When Fox reached consciousness, it had a faint awareness that something was wrong. Something wasn't matching up right, something in it's brain not processing clearly. Some kind of programming error, it decided at last.

It took effort to get it's eyes to open, something it could not find records of having experienced before, and found itself covered in furs, staring up at a tarp- a tarp which, it recalled slowly, was used to waterproof a den under a pile of rocks. Trying to sit up- or, really, move in any way at all- resulted in an explosive headache that crippled it and had it dropping back to the fur-pile-bed with a whimper.

There were footsteps nearby, a rustle of the tarp. The scent was familiar- the Rogue. They must have been deliberately making noise, so it wouldn't startle. It tried to will itself to action- the Rogue need we to be contained, and brought in... to... who? The uncertainty stopped any attempts to do more than gets it's eyes open to track the rogue. It had rolled on it's side to clutch it's skull, it seemed. Good. Better to see the entrance.

The Rogue made no sudden moves, or any attempts to seem more threatening than was typical, waiting until Fox had settled from looking at everything around them and then offering a bowl of what smelled like small-animal broth. Fox tried to reach for it, and immediately whimpered again at the painful throbbing that came back to it's skull in an instant.

Once it was clear that Fox wasn't going anywhere anytime soon, the Rogue moved closer, lifting it's shoulders up and bracing it there by kneeling behind it before bringing the bowl to it's mouth and forcing it to take a swallow or choke. It chose the less destructive path.

When the bowl was taken away, it was empty, and the pain seemed to have weakened, leading Fox to try sitting up again. It brought with it a wave of nausea and another shot of pain through it's skull, but it managed to get upright under it's own power- and stay there, so long as it didn't try to hold it's head up as well. Improvement, small though it was. Sounds buzzed in it's ears still, indistinct. The mild wind, the faint crackle of the small fire. A dull but warm rumbling it couldn't place, starting and stopping at random. The tarp crinkled as the Rogue moved behind it, and it focused on that- the Rogue was dangerous. There was no doubts or confusions about that.

The rumbling stopped again, then started again. A voice. Words. It honed in on the sound, immediately picking apart the sensory data. "-hear me at all? Say something. Come on, Alice, answer!"

It opened it's mouth to respond and made a choked sort of grunt. Response not acceptable-

"-ank god, I thought you checked out on me-"

It tried again with more success. "Presence... acknowledged." Response acceptable. "...System... Repairs needed. Programming error. Sensory data... Offset. Re-calibrations needed. System responses limited. Mission readiness at seventy-two percent, twelve percent above acceptable levels-"

"Stop it!" Fox immediately went silent, and after a moment, the Rogue shifted again, it's sounds moving around to Fox's front rather than it's back. "Alice, I need you to lift your head. Can you look at me?" Obedience required. It lifted it's head, ignoring the stab of pain that shot from temple to temple at the movement, and kept it's gaze shifted to the Rogue's cheekbones. Direct confrontation unauthorized- deference required. The rogue swore, and Fox braced for discipline-

"How long do you have until you need to check in to HQ?" Discipline not enacted. Continue with orders.

"Fourteen hours until checkpoint deadline."

"What are you expected to report?"

"Terrain search progress and mission status... Primary Objective... was complete." Error. Objective Completed- not complete.

After a moment of silence, the rogue huffed loudly and focused on her again. "If I bring you into range so you can make the checkpoint, will you tell them that you found me?"

"Accurate reports are expected unless report information may compromise the mission."

"You have a new mission." Receiving Orders. "You and I both need to get to Stark-Avengers Tower in New York with minimal damage, and without being recalled by Handlers. Reporting Objective Completion will compromise the mission. Do you understand?" Orders understood. Objectives changed- Mission updated.

"Understood."

Following protocol it had long before memorized was easy. The protocol directives didn't even appear on it's HUD, they had been so well ingrained. The Rogue was not a handler- that had been corrected very quickly, before Fox could even voice confirmation of a new handler- it was the superior asset for the mission. The Rogue was in charge, but not a handler. That was a new concept, but simple enough to add to it's protocol once it was explained. It was to follow orders

The Rogue was inconsistent. When giving orders and outlining Objectives, it wavered between certainty and clear directions and long stretches of nervous tittering and speaking aloud to itself. But it did, eventually, give Fox standing orders for whenever it wasn't able to direct the junior asset actively, and worked out of the tittering before it could impact the mission.

First Objective- conduct repairs for both assets. Rogue sat stiffly, watching Fox warily as it popped loose sections of armored plating to replace the fried wires that were preventing the arm from responding properly. Despite being in charge, it was expecting an attack. It registered, deep in it's brain, that it should be attacking, that it should be disabling the Rogue, but other than the knowledge that it should, it didn't know why. Insufficient information, follow least destructive path of action. It made the repairs as quickly as it was able, taking about an hour to ensure it was done right and wouldn't short-circuit in the middle of a battle, then quickly and easily replaced the removed plates and moved away to give Rogue room to test the mechanics. It asked if Fox was truly in need of repairs, which it denied. It was functional, and the damage that it had thought would need repairs when it reactivated had, for the most part, settled themselves. It still had a feeling of wrongness to what it was doing, everything tinged with a shade of doubt, but with not discernible cause for the shift it would have to adjust; there was no way the Rogue would know enough to make the necessary repairs when Fox had needed a direct download to understand how to repair the arm.

Second Objective- Report in to HQ for Checkpoint. Most of the camp was left behind- they took only the necessities, the food, water, the supplies they had gotten from the survival kit- and they wove through the traps, which the Rogue removed the triggers from, but did not disable entirely, all the way to the edge of the woodland that they had been immersed in. Only when the Rogue had obtained a vehicle was Fox given the go-ahead to relay it's false report, and as soon as it received the ping of acknowledgement they were packed into the vehicle and driving away.

Third Objective- ... It didn't understand the third objective. The Rogue had given it a single cryptic sentence to apply- let it sink in- and then it was left to sit silently. Let what sink in? But the Rogue refused to reply to any attempts to gain elaboration.

They had been driving well into the night when it realized what that strange feeling of wrong had come from.

"I remembered."