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.}

18. Chapter 18

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 Eighteen:

If there was one thing Leonard Church was getting fucking tired of, it was probably everyone keeping secrets from him.

He realized that probably made him seem like one of the world's biggest hypocrites given his usual outlook on life. Don't know, don't care. If knowing was going to make everything a shitload worse than it was better just to stay ignorant.

In reality though? There were only so many secrets, so many things, that someone could intentionally keep another person in the dark on before they broke. One could really only take so much, honestly.

Normally, the Above Grounder had a pretty high threshold for that sort of thing. When an individual was indirectly involved in something like Project Freelancer, you kind of had to have a good tolerance for other people keeping secrets from you in order to stay sane. Hell, look at how that whole thing had imploded!

Besides, it was more or less a survival instinct when your cousin was Agent Carolina and your on-and-off-and-how-do-you-even-classify-this-again girlfriend was the defected Agent Texas. Also, pretty much given all of the questionable things the military Church was signed up for was involved in? Well, secrets were sort of a given there too.

In hindsight, there were a lot of things that if the dark-haired soldier really reflected back on he probably should have questioned more from the very beginning.

For starters, maybe he should be trying to think more about his past. Church still couldn't quite get there yet though, it was the one thing he could almost describe himself as being afraid to do and he didn't know the fuck why that was to begin with.

Perhaps he should have looked more into Captain Flowers' death than just taking the report at face value. Maybe he should have asked why Tex and those other two Freelancers defected, or why it seemed like his entire team had been set up on that "repair" mission a while back. Or why four months ago that whole stupid peace talk fiasco had occurred, and why there seemed to be a sense of "wrongness" in the air following it.

He was even fairly certain he was seeing some oh-so-fucking-familiar green and steel armored assholes milling about sometimes at the Mother of Invention. Mercenaries shooting the breeze there didn't exactly seem to add up, so maybe he should have looked into that deeper too.

But, Church hadn't done any of those things. If he was being honest, a part of him really did not want to start doing them now either.

Some things you were just better off not knowing, especially if it meant you'd have to start questioning practically everything in your life afterwards. Because, really, who had the time to deal with that sort of shit when you were interacting with assholes all the time?

Unfortunately, though, there usually came a point where you had to stop avoiding things. He was fairly certain he had now just crossed that point of no return.

"What do you mean they don't want me knowing where this new facility is, Sheila?" Church asked, trying to process the information his teammate had just told him.

Sheila was probably the closest thing he had to a friend really, which was a bit sad when you really thought about it so he didn't.

Sheila certainly made him wonder if robots were actually capable of emotions and bonds the same way that people were. Hell, it appeared as if she had just shifted uncomfortably in the seat across from Church at his question.

Even more than usual, he was rather glad that Doc was out doing his yoga somewhere not in his general vicinity and that Simmons was off doing something probably nerdy somewhere else too. Last thing he needed was for the two of them to add even more stress to this bizarre conversation in his room in the barracks that he was having with their robotic teammate.

"Precisely that, Church." Sheila stated.

Fuck. He was pretty sure there was a tremor of unease in her usually always calm and pleasant-sounding voice, which did not bode well as she continued: "I have been ordered to not disclose the location of the new facility where my maintenance check-ups will be taking place to anyone. More than that, I cannot."

He put what she really meant then together fairly quickly, "They put a block on you."

Sheila nodded again, and he wondered if she had an actual face under that helmet if she would have been giving him an unsure look, "I do not understand why, Church. My maintenance has always been rather routine. Do they think I am not performing to the best of my programming?"

If they did, then they were assholes who didn't know what the fuck they were talking about. The cobalt-armored soldier was fairly certain she was by far the most efficient member of their entire oddball team. Which probably said more about the lack of ability of pretty much everyone else on it than anything else, really.

…Though, Sheila's maintenance had always been considered low-level classified, now that he thought about it.

He knew she went through them, same as Simmons did for his cyborg shit after the surgery, but what exactly they were for? He'd never really known.

Church had always assumed they were for basic stuff. He imagined that Above Ground would be interested in maintaining a more expensive piece of tech such as Sheila, so he'd never really given her maintenance much thought. Sheila usually couldn't say much on them either beyond the more routine stuff as she was apparently put off-line for a portion of them anyways.

At the moment, his teammate seemed worried enough as it was without him vocalizing his wandering thoughts. Fuck it! There was something about seeing that that just made him not want to make the situation worse.

Instead, the Above Grounder shook his head, "I wouldn't think so. You've been as fucking awesome as ever, Sheila."

"That is good to know." She seemed to relax somewhat, the pleasantness becoming dominant in her voice again, "Thank you, Church."

"Even if that was the case, it doesn't explain the sudden change of location from the base. Or why they would have put a block on you for it." He frowned, "Something doesn't add up."

"It is very peculiar." She tilted her head slightly, contemplating.

Maybe they were thinking of transferring her Virtual Intelligence back into a tank again, or possibly something else? While it was still very hush-hush, it seemed as if something was getting ready to go down in the war effort against the Slums.

He'd just been trying to actively avoid thinking on it too much since nothing was being said to the main troops yet, especially since his teammates seemed well aware of it too and it was putting all of them in an odd, mopey mood.

The dark-haired soldier was honestly surprised that Sheila was the first person to come to him with a concern, but given how it was a more direct one it made sense. He had been dreading having some kind of "feelings" talk with either Doc or Simmons for a while.

Council and higher-up military business could go on for quite some time in the shadows before it saw the light of day elsewhere in the army, Project Freelancer in a lot of ways was a strong testament to that as well. But, it seemed as if they were now directly involving a teammate of his and they were trying very hard to not tell anyone about it. That didn't sit too well with Church.

For one thing, he was fairly certain that the only reason he had some level of sanity at all in dealing with his human teammates was because Sheila was around to balance them out with a measure of common sense and logic.

More than that, the two of them had been together for as long as he could remember. Even before he had been recruited by Flowers.

If the Above Ground higher-ups were going to involve her in some kind of jackass operation, they sure as fuck should inform her about it. They should inform her teammates too! That was just common decency, regardless of her being "just a robot" or "military property" or whatever other type of bullshit they probably used to justify messing around with her programming.

Against his better judgment, Church made a mental list of people he could possibly get answers from about was going on.

Carolina he scratched off of said list immediately. Because, you know, he really kind of wanted to keep living, when all was said and done.

The redhead had been even more secretive as of late, and more snappish too. Half the time, she wasn't even around anymore. When she was around, he'd occasionally find her staring at him with an odd look on her face as if she was trying to place him.

Truthfully, it was more than just a little unnerving coming from his cousin.

There was one of other person he could possibly ask who might, might give him some answers depending on his mood. Church was going to at least try to find something out from him, even if Agent Washington wasn't his favorite person in the whole wide world, and vice-versa.

It was about time for some asshole to tell him what was up instead of always keeping him in the dark.

---

"…So, as you are no doubt readily aware by now, I regret to inform you that there is no longer anything to gain by continuing these charades at diplomacy." The voice speaking through the terminal was as pompous and sure of itself as ever, "Though I am sure this will not be the final time soldiers will be seen down here, the next time it will be under harsher circumstances. I am quite certain that is the only appropriate stance for Above Ground to take in regards to the continued hostilities between our two groups."

She had to give the Above Ground bastard credit there: he was a consummate actor when it came to playing the part of an aggrieved negotiator. No doubt such skill had served Malcolm Hargrove well when he was consolidating power within the Council, just as much as his very well-concealed ruthlessness and intelligence had.

"Until then, Vanessa Kimball." He carried on in the recording as if the one-sided conversation was about something as mundane as the weather instead of on canceling the "peace talks" he himself had forced with a goal in mind that was far less savory than peace, "I would have stayed to have delivered this announcement in person, but I imagine you and your cohorts are too preoccupied with other matters currently to fully appreciate the sentiment."

Matters like a comrade's betrayal, a kidnapping, the theft of an ancient alien artifact, and having to dig themselves out of miles of collapsed tunnel. She couldn't help the snort that escaped from her throat at how nonchalant he worded the last part of the message.

Would he brag about it all in the end, like Felix had? It certainly sounded like he had been holding back from doing so already from the tone of his voice in the recording.

Or would he just order them dead with a nod to a subordinate who was holding a hand over a switch that would seal the fate of everyone in the Slums once he figured out how to get his weapon running? Would there not even be a passing thought running through his mind about how many he would be killing?

Kimball felt her hands clench tightly into fists once more. The journal entry she had been delaying was all but forgotten. It was getting harder to keep her tradition going, even as she felt that in this dragging on situation she needed the cathartic release an entry usually provided her.

In the background, the final recording from Chairman Hargrove looped back to its beginning again. It had been sent a mere hour after Felix and the other mercenaries left. A mere hour after the Council representatives had discreetly departed from Level One.

"Okay, I think having heard that message once the whole way through would have driven me crazy." North's voice spoke up from the doorway, only slightly joking, "This makes for how many times now that you've had it on repeat, exactly?"

The former Freelancer wasn't trying to ridicule or criticize her with the remark. She could see the genuine curiosity and concern plastered all over his features when she glanced up from staring unseeingly at her desk towards him.

The Resistance leader sighed in response, "Do you want the number from just this week or the ones from before too?"

"It's been nearly four months, Kimball." The blonde stated it softly, as if trying to cushion some blow.

He most likely was, now that she thought of it. Reminding anyone of how much time had passed since the incident, of how beyond picking themselves up and trying to prepare for what was to come, they knew next to nothing yet about what kind of attack to expect?

It was akin to pouring salt on a very much open, very much still raw and pussing wound.

"Three months and three-point-five weeks. If you want to get technical."

She was surprised that she managed to make a wry comment, all things considered. She waved a hand through the air and the recorded message, along with her still blank log entry, halted abruptly as her terminal cut off.

"The point-five thing is maybe a bit too exact for my taste." He replied back

Kimball raised a black eyebrow at his comment in disbelief, "So says the expert sniper."

North Dakota shrugged, "Angles and points of trajectory you definitely need to be exact on." He conceded, frowning slightly: "Dates? Well, sometimes it's best not to focus on them as much."

"Even when up against a deadline you don't want to reach?"

With anyone else, perhaps this type of conversation would end up fairly quickly devolving into an argument. But, Kimball was more or less simply curious about North's potential response to the question than countering what he had said earlier.

Besides, she was far too pulled taut and drained to be snappish at allies right now.

Men like Hargrove though? Or Felix? She wondered if she would even be able to hold herself back enough to throw an explosive outburst in their direction before pulling a trigger if she was face-to-face with them.

Dwelling on what had happened constantly over the last couple of months had certainly only increased her already quite understandable anger towards them.

"Best to focus more on what you can do than what you can't." The blonde advised.

