Nether Worry

Part 2

AU: Minecraft/Red Vs. Blue

Pairing: Agent Washington/Tucker, Caboose/Church, Grif/Simmons

Description: Minecraft AU. In which the Reds and Blues come across a lonely Creative Mode dweller, Sarge makes about ten times more Iron Golems than are strictly necessary, and where Tucker learns that Wash is indeed not a replacement for Church and that may or may not be a bad thing after all.

"Tucker?"

Sarge didn't even look up at Caboose as he dropped off a knocked out Tucker in front of Blue Base, along with an equally KO'd stranger. Caboose was peeking out from behind the door of the base, watching Sarge curiously as he started off towards Red Base, grumbling about lazy bastards and almost unheard worries for his men. Once he had crossed the bridge, Caboose fully emerged from the base, tiptoeing with caution towards Tucker and the stranger; both were covered in wounds, most small, considering they hadn't been killed. Caboose was gentle as he tossed Tucker over his shoulder, suddenly raising an eyebrow down at the stranger.

The blue miner crouched down, blue eyes wide as the young stranger stirred, blinking his eyes open to squint through the harsh light of dawn at Caboose. Caboose frowned, getting on his knees, angling Tucker to loosely hang on his back, Caboose's left arm held back to support the smaller Blue and keep him from falling off. The stranger hissed when Caboose pressed a hand against an open cut on his forehead, making Caboose pull back at once, as if he'd been burned. The stranger then closed his eyes, rolling over; it was only then Caboose noticed the cat in his arms, who gave Caboose a gentle meow of affection.

"Hello, Church." Caboose responded, grooming the kitty's fur kindly, to which the ocelot purred in satisfaction. "You are home now, I will keep you safe."

With that, Caboose scooped up the stranger with his right arm, still using the left to hold Tucker, and allowed the ocelot to clamber onto his open shoulder, rubbing against his cheek affectionately. Caboose grinned, something he hadn't done in a very long time, and walked on back into Blue Base, presumably to help his teammate and new friend recover.

Tucker blinked awake about three hours later, groaning when he found out that he could hardly move; he'd barely been caught in that damn Creeper blast, but apparently, that didn't matter, now did it? When he finally managed to sit up, he looked to his left, surprised to find a stranger in Church's old bed. Now that he was more awake and in less pain than before, Tucker was more capable of studying the man beside him. The man couldn't be older than twenty-nine or thirty, having short, gruff blonde hair, and a small scar creasing just above his eyebrow. The cat was gone, to Tucker's surprise, but a meow above him made him gaze upward, frowning at the sight.

"Dude, put him back." Tucker ordered, staring blankly at the ocelot perched on Caboose's shoulder. "He's not yours."

"But, Tucker!" Caboose whined, finally grinning at him, the cat being plucked off his shoulder and held sweetly against his chest. "It's Church!"

Tucker groaned. "Since when is Church a fucking pussy cat?" He asked aloud, rubbing his face with a bandage covered palm. "You'd better hope this guy doesn't kill you for touching his ocelot."

As if on cue, the stranger groaned aloud, blinking multiple times as he sat up, squinting at Tucker and Caboose. "Who're you?" He asked at once, voice weak from a lack of use over the last few hours.

"Who're we, who the fuck are you, dude?" Tucker asked, pouting at the older stranger with an odd glint in his eyes. "Never seen a guy like you from around here."

"That's 'cus I'm not." The man slurred out, rubbing his eyes, which were a grey/blue color that reminded Tucker briefly of a stormy day. "I'm from way up north, where the people there live in Creative Mode."

"Creative Mode?" Caboose repeated, looking confused. "What is a Creative Mode?"

Tucker shrugged. "Church talked about it sometimes, said Tex was from there or some shit."

"It's where you can never die." The stranger explained, ruffling his own hair lazily, to rid himself of his bedhead. "Also, you have unlimited resources and weapons of all sorts... all of my friends are living there."

