(A/N) Well, well, well, what do we have here? Is this a chapter in our very own spin-off story, for all of those wonderful little pieces of work that don't make it into our flagship story, whether they be side-scenes or what-ifs? But we haven't had one of those in so long? Just what is happening here?

Truthfully, with our main trilogy back underway, it's about time for us to deliver to you even more Phase related goodness when we can! Today, we have for you another piece from the ever-wonderful Minaethiel, covering the immediate aftermath of our most-recent chaotic two-parter in Phase Two: Betrayal. If you haven't yet read 'Suicide Squad' and 'The Devil You Know', here be spoilers!

She has very magnanimously attached my name to this piece, but I was for the most part a mere consultant and only really co-wrote a passage near the end. Nevertheless, she has added my name to it and so I must abide by her wishes. But just know that this is almost entirely her own talent! So without further ado, enjoy and despair as yet more Freelancers are inevitably corrupted by our favourite firebirds!

Everything I Am

Agent Colorado

Written by Minaethiel and BrambleStar14

"Friendship - my definition - is built on two things. Respect and trust. Both elements have to be there. And it has to be mutual. You can have respect for someone, but if you don't have trust, the friendship will crumble."

- Stieg Larsson, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo

The second we'd gotten back from working with the mad hatters of Phoenix, I'd separated to go shower and de-stress. I hadn't taken any hits serious enough for me to bother Killian with right away, and Neb had all but kicked me out when I'd tried to see how he was doing. With that solid reminder that I was rather isolated, I'd left to take care of myself. Of course, all the care I needed was the hot water that cascaded over me, washing away dirt and blood and the extra walls I'd tried to maintain going into the mission. Hearing that Harper had requested me had nearly had me walk out of the room then and there. The only reasons I'd stayed were because my pride never would have lived it down, and because Cal had promised it would be fun. The last thing I had imagined was him being right in any way, shape, or form, but I had had fun. Hard not to when I was dropping Innies left and right, even with half the team being unfortunately present.

But it was in the past, and I didn't have to worry about it. What I really needed to focus on was finding an empty lounge to drink in and maybe watch a movie. But as I shrugged on a tank top and shut my locker, the door opening caught my attention. Moreso as I peeked my head around the corner and saw Cal himself pop in the locker room.

"Figured you'd be off giving Firefly more shit about that gaslighting comment," I greeted with a half grin as I fully rounded the corner. He'd already ditched his armour, and only a stray smear of blood remained on his cheek, and I had a feeling he'd left it there by choice. Whatever the case was, he laughed, shaking his head.

"Nah, I think he got the message the first time, unless you want to drag him down to the training room and give him a few bruises for it. I'd pay to see that," he remarked with a taunting wink.

"I'm sure you'd pay to see me kick his ass for more than that, Cal. So what's up? You didn't actually show up to get me down there for an encore match, did you?"

"I might get that anyway, honestly. Actually, I wanted to invite you to grab a drink with me and the boys. Mission went well, everyone got home, but we're not quite settled yet. And I figured if anybody was going to feel the same way…" he tilted his head towards me. He wasn't wrong, and he damn well knew it. Hell, both of us never really settled down after an op for a few hours, Pelican ride back notwithstanding. If anything the metal cage just wound us even tighter if the mission hadn't wiped us out. But where he was inviting me… I wasn't sure how much I could stomach their presence. Not with Ian Harper in the same room. The others, at least, were tolerable. But that man? Fuck that.

Frankly, the only reason I wasn't outright laughing was because it was Cal that asked.

My silence had to have spoken everything, because the man in question leaned against the lockers. "Don't have to stay for longer than you feel like, and no way in hell is Ian sitting next to you. Just… want to have time with all my best mates without killing each other."

There was a bit of hope in that statement that had my stomach twist into knots. Yeah, Cal spent all of his waking time with Phoenix pretty much… but we were still friends. Enough for him to reach across that gorge that had only grown between him and Freelancer to offer that hand to me. And really, with all that he'd suffered already being here, how the fuck could I reasonably say no? I knew, without question, if our roles were reversed, he'd do it for me. I held back a sigh.

"Ok, don't pull out the cute puppy dog eyes on me, I'll hang for a little bit. Only because it's fucking you asking me."

