons' stomach. They were both devoid of emotion, appearing as if they were carved out of granite.

"What we are about to tell you is not pleasant," said Wash, his expression impassive despite the chilling words. "I had hoped you trusted us enough to take us at our word so we could avoid this conversation. Apparently, that was too much to ask for."

Shame prickled through Simmons, followed by annoyance for letting them guilt-trip him in the first place. He swallowed thickly and clasped his fingers together. "I'm listening."

"Have you ever wondered how Project Freelancer dealt with soulmarks shared within their ranks?"

Simmons' blood ran cold. "N-no. I haven't."

"The Director despised soulmarks," said Carolina. "Considered them to be a distraction and punished those who allowed themselves to be distracted by their soulmates."

"Ironic, considering he spent the majority of his life after the death of his soulmate trying to revive her," said Wash acidly.

"North Dakota and South Dakota were soulmates. The Counselor caught them soul-bonding, which was forbidden. The Director punished South far worse than he punished North. He forced her to go through our training course over and over again. For forty-eight hours, she dodged bullets, punched targets and climbed ropes, all without armour, with no breaks. Whenever North pleaded for the Director to let him take her place, he added another hour onto South's punishment. By the end, she was dehydrated, starving, filthy with her own excrement, and the palms of her hands were stripped raw from the rope. North's soulmark was on her left hand."

Simmons pictured threads of bloody skin, the dark purple barely peeking through the crimson, similar to how the colour barely glimmered through the charred black handprint on Wash.

Bile rose in his throat.

"When the skin grew back, so did the soulmark," Carolina continued blankly. "But it was mottled, deformed. South refused to soul-bond with her brother after that."

"It really affected North," said Wash softly, pain flickering in his blue eyes at the recollection. "After that, he wouldn't soul-bond with me. Didn't want me to endure the same trauma."

"Idaho, Ohio and Iowa didn't let the Director scare them off soul-bonding. Nothing could get between them. So the Director stripped them of their privacy. He forced them to soul-bond in front of doctors and scientists, reduced their bond to a mere statistic. He wanted to know if Idaho would feel pain if his soulmark on Iowa was stabbed. He would put one of them through a life-or-death simulation and see how it would affect the other two." Carolina's jaw clenched. "I'd wake up in the middle of the night to Ohio screaming bloody murder in her sleep for Idaho and Iowa. They were treated as lab rats, and whenever the scientists would learn something from their bond, the Director would use it against them."

"Some of us learned pretty quickly to keep our soulmarks from detection," spoke Wash. "Monthly inspections were conducted to see if any of us developed matching soulmarks. When inspection day was close, I would search the corpses from the aftermath of our missions for anyone with the same skin tone as me. I'd slice off sheets of their skin to cover North and York's marks. It was gruesome and barbaric, but it worked. The Director's machines were fooled." He gave a hollow chuckle. "And God forbid you value your soulmate more than the organization. Maine once blew a mission in order to save Connie. He was forced into surgery to get his soulmark removed—"

"Stop!"

Simmons didn't want to hear anymore, couldn't hear anymore. How could someone be so cruel to treat soulmarks so violently? To violate the privacy, the bond between soulmates? To have such a black heart that they removed a soulmark from a body—

"Breathe, Dick. Breathe."

Simmons was so caught up in his horrified thoughts that he didn't realize his chest was heaving, his lungs struggling to get in air. Wash had leaned over, his hands gripping his shoulders, gently easing him into a hunched position. With his head between his knees, Simmons blinked rapidly, his eyes stinging, trying to focus on breathing in and out.

"Do you understand now?" asked Carolina, her composure breaking slightly. Her voice trembled with grief. "Our soulmarks aren't a research project. They're not something to be studied. I don't care how fascinated you are, but you do not get to discuss our soul-bond with anyone. I am not risking this information falling into the wrong hands. Not again."

"It's…it's not just a project to me," said Simmons, in between shuddering breaths. "That's…that's not why I wanted to talk about us to Dr. Grey."

"You said you and Dr. Grey wanted to find out why our soul-bond was so unique," said Wash, his eyes tracking Simmons' breathing pattern intently.

"That's what she wanted to talk about. I was interested in that, too, but mostly…mostly I wanted to find out why me."

"Why me?" echoed Carolina, confusion colouring her tone. "What are you talking about?"

"My entire childhood and adolescence, no one loved me. So what did I do to deserve your love?"

Shock flooded through him and Wash's fingers dug into the fabric of his red sweatshirt. "What," he said tightly, "the hell do you mean by that?"

"Never mind," muttered Simmons weakly. "It's stupid. It doesn't matter. I'm sorry I—"

He gave a surprised squawk when Washington gripped him by the waist and lifted him into the air, creating space for him to lay out against the couch cushions. He set Simmons against his body, their legs tangling together, and pressed his hand against his soulmark on Simmons' elbow. Carolina straddled his legs, her hand curling over the cyan handprint on his shoulder. Simmons instantly reciprocated, grasping his soulmark on their bodies, his eyes screwing shut as their emotions swelled through him.