It was solid advice, all in all, and something she had tried to put into practice quite a bit recently. Her waking hours were now spent with activities such as preparedness drills, intensified training regiments, repairs to the more compromised sections of tunnels, restocking munitions and supplies, and setting up evacuation points in the city proper.

Though whether or not they would be able to do any good considering that the scope of the weapon they were potentially facing was currently not yet known remained to be seen.

The rare instances when she tried to be alone to recollect her thoughts never went as well as she hoped they would, as this instant just now sadly showcased.

Several people had voiced concern over her lack of sleep recently. Kimball had battled insomnia ever since she became the leader of the Resistance but it was even more apparent now to everyone. It had gotten to the point that Sarge had evidently asked Doctor Grey for possible sleeping medication.

She wouldn't have put it past the two of them to try sneaking it into her food or drink if they were really concerned about her health. The Slums resident couldn't decide whether to be touched by the concern or annoyed by it.

"Considering what happened and what we're potentially dealing with," she finally admitted at length, letting out a tired sigh as she did so, "That's just extremely hard to do right now."

There were no easy answers or ways out. That was for sure. The finality of Felix's last declarations, of Hargrove's not-as-subtle-as-he-pretended-they-were parting words repeating in her head just as fervently as when she had last heard them.

How could she have been so damn blind to what Felix had been up to in the first place? That was completely on her head and hers alone.

"Things will get sorted out." The purple-armored fighter patted her shoulder, "Very soon, I suspect."

"Hopefully." She sighed, suddenly finding the office almost suffocating with the heavier topics they were discussing weighing down on them, "Quite a few paybacks are in order."

As much as she would love to settle the score with Hargrove and his mercenaries, she was hardly the only person that applied to. Tucker was certainly more than itching to take them down and rescue his son in the process. No doubt C.T. would be wanting to repay the knife wound in kind. Sarge had been writing "dirt bag merc" in very small lettering on all of his shotgun shells in his spare time, and everyone else in the Resistance was understandably more than just a little upset by what had happened.

Waiting for news and prepping for an attack. It was all putting everyone on edge.

"They'll have to get in line." The former Freelancer shot her a knowing look, "Stopping whatever their goal is involving the alien relic is still top priority, I take it?"

"Always will be." Couldn't let thoughts of revenge keep them from staying grounded on what really mattered: ensuring the continued existence of the Slums in light of Hargrove's desire to create some kind of super-weapon.

Though she couldn't help the small smirk that formed on her face as she added, "But the payback's a close second."

"Sarge will definitely be glad to hear that, along with a few others." North turned then, motioning outside the hallway as if he was remembering something, "Actually, speaking of Sarge, he was asking for you earlier."

Ah, so that explained North's friendly visit a bit more.

Most fighters steered clear of her office when she was in there unless they needed her for something. Apparently the recording replays were more than a bit disconcerting to them. She felt bad about that, in a way. Perhaps it would just be better for everyone in the long run, herself included, if she just deleted the fucking message and got it over with.

Her mind automatically went into Worst Case Scenario Mode at North's comment, wondering why Sarge hadn't simply come and gotten her himself. The older soldier was more than welcome in her office, after all. He also had no issues with dragging her out of there in the past whenever he had felt that she'd needed it despite her technically being higher in rank.

He had done so quite recently, in fact, telling her that "You've squirreled yourself away for so long you must've been talking to imaginary friends and that just ain't healthy."

That was right before he remarked on how he should know because sometimes he talked to his shotgun in an attempt to cover his concern with humor, though that tidbit probably would have had more impact if it hadn't been true.

Had something happened to Sarge? Or to one of the lieutenants during training, or…?

North was able to read the growing worried expression crossing over her face fairly accurately. He held up a hand to halt her inner ramblings about injury, explosions, and imminent fiery death.

"It's nothing bad, Kimball." He assured her, smiling slightly, "Actually, it's fairly good news. Surprisingly."

"Oh?" She relaxed somewhat, taking in a deep breath to calm herself down, "We haven't had too much of that recently."

It was meant to be something of a joke, but it was a truth that sadly hit far too close to home.

"Sarge figured you might need some because of that." He glanced around the corridor as if looking for someone, "Though we need to also pick up Caboose along the way."

"Caboose?" Kimball was surprised that Sarge would be seeking out the blond-haired youngest member of Blue Team specifically.

Usually he tended to always prefer calling on the "rival" colored squad to his own as a group, if only for efficiency's sake for his strategies. Or merely to rub it in their collective faces if he felt that Red Team had done something better than them.

She still wasn't entirely certain why he felt as strongly as he did in the whole rivalry thing since that hadn't even been the reason she'd divided the two teams up in the first place. To say that the older soldier had eccentric thought processes was a bit of an understatement.

Sarge seemed to like Caboose well enough though. Or, at the very least, he tolerated him more than his other self-professed "competitors."

But, given Caboose's odd interpretations of assignments and his perplexing ability to cause most machines he came into contact with to somehow catch on fire, the Blue Team member was usually not the first person someone called on at base for assignments.

So, Sarge asking for Michael J. Caboose specifically must have meant— had he actually managed to find a way to get him operational again?

She cast a questioning look North's way to see if her suspicions were correct, trying not to get too hopeful or optimistic.

North smiled slightly though, giving a nod in confirmation to her silent inquiry, "Sarge thought it would be best if Caboose was one of the first people who welcomes him back."

It was something of positive news at least, particularly for Caboose then. It had been hard enough seeing the normally far-too-carefree young man depressed and anxious on top of everything else that was going on.

For a brief moment, Vanessa Kimball felt more energized and eager than she had in quite a while, "Let's not keep him waiting too long then."

North nodded before adding, "Sarge suggested that target practice might be in order to celebrate later too."

Kimball couldn't help but almost laugh. Leave it to Sarge to use the excuse of celebrating as a reason to shoot at things.

Of course, he also used it to blow off steam as well. It was his preferred method of dealing with stress, as it were. When she had first become leader of the Resistance, he had taken her to target practice more times than she could recall for that very reason.

Perhaps that was yet another reason as to why he had wanted to specifically include her in an event that would help lift Caboose's spirits.

She smiled slightly as they made their way through the corridors, searching for the Blue Team member in question, "I'd be all for that too, North."

No doubt the targets Sarge had in mind would have distinct shades of orange and steel to them.

---

Simmons closed his eyes, counting backwards in his head from one hundred.

Well, he was trying to do so at any rate but ultimately failing miserably. He felt bad that yet another of Doc's helpful relaxation techniques that his medic teammate had suggested to him was going to waste.

At this point, he was fairly certain it had nothing to do with said suggestions being faulty, but more to do with the person attempting them. The redhead really was beginning to suspect that "anxious" was just his default setting.

But, one could hardly blame him for that at the moment considering where he was and who he was waiting for.

Being in the building that housed the Council was always nerve-wracking. The atmosphere there made the more top-level security floors of the Mother of Invention feel downright cozy by comparison. Being there because of a summons from a Council representative was all the more-so nerve-wracking.

Particularly due to having received said summons through his father of all people, though it figured that one of the rare instances when his surviving parent bothered attempting to get into contact with him was to give him an order.

His father hadn't even bothered asking how he was doing, or even remotely bothered to look him in the eye. The older man had even become increasingly annoyed with Simmons' stammering attempts at making small talk throughout the whole unpleasant episode.

Thinking back on that whole experience while sitting here caused all sorts of lingering issues to come to the surface. It was a vicious cycle, really.

First he'd think something negative himself. Then his thoughts would drift to other things, such as his relationship with his dad like in this case. Then they'd wander to the whole tense current stand-off situation with the Slums, which would ultimately have him thinking about the people he'd met there from the Resistance and elsewhere. Then his thoughts always landed on his last conversation with Kaikaina before they'd had to leave in a hurry a while ago after the peace talks had fallen through.

He still wasn't entirely sure what the fuck had happened there, really. Carolina and Church would both narrow their eyes the second it seemed as if you would so much as ask them about it. Church's reaction he suspected was more because he didn't know himself either and was tired of getting asked about it from his curious and-a-bit-more-upset-it-happened-as-it-did teammates. Carolina's reaction was simply because she felt it was none of their business in the first place.

…Which, of course, would all somehow lead him to thinking about Grif.

Thinking on all of that in turn would bring the Above Grounder back to thinking just how useless he was in the face of everything that was happening.

He sighed, already feeling as if said cycle was about to take hold of him again as he sat there. It was, sadly, becoming much more routine now.

"Private Simmons?" A somewhat high-pitched, nervous-sounding voice broke through his thoughts thankfully before they dwelled any longer on troubling topics.

Having someone interrupt that was truthfully a blessing.

The person fidgeting in front of him was a blond-haired man who appeared to be middle aged. Certain spots of his hair were streaked with gray already, and there were a few worry lines creasing his face.

He was smiling politely, the expression seeming almost out of place in a building where even the interior decorating seemed cold.

In a strange way, he almost reminded him a bit of Captain Flowers somehow, albeit with a much meeker demeanor.

Something changed in his expression though, and he frowned slightly as he regarded Simmons with an odd look.

"Good heavens, have you been sitting here for long?" The man asked him, glancing reproachfully at a wall-terminal across from them where the time was being displayed. He was wearing white armor with a golden trim, though his helmet was nowhere to be seen.

"Er…" Simmons blinked, brain scrambling to figure out if he recalled who this person addressing him was and completely drawing a blank. He was fairly certain this was the first time they'd met, despite how the stranger had known who he was.

The cyborg's obvious confusion registered with the blonde, because the man sighed. "Ah, that's right. We haven't officially met yet, have we?" He asked, "No wonder you look so startled at a stranger accosting you out of the blue like that."

A hand was promptly thrust out in Simmons' direction, "I am Donald Doyle, personal secretary to the Council."

Simmons shook his hand quickly, the name sounding vaguely familiar. The personal secretary often was the one who posted information that the Council wanted given to either the military or the general public, he recalled. Being in charge of the business and personal affairs of so many top-level officials was quite an accomplishment, and no doubt very nerve-wracking in and of itself.

Doyle had a fairly strong grip despite seeming to be somewhat timid.

"I recognized you from the Council records." Doyle continued, his tone conversational and still oddly out of place given the more professional and rather sterile decorum of the building they were standing in.

Honestly, Doyle was the first person Simmons had encountered here who seemed capable of a genuine smile. It made him seem even more out of place by contrast, "And, er, of course, your father as well. He's a well-known figure here."

"Of course." Simmons tried his hardest to not stutter, and he held back on the biting thought that the only reason that happened to be was because his father barely spent time anywhere else.

He wasn't sure if the polite smile he had put on his face during this exchange had taken on a watery hue or not. Knowing his luck, most likely.

Though, thankfully, there was something else that Doyle had said that the redhead could latch his brain onto instead to distract himself from his usual self-defeating awkwardness.