The hopefulness grew into a victorious grin. "Come on then! York wised up and got enough for us and them, since Lucas and Aaron kept finding and breaking into his stashes."

That didn't surprise me in the least. Frankly, he already had the problem of other people getting into them as it was. It seemed like he'd just finally gotten sick of needing to pester whoever he did for more stock more frequently.

"You just earned me ten credits too," he continued as he started to lead the way out, and I scoffed.

"For what?"

"For bets on whether you'd show up or not. I thought you would. So did Geist, actually. Everyone else thought you'd sooner keep a ship between you and them."

"Yeah, you're lucky I like you," I said wryly. "Otherwise you would have lost those credits."

"Cold, 'Rado."

"Cold?! You should take that as a compliment!"

The amused look on his face didn't fade as we headed for the lounge Phoenix had pretty much taken over for themselves. Closest to their wing of rooms, furthest from the armoury and pretty much everything else. No one really wanted to go through that wing of rooms for obvious reasons, and those that did were cocky little bastards that figured the feeling of 'look, don't touch' was being exercised by Phoenix as well as the Freelancers. Which was true for the most part. But that didn't mean that the status quo we'd found ourselves in wasn't balanced on the edge of a knife. Until it broke one way or another, the men Cal was leading me to were my allies, for better or worse. And I supposed it had to be for better, since I couldn't very well misbehave in a room where I was the only Freelancer.

I had no disillusions that Cal would support me if I started shit I couldn't finish.

With that cheerful thought in mind, I braced myself mentally, particularly for being in the same space as Harper, and took a deep breath. Cal shot me an encouraging look, bumping his shoulder against mine.

"You can walk whenever. None of them will stop you. I won't either. It's enough that you're coming, even for a bit."

Because none of the others would have, if he asked. 'Sota might have, but I had a feeling it would have been more out of an attempt to curb the river than anything. Whatever it would have been, it was just me, and with just the two of us for the moment, I could take the small bit of comfort for what it was. But I wasn't sure what I could even say that would mean as much to him as what he'd told me. Didn't stop me from trying.

"You're stuck with me, Cal, to whatever fucking end this project walks us to. I'm surprised you didn't get enough of me earlier."

"Enough of you? I barely got to see you. But Aaron told me it was delightful to have you with him when he had to deal with 'Sota. 'Half of a good thing isn't bad', I think he said."

"And here I thought he was going to be offended over the flamethrower thing."

"He told me about that," Cal admitted. "But he's not gonna hold it against you, even if he doesn't understand why you came at him like you did."

"I can't believe he doesn't know." I wasn't going to complain about it. He knew now, of course, that I couldn't handle his favourite weapon, but that he didn't know the reason was some small comfort. Though it seemed pointless to hide it. At the very least, judging from the lack of call to talk to the Counselor, no one had told him about what had happened. I doubted Firefly would tell. And 'Sota and Alaska already knew, and clearly neither had said a word.

"Aaron's the kind of guy to take someone as they are. He's not going to pry beyond a basic curiosity, and he probably already has his own ideas about what happened, now that he's had a chance off the field to process it. Don't have to tell him. He won't put you in that position again regardless of whether you do or not."

I had no reason not to believe him. But I didn't want to. Because those were the actions of a friend that he was describing, and if all this shit blew up in our faces… I wasn't sure my heart could carry more than it already did. And that possibility nearly had me turn away then and there, but something kept me moving along regardless, letting silence fall between us. It didn't take long for it to be broken as cheerful chatter reached my ears behind the lounge door. I let Cal go first, the door sliding open.

"Finally! And no Colorado?! Pay up, Shaw, you overconfident bastard."

That was Aaron all right, followed rapidly by the smoother, cautioning word of, "Not so fast."

Cal snickered in response. "You should listen to Geist more often, Aaron."

If ever that was my cue… I stepped around the corner, hands sliding into my pockets. Aaron, despite losing the bet, lit up when he saw me, the others offering laid back grins, some more surprised than others.

"Colour me shocked," I wouldn't miss Harper's voice anywhere, and I gave him a sickly grin that he smiled at.