"So, what's your name then?" Tucker finally asked, sick and tired of only thinking of him as 'Stranger'.

"Well, my friends all call me Washington or Wash." Washington told them, shrugging. "But my real name is-"

"Washingtub? Do you like baths?" Caboose interrupted, the ocelot meowing sleepily on his shoulder.

"Epsilon?" Wash asked, staring at the ocelot with wide eyes. "Wow, he must really like you; he bites and hisses at everyone else."

Caboose smiled, holding out the cat. "He is Church!" He yelled, patting the kitty's head. "He is my bestest friend!"

Wash gave Tucker a confused look.

Tucker sighed. "It's a long story." He stated, shaking his head in defeat. "So... you wanna see the rest of Blood Gulch?"

With a hesitant nod, Wash was helped to his feet by Caboose and Tucker, leaning on Tucker as the two walked out the base doors.

Blood Gulch wasn't really a great place to live, but it was still home to all of them. No one was really sure how anyone got there (Tucker had been traveling for as long as he could remember until he ended up here with Flowers taking care of him, Simmons had showed up with a missing arm only to have Sarge take him in and give him a new iron one, Church almost killed Tucker while hunting way far out from home and ended up living with Flowers too, Grif showed up looking for his Sister but wound up living with Simmons and Sarge, and Donut and Caboose stayed after telling them all how their farm was destroyed by a horde of Spiders).

They all stuck around for different reasons, some sweet, some ridiculous, and some just because, but they stayed in that shitty little plains biome, that had apparently glitched up somehow and closed them all in, the only way out being a thick forest that led to God knows where. But Flowers had died awhile back, not long before Caboose showed up, having accidentally eaten a Spider Eye and had died declaring Tucker as the leader. Tucker had, ultimately, handed that mantle to Church, declaring he really didn't want it.

So Church had been leader... until he left them, leaving Tucker, once again, as the leader of Blue Team.

"This place is huge." Wash exclaimed, staring at the wide canyon with curiosity in his eyes. "I've only ever lived in villages and mountains... this is gorgeous."

"We call it shit, but yeah, you can call it gorgeous or whatever." Tucker replied, watching from afar as Sarge began chopping down an oak tree. "Dude, you better replant more!" He screeched.

"Only on the Red side!" Sarge screamed back, taking all the saplings and charging back inside.

Tucker groaned. "So that's our neighbor." He muttered, shaking his head. "That was Sarge, but there's also Simmons, Grif, and Donut. PS, I think Donut's a chick."

"Why would I care?" Wash asked, raising an eyebrow. "There are plenty of chicks where I'm from."

"Dude, seriously?" Tucker asked, suddenly very interested in this guy's Creative Mode Land or wherever the fuck. "We only ever get a bunch of sweaty dudes!"

Wash only shrugged, still admiring the view. From afar, Tucker could see Sarge getting started up on something involving a Crafting Table and a shit ton of Pumpkins... this couldn't end well.

"Sup." Grif muttered as he trotted outside, Donut not far behind him, half of his face still wrapped in a bloody gauze. "What ya doing?"

"Simple, dirtbag." Sarge replied, grinning as he made tons upon tons of Iron Blocks. "I'm gettin' us here an army! Them Blues 're gonna have us outnumbered if we don't stop 'em! Look at 'em over there... scheming... those devilish bastards!"

Grif rolled his eyes, giving the Iron Blocks a once over. "Simmons is gonna lose it once he finds out you used all his Iron; he spent three days gathering that shit a few months back."

"He'll understand." Sarge assured Grif, finally starting on making Iron Golem after Iron Golem. "I need 'em for the war!"

"I don't even know if this is a war, Sarge." Donut said, smiling and waving at Caboose, who was playing with something he couldn't make out on the Blue's side of the canyon. "Man, I haven't seen Caboose in awhile... he must finally be getting better."