Their souls morphed together, folded into one. When Simmons inhaled, he smelled only pumpkin pie and rainwater. Grief pulsed through him, the regret Wash and Carolina felt, would always feel, for not doing more to protect their former teammates, for not caring enough about them to try. But it was pale compared to their fierce love. It consumed Simmons, causing his body to go lax. He sagged against Washington's chest with a whine.

'Screw your father, screw your peers, screw your teachers,' thought Carolina viciously.

'Carolina and I know exactly how you feel.' Wash nuzzled his chin against Simmons' hair. 'And every time we didn't think we were worthy enough, what did you and the others tell us?'

'We're the ones who decide whether or not we love you,' thought Simmons, recalling the constant affirmations he and the rest of their soulmates would give the ex-Freelancers when they were unable to fight back their darkness and insecurities when they reared their ugly heads. 'It's something you don't have a choice in.'

'That's right. We love you, Dick.'

'You don't need to research why.' Carolina entwined her free hand through Simmons' short, red strands. 'I've long since learned that there's no questioning fate. It's not something to be figured out. But who gives a damn why it chose us to be together? The love we have for each other? That's real. That's entirely us. It's got nothing to do with fate. There are plenty of people out there who hate their soulmates.'

'I wouldn't blame you if you hated me a little right now,' thought Simmons with a wince. 'I know I broke your trust by going behind your backs. I'm sorry.'

The memory of his meeting with Dr. Grey unfolded, shimmering in bright, crystal colour, as Washington and Carolina delved deeper into his soul.

"Can you describe to me what you feel during a soul-bond?"

"It's…it's the best sensation in the world. My soul becomes theirs; their soul becomes mine. It feels like we're one. It's all-consuming, and I can't think of anything else but them. God, I don't think I'm explaining it right. It's just…it's like nothing exists except for us, in those moments. Does that make sense?"

The love intensified, crashing over him like a wave, frothy at the edges with adoration, and it seemed to take an eternity to recede. Simmons' hands fell limp to his sides and his eyes fluttered open to see Carolina gazing down at him with deep affection.

"That's really sappy, Richard."

"Shut up," he mumbled. "You were being just as sappy." He tried to sit up but his limbs were heavy with fatigue. Washington did not seem ready to relinquish him, anyway, his arms tight around his torso. "I'm sorry."

"We know," Wash replied. "You didn't break our trust. Just dented it a little bit. But you know we could never hate you, right?"

"Yeah, you made that pretty clear. And I do trust you. I should have taken your word and I'm sorry I—"

"Relax, Simmons," Wash said with fond exasperation, his thumb stroking over his grey print. "We forgive you."

"You do know that we could have avoided all of this if you just told me why you didn't want me to talk to Dr. Grey."

"I suppose we shouldn't have been so vague," allowed Wash. "Sometimes the line blurs between leader and soulmate."

"Sarge is going to love it when I tell him you called yourself Simmons' leader," said Carolina with a snicker, burying her chin against her fellow redhead's neck.

Simmons scoffed. "Do you know what he ordered me to do when I told him I was going to discuss our soul-bond with Dr. Grey? He said I had to get Wash's permission first."

Washington chuckled. "You can teach an old dog new tricks."

"You also could have been more direct with us about why you wanted to talk to Dr. Grey in the first place," said Carolina pointedly.

"So all of us are still pretty shit at verbally communicating our emotions," said Simmons. He paused for a second before saying softly, "Dr. Grey was never going to betray us."

"I know," said Wash quietly. "Perhaps we were too hard on her."

"It makes a lot more sense, why she's so interested in our soul-bond," said Carolina, idly listening to the thudding of Simmons' heart. "Being a Blank…it's no wonder why she wants to research the other side of the spectrum."

"Do you think I'd could keep talking to her?" asked Simmons hopefully.

Wash frowned. "Dick, you deserve—"

"Not because I want to figure out what makes me deserving of your love," he said quickly. "Just because it's honestly pretty cool to sit and discuss soulmarks with someone with just as much interest in the material."

"Maybe," said Wash slowly, "you could talk to her once a month instead of every week. And pick specific dates when you two want to talk about our soul-bond in particular so Carolina and I can sit in. Lina?"

"All right," agreed Carolina. "But if at any point we feel like it's becoming risky, and we tell you to pull the plug, you do it. Got it?"

"Got it."

Happiness bubbled through him, warm and light, and he wound his arms around Carolina. He basked in the love simmering through their soul-links, a pleased hum vibrating in his throat.

Maybe he wouldn't ever fully believe he was worthy of the position fate put him in. But Wash and Carolina were right. Their feelings for one another weren't dictated by fate. They loved him, he loved them, and that was that.

He really did have a bad habit overanalyzing the simplest of things.

Maybe Dr. Grey could help him pinpoint the root of that.