Above Ground

by Yin

AU. Dexter Grif really only ever wanted to keep himself and his sister out of trouble, and maybe get a few naps in while he was at it. But chance encounters end up putting him in the thick of a battle to save his home. ...Figures. {Grimmons, other pairings mentioned in fic.}

12. Chapter 12

Legal Disclaimer: I do not own Red vs. Blue or any of the show's characters. They are the rightful properties of Rooster Teeth.

Chapter Twelve:

"Agent York! What are you doing back here?"

In response to Lieutenant Jensen's surprised question, York gave a small wave in greeting. A lopsided grin was plastered on his face as he made his way over to the weapons rack where she, Lieutenant Smith, and the lieutenant with the pink trimmed armor that had also joined around the same time as Jensen were currently checking over equipment.

Despite his friendly conversations with them on occasion, York admittedly didn't know a lot about the new recruits. In fact, he felt somewhat bad that he had never learned the name of Jensen's friend before others in the Resistance had given her the nickname "Volleyball" due to her love of the sport. Now it seemed like the time had passed to ask the blond what her real name was.

The truth was, at this moment, York had just been hoping to sneak back into the base quietly to collect his thoughts. Still, there was no point in being rude to fighters who didn't know that and were just trying to be polite.

"It's just 'York' actually, Lieutenant." He informed Jensen. Despite his initial goal for the day, he enjoyed the chance to interact on friendlier terms with the newer Resistance recruits. That mindset took over pretty quickly once he got started, "I've long since dropped the 'Agent' title by coming down here."

"It seems sort of wrong not addressing you and the others with a title though." The girl frowned and hesitated, the expression somehow making her look even younger.

Damn, these guys really are just kids. Well, except maybe Smith.

"Plus, Sarge says we should always try to abide by formality."

Smith nodded his head in agreement with Jensen, his expression rather serious. He did seem to be more of a stickler for protocol at times than most of the other recruits, York recalled from previous encounters with him.

"Oh, yeah, Sarge is a bit more old school when it comes to that sort of thing." York rubbed his chin thoughtfully, not really wanting to tell the lieutenants anything that might end up getting back to Sarge and biting him in the ass later.

The old guy had pretty good aim and could be something of a mad scientist if he was feeling particularly mischievous. York had seen that enough times in Sarge's interactions with Grif to know not to push things: "Well, if it makes things easier with Sarge, you can use 'Agent.' But, can you do me a favor and try to limit it to only when he's around? It feels a bit weird to hear now."

An enthusiastic nod from all three recruits followed.

"Yes, sir!" Jensen beamed and York couldn't help but note the slurred "s" sounds in her response due to the retainer in her mouth.

Volleyball raised a blond eyebrow curiously at him: "Sir, you never did answer her first question."

"I didn't, huh?" York scratched the back of his head, regarding them with his remaining functional eye as he wondered what just to say.

In truth, he wasn't really sure what the hell was really going on himself. Which decidedly complicated matters a bit.

He had been patrolling Level One in his civilian clothes as per orders, making sure none of the Above Grounders that came for the talks had decided to do any questionable antics while on their visit. That was when a message from Tex had gone through about a stall happening and that the talks were being postponed for the time being.

Then, in her usual sweet-natured way (yep, total sarcasm there), his teammate suggested to York that he get his ass back down to base pronto.

He had a feeling Tex suspected that whatever the Council was so invested in down here to even go through this whole "pony and show" dance was most likely in the mines. Which, of course, meant they would probably want to keep a closer look on the tunnels too.

More than likely that would mean that York would be patrolling hopefully empty tunnels soon enough. Fun times. He wondered if North and Tex would be heading back soon to do the same.

Now all they really needed was to know exactly what mystery object was worth Above Ground going through all of this trouble for and they'd be gold.

"Some things came up and there was a change of plans." York finally responded, shrugging nonchalantly and trying not to make the lieutenants nervous.

Something potentially very big and decidedly not good could be well underway, but until they knew for certain what that not good thing was there was no need to raise the alarm amongst the troops.

"What about the peace talks?" Smith still looked more than just a little concerned despite York's best efforts to downplay things, though that was probably to be expected given that everyone knew the former Freelancer had been out on patrol in the Slums earlier.

"Stalled at the moment. Things are probably going to be a little odd for awhile everywhere."

More like stuck in limbo, really.

Which sucked. Big time. It reminded York too much of those times when he had still been back in Project Freelancer. Those times when he could sense that there was a bigger picture going on behind the scenes, but still had no real idea what was truly going on.

He definitely didn't want any kind of repeat of what had happened back then now. That had been York's main reason for finally siding with Tex once he knew the full story, even though by then things had been set into motion that were far too late to stop.

Images of the last time he'd seen Carolina and Delta a year ago filled his mind. He fought back the urge to frown in front of the Resistance members.

"I see." Smith said quietly in response.

The three lieutenants exchanged a shared look with one another, probably drawing their own conclusions as to what the "stall" situation most likely meant. Judging by the frowns forming on their faces, they probably weren't thinking anything good either.

"We'll figure out what the hell's really going on. Don't worry." York told them in as reassuring a tone as he could muster. No need for anyone to get too stressed out at the moment by a situation they really weren't quite sure about yet.

"You're right, sir. Of course." John Smith nodded his head briefly, a sort-of smile beginning to appear on his face in response to the obvious attempt York had made at encouragement.

The two younger female lieutenants with him also seemed to relax a bit at the other man's words, which York was more than a tad relieved for himself.

It reminded him a little bit of when he had tried giving Washington "pep talks" when the younger Freelancer had been a nervous wreck before some of his very first missions. In those rare instances when York hadn't just tried pulling a prank on him or teasing the poor kid to get his mind off of things, of course.

"What about you three, hmm?" York grinned again, the reminder making him decide that now some good old-natured ribbing might be beneficial in this conversation to help get their minds off more serious matters, "Weren't you guys training with Sarge? There's no way he'd let you off the hook so quickly!"

Jensen smiled and York couldn't help his grin widening. It seemed like that little last minute plan may have just done the trick after all.

"Oh, we aren't! Sarge wants us to practice running weapons maintenance checks right now."

There was an almost eager look in her brown eyes. York suddenly remembered hearing somewhere that Katie Jensen had a bit of a knack for pretty much anything dealing with machinery builds.

"Is that so?" he asked, a little taken aback by the answer.

That actually seemed like a pretty standard training procedure, all things considered.

The brown-haired man was more surprised that Sarge's training regimen was so seemingly normal, comparatively. Given his usual views on combat and the outlandish strategy ideas he came up with for Red Team and others, he'd kind of assumed Sarge's training of the newer recruits would be rather different from York's concept of typical military training.

Jensen nodded, offering a further explanation: "All of us have different assignments right now based on our current skill levels."

There was a small smirk on Volleyball's face as she elaborated further, "Palomo and Bitters are going through intensive field drills and Matthews just finished his weapons maintenance a couple of minutes ago."

The "intensive field drills" part was probably where most of the "crazy" York had been expecting from Sarge's training went. At least, that was what he was able to surmise from the blonde's amused expression.

York almost felt bad for those two kids stuck with the field drills now.

Wait though. Wasn't there another lieutenant?

"What about Grif's sister?" York asked as the identity of the person she'd left out came into his head. He was mostly just curious and was still trying to keep the younger soldiers from drifting back to their earlier, more pessimistic conversation.

"Special assignment." Smith said in way of answering. The trying-not-to-look-too-amused expression on the man's face at his own choice of wording definitely said that there was more to it than that. York assumed that it probably involved a funny story, if nothing else.

Jensen lowered her voice to a whisper despite how the four of them were the only ones in that particular room, "The two got into a yelling match so loud that Sarge finally had enough and said Kai should practice scouting by finding her—" Jensen paused here for effect and had a concentrated look on her face as she attempted an admirable Sarge impression, "'good for nothin' brother' and Lopez."

"She's supposed to return with Lopez so he can report to Sarge in a few hours." The other young woman explained afterwards, smiling slightly at her friend's attempt to mimic their current commanding officer.

Smith just shook his head. He seemed to find Jensen's imitation humorous given the slight glimmer of mirth in his blue eyes, but it seemed he didn't want to encourage the behavior too much in case Sarge or someone else might find it disrespectful.

York thought about it for a moment. Kaikaina was a native Slums resident, so she would have no trouble locating the "volunteer" guards in under an hour max once she got back to the city.

Realization hit him and he smirked slightly, "So Sarge just wanted a little break, huh?"

"More than likely." There was a mischievous glint in Smith's eyes, "But, the sergeant is actually a very good judge of skills, regardless. What Kaikaina might be lacking in terms of combat ability, she more than makes up for in scouting."