"Before you open your mouth again, let's agree on something. You talk to the people that like you, and I talk to the people I can tolerate. A list of which you don't make," I informed, poison in the tone. It wasn't the friendliest way to say hello, but frankly, I didn't give a damn. And true to my word, my attention shot to the redhead that had demanded payment. "You should know better at this point than to bet against me. I do things out of spite."

"Cold, 'Rado," Cal repeated, grabbing a beer out of the fridge and tossing it to me. Much like the rifle earlier in the night, I caught it on instinct.

"Spite in your favour, Killer," I assured with a more genuine grin at the hybrid soldier.

"Ugh, Freelancer names. Come on, we're all friends here, right?" Aaron whined. "First names! Come on, we already know Shaw's!" he said, motioning to Cal sharply.

I scoffed. "Please, I'm not dumb enough to think you haven't looked at my file yet. You know my name."

"I don't!" Cal protested, looking offended. "How come I have to be the only one who doesn't know?!"

"You're like a child," I observed, amused. "What else shall you be offended by?"

"I'll be offended if you withhold an actual introduction," he informed with a cheeky grin that immediately had me peg him and Aaron as twins of petulance.

"Fine, you big baby," I accused, taking a seat on the single leftover armchair in the room as Cal - Jason - slipped next to Harper on the couch. "It's Serena."

"Better," he offered. "Not that we'll get to use the names much outside of this room."

"Protocol is sacred, you know," I said dryly. "And we follow it to the damned letter every damned day, clearly."

"Oorah, ma'am!" he agreed sarcastically, popping the cap of his drink and shooting back a quarter of it in one go. I followed suit with my own, spinning the cap into the trash with lazy, familiar precision. Phoenix hadn't said a word throughout our banter, but picked up when Cal - Jason - and I had finished our playful song and dance.

"Well, you've no doubt seen our files too, but we'll properly introduce ourselves anyway. I'm Phil," Falcon offered. "You've got a handful with Nebraska. He's nuts."

I frowned at that. "Why? What'd he do?"

"He didn't tell you? Christ. He used his enhancement without a link back here avoiding my bird's fire so I could cover him. Nearly floored himself in the process."

"Fuck's sake," I growled. "Jason, rule number one of your enhancement is 'don't use it without a link to the command server,' yeah?"

He shot a finger gun at me. "Nailed it in one. It's a hell of a piece of work. But not something to be used on the fly."

"Says the man that did exactly that to get into the control centre," Ian practically purred, and I sighed.

"Cal. Jason. Seriously? Could have gotten you killed too."

"But it didn't!" he declared smugly. "I got out better than Nebraska. Worry about him more than me since I'm fine. Plus, you know, I'm the damn expert with the thing."

"Yeah yeah, don't let your ego get too big or it'll backfire next time. But I'll kill him later," I mumbled in promise, taking another swig before my attention turned to Crosshair as he shifted.

"Mike," he said simply. "Glad Jason can count on one Freelancer at least."

"Low bar," the man in question said with a chuckle. "But she's a good one. Should tell ya about the time we took down a tank together. This crazy bitch decided to just run straight at it."

"She did?" That was Circuit now, who shot me a look like I was the most batshit one in the room.

"Swear to god it's true, Lucas. Cross my heart. It was fucking awesome," Jason declared. "It didn't know what hit it."

"That's because you swept it from the side with your enhancement," I reminded him. "Saved my life."

"And you paid me back immediately when you snapshotted that guy in the bushes."

"Which you then doubled down on by doing the same to the guy behind me."

He laughed, a sound I hadn't heard so at peace for a very long time. It had me grin in return. "Right, shit. You still owe me."

"One day I'll get you back. Next time we get let out of the box."

"Man, you make it sound like we're in prison," he remarked, and I raised my bottle.

"Jailbirds together at least."

He snickered, not bothering to voice agreement, and from there I fell silent, allowing them to talk as they wanted. Ian had stayed quiet throughout the conversation I'd taken part in, which did surprise me, and despite myself, I felt comfortable enough to lean back and shut my eyes. Some tense of me was slowly uncoiling, that part that was on guard for a fight. I was well aware that Cal wouldn't step in if I started shit. But I was confident he would if they did. So I found it in myself to finally breathe and let the combat high settle down, locked away until I had need of it again. Yet I couldn't help but replay the day's events anyway, the combat high gone, but my own personal musings going full throttle. I couldn't understand why Harper had requested me along. He knew I couldn't stand him, yet there I'd been front and centre for this mission.