After a few minutes, Sarge ran out of Iron, only for Simmons to come trotting out of the base, staring at the Golems with impossibly wide eyes. "Sarge!" He screeched, seeing the Iron Golems picking a bunch of flowers and heading towards Blue Base. "Did you use all of our Iron!?"

"Why of course, how else would I of made so many?" Sarge asked, smirking as his little army headed across the bridge. "Look at 'em go, they're gonna rip 'em all to shreds... *sniff* I'm so proud."

"Do you even know what you've done!?" Simmons yelled, grabbing his own hair wildly, pulling at the orange tangles like a mad man.

Donut stared with wide eyes. "Wow, I've never seen Simmons that mad before."

Grif nodded in agreement, stretching as he yawned.

"I don't see the problem." Sarge replied honestly, giving Simmons a curious look. "We'll be fine; we've got an army now, see!"

"But you used all of our Iron!" Simmons shouted. "Now we'll have to get more, and we don't even have Tex to help us this time; how else are we gonna stop all of those Mobs if we don't have her to help!?"

Sarge nodded, taking it in. "I still think it's fine, Simmons." He stated, grinning as one of the Golems finally reached Washington, who still hadn't noticed it yet. "Look! Now you'll see that it was necessary in order to win the war against them dirty Blues!"

"Washingtub, look!" Caboose yelled, pointing at the Iron Golem behind Wash with a delighted grin, hopping up and down. "It is a friendly man!"

Wash turned around, staring up at the huge Golem towering over him. He yelped, ready to bolt, but stopped as the Iron Golem held out a tiny yellow flower, making a loud 'Clunk' as it did so, looking at Wash expectantly. Very hesitantly, the young miner grabbed the flower, the Iron Golem automatically letting go and walking back to Red Base. He stared, not knowing how to respond. Tucker immediately lost it, collapsing to the ground in a loud fit of giggles and shrieks, to which Caboose copied, not holding back at all as he fell over, landing on Wash, who instead shrieked in terrible pain rather than happiness.

"I-I-I can't breathe!"

"HAHAHAHAHA!"

*Loud Incoherent Sobbing*

"Hey, Sarge, want some flowers?" Simmons asked, holding out a bundle of roses out to Sarge. 'Cus, ya know, they're apparently more essential than fucking iron."

"Aw, shut up." Sarge muttered, ignoring the five Iron Golems surrounding him, all holding out a flower each.

Three days later and all of the Iron Golems, Blue Team, and Red Team were wearing flower crowns made by Donut; they knew better than to question it all.

"Do you miss them?"

Washington glanced over his shoulder from where he was sitting in front of the window, having a staring contest of sorts with a Zombie intent on staring back from the other side of the window, ignoring the rain entirely. Tucker was sat at the tiny table in the middle of the base, fiddling with a wooden sword he had made for no particular reason other than boredom. It was pouring outside, making it damn near impossible to go out seeing as every monster but Endermen were content in it, free to wander even during the usual daylight hours. Caboose was laying on the Cobblestone floor, looking to be playing with Epsilon peacefully.

"Sometimes." Wash admitted, staring back outside, watching the Zombie put his hand on his side of the window; Wash put his over it, copying the Mob. "I know they're looking for me though."

"Would you leave if they came here?" Tucker asked, staring more seriously at Wash. "Would you just grab Epsilon and go?"

It was quiet for a long time, the only sounds being the Zombie moaning, Epsilon's content meows and purrs, and the rain outdoors. Finally, Wash sighed, looking away from his sort-of-not friend Zombie, gazing deep into Tucker's sharp grey eyes.

"I might." Wash admitted, swallowing loudly. "I gave Epsilon to Caboose... he obviously needs him more... if my friends all show up one day... I dunno, I'll figure it out."

"What does that mean, Washingtub?" Caboose asked, looking up from where he was on the floor, Epsilon also glancing up at his old master.

"It means I still owe you guys." Wash stated, scratching his head in deep thought. "I'm not sure if I'm quite ready to leave either; I still wanna see more of this canyon, you know?"