Jensen nodded her head in agreement, "She's great at finding stuff no matter where it is and surviving really tough things! Sarge's mouth almost wouldn't shut when she got through both his scavenger hunt and obstacle course sessions with new records." She sounded in awe of that herself.

"They were quite impressive displays." The older lieutenant agreed, though he followed up the praise with a somewhat disapproving frown, "Though her 'Suck on that, old man!' remarks afterwards weren't very respectful."

"That's just Kaikaina being Kaikaina though." Volleyball said in way of explanation, though Smith didn't seem all that convinced it was appropriate behavior.

Geez, no wonder Sarge had decided she needed to train her scouting skills away from base for awhile. Grif's little sister could certainly be a handful apparently.

York smiled slightly at the enthusiasm the trio displayed now that the conversation went into their training. Despite his sometimes extremely unorthodox behavior he often displayed, it seemed as if perhaps Kimball hadn't been so far off the mark with having Sarge train the lieutenants from the sound of things. Especially if he was having them actually think about their potential and capabilities on the field more.

Though thinking of Sarge did have York starting to wonder if perhaps he shouldn't try to slip away. At least until he received more information from Tex in regards to how they would be approaching things now.

"Where is Sarge, by the way?" York finally asked the lieutenants, interrupting the discussion they had started amongst themselves about their favorite parts of the obstacle course they had apparently gone through earlier, "I should probably tell him what is going on while I'm here."

---

"You know, this is kind of fun! Once the sharp, shooting pain everywhere in your body stops bothering you!"

That oddly cheerful sentiment given what they had just gone through caused Bitters to groan in exasperation towards the general vicinity of his perky teammate.

"Shut the fuck up, Palomo." He stated through clenched teeth.

He didn't even have the energy to put as much vehemence into the insult as he usually did when annoyed by the private. Though perhaps it really wasn't so much an insult anymore as it had just become an odd habit amongst longtime friends now.

The two young men were both sitting on the floor, practically struggling to breathe. Bitters' whole body ached, which was probably not at all shocking considering the grueling workout they had just been through.

He had seriously lost count at some point of just how many exercises they had gone through. He knew the last ones had been sit-ups, but everything before became one terrifying blur he was bound to have nightmares of for a long while to come.

"Look alive, ladies!" The gruff voice behind the last several hours of pure torture rang out from somewhere to their immediate left, but Bitters was too tired to really turn his head in that direction, "You get ten more minutes for siesta, then you're back at it! That obstacle course won't run itself again."

He groaned at the almost manic joy in the older soldier's voice. He was pretty certain all of those horror stories Captain Grif had told them about being on Red Team with Sarge were probably true now given what he'd just gone through.

"Why do we have to do that again?" Palomo asked innocently from nearby, seemingly in still far too energetic of spirits for the amount of exercise they'd just done.

Sarge sighed in recollection, "Because the first time you attempted it, son, you somehow inexplicably managed to knock yourself out for five minutes in the moat and Grif's sister had to rescue you."

"Oh, yeah!" The dark-skinned lieutenant grinned at the memory, though he sighed moments later, "I wish either her or Jensen had given me mouth-to-mouth. Though I guess it's good that we know Smith is trained in CPR, huh?"

Well, at least his friend could somehow still look on the bright side of that particularly embarrassing scenario. Bitters supposed he'd have to fill the poor guy in on how the girls had taken pictures of the whole thing to threaten him with the next time he did something annoying to them.

He knew they wouldn't really post them anywhere because they all really liked Smith and wouldn't want to embarrass him for doing his job, but it was a rather devious way to blackmail Palomo since he probably wouldn't realize that himself.

On second thought, it might just be more amusing to see how the whole thing played out instead of making any commentary on it to his friend.

"I think you missed the point of that entirely, Private." Sarge sighed, "There was nothing in the water that should have knocked you out smack dab in the middle of it!"

Yeah, that was another thing Bitters was still having a hard time wrapping his head around: how did the person who was more or less second-in-command of the Resistance build an obstacle course with moving platforms and a fucking moat of all things? It didn't seem remotely possible given the resources available here. He could have sworn he'd even walked by this space a dozen times before and had never seen construction going on.

Maybe those bizarre rumors about Sarge knowing how to create rather realistic holograms were true, but it was still way too hard to believe given how he couldn't even make a robot that could speak English.

"But, I thought a fish was trying to bite me somewhere sensitive."

Oh, that did it. Bitters was going to have to find some kind of industrial strength cleaner to wipe his brain clean of this whole thing.

Sarge seemed to be thinking in a similar vein for once as the expression on his face was a blank one, "Son, there were no fish in the moat. Though I did debate putting an electric current through it at one point." He laughed then, "That really gets the blood boiling!"

The man in red armor turned to where Bitters was struggling to breathe on the floor, "Mr. Couldn't-Pick-A-Dang-Color-For-His-Hair here has to run it again because he tried skipping out on it the first time."

Bitters didn't even bother responding. For starters, it wasn't that he had been indecisive about the hair dye colors he wanted to use for his hair. He just hadn't been paying too much attention to bottles one day in the shower and it sort of happened accidentally. He just never cared enough to try to correct it. That was a big difference there!

Secondly, in his book, going "around" an obstacle course was just as valid a way to complete it as actually running through one was.

"I shoulda known you'd be trouble since you're wearing orange, Bitters. It's the laziest of all colors!" Sarge sighed, shaking his head sadly, "All the potential in the world can be had by those who wear that color and it always goes to waste."

He turned his back to them at that point, lost in his own thoughts, "Lazy dirtbag. Better not be messing things up out there."

"Okay. Something tells me that last part wasn't directed at you, Bitters." Palomo stage-whispered to him as Sarge continued on ranting to himself while somehow sounding both worried and frustrated at the same time.

Bitters raised an eyebrow, "You think?" he asked sarcastically.

Matthews picked this moment to speak up for the first time. The other lieutenant had shown up earlier after finishing his weapons maintenance drills and had been watching quietly while the two other men finished their exercises. Matthews had looked as if he'd been debating wanting to speak since Sarge had first begun talking to Bitters and Palomo during their rest.

"Oh, um…could I run the obstacle course again too, Sarge?" he asked hopefully, "I wasn't too thrilled with my first attempt."

In fairness, most of the lieutenants hadn't done great on the obstacle course.

Kaikaina had surprised everyone by doing the best and then kind of outdid herself by subsequently rescuing Palomo after his failed attempt. She surpassed even Sarge's admittedly low expectations given what he generally thought of the capabilities of her chubbier older brother, though he was quick to remark on how she definitely had a "Grif attitude" when she did her victory cry. It had been a variation of the same one she'd used before on the odd scavenger hunt he'd had them complete as a team earlier throughout the base.

Smith hadn't done too badly either following her. Then again, the man was built like a fucking tank and could dodge Freckles' aim with shocking ease, so that was perhaps to be expected.

Jensen's friend-who-Bitters-really-should-try-to-remember-the-name-of-one-of-these-days did pretty well also. Kind of funny story about her name, actually: somehow in the introductions for the new Resistance recruits, her name got overlooked leading to both the new and old fighters giving her the random nickname of "Volleyball" because of her favorite pastime. Instead of getting really pissed off, Volleyball decided to wear the nickname with pride and even managed to convince Jensen not to tell anyone else what her real name was.

Although Bitters somewhat suspected now she was going along with the nickname for her own personal amusement. It seemed to be a way for the girl to have a little fun at the expense of all of the Resistance members like himself who were now too embarrassed to ask her what her real name was after so many months.

Still, considering that she happened to be pretty physically active in general due to her interest in sports when not on duty, it wasn't all that surprising when Volleyball did well on the obstacle course.

Rounding out the lower tier of the lieutenants who classified as obstacle course finishers were Jensen and Matthews.

Again, not surprising, really. Jensen wasn't as into sports as her friend was, but she made up for it with brainpower. She didn't finish the course in great time, but she'd managed to figure out the layout of the obstacles from observing everyone else and had gotten through it with minimal damage.

As for Matthews, well, he tried. Bitters was honestly impressed the other young man had made it through the course at all, though he wondered how many bruises his teammate had gotten doing so given that he hadn't been as quick with timing when to move as Jensen had been.

Not that Matthews couldn't have done it under different circumstances. His analytical skills were quite good, but the auburn-haired fighter tended to get stupidly self-conscious in front of authority figures which usually resulted in slightly more negative performances all around.

Matthews was the total opposite of himself in that regard, as Bitters would often just do whatever he felt like doing regardless of the situation or the consequences. Though, in hindsight given what he'd just gone through, Bitters was regretting that slightly now.

Yet, here the dumb kid was, volunteering to do the whole thing over again despite all of that. It really blew Bitters' mind.