"C—Council records, sir?" There was a slight squeak in his voice then, but he ignored it.

Doyle was no doubt referring to the summons he had gotten today, because what else could he mean? Simmons' records were pretty laughable, so he doubted the Council paid him much heed compared to kick-ass Freelancers like Carolina or Washington. But, the comment helped push him past dwelling too much on his rocky relationship with his father, so it was worth asking for elaboration all the same.

Although, given how that was the case, why Simmons had been called upon to come down here at all on his own and without even his team was still a bit of a mystery.

"Your name comes up quite a bit in meetings." Doyle responded back casually, as if that should have been fairly common knowledge.

Simmons stared at the older man in stunned silence for a few moments processing his words, causing the secretary to shift uncomfortably under his green and red-tinted gaze.

"Um, c—could you possibly elaborate on that, sir?" He finally managed to get out.

"You didn't really know, Private Simmons?" Doyle frowned, asking in an unsure tone.

This was the first fucking time Simmons had heard about it. He nodded his head in confirmation.

"It's because of the…" Here Doyle paused, as if trying to come up with the best word to use next. He actually struck Simmons as someone who was better suited to diplomatic measures.

"Ah, cybernetic enhancements, I'm sure. That project is discussed quite regularly here."

Simmons frowned, his response being automatic, "That project was a failure."

He should know, after all, having volunteered and gone through that whole nightmare of an ordeal. The moment when the doctors had declared the failure verdict was forever etched into his mind as one of many poor choices made during Richard "Dick" Simmons' life to be summed up quite succinctly and in perfect technical jargon.

Doyle looked taken aback, though after a moment of inner debate he seemed to come up with a response.

"Are you sure?" He simply asked, lowering his voice a few decibels, "Perhaps that was the official line on paper, but the project seems to still be very much underway from the talk around the table."

Now that wasn't remotely vague or creepy or anything. A shiver went down the length of Simmons' body at Doyle's statement, though it was hard to refute it without knowing the full story.

He knew enough about how the Council tended to operate now to know that sometimes what they said their stance on things was to the public was very much the exact opposite of what it actually was in reality.

But, why lie about something like that at all in the first place? Especially to one of the participants?

The aide sighed, patting Simmons' shoulder slightly in what was no doubt meant to be a sympathetic gesture, "They can be a secretive bunch, I know. But, it is usually for the right reasons." He said, his tone taking on an apologetic note, "Perhaps I was in the wrong for saying anything in the first place. Pay what I said before no mind, Private Simmons."

Well-intentioned as Donald Doyle seemed to be, it was fairly obvious in this instance that he probably knew even less about how the Council operated than Simmons did if he truly thought that. Then again, the government was very good at manipulating the facts in general.

Perhaps being outside of the radar was helpful in a way at keeping one more aware of what reality was, even if you still weren't as in the loop as you would like to be. There were generally a lot of "right reasons" lacking in Above Ground politics.

If what Doyle had slipped out was truthful, was that the real reason behind his continued maintenance checkups? He'd always assumed it was for health reasons, that although the project had been deemed a failure, they wanted to make sure the resources weren't going completely to waste still. Money and all of that, after all.

But, if that wasn't the case, then…

Doyle was waiting for him to reply with something, looking apologetically distraught over having potentially said something either out of line or upsetting.

Simmons was trying to come up with some assurance to give the secretary despite his brain already working overtime. Now, thinking about the cybernetics again made his mechanical parts ache as if to just taunt him with their continued existence.

He was only able to get out the brilliant starting note of "Umm…" before being, thankfully or unthankfully, interrupted.

"Ah, Private Simmons." The soothing and yet oddly monotone voice of the man Simmons only knew as the Counselor filtered in from behind them in the waiting area, "My apologies for not getting in contact with you earlier, but very recent matters have unfortunately made it necessary to postpone your summons."

The redhead couldn't help but jump a little at the presence of the person who was, for all accounts and purposes, the right-hand man of the mysterious Director of Project Freelancer. The Counselor was one of the last people the cyborg had expected to run into while in the headquarters of the Council.

Though, come to think of it, he had been oddly absent from the Mother of Invention for quite some time now. Even someone like Simmons, who didn't have clearance for the higher floors of the base, was aware of that. Particularly with how quickly rumors spread.

The man picked up on his surprise, giving the odd slight smile that never quite seemed to reach his eyes that Simmons remembered from the few times he'd met the Counselor before, "Project Freelancer is not quite as…active as it used to be, as you are aware." He explained, "I am assisting Chairman Hargrove with other matters in the meanwhile."

Simmons could only nod mutely, fairly certain that snippet of information was the only bit he would receive on the subject.

Doyle looked at the Counselor quizzically, "So it was Chairman Hargrove who requested to see Private Simmons and not the Council then?" He asked, "I hadn't received any notice before now."

The dark-skinned man turned to the Council secretary and smiled in what appeared to be an attempt at looking good-natured, "My apologies for that, Secretary Doyle." He stated calmly, "I am not as familiar with the proper procedures here yet. But, yes, I had arranged a meeting with Private Simmons on Chairman Hargrove's behalf."

"Ah, I see." Doyle nodded his head as if that clearly explained everything. Perhaps it did, in the administrative field: "I suppose that is that then, and the matter's settled."

"I shall be sure to keep you and the rest of the Council informed of Chairman Hargrove's actions in the future." The Counselor continued, "When they coincide with official Council business."

There was an awkward pause from Doyle following that remark, and Simmons wondered if there was something said between the lines just then. He sure as fuck felt uncomfortable just standing near the two men at the moment.

Doyle managed to shake whatever it was off a couple minutes later though, "Yes, well, thank you for letting me know of the mix-up."

"Of course." The Counselor turned to Simmons then, "I was arranging the meeting mainly due to the fact that the location for your maintenance has been changed, but that has to be regretfully postponed for now. I will have to send you the new location and date later."

He looked at him carefully, as if checking the soldier over, "Are you feeling at all unwell, as if you need to be seen more quickly than usual, Private Simmons?"

No more than he usually did when it came to the cybernetic enhancements. Then again, it wasn't as if the maintenance checks actually helped improve much anyways. Simmons always felt rather uncomfortable in his body now in general, though events as a whole these last few months had done a number on him otherwise.

His current new mantra in life was "Don't think about the Slums right now, or Kai. And especially not Grif."

"No, sir." Simmons shook his head, though he couldn't help but ask, "Chairman Hargrove is overseeing my maintenance?"

The Counselor smiled again, "I can understand how you didn't know before now, as it wasn't common knowledge." He informed him, "He was the backer of the project for the Council. Naturally, he has a vested concern for its candidates due to some of the unforeseen difficulties it has had."

"I thought the project failed." The redhead stated bluntly, still surprised by the wording they were using. The Counselor was describing it as if the project had just hit some sort of rough patch they were trying to figure out instead of being halted outright as the cyborg had been told so long ago.

"From a more direct military viewpoint, yes." The Counselor was glancing down disinterestedly at a datapad he had been holding the whole time, "But there is still the possibility of it having benefits we hadn't thought of from non-combative stances."

Exhaust all possibilities, especially when a whole lot of time and money and resources had been put into something. It made a very logical sort of sense, but there was still something bothering him about it.

"No one's really told me what those might be, sir."

Maybe Simmons was crossing a line there, but he had volunteered for the cybernetic procedure and had gone through a lot as a result. If his body was considered part of the project now, shouldn't he know more about it in general?

The Counselor looked up then, face unreadable for a moment, "In due time, Private Simmons." He said at length, his tone taking on its soothing quality again, "Once we know for certain what exactly they might be."

"But…"

If he knew for certain what they were rooting around for inside him, maybe he could— well, he wasn't sure what he could or would do in that case.

Especially since a nagging voice in the back of his mind was screaming at him that they probably knew well enough what they thought those so-called "benefits" were, and just didn't think he had the right to know.

He should have suspected that long ago, with how uneasy the check-ups and the quiet way they were handled had always made him felt. He was kicking himself mentally for having not really thought of why that was until just now.

"The doctors should be able to more accurately answer your concerns at your next check-up, Private Simmons."

A postponement, then. One that he knew would lead nowhere given the usual interactions with his "doctors" ever since his check-ups after the surgery had started.

The Above Grounder nodded his head though, knowing there was no point in stating that out loud, "Of course, sir."

The Counselor left then, on whatever urgent business he'd needed to delve into.

Doyle cleared his throat, looking even more uncomfortable than Simmons felt after that exchange, "Well, er, that cleared up some of the confusion, I take it?" He asked, sounding rather unsure himself.

It hadn't. Not really. It had only added a shitload more of it to the usual confusion and doubt the redhead always felt.

But, maybe it was a sign that he finally needed to do something about it instead. There was only one person he thought of that he could probably ask for more information from, especially considering that the Council was involved.

Simmons sighed, praying that Agent Carolina was in a slightly more giving mood today than usual. Or at least not in a "I'll kill you where you stand for so much as asking a question!" one.

---

"All right now. Hold still, please!"

C.T. winced at the sharp poke in her side, the pain causing an involuntary flinch of her entire body away from the offending instrument.

Doctor Grey stood bent over the former Freelancer with her finger still pointed out, lips pursed and dark eyes glancing at her patient's suddenly sheepish face accusingly.

"That was the exact opposite of holding still." She informed her bluntly.

"Sorry. That area is still pretty sensitive." C.T. mumbled, holding up the edges of the shirt she was wearing so that the doctor could get a proper look at where her wound had been.

It was now scarred over spectacularly in what Private Palomo had described as a "very badass" way. That was before Lieutenant Smith had reproached him for the remark when the newer recruits had first checked up on her following her injury.

Doctor Grey sighed, taking on the sort of tone one might try on a child who was trying to test boundaries, "Of course it is, sweetie." She told her, "You were stabbed pretty deeply there just a little while ago. That takes some time to recover from even though someone has done a very impressive job of closing you up."

"Yes, you're right." For what felt like the umpteenth time since she had come to, the brunette started, "Thank you for that again, Doctor. If you hadn't been there, I'd probably—"

"Not be thanking me endlessly for the millionth time. Yes, I know." Doctor Grey grinned, "Though the examinations and putting my know-how to use are always gratitude enough for me, you know."

She gave a wink in the direction of C.T.'s exposed midsection, causing her patient to flush slightly.

"I mean, after all, a doctor who doesn't have any patients to sew back up is liable to get a little stir-crazy." She continued, "I try to keep busy with some other hobbies, but you should see the weird looks you get when you're bored and try dissecting your food in the mess hall."

One learned early on when dealing with Emily Grey that it was best to try to not dwell too much on some of the more questionable commentary she made.

In a way, conversing with her was a bit like conversing with Donut. It was no wonder, then, that the two of them seemed to get along swimmingly whenever they were in the same room together.