Of course I could ask the man… but that would be opening a can of worms I didn't really feel like opening. Now Jason… him I could ask. Preferably after we left this little gathering. But I'd let it sit in peace for now until I left. It wouldn't do to ruin the rapport he had in the room, surrounded by people who gave a shit about him. With that said, it certainly put me no closer to solving the mystery. After all, the only thing Harper had even remotely told me in the field that snagged the most basic of attention had been that the world was my pyre, and I was the match. Of course, I did actively feel like I was standing on that pyre, and would go up with it if I did light it.

Maybe that was the point. It sure as shit felt like it sometimes.

"'Rado?" Cal's voice had me crack an eye open to look at him.

"Didn't we just trade names?" I inquired teasingly, before adding, "What's up?"

"You have that look that says you need another beer before you get a headache," he observed, leaning over to grab a second bottle from the fridge to throw over. "So what's on your mind?"

Catching the drink, I set it on the table next to me, waving off the question. "Just thinking. I'll tell you later."

"Keeping us all in suspense," Aaron griped, and I shot him the bird.

"Relax, nothing to do with you."

"Well that's just downright depressing then," he retorted with a wink and I let out a long, hissing breath.

"I know Falcon and Crosshair have taken responsibility for nobody else in this room killing you, but I don't think that patient charm will work with me, Pyro," I informed him wryly.

"Nope, it's just my naturally charming nature that will."

"About as charming as a train wreck, Aaron," Lucas put in from his spot with a wicked grin. "People just want to see the spectacle before it burns out."

I surprised myself by letting out an astonished bark of laughter that I tried and failed to smother as Aaron's offended rebuttal clashed against my mirth. Jason joined in with me, which only had me laugh harder at the expense of the redhead looking stunned at the reaction.

"Wow, a sense of humour. I thought I was going to die without seeing one from somebody on this ship," Ian observed with the casual amusement he never seemed to leave home without.

"That wasn't funny!" Aaron denied. "Her sense of humour is just as awful as Lucas' and Jason's are!"

Lucas looked smug as he looked over at me. "It was hilarious, clearly. I got the Freelancer to laugh."

"Tell anyone and you're dead," I threatened, fighting to make it sound like a legitimate thing to be concerned about. But he didn't seem at all worried, instead looking like he'd gotten away with something. Phil and Mike exchanged grins of their own even as Geist patted Aaron's shoulder in mock sympathy.

"Like they'd believe me even if I did say something," the redhead pointed out. "Well, maybe Monty Two would."

"Vermont?" I inquired. "Since Isaac is probably Monty One."

"Yeah, Vermont," Lucas confirmed. "She's got a brain."

"Speaking of Isaac," Ian said, changing the subject immediately, and also crossing the line in the sand I'd set, "you're oddly protective over him, aren't you?"

I could feel that curiosity not just from him, but from the others too. Even Jason, not that I could fault him for it. We'd been on the ship together for months, but this was one of the things he'd never gotten to know about me. All of our actions were a result of what we'd been through before, but we could only guess at what that was. We'd never gotten to really know everything about each other, though admittedly, I knew more about him than he knew about me. These guys probably already knew about how I'd ended up here, but it felt different, somehow to get into how my… trials had affected me. Changed the way I saw the world.

"I will never agree with you on anything ever again, so I hope you fucking savour it, Harper, but if our positions were switched, I'd kill anybody that blamed my brother for my crimes. And they wouldn't find the bodies if a finger got laid on him. It's just that simple."

I was never going to count Harper among my allies. I would never forgive, never forget. But this was likely the one thing I could stand with him for, that our sins were ours alone, not to be displaced on others because they were easy targets by association.

"Thank you, for what that's worth," Mike said, drawing my attention to him. "He needs that. We can't be here to watch his back forever."

One way or another, no, they couldn't. And that seemed to darken the mood enough for the men around me to withdraw into their thoughts. At least until Jason laughed, shaking his head. "Honestly, Lucas can just send him postcards from the outside. He'll get them. And Serena can watch the kid's back till we all inevitably meet back up. That's how Phoenix works, right? Once a Phoenix, always a Phoenix."