If Matthews got knocked flat on his ass this time around, he wasn't going to try to help at all. Helping his friend get to the medics after he had pushed himself too hard in the past had probably only encouraged Matthews to continue doing dumb things.

"Suck up." Bitters muttered under his breath, actually feeling more annoyed at Matthews just then instead of for having just been put through the ringer for some reason.

Matthews apparently heard him though despite the low volume. He saw Matthews' face contort into his you-just-kicked-a-puppy look while staring directly at him. Bitters decided to pointedly look away just then.

However, that action had him staring directly into Palomo's brown eyes as his childhood pal looked at him reproachfully.

"Dude." His friend enunciated the word to an annoying level to really make his point hit home, "That was harsh."

"Like you're even going to finish it this time either!" Bitters shot back.

Palomo winced: "Harsher."

Bitters sighed, suddenly finding the ground he was sitting on utterly fascinating.

He was probably just testy because Sarge was insane and he was sore all over as a result. He'd apologize to both of them later.

Sarge frowned at the exchanges, though for whatever reason he chose to not comment on them directly. Instead, he regarded Matthews appreciatively for his earlier query, "Excellent suggestion, Matthews. I was planning on having everyone try the obstacle course again later, but I'm glad someone had the initiative to suggest it themselves!"

Matthews beamed at the praise, and Bitters knew that now there'd be no way he wouldn't attempt the course again. He was very predictable that way.

"So, there aren't fish, right?" Palomo whispered to Bitters then, a worried tone in his voice, "I kind of freaked out thinking I was stepping on them before too."

Bitters sighed again. He was surprised by how quickly he had become resigned to this new routine and secretly thankful that at least it seemed like Palomo had gotten over pretty quickly any hurt feelings from his earlier comment, "Yeah, Palomo, there really aren't any fish to worry about."

"Hey, Sarge. I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

Perhaps thankfully for Bitters then as he was not looking forward to his ten minutes of rest time being over soon, they were saved for the time being by the sudden arrival of a tan-armored former Above Ground soldier. The other lieutenants, save Kaikaina as she was still on her "scouting" mission, filing into the room Sarge had designated as their training hall in the base after him.

Sarge looked just as surprised as Bitters was thankful for the intrusion, "Depends on why you're here. If it's just to shoot the breeze and have a hippie love fest, then yes." His dark eyes narrowed slightly, a frown developing on his weathered features, "But, if something's happened—"

"Let these guys have a rest for a moment and I'll fill you in, though I'm sure you'll hear about it from Kimball directly later. I bet you're running them ragged." York shot a sympathetic smile at the two young men in particular who were still on the ground.

Sarge then gave a quick order to re-coop for thirty more minutes since everyone was apparently done with their assigned tasks, which Bitters was more than just a tad relieved for.

Both Sarge and York went out into the corridor again, their body language tense. All eyes followed the two men as they discussed something quietly amongst themselves. Seeing Sarge's sudden aggressive outbursts that were always quickly followed by York holding up his hands in a placating gesture and the grimace plastered on the old soldier's face, it was obvious that whatever he was hearing from the former Freelancer wasn't sitting well with him.

"What happened?" Palomo asked, voice sounding oddly quiet and nervous for his usual way-too-carefree attitude.

Bitters wondered if his friend was thinking of Rogers and Cunningham again given how serious everyone had been for awhile after they had died, though he wasn't sure if it would be right to ask.

"Not sure." Jensen responded, her own voice sounding small as she watched the two more experienced soldiers talking, "But something happened with those peace talks."

"A stall of some kind." Smith said in way of further elaboration, though it really wasn't all that helpful either. Then again, judging by their troubled expressions, Bitters figured that was probably all they really knew at the moment.

A heavy silence fell over the group. The whole negotiation situation had been sketchy from the get-go, and this apparently just added a whole new layer.

Who knew what the end result would be? It was definitely more than just a little unsettling to think about.

Suddenly, training didn't seem to be as terrible an idea to Bitters as it had been moments before.

"Here."

Bitters blinked at the sudden intrusion of a water bottle in his line of vision.

Matthews was awkwardly fidgeting behind it with each passing second it took for the other lieutenant to take the proffered beverage.

"I—I got one for you…and Palomo." He shrugged, face red in embarrassment, "Figured you guys might need it."

Bitters saw the aforementioned dark skinned lieutenant already chugging his water down while their other three comrades chided him. They were trying to explain that drinking the water too fast was more than likely going to result in his getting a nasty cramp later when break was officially over.

Yeah, the odds were pretty good that Palomo wasn't going to be finishing the course anytime soon.

"Thanks." Bitters took the bottle gratefully, and Matthews nodded in return before holding out a hand to help the other lieutenant up.

The effort caused Bitters to groan again, his whole body protesting moving so much. Matthews had a surprisingly good grip though. He managed to successfully keep Bitters from falling back down as the orange-wearing lieutenant struggled to stand and put all of his weight again on his feet.

The second he was finally up for good, their hands dropped to their sides and Matthews was heading over to the others while Bitters took full advantage of the wonderful beverage he now had time to savor. He noted that water never tasted as good as it did just then normally as he watched his friends conversing.

Yeah, Bitters decided, training right now seemed like a good idea given how they didn't know what was going to happen in the near future. He'd even actually do the damn obstacle course this time without complaining too much if everyone else was going to try to do it too.

After all, they were in this together.

Hell, if Matthews ended up getting hurt doing it again, Bitters suspected that he would still probably be walking him to the medics anyways despite his annoyance at the thought of having to do so earlier.

Though Bitters knew he'd draw the line at hauling Palomo out of the moat and giving him mouth-to-mouth if his friend somehow managed to pass out in it again while trying to avoid getting bitten by imaginary fish.

That was more of a Smith job now that everyone knew he could do CPR.

---

There was one thing that Tucker found out very quickly after throwing that punch at Agent Washington. He learned that when Washington wasn't distracted by things going on around him like dealing with former teammates or double agents with British accents he was still technically fighting with trying to take him out along with Resistance fighters, the fucker was fast.

Tucker didn't even remotely make contact as the space that had been previously occupied by the Above Grounder's helmeted head was suddenly filled with nothing save for empty air. His fist did very little to it in the grand scheme of things.

Instead, a gloved hand wrapped tightly around Tucker's fist and his personal space bubble was very much violated by a body in steel and yellow armor stepping into it. Washington forced the fist he gripped down into a pretty harmless trapped position close to his own chest in the process.

Fuck. That was a classic disabling move for hand-to-hand combat and Tucker had walked right into it.

Maybe there was something to be said for all of the commentary he got from his peers about how he rushed into things too quickly.

Though it usually worked in Tucker's favor in other instances, so it was kind of fifty-fifty all in all.

Still, he tried glaring angrily through his helmet at the Freelancer all the same.

The downward tilt of Washington's visor in his direction seemed to indicate that he was doing more or less the same.

Though the Above Grounder only did so for a few seconds before glancing quickly around them at the surprised reactions of the others in the area. His body language suddenly went rigid.

"Why, yes, Tucker…" when Washington spoke up again, it was in a loud, rather obviously fake conversational tone, "I can show you where the closest restroom is!"

Tucker was about to either tell the older man to fuck off or ask if he had lost his mind. He was also alternatively trying to fight the urge to raise an eyebrow and joke about how awkward that whole effort on Washington's part had been to watch.

But, then he noticed out of the corner of his eye the white-armored Above Ground bodyguards relaxing somewhat from the startled positions they had taken during his initial run at Washington. They even lowered their weapons minimally.

Shit. Tucker really had almost messed things up! It frustrated him to realize that the Freelancer had been covering for him just then, though he knew from the angle the guns had been pointed at him from that things would have been a hell of a lot worse otherwise.

He sighed, forcing a fake cheery note into his voice to cover up his initial actions and to go on with the silly ass charade Washington had set up. Only he did a better acting job with it, all things considered—Lavernius Tucker knew how to put on a good show (damn right!): "Gee, thanks, Agent Washington. You know how cranky I get when I have to take a leak."

He'd just play it off like they were somehow old acquaintances and that he was just a guy with one hell of a weak bladder. Embarrassing as all fuck, sure, but better than ruining the "peace talks" by making the other members of the Resistance look worse from association with him.

"That is…a gross understatement."

Of course. Washington was just annoyed enough to want to get one more jab in as he nodded to a very confused-looking Kimball and the uptight looking people in the room behind her before tugging the Resistance fighter down the corridor quickly afterwards. Tucker supposed it was to show him a restroom to go along with the fiction they just set up.

Lopez merely shook his head after them. He was pretty certain that the robot was calling Tucker an idiot in Spanish again in his mechanical head more than likely given the display. Which, admittedly, Tucker probably deserved at that point.

