Chapter Four

Not my Job

I lay in my cot and looked at the screen of the nav system from my pillow. It was finally starting to balance to another weeks worth of travel time. I sighed. 7 whole days knowing David was alive and I am trying to go help me makes one weak.

Lame, I know. But I couldn't help it. Wash brought out the stupid, giddy, head over heels girl in me. I don't think Aiden and J.L. ever felt that kind of way for anyone or possibly anyone feel that way for them, just the circumstances never came together for that for them.

I can't say I have never seen them with women, but those women were a means to an end at ports we stocked up at. So, yeah fairly certain, even after all the counseling I did with Project Freelancer, Carolina and York were the only other two I knew of who were experiencing the same thing David and I were. Except C.T.. And I only heard about it from her end.

That thought brought bile up to my throat. I remember the day she told me about him, and about what she was doing.

It was the day I tried to shut myself out. Shut myself out enough to not get caught up in the drama, the nonsense, the fighting, all the stupid that didn't mean well enough for me to pay that close of attention to it. South's jealousy, C.T.'s angry outbursts, Carolina's rivalry with Tex, and Wash's fears with the AI…

I sat up and brought myself back to my locker. I looked at the small duffle bag gathering dust, shoved in the back of it. I unzipped it and looked at my collection of logs. They weren't dated, the counselor told me that would have been too tedious to have to date them and have multiple subjects, and risk confusion running them together, but rather they had everyone's names, including even Maine, who frequently saw me and spoke through Sigma.

Sigma wasn't a part of my training…

He wasn't my job…

Many years ago.

I stood in the counselor's office beside his desk as he showed me the paperwork on the other Freelancers and explaining to me the methods he was using in order to measure the results of personality inventory, and survey responses after training.

"The training data logged by FILSS doesn't match the feedback given by the agents..." I said bluntly. "Either they feel strongly positive about little to no progress or feel negatively about nothing but improvement." I said.

"This is precisely why when we stumbled upon your records, we thought you would be a good fit at being my assistant." The Counselor said. I slid the folders over to my side of the desk and looked them over.

"The stats on all of them are remarkable. Even with the minute data you guys have on Alaska, Louisiana and I right now it seems as though you guys have fairly accurate readings. What do you want me to do with this data?" I asked sincerely. I couldn't crunch numbers like this, I didn't have an earthly idea what kind of personal research they want from me.

"For now, I am going to give you a break down on counseling, and crisis intervention. I was thinking of having you as the counselor when I am indisposed, or perhaps out in the field under lots of duress, someone may need talking down back to the job at hand, or perhaps a more experienced hand in proper coaching. The Director and I are not the best at redirecting the focus of goals except with what the numbers speak to. You are also an agent, you could be better suited to direct instruction or be better suited to help facilitate the focus of skills you too possess and understand the limits of." The counselor summarized. I nodded.

I mean, I wasn't nearly as skilled as Carolina or York, that was for certain. I may have kicked Washington's ass in the one-on-one, but I felt like he pulled a bit seeing as he concussed me merely half an hour before hand, but I got the gist of it.

"I think I am capable of this job." I admitted.

"Good. You start tomorrow after I had you your tools today and help you get acquainted with them.

God that was such a boring process. Loading and unloading folders, large books, and a metric shit load of recorders. As if I was going to need all of these damned things. It's like he expected everyone to give me well over a week's worth of hours of chit chat two times over.

I took the time to reorganize my quarters, now that it had become my office as well my domicile. I shifted around some books and pulled out one familiar quote book I was happy I snagged. I could use some humor in this dull and critical place. "I can Resist Everything Except Temptation.", book of the best known quotes of Oscar Wilde. I had a few pages dog eared, and as I chuckled lightly to myself, I was startled by a knock on my door a few quotes in.

"Come in." I called while standing up. It was Washington, which I think surprised me most. I was expecting the Counselor again or perhaps Alaska or Louisiana. "Oh, hey." I tossed my book onto my bed. "What brings ya by?" I casually asked.

"I uh, wanted to see how you were feeling, you know the whole landing on you and what not. I know you went to the infirmary for a concussion, asked Louisiana when I passed by and saw you in there talking to someone." He rambled. I always found it interesting to see someone without their helmet or armor on when you were so used to seeing them garbed in that one singular thing. He had just come from training and had been carrying his helmet, his iced brunette hair was drenched with sweat.

"I appreciate that. I'm fine, shit happens in training. I'm just lucky you didn't hit my head directly is all." I commented sitting down on my bed as the quarters door closed. He looked around the disheveled mess that was my new work station.

"What's going on with this?" He asked curiously.

"I am the coaching counselor for Project Freelancer now. The Counselor has bummed off on me what he has deemed 'not his job.'." I used air quotes. He grinned at my quip. He had a cute smile. Full of innocence, or some type of blissful out-of-touch with this harsh reality that is our military squad. He seemed far too sweet for this line of work. Guess I'd find out on my own one day in the field, or probably in this little space called my "work zone".

"Well, so you're who we should come talk to instead of him?" Washington asked. I gavea half shrug.

"More like I am that person you come to when he is busy, or otherwise unavailable. Like in the middle of the night with a dire need to talk or I am here for when you want coaching on training or I try to keep people grounded or whatever in the field if shit gets real. Things that aren't his damn job apparently." I elaborated. He looked past my hand to my book.

"So, you like to read?" Wash pointed out. I glanced back at it.

"Sure do. It's a blissful escape." I blurted. What the hell was wrong with me? I don't just talk to people like this. Sure I let people talk to me like this, but I don't do this talking.

"So, what's one of your favorite quotes from him? Oscar….Wilde!" He was trying so hard it was adorable. I smiled and flipped it open to some of my dog eared pages.

"'Remember that the fool in the eyes of the gods and the fool in the eyes of man are very different.'" I quoted.

"That's a good one. Looks like you have a few there?" He questioned pointing out my pages marked. I laughed a little.

"Yeah...I do. I like to look back a lot and rethink things, and see if maybe my perspective has changed, or perhaps the quote has evolved since I last looked at it. Maybe I missed something, you know?" I said. I haven't had a conversation like this with someone in a long time. Maybe I needed the coaching here? Was I even fucking qualified for this now?

"Yeah, I understand that. Got another?" He asked.

"Last one, and I gotta finish up my organizing. OK?" I grinned. He returned it.

"Sounds fair enough." He said. I flipped through a few more pages and found one that I had highlighted.

"'If a woman wants to hold a man, she has merely to appeal to the worst in him.'" I snapped the book shut in a dramatic fashion as to appear a little bit more unpredictable. He nodded.

"I can kind of agree to that. Why can't she appeal to his good too though?" He posed. I could see he was stalling. I smiled.

"How about you come back when I am taking appointments so we can have a less sweaty conversation and in a clean set of quarters?" I suggested.

"You know, if York were here that statement would have been taken in so many more ways than what you really meant..." He laughed a little as he pressed the button to open the door.

"And that's ok those are probably the best misunderstandings." I replied. "Night Washington." I said.

"You can call me Wash, it's easier. Night Colorado." He replied as he closed the door. I heaved a sigh as I looked back at my pile of data log voice recorders.

"Fuck me..."