The doctor motioned that the former Freelancer could lower her shirt again, her attention focused on the datapad nearby that she was swiftly entering information into.

"Besides, I should be thanking you guys for setting me up down here." She paused for a moment, frowning as she contemplated how to best finish that comment, "Given the circumstances and everything, I really don't think Above Ground military would be terribly accommodating of me anymore."

"Probably not, unfortunately." C.T. smiled sadly, "Sorry."

"It was bound to happen sooner or later, I think." She tapped her chin thoughtfully, "My superiors were complaining that I was asking too much about classified projects that went through the medical channels. It was more or less just scientific curiosity for me at the time because I get bored if I don't have something new to observe, but I think they probably assumed I was suspecting that something wasn't quite adding up."

She glanced over at C.T., frowning: "Which doesn't seem too far from the truth now."

"Most likely. There are lots of little questionable side projects set-up throughout the military by higher-ups."

C.T. should know, after all, considering how she had been involved in one of the larger ones for quite some time before realizing the full extent of what was going on.

Doctor Grey had pretty much commandeered the room that served as a makeshift clinic at the base since arriving there.

That had truthfully been a pretty welcome change of pace for the Resistance medics who normally worked there, as many of them hadn't been well-trained to begin with. They had learned basic First Aid, but didn't have a lot of practical medical knowledge beyond that.

As a result, they had been more than glad to have Doctor Grey's input, as it also gave them more time to devote to other duties since they also performed as fighters too. It seemed as if that was what most of them were doing at the moment, given that C.T. and the doctor were the only people there now.

All in all, it said something positive about Doctor Grey that she had adjusted to her new situation as well as she had given the massive upheaval of her life that had occurred only a few months ago.

Of course, the fact that she had tended to a lot of injuries following Felix's betrayal had helped alleviate many of the usual suspicions or hostility people in the Resistance tended to have initially towards anyone who had been associated in the past with Above Ground.

Any of the few people who might still think that way were more than willing to keep Doctor Grey at a respectfully wide berth, particularly after she demonstrated what she could do with a steak knife in front of someone who had tried messing with her early on. Some still shudder involuntarily even now if they hear her so much as hum or laugh.

"Which explains how you and the other Freelancers in the Resistance came to be down here, am I right?" Doctor Grey looked up from her datapad to fix her with a knowing look, "I am fairly certain the old commando guy and Caboose were in similar situations as well."

C.T. simply stared at her, rather surprised by the last line of her statement in particular. The remark about her and the other former Freelancer agents wasn't terribly shocking, as they were pretty well-known figures at the Mother of Invention when the project had been in full swing. C.T. had even found out that apparently Doctor Grey had been stationed there at least for a little while during one of her recovery checkups.

Sarge's connection to Above Ground was lesser known though. It wasn't like the older soldier was trying to actively keep it a secret, but he just never seemed all that eager to talk much about it beyond an occasional odd reference or anecdote. Caboose's was even less known, as he hadn't even been a part of the military before someone in his past had decided he just wasn't fit to live topside anymore.

Doctor Grey smirked at her expression, "Oh, I am very good at observing things." She remarked gleefully, apparently relishing the chance to catch someone off-guard.

"I see." The former Freelancer had to admit she was somewhat impressed.

"Not to mention that Sarge asked me about a possible autopsy report I may have seen, and Caboose likes talking a whole lot to keep his mind off of injections. Somehow talking about favorite lollipop flavors went into how a vending machine catching fire up in Above Ground was in no way his fault."

C.T. couldn't help but smile at that last comment, as most of Caboose's machine stories seemed to end with some piece of machinery inexplicably catching on fire through no fault of his own.

It was one of the main reasons why her blue-armored teammate wasn't allowed to operate any vehicles or ovens on base anymore.

"Of course, it's good to get him talking in general. The poor guy's been pretty mopey whenever I've seen him recently, and he was pretty lively at that bar outing before." The doctor noted, looking almost sad at the change in character as she added in sympathetically, "Losing his friend must have been incredibly hard on him."

In a lot of ways, even that was a bit of an understatement given how devastated Caboose had been since. Caboose had been extremely attached to Freckles, after all.

On top of losing his mechanical friend, there was also Felix's betrayal. She hated herself for not catching on to that sooner given the mercenary's actions. Had he been purposefully testing the waters at times just to see how far he could let the act drop before someone would catch on?

Junior's kidnapping had also hit Caboose surprisingly hard, as had the injury and loss of several others in the Resistance he had been more or less acquainted with. There was even her own medical injury to contend with. Caboose had acted as though C.T. had been going to die any second while she had been in immediate recovery. Lieutenant Smith and Donut had to both try their hardest to assure him that wasn't the case and to get his mind off of things for both Caboose's own sake and C.T.'s healing.

That wasn't even taking into account how attached her teammate had gotten to Above Grounders like Agent Washington or Leonard Church as well, who they now weren't really all that sure what was going on with due to a lack of communication. Hargrove seemed to be tightening his security in Above Ground to keep intelligence from slipping down to the Slums even more now that he had his hands on the relic.

Unfortunately, there wasn't too much she could do to help her fragile teammate's troubled thoughts and depression as she had been dealing with a lot on her own plate as well. Which sucked royally, as she'd gotten oddly attached to the more innocent-minded Blue Team member.

So, instead, she focused on Doctor Grey's other remark, "Were you able to help Sarge with the autopsy report?"

C.T. had to admit, she was a tad curious. Perhaps the report he wanted information on had been for a comrade of his from when he had been in the Above Ground military. She knew next to nothing about who he had worked with during that time.

Doctor Grey frowned, shaking her head, "Afraid not. There were quite a few medical reports that were always sealed. Half the time you only knew about them through word of mouth because they weren't even in the proper databases." She looked thoughtful, "All I could confirm from memory was that he was correct on the date."

When C.T. stared at her questioningly, she shrugged, "As I said before, I get curious and my memory is quite good."

Following that boast though, the doctor fixed the fighter with a sharp look, "But that's all you're going to get from me on that subject." She stated with finality, "If you want more information on it, you'll have to ask him yourself."

It made sense, the brunette supposed, "Patient confidentiality?"

The woman shrugged, "Not really, since he asked off-record and it has nothing to do with his personal medical history. I just don't think it's my place to say anymore unless I know for certain he's okay with it being common knowledge."

She made a face moments later though, shuddering, "Don't get me started on patient confidentiality though! I really hate that! You have no idea how many times I've wanted to tell someone not to date another person because I know exactly what is causing their rash and how it gets passed to someone else."

"That would be problematic." C.T. remarked sympathetically, having to really fight back the urge to smile slightly at the mental imagery that put in her head and the doctor's obvious exasperation.

"Of course, letting someone think I'd tell on them can have a pretty good effect too." There was a maniacal gleam in her eye as she let out a small laugh, face lighting up with nostalgia, "Medicine can be a powerful tool in someone's social arsenal for all sorts of reasons!"

Following that remark, the brunette made a mental note that it was probably a very smart idea to always try to stay on Doctor Grey's good side.

The dark-skinned woman waved her hand slightly, the smile diminishing on her face as if she was trying to focus back on business after reliving a particularly joyous memory.

"Anyways, beyond recommending that you not do anything too extreme still, I'd say you're healing up rather nicely." She nodded her head as if confirming her assessment to herself again, smirking slightly, "That's the miracle of what rest, time, cutting edge medical tools, and a person who knows how to use them are capable of!"

C.T. nodded thankfully again, though her slight smile turned into a wistful frown moments later, "I do wish the rest part hadn't come from having no idea of what to do next though."

There had been no word from anyone about what was going on in Above Ground, as far as she knew, which was a lot more troublesome than anyone would care to admit given just what they were now dealing with.

After all, not only was there essentially a ticking time-bomb over everyone's heads, but Junior had been taken as well. According to York, both Washington and Carolina were putting themselves at a lot of risk trying to figure out where the relic had been taken to following its removal from the tunnels.

Four months of mostly silence given that was enough to make anyone anxious.

Doctor Grey seemed to pick up on what she was referring to fairly quickly, a frown crossing over her own features, "Yes, well, I suppose that is a mixed blessing. All things considered."

"Tell me about it." There was a scoff from the doorway just then, and the two women looked up to see Lavernius Tucker standing there.

His arms were crossed over his chest and he had a rather familiar impatient look plastered over his face, "Waiting with all of this bullshit going on is the fucking worst."

There was a whole lot that wasn't said lingering behind that statement, and C.T. didn't really have to dwell too much on why Tucker felt that way. After all, it was fairly obvious to everyone.

Doctor Grey glanced between both teammates, standing up then and heading past the teal-armored fighter in the doorway.

"Well, I should probably get going now. Speaking of Caboose reminded me that I promised to tell him whenever that new shipment of lollipops came in." She stated, grinning, "I just got a ton of them finally along with the new scalpels I'd ordered. I can't wait to test those suckers out!"

She stopped walking for a moment to glance back at C.T., "Just a bit more rest and you should be good to go, more or less!"

"Thanks again, Doctor." She inclined her head slightly in the dark-haired woman's direction.

"Oh, you can thank me by letting me stitch you up again whenever you're life-threateningly injured!" The smile Doctor Grey threw at her as she waved off the former Freelancer's gratitude was blindingly white, and she quickly turned it to Tucker, "Same to you, teal guy!"

"Gee, thanks." Tucker moved out of her way as she bounded down the hall.

Judging by the uneasy expression that flittered across her teammate's face, C.T. had a feeling he was probably going to be even more careful with avoiding injury so long as Doctor Grey was handling check-ups at base.

"Teammate" was probably not the right term for Tucker anymore, but it was the only one he allowed her to use. Really, he was more or less her leader, given his longer experience in the Resistance and the track record he never seemed to fully want to acknowledge.

"She really does know her stuff." She tried putting in helpfully.

"Oh, I know. She's really good. Probably the best fucking doctor we've had around here in awhile." He shrugged before adding, "But she also happens to be batshit nuts."

No real argument there. The white-armored doctor's heart seemed to be in the right place, but her mental state at times was a bit more questionable.

Tucker turned then to regard his teammate, a serious look crossing over his features as he did so, "It is awesomely good news that you're pretty much back to normal though, C.T."

There was a lot within that remark that wasn't said as well, she noted. Her teammate had gotten into the habit of sneaking in on her checkups since the injury, most likely due to why she had been injured in the first place.

Perhaps Tucker felt guilty that she had been injured trying to rescue his son, though she wasn't fully certain. He would change the subject pretty quickly whenever she tried to ask about it, and had gotten snappish in the past if she tried persisting to do so. He often became snappish in general if someone ever mentioned what happened to Junior, but that was understandable.

"It is good news, definitely." She stated, frowning slightly at Tucker, "Though I agree that the waiting does suck majorly."

There was a lot more she wanted to follow through with from that line of thought, truthfully.