For all Tucker knew, the Freelancer was probably dragging him off somewhere just to murder him given the very obvious anger visible in his body language. It was admittedly odd thinking that while remembering when Washington had held his hand in a rather vice-like grip too a year ago, though Tucker certainly wasn't going to joke about it now like he did then given what had just happened.

This time though, after they had rounded a few corners in the hotel and made it to a stairwell, the Freelancer wheeled around on him incredulously and dropped his grip on Tucker's hand without any kind of prompting or teasing from the teal-armored fighter.

"Seriously, Tucker?" his voice carried a chiding, exasperated note in it, "Words are literally failing me right now."

Tucker frowned, feeling rather embarrassed himself and really not wanting any angry tirades from the guy who had probably just saved his ass…again, he begrudgingly admitted to himself. Though he was still annoyed at how Washington had done that before, "Look, I know it was stupid. All right?"

"Stupid doesn't even begin to describe it." Even with his helmet on, one could tell that Washington was very readily livid. With how his body was twitching, he was most likely one second away from starting to pace in the stairwell, "Do you realize what could have happened if someone thought you had been threatening one of the Council members?"

Tucker was beyond frustrated too by this point: he knew that well enough without having Washington of all people spelling it out for him. If something had happened, then it would have all been on him.

He was well aware that he had definitely messed up.

"Yes, okay!" he shouted right back at the Above Ground soldier, "I could have fucked everything up. They could have blamed Kimball and the Resistance—they could have killed everyone this time. I fucked up!"

Flashes of his mom, of Junior, of Grif, of Kai, of Caboose, of everyone he knew in the Slums and in the Resistance had come rushing into his mind just then and Tucker wanted to kick himself for having been that stupidly reckless.

Perhaps the genuine pain that ripped through his voice at that last part was enough to halt some of Washington's ire because the Freelancer glanced at him once more and sighed, seeming to deflate somewhat after Tucker's outburst.

"At least you didn't draw your sword or pull a gun on me," He mumbled wryly, "That would have been a lot harder to try to explain away with so flimsy an excuse."

"Tell me about it." Things seemed to have settled into a more tolerant pace for both of them and Tucker raised an eyebrow, "A bathroom question? Really?"

"I wasn't expecting an idiot to try to punch me." Washington shrugged, "Be thankful I didn't just say something about you being touched in the head."

"Gee, thanks." He muttered sarcastically. Though, given what had actually happened, he added in a few seconds later, "Well, as annoying as it is to admit it, I do kind of mean it this time."

"Kind of?" the other man was regarding him incredulously.

Tucker shrugged, "Well, I was trying to get you back for giving me a fucking concussion last time."

"I was saving your life!" the Freelancer sputtered out, his frustration evidently building again, "The other Freelancer there would have killed you."

"You could have just told me to stay hidden, dumbass!" Tucker shot back, "Or did just thinking about it like a normal person not even cross your mind?"

There was a brief pause and the Freelancer pointedly looked in the opposite direction of where Tucker was standing.

The Resistance fighter felt like his eyes were going to bulge out of his skull, "You're fucking kidding me." He said incredulously, realization sinking in: "It honestly never crossed your mind."

He would have loved to have seen the embarrassed look on the Freelancer's face up close and personal, because the rather uncomfortable body language he was displaying only showed so much.

"There was no time to really think things through." He tried explaining rather lamely.

"Bullshit." Tucker snorted in disbelief.

"Besides," and Washington straightened his back then, more than just a little annoyed by Tucker's commentary himself, "Would you have actually listened to me in the first place if I told you to stay quiet and hidden?"

Tucker was about to respond back with something snarky, but stopped and thought about the question for a moment.

Yeah, okay. Tucker didn't have the best track record with listening sometimes and he hadn't been completely trusting of the Freelancer given everything to begin with so…

"I don't know. Maybe." He muttered half-heartedly, not entirely sure himself but not wanting to give Washington the full satisfaction of knowing that.

"Maybe." Washington repeated the word disbelievingly, letting out a long-suffering sigh in the process, "South isn't like me, Tucker. If she had known you were there, you'd have been dead."

There was a definite sharp edge to Washington's tone as he added after a moment's pause: "I probably would have been right behind you too."

"South?" The name was oddly familiar, despite Tucker having just heard it.

"North's sister. Ask him if you want any more details." Washington dismissed the question pretty quickly, apparently not wanting to have a discussion on either his past or present teammates, "I wasn't about to take any chances."

"Whatever." The Resistance soldier shrugged his shoulders, still angry but with a lot less energy behind the emotion now that they had talked some about it, "It was still a dick move."

"I never said it wasn't." Washington regarded him curiously, "But trying to punch someone exiting a peace talk isn't?"

"Oh, shove it." Tucker felt his cheeks heat up slightly at the reminder of his earlier foolishness.

Washington let it slide for all of two minutes, a surprising note of amusement clinging to his voice when he finally spoke up once more, "Now you owe me again."

The teal-armored fighter groaned, suddenly wanting to bang his head against a wall.

He was saved from having to respond to the smug comment by rapidly approaching footsteps as a certain rather pissed off looking mercenary in steel and orange armor came into view. Lopez and Kimball were close behind him.

"What the hell, Tucker?" Felix demanded angrily, looking for all the world as if he wanted to throttle him and knew just where to hide the body afterwards.

---

There were only two things at the moment that Leonard Church knew with much certainty.

The first thing he knew? Cousin or not, Carolina was probably something of a sadist. Dragging him of all people to obviously sham negotiations was pretty laughable at best. Church had no patience for the stupidity of others in general. He had even less for when it was faked stupidity for reasons that probably fell far too much into a "the less-you-know-the-better" spectrum.

Dragging his whole team along and having Church share a fucking room with Frank DuFresne of all people on top of that—well, clearly, Carolina had a much more twisted sense of humor than he often gave her credit for.

Church could deal with Sheila just fine as they had always gotten along well somehow. Simmons you could usually get to shut up if you just said something to make him feel awkward, which was admittedly pretty easy to do given how low the cyborg's self-esteem tended to be.

But, Doc? Seriously?

Church could only take so many "calming suggestions" and so much annoyingly cheery small talk before he was trying to jimmy open a goddamned window to either toss his purple-armored teammate through or jump out of himself.

Then, to make all of that somehow even worse, of course Doc would want to go sightseeing! Because his teammate was horribly oblivious to the myriad of countless reasons as to why that would be an extremely bad idea at the moment.

The medic annoyed Church to no end, sure, but that didn't mean the cobalt-armored acting C.O. really wanted his teammate to get killed or anything.

Though he would never, ever admit that to Doc because the bespectacled man would probably try to hug him and say something along the lines of "Aw, I knew you cared, buddy!" and then Church would honestly have no choice beyond killing him himself.

Generally speaking, he figured hiding bodies and having to explain what had happened to the rest of their team and to Carolina would be even more of a pain in the ass to deal with, so it was probably best to avoid that whole scenario all together.

The second thing he knew? Carolina was also making no fucking sense whatsoever with her decisions right now because she ordered all of them to attend these pointless talks only to then go off on her own to do—well, he honestly didn't know what she was up to at the moment.

The ever-present sarcastic side of Church's personality wanted to call it "sightseeing" just because he was annoyed, but he knew well enough that was probably about as far from what she was doing as possible.

After all, a damn kickass Freelancer agent wouldn't know how to relax even if ordered to do so.

Church knew well enough that something was going on behind the scenes of these "talks" and that Carolina most likely knew a hell of a lot more about it than she was letting on. But, her whole "stubborn I'll-do-everything-myself-now" attitude meant that she would be keeping them in the dark over whatever her suspicions were for as long as she was able.

She and Tex had a hell of a lot in common in that department. Not that he would ever say that out loud for obvious health reasons.

The only way Carolina keeping an obviously huge secret from him could piss him off more is if he really cared a ton one or way or the other about what was going on. At least that's what he kept telling himself to keep from really getting even more fed up with the whole situation as he continued muttering annoyances under his breath.

"You already said 'driving me up a goddamned wall' twice, Church." Sheila supplied helpfully from where she was standing near the door, clearly more amused than a robot should be at her teammate's expense.

He sighed and turned to glare at her, "Oh, don't start with me right now, Sheila."

His response lacked the usual bitterness and venom a similar comment to someone else might have.

Church usually never got too snarky when it came to talking to Sheila. He always assumed it was because he had just learned to play it safe around her since she used to be installed inside a tank and he hadn't really wanted to become a pile of bloody goo by pissing her off. It must have just turned into a habit afterwards without him realizing it.

Then again, he had dated Tex and had no problem calling her a bitch despite the guaranteed death sentence that usually followed pissing her off, so he wasn't sure if that was entirely accurate as Tex was way more frightening than any tank could be when really pushed past her limits. He was still wrapping his head around how Tex had managed to throw one through the goddamned air once.