"I get it." Tucker replied, nodding in understanding. "But don't worry about it if your weird Creative buddies show up, kay?"

Wash only nodded back, looking outwards, seeing the Zombie now gone; off in the distance, Simmons and Grif were tossing snowballs from God knows where at each other, screeching whenever Donut joined in and started actually injured them. Sarge was also there, grinning as he fought a few monsters, seeing as he was close enough to home and there wasn't any real danger in fighting a few. Wash smiled, mentally asking himself when he'd started loving being here so much; he still missed his friends, and really needed to get back to them before anything bad happened, but for now...

This was home.

"Run!"

"Oh crap!"

Both Simmons and Grif screeched as Donut chased them around in the rain, tossing snowballs at them like no man's business; not only did they do damage, but they sure as fuck stung! Sarge watched with a peaceful look in his eyes, preferring to simply watch instead of join in; he felt he was too old to be getting nearly killed by Donut's snowballs anyhow. He smiled though, slinging his sword over his shoulder as he turned towards the woods, having already killed every monster near Red Base. He looked over his shoulder at the rest of his team, watching Grif and Simmons collapse and dry-heave into the muddy ground, while Donut stood over them, apologizing endlessly.

"Hey!" Sarge yelled, catching his team's attention. "I'm headin' out for a spell, you three try not to kill each other while I'm gone, ya hear?"

"Yes, sir!" Simmons wheezed back, his knees shaking as he stood slouching, he saluted, whimpering at the pull on his muscles. "Are you sure you'll be okay?"

"Boy, who you think yer talkin' to, huh?" Sarge asked in return, waltzing off into the forest, whistling some sort of old song off-tune to himself as he went.

The old miner walked through the forest without many worries, surprised at times when the Creepers hanging about ignored him; it kinda helped when he smelled like a cat thanks to Epsilon. Sarge hurried past a few trees, stopping at a river to crotch down and have a drink, his lungs burning slightly from too much energy being used; he supposed he really was getting too old for this shit. After a minute or so of restoring a bit of his thirst, Sarge sat back on the grass, his sword resting on his lap lazily. He yawned, feeling almost like Grif, and was tempted to nap, but knew better, what with the Mobs being out and all.

Out of nowhere, however, a Skeleton ran at Sarge, managing to nick him in the arm with an arrow. The man cried out, on his feet in seconds, his sword managing to swing and slash a rib off of the Skeleton. Sarge growled, ready to attack again, only to have his sword knocked clean out of his grasp. He yelped, ducking as another few arrows soared his way. He started backing away, arrows being launched at him until he was cornered by a slope of dirt, the Skeleton blocking any way out. Sarge cursed, still ready to fight, even with his bare hands, when out of seemingly nowhere, a huge wolf launched out at the Skeleton.

The beast of a Mob pinned the Skeleton in seconds, tearing it apart. Sarge watched with wide eyes, seeing a few spare bones fall before him. He smiled, picking them up delicately as he tiptoed over to the mighty wolf, seeing it munch aggressively on the remains of the Skeleton. Now able to see it better as the rain passed, the moon taking it's place, Sarge was capable of seeing the wolf's dark brown fur clear as day, tarnished and dirty from living out in the wild. Sarge whistled, making the wolf stop and turn around, sitting and tilting his head as he saw the bones in Sarge's hand, making a soft yip as a way of begging.

"That's a good boy." Sarge praised, smirking at the animal. "Here, take it." He held the bones out to the beast carefully.

The wolf obediently took them, literally wolfing them down. With a satisfied yip, the wolf sat again in front of Sarge, tail wagging happily. "That's all I got, boy." Sarge explained, backing away. "I don't got no more."

None-the-less, the wolf stood and shook itself off, following Sarge out of the forest, much like an obedient dog would. The miner sighed, a curve to his lips as the animal followed him home; he could always use another teammate.

A/N: Please R&R!

~CabooseHeart.