I wasn't sure if he believed that, or if the situation was fucked enough that there was nothing left but to hope for optimism. Either way, I gave him that hope of a happy ending, flashing a thumbs up. "Two eyes on him when I can do so. Though West is-"

"Agent Colorado?" FILSS' voice came from overhead, and I sighed.

"Yeah, FILSS? What do you need?"

"Agents Wyoming and Minnesota are looking for you. Should I inform them of your position?"

"Fuck no, absolutely not," I said immediately. "Tell them I'm busy. We'll talk later."

There was silence for a spell, and she came back with, "Agent Minnesota insists it's important."

"So is aftermission personal care," I drawled. "Tell him I'm hanging out with Cal and if he wants to talk, it'll be when I'm kicking his ass in the training room in an hour."

Assuming I was sober enough. Two beers was always at least a nice buzz.

"Wyoming has offered to come to you."

"Jesus fucking christ," I muttered, and now it was Ian's turn to laugh.

"They're probably scared I'm converting you," he informed, and I flipped him the bird.

"Not a snowball's chance in hell, dipshit. But they are being a pain in my ass. I better get this out of the way before they come hunting me down."

"Coming back after?" Cal inquired, and I shrugged.

"Depends what this is about. I have three different theories, and at least one of those is going to make me come back for more booze."

"How about good company? Anybody that can laugh at Aaron is good in my book," Lucas encouraged, and I shot a look over to the faux wounded pyro, a reluctant smirk crossing my face.

"If you're extending an invitation to shit talk your friend some more, I may take you up on that."

"And here I thought we were friends," Aaron said sadly, sounding betrayed.

I opened my mouth to say something truly fucking stupid, but snapped it shut, setting both bottles on the table and heaving myself to my feet. "Well don't have too much fun without me, Jace. I'll be back after I deal with whatever the two grandmas want."

"See you in a bit, Serena," the Freelancer turned Phoenix offered me, and I chuckled.

"Gods willing, I won't die of boredom before that happens."

Jason "Hunter" Shaw

"Somewhere along the way we all go a bit mad. So burn, let go and dive into the horror, because maybe it's the chaos which helps us find where we belong."

- Robert M. Drake

The door slid close, and frankly, it was like a breath had been let out that none of them knew had been held.

"So Lucas," Aaron finally said, trouble in the tone, "when's the wedding?"

The shocked choke from Lucas as he drank his beer was instantaneous. The tech coughed a couple times to clear his lungs before focusing on his brother-in-arms. "What the Hell are you on about?"

"Thought about how many kids you want yet?" the pyro continued, and Jason chuckled. This was revenge for the train comment for sure. And for inviting 'Ra- no, Serena - to tease him even more than she already did. Of course it also wasn't hard to see that Lucas had at least been hooked at a baseline for the woman that had charged a tank. The invitation to come back had been the real giveaway for it.

"Shut up," Lucas said immediately to Aaron, pointing a warning finger at him. "I can appreciate her without-"

Feeling a slice of mischief himself, Jason interrupted, "I think you have a shot, Lucas. The competition sure as shit isn't steep."

Or really playing. He'd seen to that himself. Watching how Nebraska had been doggedly avoiding her as much as possible lately - and subsequently watching how her frustration had grown in turn - had needled him in such a way that he wasn't sure whether he'd done the right thing, or just stolen a chance for them to maybe learn from his example. One thing was for sure, he wasn't telling Serena what he'd told Nebraska. By this point, he knew her well enough to know how she'd react, and it just wouldn't be a fair fight.

Or maybe he just didn't want to see what might happen otherwise.

But hey, if it opened the door to something else, he couldn't very well do anything about it where a Phoenix was involved. They handled their own shit just fine. Knew the stakes. He rather doubted anything was going to come of it though, especially as Lucas turned on him next.

"Shut up, Jason!" he repeated, and the man in question chuckled.

"I'm just saying, now's your shot!"

"I feel like that would be far more torturous for him than for her," Phil observed, tearing his eyes from the door she'd left out of.