Maybe it had more to do with how Sheila had always been classified as his teammate, even before Captain Flowers had recruited them for his oddly mismatched squad. It was possible that Church just kind of developed a bond with the generally polite Virtual Intelligence as a result.

His memory was always fuzzy when it concerned his life both from a personal stance and in his career as a soldier before Flowers had sought them out. He knew that Sheila had always been around in a sense. He had a sense of familiarity with Carolina that he assumed came from them having spent time together growing up as relatives. Then there was his off-and-on-and-on-and-off-again-really-more-of-a-yo-yo relationship with Tex, but too much beyond that?

Flashes and moments of memories here and there, but nothing very concrete.

He chalked it up to probably having had a rather fucking boring childhood, as a lot of the days when they were at the Mother of Invention doing nothing seemed to blur together too.

Church supposed that should bother him more, but for some reason it never did. He imagined if he really wanted to remember more, it was probably always there below the surface in his mind. He just never had the incentive to delve too deeply there.

He could also probably always ask people like Carolina or Sheila to help fill in any gaps and maybe jumpstart his brain into remembering things more clearly.

He just never did for some reason.

He didn't really know if asking them would count as snooping too much into their personal lives either. He kind of tended to want to avoid any unnecessary drama interactions with the people he had to deal with on a routine basis for his own sanity.

"Perhaps Doc was right. Getting a breath of fresh air might help a bit." Sheila was saying, her helmeted head tilted to the side thoughtfully as she watched him finally stop pacing, "We should be cautious still, yes, but I doubt there is too much to worry about this close to the negotiations."

She was probably right about that, especially if they weren't going to be going on a goddamned tour of the Slums like Doc seemed to be thinking of doing. Where did the moron even find a brochure pamphlet of the place, anyways? Church never would have thought those were actual things that were made on account of how the Slums weren't exactly a fucking tourist attraction.

He doubted that the Resistance and most anyone else who lived down here would be stupid enough to probably try something even if they were peeved off at Above Ground while the Council was here. Not if they didn't want a repeat of what had happened before on this top level after the Insurrection's attack topside.

Though that whole "threat" looming over these proceedings in general had also pissed him off, truthfully. He really just wanted to forget for a while that the people he technically worked for were that huge of dicks in the first place.

Not really feeling up much for arguing anymore, he regarded the robot in mild amusement at her suggestion.

"'A breath of fresh air'? Sheila, that is some weird ass terminology for a robot with no lungs to use." He joked.

"Are you saying I cannot appreciate the sentiment behind it, Church?"

Her voice maintained the polite quality it always had, but there was a newfound sharpness lingering behind her question.

Yeah, Sheila might not be in a tank anymore, but he wasn't all that sure pissing her off was in any way a good idea.

Church sighed, shoulders sagging in defeat as he tried smoothing over the joke that hadn't gone too well. Which is why he usually thought it was better to just not give a crap in general, at least then anytime he got someone pissed off it was more or less intentional because he was prone to commenting on actions sarcastically.

"Nah, of course not. Anyways, you're probably right and it will be fine." He paused then, another thought crossing his mind, "Besides, maybe we can find Doc before he causes some kind of incident out there."

Sheila nodded, apparently pleased that he'd agreed with her and had stopped running a trail into the ugly carpet in the room. Then she moved out into the hall to wait patiently for him to follow. The door closed behind him moments later, and they headed in the direction of the closest stairwell.

He'd never been too big of a fan of elevators. Especially ones that were more on the cramped side of the spectrum, which was definitely what this shitty hotel's ones more or less could be described as. The lighting was also pretty dim in them too, which caused Church to get nauseous even before he'd stepped inside one the first time just as the doors had opened. He wasn't going to do that again for as long as he could avoid it during this stupid "trip."

The hotel building was a bit on the taller side for Slums architecture with their rooms being on the eighth floor, but it would still be dwarfed in size by most of the skyscrapers in Above Ground. Taking the stairs really wasn't a major issue. It wasn't like Sheila would get exhausted anyways and he never really did himself, so no big deal either way there.

With any luck, Doc hadn't gotten too far away from the building yet and was just talking some poor passersby's ears off about whatever "alternative" medicines he was most interested in now. Doc had been animatedly discussing crystals and hemp the last time he'd been subject to that topic himself, but Church couldn't be totally sure that was what he was talking about given his tendency to tune Doc out the minute he got started talking.

As they began their descent, the sounds of multiple voices talking rather loudly (and some quite heatedly) filled the air from further down the staircase. Church paused, internally debating on whether or not he really wanted to walk in on whatever shit was going on down there.

"None of my goddamned business" wasn't just a motto of his. It was a way of life that had served him extremely well for the most part in the past.

He turned to suggest to Sheila that they might want to go another route figuring she'd agree out of politeness for not wanting to intrude into someone else's conversation, if nothing else. But, then he saw his friend's green-armored body stiffen even more than normal for her mechanical joints at the sound of one indistinct voice in particular.

"Sheila?" he asked, more than just a little confused by her reaction to the overheard background noise.

She didn't respond, suddenly breaking ahead down the stairs as if the fire alarm had just gone off.

"Hey! Sheila!"

Now Church wasn't so much confused as he was concerned by her actions. Robotic hearing was a lot better than crappy human hearing, after all. For all he knew she could have picked up on something bad happening down there. He followed her quickly, debating on whether or not using a weapon might be necessary. He really hoped not: usually his aim resulted more in people getting injuries from laughter than because he actually hit anything.

By the time they reached the last expanse of stairs, he could finally see what was going on. By then, Church wasn't sure anymore why he had ever thought Sheila's suggestion on going out was anywhere near a remotely good idea.

At the bottom of the stairwell was Agent Washington, a Freelancer with some pretty lacking social skills. It was saying something if Church of all people could say that about someone else, given his complete embracement of "definitely not being a people person" in any way, shape or form. Not to mention that on top of that Washington wasn't known for being one of the cheeriest people to be around these days.

With Washington at the bottom of the stairs was that teal-armored jerk-who-was-sort-of-okay-for-being-a-jerk Tucker from the Resistance whom they had met during that really crappy time a year ago.

Both of them seemed to be engaged in a pretty heated debate with some peeved-off looking guy in steel armor with orange trim.

Along with the three having a fight, there was also a figure in the familiar tan and cobalt armor belonging to the leader of the Resistance, Vanessa Kimball. As well as a figure in brown armor that most likely belonged to—

"Lopez!" Sheila called out just then, and Church suddenly realized she had probably only ran down there because she had overheard the Resistance robot saying something earlier in electronic Spanish.

All heads turned up at her exclamation and Church groaned inwardly. It had taken fucking weeks after they'd last met these people for her to finally stop humming Spanish songs.

"Sheila? ¿Eso es realmente usted?" {"Sheila? Is that really you?"}

He couldn't be completely sure of it, but Lopez's comment seemed to sound like a rather happy one even with his filtered way of speaking which in turn made Church really have to fight back the urge to groan again given how excited his teammate seemed to be in response.

The idea of a star-crossed robotic love affair being rekindled anywhere near his vicinity was enough to make him wish his head would just explode.

"Oh, great. Another asshole." Tucker muttered at their intrusion, looking pointedly at Church when he said it.

Of course, Church's immediate response was showing off the material of the glove that especially covered his middle finger, "Nice to see you again too, dick-hole."

The stranger in the steel and orange armor regarded this new exchange incredulously, "Tucker, are there any Above Grounders you know who you wouldn't be tempted to start off an international incident with?"

Tucker paused then, seemingly thinking about the question for a good long while before answering, "Depends on how many fine ladies there are up there I haven't met yet. Bow-chicka-bow-wow!"

"No deseo ser asociado con usted en este momento." {"I do not wish to be associated with you right now."}

Washington shook his head as if in disbelief, "No words. Literally none."

"Wow, Tucker, way to stay classy." Church muttered under his breath.

"Oh, fuck off, Church." He got the distinct impression that the Resistance fighter was rolling his eyes at him, "At least I can say I don't have a trained killer who likes punching through metal walls for fun as an ex!"

"You…dated Tex?" Washington was regarding Church as if he had just grown an extra head at that reveal, "How is that even…?"

"Oh, come on. Use your imagination! I bet it involved lots of rope and duct tape. Probably a couple safe words of some kind too."

Washington sighed at the obvious grin in Tucker's voice, "Never mind. I really don't want to know."

"Aw, that's too bad. Because I'm all for relative strangers knowing every possible detail about my personal life." Church stated sarcastically, "It's a really fucking awesome way to break awkward silences."

The Freelancer appeared slightly embarrassed, and Tucker snickered slightly—evidently relieved to have gotten some of the attention away from himself at the moment through Church's distraction.