"I'm sorry I wasn't able to get Junior out of there."

It was always on the tip of her tongue, but she would stop short of saying it outright, just as he always seemed to stop short of admitting why he always magically showed up whenever she had a scheduled appointment with Doctor Grey.

Still, she suspected he probably guessed what she was thinking regardless if the knowing look crossing over his eyes as he nodded in response to her earlier assessment was any indication. Their dynamic had definitely shifted a lot due to the events of four months ago. It oddly seemed more trusting now.

Apparently, getting stabbed while trying to fight off a betrayer and rescue a child was enough to overcome that awkward hurdle of her having been connected to the Insurrection. Who knew?

She probably would have preferred a less painful way herself, but at least now Donut wouldn't be as worried about the two of them getting along as he had been. In fact, a few weeks ago the pink-armored soldier told her he had apparently been "this close" to making them write friendship journals. So they may have dodged a bullet there in terms of Donut's well-meaning, but rather awkward attempts at building up team dynamics.

She supposed the reason for the change in their relationship counted as what Doctor Grey would call a "mixed blessing."

"It sucks major ass. That's all there is to say." Tucker put in his two cents, and a darkened look crossed over his features, "That prick Washington said he'd have news a while ago, and so far there's been a whole lot of nothing on that front."

He sounded aggravated given the circumstances. They all were, truthfully. Still, there was something almost along the lines of an undercurrent of worry in his voice too. It was most definitely for Junior and probably also for what the lack of information meant for both his son and all of them in general, but there was a slight twitch in his facial muscles when he mentioned Washington as well.

C.T. raised an eyebrow slightly, but decided it was probably best to not mention it. Maybe Tucker didn't even realize what he'd done there, and she had just gotten a better dynamic with him in the past couple of months. She was not about to jeopardize it.

Though if they were ever able to speak on friendlier terms for more than five seconds in the near future, she might be able to tease her childhood friend over it. To be able to do that again would be a nice change of pace for both of them, she thought wistfully.

"He's no doubt trying his hardest. Washington is pretty stubborn when his mind is set on something." She stated instead, "It's one of the reasons he managed to make it into Freelancer despite how clumsy he can be."

That diverted Tucker's attention from his trepidation for a moment at least, because he fixed her with an incredulous stare, "You're fucking kidding me."

She shook her head, smiling slightly, "My parents used to hide the vases when he came over because he'd always somehow trip and knock over shelves. There was a running tab on how much damage he caused Project Freelancer equipment until he just really devoted himself to training. I think it was up in the thousands, last time I'd checked."

Even after that though, you'd occasionally catch a swear word over the comm-link whenever Wash ended up slipping after a jump or tripped over a wire. Not to mention all of the times when he would just forget that the radio was on in the first place and coo about cats he'd seen recently.

Poor guy had to develop quite a thick skin when it came to the good-natured ribbing from teammates, though it probably did make him actually try all the harder during missions.

Tucker laughed, a genuine one for the first time in what seemed like ages, "Oh man, that's good! You're going to have to tell me a shitload of those stories when we have the time. If he pulls through on his end later, I definitely want to be able to rub that in his face given all the criticism he's thrown my way!"

She grinned, "Sure, I'd be glad to."

The brunette did feel a twinge of guilt towards her childhood friend and former teammate for probably providing a wealth of embarrassing blackmail information on him to Tucker in the future, but it was good to see Tucker's mood be a bit lightened at the prospect. Even if it was only temporary. She had a suspicion that, given what Washington was doing now, he would probably be okay with it too.

It was strange how bonds could form out of random meetings, but given her own experience with that subject it wasn't too surprising.

Still in a bit more of a jovial mindset now than he had been in earlier, Tucker grinned and motioned to the doorway.

"Sarge said he had a surprise for Caboose that we might want to check out as well. I'm betting it will be entertaining, at least." He glanced over at her, "Want to head there now?"

She gave a slight nod in confirmation, her curiosity mildly piqued.

As she met her teammate at the door, Tucker's expression turned serious again.

The worry and stress were apparent in his eyes, just below the surface, but there was a glint of something else too: "If Washington doesn't come through for whatever reason, screw it! We're just going to have to save Junior and kick Hargrove's ass ourselves, right?"

"That's the plan." She smiled slightly as Tucker nodded his head, looking rather glad that she'd agreed with his battle plan.

She was rather relieved, actually.

Despite the obvious concern and anger that had been constants in Tucker's demeanor recently, the determined spark that C.T. had noticed in the Resistance fighter when they had first met was still as strong as ever.

---

Time was running out.

That thought alone kept running through Washington's head as he stared at the terminal before him, mentally trying to will some kind of intel or hint to suddenly appear that would provide him with a clue. He just needed an idea on where to look.

Doing that, unfortunately, yielded the exact same result as when he had attempted it twenty minutes ago. Which was pretty much what happened every other time he'd ever tried that technique, dating all the way back to when he was eight. For his birthday that year he'd really wanted a poster of a cat riding a skateboard for his room and had gotten a sweater from his grandmother instead.

Worst birthday ever. Of all time.

He sighed, not knowing what was more infuriating: that he had spent so long with his head buried in the sand, as Tex had so eloquently put it, or that it appeared as if now he was getting phased out of things completely by Hargrove.

If the Freelancer had had his cover blown, he'd be dead, so that wasn't it. But, clearly he was being considered potentially untrustworthy. Which, given what he'd been up to recently, wasn't exactly untrue.

That or he was no longer all that useful to whatever plans the Chairman was cooking up involving the relic or Junior. Really, quite the major blow to Washington's self-esteem there considering how much of a bastard the man was.

He hadn't really seen or heard much about the mercenaries led by Locus and Felix. Not since they had retrieved the relic and helped land a pretty devastating blow to the Resistance in the process.

The location of where Hargrove had put the relic for his research seemed to be quite heavily classified, and no doubt he was paying the mercenaries quite a bit of credit to make sure said location and the relic stayed away from prying eyes.

More than likely, the same level of secrecy applied for a live alien child too given past encounters with them. Washington suspected that wherever Junior was being kept was probably very close to the artifact as well. Or, at least he hoped that was the case, as it would certainly make things that much easier whenever he did find out where at least one of them was being held.

He had seen Wyoming in passing, but his "accomplice" Freelancer teammate never seemed willing to stay long enough to chat. Given how Washington had been rather chilly to him after he had tried taking him out along with North, his lack of conversation was more than understandable. Trying to suddenly act differently in order to get information would have put Wyoming on alert. His teammate was intelligent and could definitely spot when others were attempting to play him.

If he was acting on Hargrove's orders while at the Mother of Invention, Wyoming was doing a very good job of balancing it with his activities as a Freelancer. Considering how Washington had been doing exactly the same thing before, that was more than likely true.

The truth was that there were far too little leads to go on. Above Ground military had been placed on high alert after the peace talks were declared a "failure" on paper. With the heightened security that went into effect as a result, trying to discreetly gain intel on secret projects sponsored by corrupt high end government officials was a very delicate business.

Not to mention that said secret projects involved potential doomsday devices, as well as the son of a person you actually found yourself tolerating more and more despite how exasperated you could get with them?

Well, that was certainly a recipe for strayed nerves when you already felt as if you were trying to find a needle in a haystack. If he could just get some kind of clue…

"Working late again, asshole?" Leonard Church's voice spoke up from behind him, and the blonde nearly jumped.

Church rarely came up to the top levels of the Mother of Invention despite having the clearance for it now thanks to working under Carolina, so he'd been one of the last people Washington expected to sneak up on him here.

The Above Grounder sighed at the smirk forming on the goateed man's face in response to his reaction. Just great. Now he had to put up with Church's aggressive outbursts and amusement at his expense to boot.

There was far too much going on right now to have to put up with this bullshit.

"In case you hadn't noticed just walking around on base or in the city, tensions are rather high right now, Church." He stated plainly, gray eyes narrowing in clear aggravation over how Church had interrupted him, "I'm rather busy trying to prevent all-out war."

"What, by sitting at a terminal all day?" Church whistled, mock impressed, "Man, they really do pay you Freelancer dicks the big money for a reason, huh?"

Washington sighed. He knew well enough ever since that whole "babysitting" escapade he wasn't one of Church's favorite people in the world. Then again, judging by Church's usual attitude towards society in general, that list was probably exceedingly short.

"What do you want, Church?"

The other man frowned, and there was an unsure look crossing through his blue eyes as if he was momentarily debating something before he spoke up, "Actually, this is one of those rare instances where I might—might need your help. If you aren't an asshole about it."

The Freelancer raised an eyebrow, "You have a really unique way of asking for favors."

"And there you go being an asshole about it." Church narrowed his eyes, giving him the finger abruptly.

Instead of being annoyed by the action, Washington was more curious. Church pretty much loathed asking for assistance from anyone, after all. Despite how he'd responded to the Freelancer's remark, it lacked his usual bite. The fact that Church was still standing there at all, looking wholly uncomfortable with even being there, was enough to have his curiosity piqued.

"What is it that you need help with, Church?"

Church sighed, "Sheila has to go in for her routine maintenance soon."

That was nothing new. Robots with Virtual Intelligences were rather valuable pieces of equipment, after all. It made sense that the military would therefore want to make sure that they were always in routine working order through daily upkeep.

The frown on his face must have been enough for Church to figure out what he was thinking, as he quickly elaborated on why he felt the matter was worth having more attention on.

"Only, apparently they're having her go to a different facility than where it usually takes place. They've blocked her from being able to even tell anyone where it is." Church informed him, making his own curious face just then, "I tried asking around because she was concerned, but all I got was some bullshit response about a potential leak or something in the ranks and that no one can tell me anything."

It almost, almost sounded as if Church was somewhat concerned over this whole issue himself. Washington regarded him with what must have appeared to be a look of shock, and the other man bristled.

"Look, every fucking month they've run their maintenance checks on her since…" The cobalt-armored soldier paused then, a clouded look crossing over his features before he shook his head to dissipate it, "I'm not exactly sure, but it's been a pretty long-ass time."

He sighed before continuing, "But with all of the weirdness still with you damn Freelancers and this weird uber-secret messed up shit going down, this is a little too strange even for me."

It was Washington's turn to sigh, figuring that that was about as close as Church would probably ever get to just admitting that he was concerned for a friend.

As for why there was the sudden need to change the location of Sheila's scheduled maintenance checks and the new security attached to doing so? Well, Washington had some suspicions of his own on that front.

Oddly enough, they were all largely connected to the dark-haired man standing in front of him.

He sighed again, "I wouldn't be too shocked if you get called in soon as well, Church."

Church looked rather surprised by the remark, "Me? Why the fuck would anyone bother calling me in for something?"