"Especially because she seems as likely to drag him from his projects for fun as she is to kill him over them," Mike added with a chuckle.

"Fuck all of you, I'm the one that convinced her to stick around. Ergo, I'm charming," Lucas said with a finality that had Ian grin at him.

"Even with me in the room! That is an accomplishment."

It was an accomplishment that Jason had even gotten her to agree to come with him. She'd known exactly what she was walking into. But she'd walked into it anyway. He couldn't remember the last time a Freelancer had done that without hesitating. Granted, she had hesitated, but he could at least understand why. Ian was right; even with him there, she'd walked into the room.

It hit a part of him that he'd long given up on, where the two halves he'd lived could coexist in the same space peacefully. And he wasn't blind, he'd seen the reluctant spark of camaraderie she'd displayed. She hated what they were, yeah. But she was fighting another war that could look past it. Hell, she already looked past a lot with him, knowing who he was.

"But I'm still not going to get my story from her," Aaron said with a sigh, drawing Jason's attention. He knew exactly what he was referring to. Frankly, Aaron musing about her going apeshit over his flamethrower had confirmed something Jason already suspected about the Freelancer. When she'd begun avoiding Kentucky's testing session for new gadgets, and Louisiana's flamethrower testing, it hadn't been hard to see that the burn scars on her arm had gone deeper than most of the others knew. Oh she hid it well, but it wasn't something she was going to keep a secret forever. Not from those who cared enough to look. But that was her story to tell, and Jason wasn't going to take that away from her.

Not when he knew exactly where she'd gotten those burns, felt the marks etched into his own face practically aflame in ghostly reminiscence of what had been done to him in turn.

"Maybe if you ask really nicely," he suggested sarcastically, knowing full well his friend wasn't going to push the matter. They all had their scars. None of them were shared lightly. And she wasn't quite far enough there to consider them worth sharing with. Jason knew she'd probably tell him, if he asked. There was that mutual trust there that came from long days of combat, and long nights of coping with everything else. But he wasn't sure it would feel right to do so, when he was leaning on the very man that had inflicted that particular scarring.

"Nah, she's got enough stubborn pride that she'd make something up. Or just tell me to kiss her ass and call it a day," Aaron said with a grin. Her hostility didn't bother him in the least, and frankly, never had. Each story he'd told Aaron about her had only intrigued him more, and when they'd ran into her in the gym that night… oh, that had been beautiful. Jason knew, with enough time, that his Freelancer friend would be suckered into liking Aaron as much as Jason had been when he'd first met them all. He just had to wonder where that would end them. Ian's words to her on the mission had been an invitation to burn as brilliantly as the rest of them. Perhaps someday she'd burn with them. But it all depended on her. If she could look past more than the dogma she'd lived by for however fucking long she'd been a soldier.

And when she'd laughed as she'd left… well, Jason could believe she could do it.

"Do we want to take bets on what Wyoming and Minnesota wanted to talk about?" Lucas chipped in, opening the floor to something that had Jason roll his eyes.

"Please spare me. We all know it's probably some bullshit about not listening to Ian."

"Or 'Sota squealed to the team leader about her moment in the field," Aaron guessed.

At least that would mean forcing her not to ignore it, considering she could have gotten herself or someone else killed if she hadn't been able to keep shooting.

"I'll take that one. Wyoming is definitely the kind of guy to tell her to either cut the shit or get some help. Just, you know, far less of a hardass approach," Shaw decided. "Ten credits."

"Those were my ten credits you won when she actually showed up," Aaron grumbled. "I'll put ten on the converting thing."

"Ten for it being a forcible talk with the Counselor," Geist chipped in.

In the end, Ian and Lucas had sided with Aaron, Phil and Mike had taken Jason's bet, and Geist was left alone with his theory. Jason had a feeling he'd be paying the man later. Until then, talk resumed, cheerful, easy, just like the home he'd never been away from. Unsurprisingly, a good chunk of it was bragging and recaps from the mission they'd just ran, with Lucas being impressed with Vermont's skills (underrated, he claimed), while Mike was in near disbelief of South Dakota's expertise in outright butchery. Without North to put the brakes on her, she was clearly damned near unstoppable, not that that surprised Jason. She was as volatile as Serena was on the field. Though he was fascinated by Ian's recount of his conversation with Nebraska. The man clearly hid a lot more than Jason gave him credit for.