"I'm not sure you'll want to keep joking about that too much, Tucker." Kimball spoke up then, sounding almost amused, "What if Tex heard you?"

"Oh, shit!" Tucker stopped being pleased with himself and looked around anxiously, "…The comm-link isn't on still, is it?"

Church imagined him paling considerably at the thought that Tex had somehow overheard him and couldn't help but grin in response. He had sort of forgotten how he'd almost had fun going back and forth with Tucker before. When they weren't annoying the hell out of the other person too much, of course.

The steel and orange wearing stranger regarded Kimball in mild exasperation at her egging on this bizarre conversation, "It's surprising how nonchalant you're being about this."

Okay, so obviously something had happened before they had walked in on this whole…strangeness, for lack of a better word.

Church and Sheila started heading down the rest of the stairs. His teammate quickly went over to talk to the mechanical Resistance member as Church tried to withhold the gag reflex he had at the notion of that whole situation starting up again.

Kimball shrugged, "I would have been extremely angry if things had gone differently back there, but they played it off well enough." She glanced briefly at Tucker and Washington.

So, this whole thing started because of those two then? Odd couple moments all around, Church supposed.

To think that everyone had been making jokes about how he'd be likely to potentially mess the "peace talks" up just by being himself! Church probably shouldn't be as amused as he was by the fact that they had all been wrong given the situation but still.

"Besides, with the Council stalling and wanting to prolong the proceedings even further, they have no choice but to play along as well." Kimball stated bluntly.

Well, the news of the Council stalling wasn't too damn shocking either. Church thought of what Carolina was probably up to right about now, and once again tried telling himself that he really didn't want to know anymore about this whole fucked up situation.

The man Kimball had been addressing thought about what she said for a moment, frowning slightly, "I guess that's true. Even if I still want to rip someone a new one right about now."

He was glaring pointedly at Tucker then, and the Resistance fighter sighed.

"Love you too, Felix." Tucker mumbled, flipping him off.

"Definitely spitting in your food next time." The person Church could now identify as Felix said in a very fake cheerful tone, though it was obvious from the inflection underneath it that he was still very much annoyed by whatever the teal-armored soldier had done beforehand.

Tucker and Felix glared at one another silently.

Kimball took advantage of the sudden quiet to turn to Church. The lady was okay in his book given how she'd helped them out last year during that really crappy fake mission, so he believed her when she said to him: "It's nice to see all of you again under better circumstances, Church."

He raised an eyebrow in disbelief, "Fake peace talks count as better circumstances now?"

"Better than hostage situations and all-out attacks, yes." Her voice took on a wry note, "It's an unfortunately slippery scale."

He was about to ask her what the "stall" comment she'd made had been about, when a new thought crossed his mind after glancing over at all of the people present. He turned to the Freelancer who'd been listening in on the exchanges silently at the moment, "Where's Simmons? The nerd had first guard round with you, didn't he?"

"Um…" Washington fidgeted slightly, apparently unsure of how to respond to the question.

"Oh! He ran off after his boyfriend once the talk was over with." Tucker explained instead, quicker with recalling what had happened apparently, "No biggie."

"Boyfriend?" Washington glanced at Tucker in surprise, "That was why he'd been acting so strange?"

Tucker shrugged, "Boyfriend. Married. Whatever. It kind of depends on who you ask. Right?" he directed the question to Church since they'd both seen how the two had interacted before.

"So, the fat ass is somewhere around here?" Church frowned, wondering if he shouldn't be looking for Simmons now too.

After all, the last time his maroon teammate and Grif had met up it hadn't resolved all too pleasantly.

His growing urge to hit his head on something increased tenfold. Church had not wanted to have to deal with domestic love drama on top of robotic domestic love drama either.

"Dude. He isn't the only one."

There was a mischievous note in Tucker's voice. The remark caused Church to regard him with wide-eyed trepidation as he recalled the teal-armored fighter's earlier fearful comment over the possibility of a certain someone having overheard their conversation.

"Shit, Tucker, you don't mean—"

The exit door to the outside from the stairwell opened up then, and a familiar figure in black smirked directly in his direction. It had been awhile since Church had last seen her outside of her armor, but he recognized the dark eyes regarding his growing dread with mild amusement far too well all the same.

"Nice to see you again too, cockbite." Tex said in way of greeting.

"Oh, fuck no…!"

And standing behind her was a tall figure in standard blue armor, as well as a shorter person in brown armor hanging tentatively further behind the other two. It was as if they were hesitant to step any closer towards the building given what was happening inside at the moment.

Both of them were also all too terribly familiar to Church, though it was the larger of the two that had him the most worried and exasperated already.

"Church, is that you? Oh, this is so great!"

His fear was proven to be with good reason mere moments later, with Caboose rushing forward to hug his "best friend" in an embrace that probably would crush bones if Church hadn't been wearing his armor.

The urge to brain himself on something really was getting harder and harder to resist now.

"It's Agent Washingtub too! Hello!" Caboose was calling out as he dropped Church to wave enthusiastically at the Freelancer. Church was a little surprised. He hadn't known before now that apparently Washington had some history with both Tucker and Caboose.

"Caboose?" The man in the steel armor with the yellow trim was regarding him in shock, which seemed to increase quite a bit when he caught sight of the woman still standing rather awkwardly behind Tex as well, "C.T.?"

The former Freelancer in brown armor took in a deep breath and straightened her posture some, managing to get out a rather formal sounding greeting despite her earlier hesitancy, "Agent Washington."

"Of course everyone here just happens to know everyone else." Felix mumbled under his breath, "Small fucking world."

Caboose started talking excitedly then, moving his arms animatedly, "Gruf, Gruf's sister, and Simons are talking outside! And Private Cookie is becoming new best friends with my new purple friend too!" Even with his helmet on, it was easy to imagine the beaming smile on Caboose's face as leaned over to conspiratorially whisper to Church in a loud enough voice for everyone else to still hear, "They're even talking about having a party!"

That was pretty much the point in the conversation when Church's brain officially tuned out of the exchange for a good long while for the sake of his continued sanity.

Fuck it. Now he really just wanted to hit his head repeatedly on something hard until this whole damn episode was over with.

---

"Dude, you've been staring for twenty minutes." Grif told him, somehow managing to sound both amused and exasperated all at once.

Simmons' face went even redder at Grif's comment—well, the parts of it that could still turn red at any rate. He was fairly certain his mechanical and circuitry components had even started to heat up a little too in response to his embarrassment.

He turned from looking at Kaikaina still in disbelief to glare at her brother with the knowing smirk plastered across his face in annoyance.

"I—I wasn't, not really!" Simmons muttered lamely in self-defense, "N—not like that!"

"Relax, Simmons," Grif actually had the audacity to laugh at his friend's mortification, "If I thought it was because of those kinds of reasons I would have already kicked your scrawny ass."

Right. Because one of the few things Grif ever took seriously was making sure his little sister was okay. The first time they'd ever met, he'd proven that pretty quickly with a punch to Simmons' face when he had thought the other teenager had messed with her.

Simmons glanced back at the young woman from where the two of them were now sitting on one of the benches close by the hotel's main entrance.

She had left them alone to continue their talk after her initial greeting once Grif had told her to "Beat it." after she made a comment about not wearing any underwear under her armor with her traditional "You suck!" remark thrown at her brother as she went.

How she had even gotten on to that topic in the first place was beyond Simmons' comprehension since they had been having a pretty routine "what's up with you?" dialogue before then. The subsequent glare Grif had given Simmons in response to how red he had become then, followed soon after by the chubbier man being more amused than anything else, certainly hadn't helped relieve the Above Grounder's discomfort.

Kaikaina had since then wandered over to talk to Doc and Grif's teammate in the pink armor who Simmons thought he remembered was named Donut. It had been awhile and they hadn't really been properly introduced, so maybe he was off on that though. He remembered that it was certainly a bit of a strange name, whatever it was.

There had been two other people from the Resistance with them at the time too: Caboose, the rather childlike fighter in blue armor who had tried to befriend Church during their stay as "guests" of the Resistance a year ago, and former Freelancer agent Connecticut.

Simmons had been taken aback at seeing C.T. again. Her defection had been something of a complete shock when it happened only a few days after they had returned to Above Ground after that whole horrible clusterfuck of a mission. He had taken it especially hard at the time, given that C.T. was the first female he could probably consider a proper friend beyond Sheila. Rumors had even started flying around that she had been a spy for the Resistance and perhaps her disappearance wasn't so much a defection as a quiet execution and an unmarked grave.

Oddly enough, Agent Washington had been the one to tell him not to pay attention to what people were saying. The Freelancer assured him that C.T. had her reasons and that she was more than likely just fine wherever she was. It had been the first time Washington had really attempted to engage him in conversation for more than two minutes before leaving in a hurry. So, while Simmons knew he was not telling him the full story, he was inclined to believe the Freelancer since he had gone out of his way to talk to him.