Washington was trying to think of a delicate response to that question seeing as how delicacy wasn't exactly a strong suit of his. The blonde was also suspecting a massive blow-out if he actually just flat-out told Church the suspicions he had about the cobalt-armored soldier's origin. The suspicions that the Freelancer was becoming more certain of as the two of them continued to have interactions.

Before Washington could say anything, a voice spoke up from behind them: "Interesting. Your theory on that wouldn't have any connection to why Hargrove is so interested in Private Simmons, would it?"

Both men turned in surprise to find Agent Carolina standing there, arms crossed over her chest and a darkening look filling her green eyes. Her attention was completely fixated on Washington, ignoring her cousin entirely. It seemed as if she was trying to gauge her Freelancer teammate's reaction to her remark.

Carolina's question reminded him of when she'd talked to him about something similar at the start of the "peace talks" to test just how much he knew about what Hargrove was doing. Now Washington wanted to kick himself in hindsight, realizing that he'd been so distracted by other matters that he had forgotten all about it. Though, in his defense, Carolina hadn't mentioned it since.

Her expression only slightly lessened in intensity at seeing the surprise that registered on his face.

Hoping that the glare she was sporting would stop being directed his way, Washington asked, "You mean Hargrove requested his presence for something again, like during the delegations?"

"Simmons?" Church looked even more confused at the exchange between the two Freelancers, "What the fuck does he have to do with anything?"

"Not right now, Church." Carolina finally acknowledged her cousin only to regard him sharply before turning her attention back to Washington.

"Sure, that's pretty much how you answer anything anymore. Even when I ask what you're fucking eating for dinner." Church muttered under his breath, his agitation obvious.

Carolina was apparently used to his reactions to her more stand-offish mannerisms, as she focused her attention on Washington again, "Private Simmons just got in contact with me about some odd change in location the Council is ordering for his routine maintenance. He found it unsettling."

Washington glanced at Church then, noticing the frown forming on the cobalt-armored soldier's face.

"He isn't the first person on your team that they've tried discreetly changing maintenance location orders on." The Freelancer remarked carefully after a few moments of silence, waiting to see if Church would want to hold back just who he was referring to or not.

Apparently the dark-haired man didn't though, as even before the somewhat questioning look began to form in Carolina's eyes, Church spoke up with obvious frustration in both his voice and body language, "So, first Sheila and now Simmons? Are they throwing a goddamned nerd party or what?"

"Sheila?" Carolina looked at them questioningly, "She's been given a change of location order as well?"

"Along with a block on telling anyone where exactly." Church frowned, "I don't get the sudden interest in secrecy when both of them went in for those stupid check-ups all the fucking time before. It was no big deal."

Washington frowned, "Did anyone ever say exactly why their maintenance had to be so routine all the time, Church?"

"No." Church shrugged, looking oddly uncomfortable, "But it's not like I ever really asked or paid much attention. I kind of figured it was just typical military bullshit because they counted as equipment or something."

Washington and Carolina looked at each other then.

Washington felt an odd sense of déjà vu at how Church had described why he'd never thought too much about that issue, "There are a lot of things that can be hidden in plain sight, Church."

Project Freelancer had been one huge testament to that, after all. Hell, more than likely Church himself was another one.

Church grimaced. His hands clenched tightly into fists at his sides, but he didn't argue with Washington or say something snappish in response to his comment. The blonde wondered if perhaps he was mentally berating himself for not having noticed that perhaps something odd was going on with two of his teammates before now.

"Now that things are heating up in terms of military activity, the higher-ups have decided to be more cautious in order to avoid whatever they're looking for with these checkups from getting known." Carolina stated quietly, already no doubt running control plans through her head.

The redhead had probably come here to see if he had any information that would be beneficial to her the second she'd finished talking with Simmons. In a way, Washington was relieved he hadn't had any.

Before Washington had left the tunnels four months ago, York had told him that Carolina was searching for information about where the relic might be moved to as well. The blonde hadn't broached the topic to her though because Church's complaint on his Freelancer leader loving her secrets was pretty apt.

If Carolina found out right now that he in some way knew or even suspected something had been going on with any of Florida's squad, especially after his assurances before that he didn't want anything to happen to them?

Even if they were technically on the same side now, Washington was pretty sure his head would have gone through the terminal behind him before he could even so much as form a coherent sentence.

"Why would they need to do that?" Church asked, looking both frustrated and confused all at once.

For the moment, Carolina ignored his question and kept her narrowed eyes focused on Washington, "Wash, we need to talk—and fast. They're going to make their move soon."

The blonde couldn't argue with her assessment there, truthfully. It had been his thought as well.

She elaborated further when Washington chose to remain silent, "We need to figure out more information, and quickly." The redhead sighed, tapping her foot slightly to emphasize her growing impatience, "The Director is missing. With the Counselor's new job focus, some kind of connection between Freelancer and Hargrove seems that much more likely. On top of that, a ticking time bomb is in the process of being built as we speak."

"Wait a minute! There's Freelancer bullshit and a bomb now too?" Church cut in, looking as if he was about likely to explode himself, "What the fuck does any of that have to do with Sheila and Simmons?"

She leveled her cousin with a stare that clearly meant she'd get to explaining that out later before turning back to her teammate, "Washington, I know you've been working for Hargrove—" and here she ignored Church's choice expletive commentary on that little bombshell, "And also that you're now giving intel to the Resistance."

York really didn't keep much to himself if he thought someone was trustworthy, did he? Washington sighed, remembering how he used to be much the same way. He was way too cynical now probably to be that way anymore.

Though it was probably good that Carolina already knew about the last part in particular. He'd had a feeling given how suspicious she'd been acting at times, and how she had on purpose baited him with information just to see how he'd respond to it, that she had known about his connection to Hargrove.

Having the redhead know that Washington was now not working for him would hopefully avoid her being suspicious of his actions every five seconds. Also, it helped him avoid getting taken out by her for potentially being a traitor, which was a pretty big plus too.

"You're a double-agent now?" Church almost sounded moderately impressed.

Washington rolled his eyes, "Hardly. I wasn't really ever in Hargrove's inner circle to begin with." He frowned, "Made it easier to come to a decision on what I should be doing when I figured out what was going on though."

"Huh. I really wouldn't fucking know about that, dude." Church muttered darkly, "I'm still lost as to what's going on here."

In more ways than Church would probably ever want to know, most likely. Washington almost felt sympathetic towards him.

"What the Resistance needs most now is the location of that relic," leave it to Carolina to get things back on track, "And I need to find out where the Director is."

Washington regarded her thoughtfully, putting the pieces together, "You think the two are related somehow."

"You don't? He's been missing ever since Hargrove began investigating Project Freelancer." She had a faraway look in her green eyes as she straightened her back even more, "Either he went into hiding and abandoned things entirely given what happened with the defectors and Maine—"

"Or he is either being coerced to or volunteered to work on an even more top-secret project for the Council. Or its Chairman, more specifically." Washington finished for her.

It was actually quite plausible, now that he thought of it. Hargrove's insistence that working for him would help Washington be truly free from the shadow of Project Freelancer hadn't mentioned that the man in charge of the project would be brought to justice. The blonde supposed that was a case of his mind choosing to ignore some pretty obvious reasons as to why it hadn't been the wisest move he could have made.

She nodded, "An ancient alien artifact that could be harnessed into a super-weapon would be right up that alley."

"You're shitting me." Church looked as if he was about to throw up, "That's what you guys are dealing with?"

Carolina continued as if he hadn't said anything, "Beyond that, I would also very much like to figure out why Private Simmons and Sheila are getting dragged into Council affairs as well." She glanced at her cousin then, raising an eyebrow, "Wouldn't you, Church?"

He shook his head as if to get some of the more disturbing thoughts that this conversation had instilled in him out of there before glaring at her in annoyance, "Of course I fucking would. Bad enough these assholes apparently want to blow up the planet because that's fucking smart to do. They shouldn't be dragging my loser teammates into it." He paused before adding, "Even if they can be assholes too sometimes."

Oddly enough, Washington suspected that was as close to "warm and fuzzy" as one got with Church. He wasn't sure if he should feel more amused by that thought or simply sad for his team.

Carolina smirked knowingly, and Church muttered something under his breath before promptly ignoring her. Clearly, at Church's expense, she had decided on feeling amused about it herself.

The mentioning of the changing locations involving Simmons and Sheila, as well as Carolina's comment about the Director's possible involvement, did have Washington thinking of at least one possible site to check out.

He should have thought of it before, but he knew why he probably hadn't. Even now, the Freelancer was dreading bringing it up at all. He sighed, concealing the slight shudder that went through his body as finally decided to speak up.

"I have an idea as to where they might be moving their maintenance checks to, at least." Washington informed them, glad that his voice didn't tremble slightly as he did so, "Also on a potential lead as to the relic's location."

Hopefully on Junior's whereabouts as well. Washington frowned slightly, ignoring the mental image of Tucker's face twisted with anger and fear following when he'd punched him four months ago.

It was odd how often that image would pop up in the Above Grounder's head to twist his insides whenever he found himself needing motivation to keep investigating after so many dead ends. Though it always seemed to do the trick somehow, for reasons best left to wondering about later.

His remark caught Carolina and Church's attention, and he continued when they both turned to look at him, "We'll need a distraction though in order to break in."

"Should be easy enough to get one." Carolina said bluntly, "There are even quite a few people in the Slums who would be more than willing to assist on that end."

He nodded his head slightly, knowing that it was a pretty accurate statement. He didn't particularly like the idea all that much, as he actually liked many of the people he had gotten to know in the Resistance. Any action they took in regards to attacking Above Ground directly would definitely have more risks than he could count.

Again, had to bite down on the Tucker thought that went through his mind just then.

However, the Slums were also in the position of suffering the most regardless if Hargrove got the relic working in the way he intended it to. So, it was understandable why they would want to get directly involved.

It would probably be their best window of opportunity to get into the facility Washington was thinking of as well without as much hassle given its usual tight security measures.

Carolina was looking at his serious expression with a rather assessing look of her own, "What is this lead of yours?"

"You're really not going to like it, Carolina." He let out another tired sigh, closing his eyes briefly, "Hell, I don't really like it either."

That was a pretty blatant understatement, all things considered. He was dreading it. The prospect of dredging up so much of what had nearly completely undone him before was not one the blonde was looking forward to.

"That's pretty much par the course these days, Wash. What is it?" Her voice was oddly gentle when she spoke, sympathetic almost. He must have really looked out of sorts just then to illicit that kind of response from her.

"I suspect that the new location for the tests is the same one that houses some of Freelancer's loose ends." He explained, already feeling a massive headache coming on, "If you think the Director is somehow involved, one thing in particular would most likely remember where his more classified research facilities capable of potentially deciphering that artifact's secrets would be."

It only took Carolina a few seconds to figure out what he was trying to get at, her eyes widening in shock at the younger Freelancer's idea as her question drifted off, "You don't mean…?"