"They were all fun, truly, I can't believe we never got the chance to talk before even when we were singing songs with Arky and friends around the campfire," Ian was wrapping up with, looking self-satisfied.

"And no friendly fire incidents as a result of you running your mouth," Phil put in wryly. "I'm not sure who I should be the most proud of for that."

"My charisma, clearly," Ian said, affronted. "Did you hear me talk to Nebraska?"

"Too bad South wasn't nearly as charmed," Mike put it, a half grin in his voice. "You're lucky you weren't in her vicinity."

"Well it wouldn't be fun if they were all calm when I told them the truth of the world. Jay, back me up, I played that all perfectly."

"Well you could have been quicker on the draw…" he said with an innocent tone nobody in the room believed, and Ian lazily cuffed the back of his head.

"Nonsense. I was perfect."

"Perfect pain in the ass," the feminine voice echoed as the door slid open, admitting a very newly strung out Serena. "Throw me another beer," she half-demanded as she retook her seat, shooting back what remained of her unfinished brew. Jason leaned over to obey, chucking the bottle over and fighting a grin.

"So? What happened?"

"They wanted to warn me that the Counselor saw everything on my helmet cam from the fucking op. So I got dragged into an impromptu session and now they're questioning whether I'm immediately fit for duty," she informed, not even holding back a snarl. "I get benched, this is your fault," she directed to the blonde at his side.

"Well, you certainly wouldn't believe a word if I said sorry."

"Because you wouldn't fucking mean it anyway!" she hissed, and now Jason could see that hate bleeding back into the wounds she had, poisoning what had been progress. "You want your story, Firefly? He's sitting on the couch. Ask him."

"Eh. Boss?" Aaron asked tentatively, more to humour her, Jason knew, than out of a desire to actually ask, the explosives expert on the team dismantling the live wire in their midst the only way he knew how.

"Serena, dear, hold up the arm, won't you?"

"Bite me, Harper. Preferably from Hell."

"Rude."

Firefly took the invitation to crane his neck, the burn scars prominent, a single, eloquent, "Ah," his answer. Dots weren't hard to connect when the bad blood from it was seeping from her like a fresh wound.

"Yes. 'Ah,'" she said moodily, popping the cap on her second bottle. "You supposedly know everything about me, Harper? Then you know why I can't have this project taken away from me. I need this. And not even Jason is going to stop me from gutting you if you fuck it up."

Blue eyes slid between the two of them. She knew, from countless nights of sparring, how outmatched she was if she tried to go through him. But she clearly didn't care for that fact. She'd go down swinging. She always would. It was just her nature as a fiery tempest. Certainly not one he was unfamiliar with from where he was sitting.

"…well. I already fucked it up a bit." His tone wasn't sly, or carrying a laugh. It was a lot more flat than before, from where he sat on Jason's other side.

"Dare I even ask," she muttered, clearly struggling with a second half of the sentence, some internal debate Jason wasn't going to let go if she didn't say it then and there. "It's not like I want this ship to be a goddamn battleground, but fuck if you make it hard for me not to want one."

It was probably the closest Jason was going to get to 'I don't want to start shooting.'

"Not the ship. Or the Project. The arm." One hand, the hand that he'd thrown over the back of the couch to loosely dangle over Jason's shoulders, gestured at the scars, or where they'd be. "It… wasn't good work."

It was a strangely simple comment. But it was enough to have his head whipping around to see the blank, mirthless expression on Ian's face. It was so very rare to hear even the slightest confession of less than perfection.

"Sloppy. Impatient. Misjudged." Harper's head tilted to one side, something distant in his eyes for a moment. "I'd told myself to stay away from burns." His fingertips drifted up unconsciously, the artificial flesh that felt real all the same brushing against Jason's cheek. He could feel the burn beneath the touch. He didn't need to look at the others to see the looks exchanged, the momentary discord that interrupted the usual harmony of the team.

"I'm not shallow enough to care about the cosmetic. I'll be wearing more by the time I'm done or dead," she growled, shooting back half the bottle before continuing. "The effect it has, that's where the problem always lies, now isn't it? It's the scars you can't see that make the biggest waves. Well here we are. All it takes is one little spark. And suddenly the forest burns down."