It made sense, Simmons supposed, that her defection had meant she went to the Resistance. He already knew of three Freelancers who had done the same earlier and it was an understandable move, all things considered.

Simmons was just glad, as he had been when he first saw Grif again and subsequently Kaikaina that, like them, C.T. was doing relatively okay by appearances given the situation.

He had been debating about going over to try to talk to her as well when a red-haired woman dressed completely in black civilian attire had approached the group at the fountain.

He had recognized her as Agent Texas even while outside of her actual battle armor, largely due not only to what he remembered about the way the former Freelancer had carried herself but also because the woman had the same odd shimmer that had hung onto the fully armored Tex before. Tex was the only other human beyond Church that he knew of where his cybernetic eye would have that strange glitch when regarding them.

She spoke to them for a few moments and he'd held back, rather intimidated by the soldier in general. Afterwards, both Caboose and C.T. followed her towards the side of the hotel. C.T. had held back for a moment, glancing over at Simmons and waving slightly in greeting, body language slightly apologetic at perhaps not having the chance to catch up currently. Then all three of them were gone.

It seemed like something had come up, but that it wasn't extremely vital given the more relaxed pacing everyone still had and the fact that Tex hadn't told all of the Resistance members to follow her. She hadn't even bothered calling Grif over to talk to him about whatever was going on either.

The other three people who remained behind were laughing about something now, seemingly completely carefree at the moment.

"It's just…she's in armor." He mumbled, still in disbelief at seeing Kaikaina in the yellow gear.

He had been rather surprised to find out that Grif of all people had given up his relatively comfortable lifestyle to fight for the Resistance.

As for Kaikaina, he'd never once pictured the vibrant and loud fourteen-year-old girl he had been remembering all this time in his head doing something like that at all.

Things had definitely changed over the years since that time, and usually never for the better unfortunately. But, still, that hadn't been one of the changes he had ever expected to see.

Grif sighed, almost looking defeated as his earlier amusement at Simmons' reaction faded: "I sort of had the same reaction too." He scowled, "Especially since the dumb brat did it without telling me."

"R—really?" Simmons turned to him again, surprised.

"Well, my reaction had a shitload more yelling actually." Grif grinned at the recalled memory, "We didn't talk for awhile afterwards."

"I can imagine." He smiled back weakly, not sure if the gesture would annoy the other man or not given the circumstances.

Both Grif siblings could be as stubborn as fuck when it came to not backing down, even with how lazy Dexter Grif often was at times. Simmons could easily imagine that the idea of his younger sister joining an underground military operation behind his back wasn't something that would sit well with the tan man. That Kaikaina probably reacted back just as explosively to his protest was kind of a given.

He glanced over at the yellow-armored girl again, curious: "So…why did she join exactly?"

Kaikaina had never struck him as a person who would be interested in joining a war effort.

Then again, Grif hadn't really wanted to before either and yet the two of them had ended up meeting again on opposing sides due to the conflicts between Above Ground and the Slums starting up once more.

Grif stiffened next to him, frowning. Simmons felt a momentary surge of panic that he had somehow unintentionally overstepped some unknown boundary by asking that question.

He had just found out that Grif was all right and wasn't hating him for what had happened before, he really didn't want to lose that again. His brain was already trying to figure out what to do for damage control, when Grif finally answered.

"It was because I'd joined."

There was a raw pain in his voice that Simmons hated hearing. He'd only ever heard it a few times before, back when Grif had opened up about his parents abandoning him and Kaikaina and once more when he'd recounted to Simmons what had happened to cause him to join the Resistance despite having no desire to do so before. He'd hated it in those instances too.

Grif was staring at his sister, who was now laughing loudly at something Doc had apparently said, "She said she wanted to help look out for me for once."

He regarded Simmons wryly then. There was an uncharacteristically worried look in his brown eyes, "Did you know she hates guns? She still calls them 'gross' all the time."

"Grif—"

"But then she goes and joins a fucking army because she missed her worthless brother." He laughed sharply, but it was more of a pained sound than anything else, "I'm still trying to wrap my head around it, Simmons."

"She obviously doesn't think you're worthless then," Simmons was surprised at how quickly and easily his response came out, "You were the one who raised her and everything."

"Not to throw her damn life away!" Grif shot back just as quickly, looking hurt and angry all at the same time.

"You're the one who chose to sign up first to protect her." He reasoned, and the cyborg was trying not to pat himself on the back too much for this being one of the rare conversation instances where it seemed like his mouth was actually following through with what his brain was thinking in a surprisingly composed manner, "She should be able to decide on her own how she wants to show she cares about you too."

He expected Grif, given the angry expression that had started forming on his face as Simmons had been talking, to try punching him in response. To argue more about how his life wasn't worth that much or something, and his muscles clenched as Simmons mentally braced himself for it. Though Grif surprised him by suddenly shaking his head and grinning instead.

"Not only did you actually argue that without stuttering, Simmons, but you pretty much used the same argument Kai gave me as to why she was staying put."

"I—I did?" Simmons blinked, glancing over at Kaikaina again in shock.

"I know, right? My little sister used fucking logic against me. I wasn't sure whether I should have been more impressed or terrified at the time." His grin widened in amusement as he looked at the redhead sitting next to him, "Though you just stuttered so I'm going to have to negate some of my earlier praise for you. Nerd."

"Sh—shut up, fat ass!" The parts of Simmons' face that were still flesh and blood were a vibrant red once more at Grif's ribbing, and Grif laughed at the weak retort—this time the laughter sounded much more genuine. The serious reflection on what his sister had done was apparently over with now that the tone of the conversation had changed back to their usual banter.

Simmons couldn't help but smile despite his annoyed embarrassment with having been teased once more. He was grateful to see that the orange soldier was still able to bounce back to his usual carefree self despite the obvious worry he was attempting to deal with.

That had always been a trait Simmons had admired during his years of knowing Dexter Grif. He'd even been somewhat envious of it at times given how much he himself internalized every worry and insecurity that popped into his head.

Simmons would honestly probably be pretty fucking worried if, at some point, Grif couldn't do it.

Grif's laughter subsided, and he turned to look at the cheerful trio still talking animatedly together by the fountain, "They seem to be hitting it off rather well."

Simmons nodded, his face still slightly heated in response to the odd inner realization he'd just had. He was more than just a bit glad to have something else in the immediate vicinity to direct his attention towards.

"The guy in purple armor? He's Doc. He's a teammate of mine." Simmons explained quickly, trying to keep his voice from stuttering again, "He wasn't with us. Last time."

"Obviously."

Mentioning their previous encounter caused an awkward, heavy silence to fill the air. It had an oppressive quality to it. There were a whole lot of things that Simmons was desperate to not say in the wake of it.

"He—he's eccentric, but nice." He said quickly, hoping to get the conversation moving again with small talk instead of anything that could potentially ruin how things were going currently, "He'd been wanting to see the Slums and he kept saying how the talks might—"

"Simmons." Grif cut in again, though, judging by the frown forming on his face, it almost looked like he'd been hesitant to do so. Perhaps this was a conversation topic neither of them particularly wanted to have, given that they had the chance now to just talk like they used to.

The Above Grounder stopped talking, looking hesitantly at Grif shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

"You know these peace talks are bullshit, right?" The orange-armored fighter asked quietly, "That the Council is up to something and once this is over with, things will go back to the shitty way they've always been?"

Simmons frowned. Of course he knew that. He had known it ever since Carolina had informed him of the talks. It didn't hurt to be hopeful that maybe something positive could come out of it, but with the way the Chairman put a halt on the discussions earlier he knew that that wasn't very likely.

The Council, Chairman Hargrove—they, he, had an agenda for everything. The fighting wouldn't stop permanently until there was a reason for it that the Chairman deemed valid enough.

Complaints from Slums residents or even from Above Ground citizens wouldn't be enough to change the Council's minds at this stage. Anti-protest laws had even become all the more viciously enforced recently.

The cyborg had spent more than enough time in the military now to know how things worked in the city he called home, unfortunately.

Grif's smile became somewhat wry, "I just hope this time we aren't saying goodbye at gunpoint again. That was pretty fucked up."

There was a lot that Simmons wanted to say in response: more apology, how he really didn't want that to happen either. But, the words seemed to get stuck in his throat. Just as he was finally about to blurt out something just to fill the silence—

"Hey, guys," Grif's teammate Donut was walking over to them with a literal skip in his step and a friendly wave, Doc and Kaikaina in tow, "Guess what? Doc and I were sharing recipes, and it turns out our banana nut bread ones are really similar!"

Whatever serious moment they were having was lost then. Simmons wasn't quite sure whether he felt more relieved or disappointed. Definitely a mixture of both, though.