He nodded, suddenly feeling as if he didn't have the energy to say anything out loud.

"I thought…" She frowned then, looking at him with an unreadable expression, "I thought that he was destroyed when—"

"When he tried killing himself in my head?" Washington smiled thinly, though it was without mirth, "No. All they put him through and they couldn't even let him do that properly."

He was surprised by how bitter he sounded. In reality, the technicians and doctors who prevented that action from being followed through had more than likely saved his life. Washington didn't know the full logistics on what would have happened, but something that was that connected to you dying in your brain would not be a good occurrence.

Though, given how utterly messed up and broken he had been afterwards himself as a result of that connection, the Freelancer sometimes wondered if it wouldn't have been better for it to have just happened.

But, Washington didn't want to die. It had been that sentiment alone that helped propel him through all of the trauma and pain and bad decisions since then. He had to focus on it even now, even when it was sometimes hard to do so.

Carolina focused herself back to the task at hand rather quickly, "You think there's a high enough chance that he'll know those locations? Is it worth taking that risk?" She asked, her voice steady and calm as if to try to keep him grounded as well.

Before he could respond, a sudden green light came into view by Carolina's shoulder. Washington wasn't really all that surprised at the sudden appearance of York's former A.I. partner. One of them showing up given this vein of conversation made an odd sort of sense in a way.

Besides, he'd had his suspicions that Carolina had perhaps been connected to an A.I. Fragment for a while now. She'd just been very careful at keeping it a secret due to not trusting him earlier.

Of course, it would be Delta given who he had been friends with before.

Carolina's ways of showing affection were subtle, but there if you paid close enough attention to them.

"Memory is the key." Delta interjected helpfully in response to Carolina's inquiry, "It is a logical strategy."

"Holy shit! What the fuck is that?" Church exclaimed, having long since gone silent while Carolina and Washington had been dealing with their talk since it had been connected more with Project Freelancer.

But, apparently, the shock of a miniature humanoid hologram suddenly popping up had been enough to cause an outburst from him.

Washington almost felt bad about that, truthfully. He knew what it felt like to be completely out of the loop, and it wasn't particularly great. The blonde suspected Church would be demanding answers soon enough from himself and Carolina, though he still wasn't sure exactly which ones to give.

Complicated didn't even begin to describe what they were dealing with at this point.

"It's our best bet at the moment." Washington sighed and looked back at Carolina, his resolve getting stronger with each passing second, "We need to retrieve Epsilon."

---

Dexter Grif hated to admit it given the usual amount of bullshit he tossed his way on a daily basis, but Sarge could sometimes pull off a miracle.

He briefly recalled Donut mentioning something four months ago about the crazy old man telling Caboose that there might be a way to retrieve Freckles' Virtual Intelligence from the wreckage of the assault droid's body. But, truthfully, he'd only been partially paying attention.

Besides, Donut hadn't even been fully sure if Sarge actually meant it or if he was just trying to comfort the distraught fighter.

Then, they'd pretty much been focused entirely on recovering after Felix's betrayal. The Resistance was busy preparing for whatever shit was inevitably going to hit the fan as a result of the relic being stolen. Grif was fairly certain he'd actually been more physically active in terms of training these last four months than he had ever been since joining the Resistance

Fuck, naps weren't just one of his favorite pastimes anymore. Recently, they were such wondrous and rare occurrences that he wanted to relish a whole lot more of them than he could right now given what was looming over their heads.

Whenever Sarge was busy with his top secret side-project, he'd disappear behind a door that was labeled "No one not wearing red allowed beyond this point without permission—anyone wearing orange specifically will be shot. I mean you, Grif." Which, quite frankly, was wordier than it needed to be since he wasn't all that eager to see what insane idea Sarge was trying to bring to life.

When Sarge disappeared, Grif ended up being in charge of training the lieutenants along with the other members of the Red and Blue Teams. Though that usually ended up just being more him and Tucker, truthfully. It made sense seeing as how Donut tended to act more as a cheerleader/confidant to the younger recruits, C.T. was supposed to be recovering (no way was anyone going to fucking try going over Doctor Grey's head on stuff like that!), and Caboose was often either still moping or joining in on the exercises instead.

On top of all that, the Slums resident had also been focused a lot on both Tucker and his sister given what had happened to Junior.

So, it was more or less a surprise to him when Sarge showed up with Lopez in tow, grinning maniacally and holding an assault rifle in a tight grip. The Red Team's robot seemed as disinterested as he always did whenever he was roped into assisting his creator with his projects

Grif's first reaction upon seeing the sergeant walking towards him with a weapon was to check to see where he could possibly dive for cover. Donut called their relationship "complicated" but that really was him just trying to make it sound less like their leader had it out for his teammate.

"Oh relax, numb nuts. If I'd wanted to shoot you I would have done it already." Sarge scoffed at Grif's reaction, "Repeatedly. While recording it so that I could then watch the whole thing over again with some popcorn."

"Las películas caseras chupan." {"Home movies suck."}

Whatever commentary Lopez had given was, as usual, ignored.

"That seems awfully specific, Sarge." Donut stated quite cheerfully before the orange-armored soldier could respond, as if the younger fighter hadn't actually heard what Sarge actually said.

"Yeah, how often have you imagined that?" Grif couldn't help roll his eyes underneath his helmet.

Sarge thought about it for a moment, "Do you really want to know the actual number? If we're not just talking this week it might take a while."

Grif sighed, figuring it was probably not worth even commenting back.

"¿Puedespor favor, mueva el tema a lo largo? Yo preferiría estar en cualquier lugar pero aquí con ustedes." {"Can you please move the subject along? I would rather be anywhere but here with you."}

"Lopez is right. That sort of thing needs to be discussed over a lengthy meeting where you guys talk about your feelings." Donut interjected, "It would really help to improve team dynamics."

Both Sarge and Grif stared at the pink-armored soldier smiling innocently in front of them as if he had just grown an extra head.

"No offense, son," Sarge finally stated, sighing slightly, "But I'd rather dump an entire vat of gasoline on my head and light a match."

"And I'd not even bother showing up to the meeting." Grif remarked.

"You barely show up for them now." Sarge shot back, "And that's even without the touchy-feely hippie crap."

He shrugged, "Aren't they more productive that way?"

He had Sarge there. For a moment, the man looked as though he was about to argue more with Grif, but then he paused and thought about it, "That's true, actually. Your mere presence is pretty much always counter-productive to even the most basic everyday activities."

Grif knew he probably should be insulted, but he couldn't help but smirk slightly at having actually had Sarge agree with him in an off-handed way during one of his tangents.

"But, on the other hand, attending them makes you absolutely miserable and that's a win in my book." Sarge continued emphatically, "Hell, I'm almost tempted to take up Pretty-in-Pink's idea just because I know it would make you just as miserable to be there as I would be."

"Oh, it would be fun!" Donut chimed in, grinning, "I'd bring muffins. With extra nuts, of course!"

Grif groaned, his sort-of victory apparently only short-lived.

Lopez shook his head.

"En serio. Prefiero estar prácticamente en cualquier otro lugar en este momento." {"Seriously. I would rather be practically anywhere else right now."}

"But, while making you miserable is always a top priority on my list, first things first." Sarge patted the gun metal grey of the rifle with his hand, and Grif registered finally how bizarre it was to see him not carrying his much beloved shotgun, "Where's Caboose?"

Following that, a large group had formed while they were trying to track the blue-armored soldier down. It was easy enough to understand why when all was said and done.

Though the talking gun form would take some getting used to, Freckles still being around in any kind of capacity was a really big surprise. Everyone who had seen the wreckage of the mech earlier would have more than likely pegged him for truly gone.

In a way, having him back was kind of a morale boost. Something that they'd definitely all needed during these last few months.

If ever he had seen someone with a larger grin plastered on their face than the one Caboose had been sporting for the last few hours whenever he had his helmet off, Grif was hard-pressed to remember it.

Fuck, the blue-armored soldier was probably currently outshining Donut on his best days. That was something the orange-armored fighter had thought was damn near impossible to do given the usual amount of "way too perky" his younger teammate exuded all the time.

Not that he could really blame Caboose, truthfully. This was one time when Sarge had managed to do something Grif actually had looked forward to seeing the result of.

"Tucker, Tucker! Can you believe it?" The blonde had exclaimed to his teammate for what was probably the umpteenth time following the reveal, "Freckles is back!"

"I know, Caboose. It's awesome." Tucker smiled. For once, the dark circles under the teal-armored soldier's eyes from all of the anxiety he was trying to conceal about Junior and what was no doubt happening in Above Ground didn't seem to be quite as pronounced.

From next to him, C.T. reached out and patted Caboose's shoulder, "Congratulations, Caboose."

It had been Kimball and North who had apparently found Caboose wandering the corridors where he used to play "fetch" with Freckles. Kimball had already shot a relieved look towards Sarge for what he'd done and said her own congratulations, but a few seconds following the reveal she apparently got a message from someone that she felt needed to be handled privately.

She excused herself from the small gathering, though the slightly surprised and serious look that had crossed over her features at the barely audible beep from her armor seemed to indicate it was definitely not a pleasure message. Granted, Grif had a hard time thinking Kimball ever got any messages that weren't insanely dire. He imagined he would have keeled over from stress if he had her job for even just a day.

The more experienced fighters (Sarge, Lopez, Grif, Tucker, and the four former Freelancers) all exchanged knowing glances, but no one said anything. They didn't really want to mess up the suddenly more joyful air of their younger compatriots just yet. It was easy enough to get back into that happier frame of mind at the moment, and odds were good they would probably be glad for it soon enough.

"Still, who would have thought Freckles could get placed in a gun of all things!" Donut stated, glancing at the assault rifle now tightly gripped in his friend's hands with a look of complete awe. He thoughtfully turned to his commanding officer, "Why didn't you tell us what you'd been up to, Sarge?"

Sarge straightened somewhat, puffing out his chest as he boasted, "Well, Donut, it was pretty touch-and-go at times given how damaged the mech was. The procedure was so precise and complicated that I am afraid some of you, mainly Grif, would have been far too stupid to understand what I was trying to do and even attempting to so much as explain any of it would have turned his brain to mush."

"You didn't even try to not turn that into an insult this time around." Grif rolled his eyes yet again, "Gee, thanks, Sarge."

"When it works, it works." Sarge shrugged, "My pleasure, dirt bag."

"Además, él realmente no sabía lo que estaba haciendo bien. Siguió apretando botones y logró tener suerte." {"Plus, he really didn't know what he was doing either. He kept pressing buttons and managed to get lucky."}

"Lopez sounds pretty impressed too!" York stated from where he was watching the outcome of the surprise reunion with Tex and North, grinning.

Grif swore the robot groaned.

"Creo que prefiero que cuando todos me ignoran." {"I think I prefer it when all of you ignore me."}

"Freckles!" Caboose looked down at the rifle in his hands, "It is so good to see you again! Did you miss me?"

