A/N: I absolutely LOVE how this fandom is growing! :D And we definitely all have a love for Jensen/Cougar. Here's Aisha.

The bar was a shithole, really. The few stools that still had possession of all four legs were chipped, rickety, and ancient. The bar itself was clad in a quilt of stains, and its original color was impossible to tell, although Aisha hoped it had originally been pus-yellow. That way she could fool herself into thinking it wasn't as dirty as it looked. The bartender was as crusty as his bar, and didn't give a damn, but Aisha respected that. Deciding to enter, she dragged herself over the threshold and plopped onto one of the unstable stools.

"I'll take a beer…whatever you have on tap." She said, exhausted. Today's mission had not gone exactly as planned, and she couldn't help feeling somewhat responsible. The guys had been mostly welcoming to her, but she still got the inclination that she was intruding on some private club, where the language was different and the customs strange. She felt as though she was slowing them up. Aisha sighed. Working in a team was more trouble than it was worth…maybe that's why she'd always gone solo before now. But to take down Max, she would need the help of a hacker, a planner, a sniper, and a transpo specialist. Some jobs were too big to handle alone.

The bartender slid the beer down the worn table, and she caught it. The cap had already been pried off, so Aisha took a long pull from the dusty brown bottle. As the bitter, hoppy liquid swirled down her throat, she relaxed a bit. Here was a language she could speak fluently- alcohol.

Sometimes, even when surrounded by the guys, Aisha felt alone. More alone than she'd ever been, even while tracking down Max in shitty motels; even when she left home in Bolivia, with her father's humiliating screams chasing her into the night.

Still, Aisha was not a woman who would cry herself to sleep and quit, just because she was the odd one out in a group. Aisha polished off the bottle, and the bartender immediately sent another one sliding towards her. She nodded at him gratefully.

After her tenth beer, someone walked into the dank, musty room. Aisha stared hard, willing her eyes to focus. The man swimming before her had luminous glass eyes, and hair the color of sunshine. His eyes glinted at her, and she heard a low whistle, followed by a chuckle. The glass-eyed man said something that slipped past her ears, and threw her arm over his shoulder, leading her out onto the street. She stumbled and vaguely wondered where he could be taking her.

"Wherzsha going," Aisha slurred. The man just laughed again, and spoke something unintelligible. He was warm, and she was so very tired…For the first time, she felt safe. The pavement shrank farther away as she was lifted into a fireman's carry. Aisha saw a few flashing lights, and her head nodded.

"Where'd you find her?" Clay asked, concerned, as Jensen came through the door of their

hotel room. Aisha was slung across his back, asleep. Jensen laughed.

"She was getting smashed in this bar a few blocks from here. She couldn't walk, so I carried her here. This woman can drink, I'll say that," Jensen laid Aisha on the bed in her room, and returned to the kitchen, where Clay was standing, and Cougar was lounging at the table, cleaning his gun. Jensen could barely see traces of the world's faintest smile, but it was there. Clay was almost comically relieved.

"What, Colonel, you weren't worried for our psychotic princess, were you?" Jensen teased. Thunderclouds darkened Clay's face, and Jensen gulped. Cougar smirked.

"Only kidding, sir!"