Fear was good like that. It made everything unconquerable.

"You're missing the point if you think I mean the cosmetics." Harper's words carried just enough bite for a second that Jason's elbow twitched in the direction of his ribs. The blonde sighed heavily, leaning forwards to look at her properly, oddly serious. "It's what it means. That I didn't get it… didn't get you, right."

Damn. Now there was a rarity. Jason doubted even Aaron had money on Ian admitting mistakes.

"I did it wrong. You could've burned so many other ways. And we're where we are now because of, well." He nodded his head in the direction of those scars. "It shouldn't have happened that way."

The words seemed to cost him. There was an audible intake of breath from one of the others. God knew he'd knocked Serena into a stunned silence, the snarl falling away. Whatever she'd been expecting, that wasn't it. It was such a far cry from the mask she'd known - the man he'd presented to them all - that he could guess she was figuring out exactly how to respond. Question being, how much of that bad blood was left in her veins to spill.

"I-" she stopped, frowned, slumped back in surprised befuddlement. "I don't know what would have happened otherwise. The world is my pyre, made up of everything I am, right? I did pay attention, you know. But I don't know if the match is going to light with me in it, or watching from outside. Or what will set it off. But despite this… issue I'm now facing, and really, I can admit, sooner or later, there would have been a reckoning for hiding it, I am… stronger, in a way. Because even with Firefly's weapon going off, I could still shoot. And maybe one day I won't blink at it." She blew out a breath, rage seeping away into something far less potent, looking, for once, older than the rest of them. "I'm just tired. And I'm not gonna forget or forgive, because I can't, but I am tired."

"Mmm." It was a quiet hum, his head tilting further to one side, looking her slowly up and down, considering her. Jason was familiar with that gaze. He'd seen it enough times in the close quarters of a cell, when Ian had been looking for something in him that he hadn't seen at the time. "…you burn well. It's just… a shame, really. All things considered, you're not doing so badly."

Hunter could hear the unspoken sentiment beneath it.

Even without the rest of us, you're a half-decent firebird.

"Takes one to know one," she remarked, and there was the barest hint of devastation in the tone that told him that exhaustion went beyond however long she'd been fighting the same fight. "Sorry for shoving you, Firefly," she offered the redhead, the groping for a distraction not missed. "I just… can't work with you right now. Didn't want to say it in the briefing. Not that it did much in the end. And honestly, it's probably for the best that things went as they did, from what Falcon said about what happened earlier. I would have gotten filled full of holes where Neb avoided them."

"You call that a shove?" he questioned immediately, his flames bursting into life to burn away that black ichor between them all. "I've seen harder shoves from Lucas."

"Hey!" The protest ripped from Freelancer and Phoenix alike, the two of them uniting in mutual offence as fires of their own lit up.

"That is bullshit, I have personally floored you with one sweep. I still have the blood on my shoe to prove it!"

"And what about me?!" Lucas cried. "You haven't won every match between us like you think you have!"

"Needs another lesson in humility," Serena declared. "Tomorrow, your ass is mine. Hope your boys bring popcorn to watch you eat metal."

"Not fair, if I get an audience to watch my hypothetical fuck up, you have to have one too. I vote Isaac and West at least."

"Why in the fuck would I want to give West the chance of having more ammunition to be insufferable?"

"Sounds like… you're chickenshit," the pyro declared, and Hunter grinned. If there was one way to manipulate Serena, it was through her ego.

"Oh fuck that. Fine. I'll even up the game and see if Wyoming and Carolina want to come along."

"No invitation for me, Serena?" Jason asked innocently, and she waved a dismissive hand.

"Please, you're a given. I need my cheerleader there to help me give him shit."

Laughter cracked from him, sharp as a whip. "Sounds like my normal day job."

Normal. Now there was a word he hadn't had the chance to use in a while. Not for Freelancer, not for Phoenix. Not until recently. This, being there, was as natural as breathing. And maybe, just maybe, he could have the people in that room become all the normal he needed again, wherever they were.

It was something else to hold onto. And sometimes, that was all he needed.