A slight electronic hiss filled the air, and the blue light illuminating the front of the assault rifle blinked momentarily, "AFFIRMATIVE, CAPTAIN CABOOSE."

Weird how even in a more compact form, Freckles' voice still carried as though he was in his humongous killer robot body. Perhaps he was just a "loud talker".

"Now you are easy to carry too! This is just like Christmas!" The blonde exclaimed.

North looked amused, "So I take it that would make Sarge the Santa Clause in this story?" He asked, glancing over at the older man questioningly.

"Oh, oh! And Lopez would be the reindeer!" York looked about ready to split from laughter at the idea.

"Wouldn't he be an elf instead?" C.T. asked jokingly.

Even Tex was smirking at this particular line of thought, while Tucker and York were barely able to contain their laughter and everyone else was trying their hardest not to snicker. Lopez did not appear to be amused though.

"Voy a caminar lejos ahora." {"I am going to walk away now."}

"I don't know. When was the last time Santa Claus carried a shotgun?" Tucker finally got out.

Sarge harrumphed, as though the answer were obvious, "When he figured out that coal didn't scare someone nearly as much as a bullet would!"

"That story is my favorite." Caboose nodded his head as if what Sarge was saying made perfect sense.

"It does seem like it would be a better motivator." Doctor Grey piped up, "Like how showing videos of what will happen with certain diseases helps to better keep patients from touching contaminated things than simply just telling them not to would!"

"Exactly!" Sarge nodded, "I like the way you think, lady."

"But I thought Santa was into leather now." Donut looked absolutely confused.

Everyone decided to ignore his remark for the moment.

Caboose looked down at Freckles again, positively beaming, "Oh, I will be able to take you everywhere now and get you even tinier hats!"

His pink-armored friend's brown eyes lit up at the remark, "I'll help with that too!"

That had been a few hours ago. Everyone had dispersed to do their own thing following that.

Tex, North, and York were milling about on the other side of room, and he wasn't quite sure where Lopez had wandered off to. Doctor Grey had headed back towards the clinic after giving Caboose a few lollipops she'd apparently promised him. At least that's where he thought she had wandered off to. Grif was more than a little scared of the good doctor, so he tended to give her space when he could.

Donut and Sarge had gone with Blue Team to the holographic "shooting range" Sarge had set up for target practice, in order to give them a chance to test out what Freckles and his new gun body could do. Grif really didn't like going there due to Sarge's tendency to use "Holo-Grifs."

Though, from what he'd gathered, apparently the older soldier had switched to a certain mercenary's form for his targets now. Which was almost tempting for Grif to check out later since Felix wasn't exactly on his list of favorite people.

At the moment, he hadn't really felt like moving around too much. Breaks were, after all, rare and wondrous things these days.

That meant that the orange-armored soldier was left with the lieutenants, who still seemed to be chatting excitedly amongst themselves about Sarge's surprise.

As he suspected, it had definitely done some good for morale.

Smith was positively beside himself, his whole body trembling as if he were fighting back tears, "I am so happy for Captain Caboose! He's going to be stronger than ever now, or my name isn't John Elizabeth Andersmith!"

"Seriously? That's your full name?" Palomo glanced at him in surprise, as evidently this was the first time he'd ever heard the older man's actual name before, "Why do you just call yourself Smith then?"

Smith sniffled and wiped at his nose, a little bit of red dotting his face as he responded, "Oh, um, Captain Caboose had trouble remembering it before. I didn't want to be rude."

The private frowned, "But, Elizabeth? Isn't that a girl's name?"

"It's a family name." The older man stiffened, looking rather proud for a moment before slightly faltering as he added, "My parents thought I was going to be a girl at first."

The younger man winced sympathetically, "Oh, bummer!"

Volleyball put her hands on her hips and rolled her eyes at the exchange, "I bet you're just jealous because you don't have a more interesting name, Charles."

"Hey! That's only, like, halfway true!" Palomo interjected, a contemplative look crossing over his face as he nodded to himself, "Maybe more like eighty percent." He turned to stare at Smith reproachfully, "Dude, you should have told us that story earlier. Now Smith is too stuck in my brain!"

Smith seemed surprised at first that the younger soldier wasn't mocking him more, though he smiled in relief, "Sorry, Palomo."

"Speaking of names," Bitters interjected here, looking at Volleyball pointedly, "You ever going to tell us what yours actually is?"

She stuck her tongue out at him in a way that was very reminiscent of Kai to Grif. The two had definitely been spending a lot of time together, now that he was thinking about it.

"Nice try, Antoine." She stated, enunciating his name the exact same way she had Palomo's first name before. Volleyball promptly turned to fix both of the other female lieutenants with a significant look then.

"Don't you guys tell them anything, okay?"

"You can count on me!" Jensen smiled, her retainer fully visible in her mouth as she did so and her freckled face lighting up mischievously, "It's been pretty fun seeing what guesses everyone comes up with."

"My lips are sealed." Kai stated, winking, "Just like after that last time we played strip poker!"

"Yeah, yeah." Palomo paused then, frowning, "Wait, what? I can't believe you guys played that without us!"

Kai laughed, and Volleyball looked away with an odd smile on her face.

Jensen smiled, her cheeks slightly red, "They had a private game, Palomo."

Yep, sometimes it was better for Grif not to be as aware of what was going in his little sister's personal life. Though he supposed he should be glad she hadn't mentioned anything about an orgy then. Always take what you could as a win, he found.

Palomo frowned, "Poker is fun with more people though! Strip poker even more." He waggled his eyebrows in Jensen's direction, "If you catch my drift."

"We all do, Palomo." Bitters frowned, glancing from Jensen's slightly redder face to Matthews' almost completely scarlet one, "Also, we're probably going to be needing bleach for our brains."

"You're just jealous you didn't come up with it first!" His friend beamed.

Bitters rolled his eyes before following with his customary, "Shut the fuck up, Palomo."

Palomo was still grinning as he turned his attention to Matthews then, a thoughtful look crossing over his features again, "Hey, you know, now that I think about it," he stated, as if it had just dawned on him with all of the name talk that had been going on earlier, "Have you ever said what your full name was, Matthews?"

The lieutenants all turned to glance at the yellow-trimmed young man curiously then, particularly Bitters.

Matthews squirmed uncomfortably with all of the attention turned on him suddenly, his face flaring up even more than it had after Palomo's comment on strip poker.

"Um…I—I'd rather not say, if it's all the same." He finally got out in a squeak, apparently finding a crack in the wall opposite of them utterly fascinating.

"Aw, that's not fair!" Palomo protested.

"Oh, you suck!" Kai joked as well. Grif recognized it as her way of trying to coax something out of a person by teasing. She had done it to him on occasion as they were growing up too.

"Is it really that bad?" Jensen asked quietly, looking rather sympathetic at the prospect.

Matthews bit down on his lip and started playing with his fingers, a nervous habit Grif had seen the rookie do on occasion during training before if he felt he had messed up.

Bitters cleared his throat then, "Drop it, you guys."

"I bet you want to know just as much as we do!" Palomo countered.

The multi-colored haired young man Sarge had started referring to as "Dye Job" didn't say anything to deny it, but he glanced at Matthews again and sighed before finally stating: "It's not that big of a deal if he really doesn't want to tell us, Palomo."

That caused Matthews to look up at his teammate in surprise, though he seemed still too nervous to say anything. Bitters simply glanced away then, as if what he had said was no big deal.

Volleyball watched the exchange and sighed herself, raising her hands up in a placating gesture, "He's right. Everyone should only tell us personal stuff like that if they feel comfortable doing so, Palomo."

"Oh, you're just saying that because you don't want to tell us your name either!" He groaned.

The blonde grinned, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she shrugged, "Pretty much. Yeah."

"Tell you what. I'll just call you Simmons and you call me Grif and we'll pretend neither of us know our embarrassing first names."

For some reason, overhearing their talk on names caused a memory to flash through Grif's head. He groaned inwardly. Thinking of Simmons was something he had been trying to actively not do over the last few months, but the more he tried not to do so the more it seemed he would be reminded of the redhead.

Which royally sucked ass, given the circumstances.

He could do without the nostalgic twitches, and also without the weird bouts of worry at random intervals. Bad enough he had them for people down here he cared about, but for someone who lived in Above Ground that he really couldn't interact with on a daily basis? It was enough to drive him crazy whenever it happened.

The conversation amongst the lieutenants drifted to other topics following that, and Grif watched as his sister said something that had Smith shaking his head in what seemed to be fond exasperation and had the other lieutenants bursting into laughter. He was almost smiling himself at how easy it was for his younger sister to have made a pretty good connection with her teammates.

He was proud of her for that, and for a lot of things really. Even if he knew she'd just mock the hell out of him if he ever tried telling her. So they'd avoid the embarrassment and show love through teasing and mocking. It was just how the Grif siblings rolled. It was easy in this particular moment to not think of too much else, and he was grateful for that too.

Or it was up until Kimball was suddenly standing next to him, observing the newer recruits with a much more serious countenance. It looked as though she was debating something inwardly, and that usually was a sign that something pretty major was about to go down.

He had a few guesses as to what it could be given how she'd responded to that message alert earlier, as well as what they'd been preparing for all this time. But, those guesses were definitely not anything pleasant.

As much as he really didn't want to do so, the chubbier man sighed reluctantly, "Something happened?"

The leader of the Resistance nodded, brown eyes focused on the lieutenants still as she spoke up, "We have to make our move now." There was a sharp edge of determination in her voice as she continued, "We're going to attack Above Ground."

There was a long, heavy silence between them following that. Out of the corner of his eye, Grif could see that the three Freelancers were approaching them. No doubt they had noticed Kimball's presence and wanted to find out what that message alert she'd received had been about.

Grif's response was pretty to the point, "Well, we're totally fucked."

Kimball's shoulders slumped slightly, and she sighed, "It doesn't look good. I'll give you that."

"But, we already knew that from the get-go, didn't we? It's not like they've given us too much of a fucking choice in the matter."

She blinked, seemingly taken aback slightly at that remark coming from him of all people, "No, they haven't."

Grif sighed, "So even if we're going down, at least we'll be going down swinging."

She smiled slightly, "I think Sarge may have had more of an effect on you than you realize, Grif."

He groaned, "God, I hope not."

---

Author's Notes: Another lengthy chapter where not too much happens beyond set-up stuff. But things will start picking up in the next chapter on quite a few different fronts! I seem to struggle with set-up chapters quite a bit when writing them, so I apologize again if parts come across as weird. Also, I apologize for the lack of romance given the story focus this time around. I will definitely be making up for that with all of the pairings in due time, I promise! :)

Thank you for reading this awkward to write chapter, and I hope you enjoyed parts of it at least! :D