Grif raised an eyebrow at the pink-armored soldier's announcement: "You don't say."

"It's true." Doc spoke up pleasantly, completely overlooking Grif's sarcasm. Then again, Doc wasn't really the best judge of whenever Church was using it either now that Simmons thought about it, "Even though we are from different regions, certain ideas will always connect us."

"Like bread recipes." Grif said dryly.

"Oh, it's a great banana nut bread recipe, Grif." Donut joined in, "Emphasis on the nuts."

The orange-armored soldier sighed, exchanging an exasperated look with Simmons.

"I love nuts." Kaikaina said happily, and Simmons honestly couldn't tell if she was talking about the food or the perhaps not-really-intended-but-still-there innuendo the blond-haired soldier had just stated, "You guys should share!"

"Why are you here again, Kai?" Her brother seemed to now be quite desperate to change the topic away from "nuts": "I thought you were training with Sarge along with the other lieutenants."

She scoffed, "Oh, he got cranky because I told him where he could shove his stupid obstacle course," she had a smug look on her tan face as she added, "Right after I kicked its ass!"

"So, he sent you on a time out?"

"Nah, he said I should practice scouting more and find his stupid robot. Which is lame, but it gave me the chance to run into you guys!" She grinned.

"He must have really needed a break from her." Grif whispered conspiratorially to Simmons, "He'll send me out on pointless errands all the time." He frowned following that, "Though I guess I should be insulted that all she got was a lousy find-the-robot one whereas I usually get the test-this-place-for-mines-and-tripwire ones."

Simmons stared at him blankly, "You're…kidding, right?"

"'Fraid not." He shrugged, a smug expression on his face, "See, Simmons? You miss all the fun stuff when you're not down here."

The Above Grounder really wasn't sure how to respond.

"Aw, Kaikaina! You should have mentioned you were looking for Lopez earlier!" Donut chided playfully, "He's been just over there in the hotel this whole time."

"For the talk thingie?" She scrunched her face in thought, as if debating on whether or not she really wanted to go find him at the moment.

"You'd better just go." Grif could read his younger sibling's expression pretty well, "Sarge might get really annoyed if you make him wait too long."

"Well, he was talking about all of us having moving orange target practice later. If we're on our best behavior. My aim isn't too hot so that might be good." She looked at her brother and Donut questioningly, "What kind of targets are they? Oranges?"

Grif's face took on a deadpan expression, "No clue."

"Oh! Oh! I bet it's the Holo-Grifs again!" Donut said cheerfully, "Remember how happy Sarge was the day he and Lopez got that room all set up, Grif?"

"I really try not to, Donut." He turned to his sister before anyone could ask either of the Red Team members any questions about just what Donut had meant by "Holo-Grifs": "Just go find Lopez and get back before something happens."

"You're not the boss of me!" Kai shouted defiantly, resulting in the two Grif siblings having a glaring contest.

"Aw, but Grif! We were going to let her help us with the party planning!" Donut looked rather disappointed at his announcement.

Oh, right. Simmons had thought they'd overhead them talking about that earlier. He hadn't really expected them to take it seriously though, given everything.

"Yeah, since I won't be able to go, which sucks major ass." She said sullenly, though the dark-haired girl brightened a few moments later as she thought of something. She turned to Doc excitedly, "But I know the perfect place for you guys to check out if you want to see the real nightlife of this place!"

"Sounds fun!" Doc was smiling at her enthusiasm.

Simmons glanced at Grif, noticing that there was a nervous frown forming on his face. He began to wonder just what Kaikaina's definition of "fun" meant given that.

"You're not talking about that place that had the orgy, are you?" Grif asked bluntly, causing Simmons' face to go bright red. Even his cybernetic parts felt insanely hot.

How could someone even ask a question like that with a straight face?

"I wish, but no." She grimaced as if he had brought up a really upsetting topic, "Apparently they closed that place down because of some stupid health code violation or something."

"Can't imagine why." Her brother mumbled sarcastically, though Simmons noted he almost seemed slightly relieved at the news. Probably since it meant Kaikaina wouldn't be able to go there anymore.

"I remembered reading about that place online." Donut spoke up then, brown eyes lost in thought as he tried recalling whatever it was he'd seen, "It's a shame that it closed down, but having seen the decorum I can understand why. Their color scheme was atrocious and don't even get me started on those things they were trying to pass off as drapes!"

"I didn't know decorating was that important for establishments like that." The Above Ground medic was nodding his head as if this conversation was completely normal, "Interesting! I guess it is true what they say about how you learn something new every day, huh?"

Grif turned to Simmons with an amused smirk on his face and a raised eyebrow. The maroon soldier couldn't help but groan slightly.

"I don't know. I never really paid much attention to how it looked when I was there." Kaikaina gave a suggestive wink.

Which promptly caused her brother to groan in exasperation as well, "Goddamn it, Kai!"

Then it was Simmons' turn to smirk at the tan man, which Grif promptly gave him the finger for.

"Kaikaina, it's always important to pay attention to ambiance." Donut admonished gently, as if Kaikaina was a little kid who had tried eating a cookie before dinner.

"Well, at any rate that place is out." Kaikaina sighed softly, apparently rather disappointed, "I was actually thinking of this other club that's on Level Four. Atmosphere is nice," she assured Donut before he could ask, and he smiled at her thankfully for mentioning it, "And the bartender gives you free drinks if you go topless for awhile."

"KAI!"

"That sounds fun!" Donut exclaimed happily, cutting into whatever was going to be Grif's annoyed outburst following shouting his sister's name in frustration.

"I'd like to go too." Doc said, smiling slightly when Donut turned to him and Simmons was surprised to see a little bit of pink forming on his friend's cheeks right under his glasses, "It will be a nice opportunity to mingle."

"You're—you're actually serious?" Simmons blinked, surprised at how quickly the absurd idea seemed to be solidifying from just an innocent suggestion to almost reality, "About the party?"

"Why not?" Doc asked, his usual good-natured smile on his face, "We're going to have some free time on our hands for awhile and it might help get some common ground established. It's a good way to get dialogue open."

"And booze is great too!" Kaikaina chimed in quickly.

"This will be the perfect opportunity to try out my new body glitter." Donut added in, his excitement obvious in his body language.

Simmons stared at them incredulously and then turned to look at Grif to gauge his reaction. Beyond looking a little exasperated at his sister for her booze comment and his teammate for his body glitter one, the orange-armored soldier didn't seem too upset over the idea.

He shrugged indifferently when he saw that Simmons was looking at him questioningly, "Can't really argue with their reasoning, as crazy as it is. It might be a nice change of pace if Kimball's okay with it." The fighter grinned as he added, "Besides, Kai is right about one thing: booze is great."

"Whoo-hoo! Yeah!" Kai shouted in way of agreement with her older brother, grinning.

"Maybe I'll even have a few extra rounds in her honor because she'll be stuck with training instead." Grif added in smugly, clearly wanting to get back at the younger woman for the frustrating remarks she'd made earlier.

"Aw! You suck!"

Grif laughed at her typical response to his teasing, and she stuck her tongue out at him.

Simmons looked at the two light-heartedly bickering siblings and then at both Doc and Donut discussing further party plans animatedly amongst themselves. He sighed.

Suddenly the Above Grounder felt like he might need a drink himself sooner rather than later due to all of the stress that came with the "peace talk" happenings, running into Grif again, and then all of the odd conversation snippets that he had overheard in these last couple of minutes.

---

Author's Notes: Somehow Bitters became just as much of a ninja in this fic as C.T. did and got his very own POV. Weird how that happens sometimes, as I really hadn't planned on writing from the perspective of any of the lieutenants in this fic. XD

So, yes, there's going to be a party in this story arc because, well, why not? XD I'm looking forward to it, oddly enough, because I have all of these fun little ideas for character/pairing interactions in it and I've kind of been really wanting to jump right in to writing these next couple of parts because of that! :D I'm also going to go into just what Carolina has been up to during all of this, while setting up the conclusion to the whole "peace talk" plot-line (which may or may not involve a plot twist that isn't really so much of a plot twist if you're familiar with what has happened currently in Season 12, but hopefully my explanation for it will make sense in the context of this fic!).

Now it all just comes down to writing and typing it all out. :)

{BTW, my ideal superpower would be to just have the story you're thinking in your head automatically appear on paper or in a word document without actually having to write it out! Then you can just magically change it with a thought or something whenever you need to edit it. Think of all the energy and time you'd save! XD …Yeah, that would probably be a pretty lame superpower, haha (getting a flashback to the great lame superpower debate Grif and Simmons had awhile ago, lol). But, I would definitely love to have it still. XD}

I hope you enjoyed this more or less set-up chapter. Thank you again, as always, for reading!