(A/N) Time for our second update of this week, this one actually being on time! Brought to you by the incredible OhSoDeadly, who has captured Florida's personality to such an extent that it actually takes my breath away when I read his chapters for the first time.

The new profile pic for this fanfic is a piece of work by the incredible ARCtroop over on deviantart. Go check him out right now for the full picture (my attempts at cropping it ended in failure).

As you know, we've signed on some new writers, and will be introducing new characters shortly, so watch out for that. We're still looking out for someone to write Wyoming, so if anyone out there are interested, PM us for more information.

Enjoy!


Chapter Twenty-One - Nightmares

Agent Florida

Written by OhSoDeadly


"She shook her head in puzzlement. 'You're very strange,' she said.
'No, I'm very ordinary,' said Arthur, 'but some very strange things have happened to me. You could say I'm more differed from than differing.'"– The Restaurant at the End of the Universe


When the alarm went off at approximately 7:30 AM, shipboard time, in Agent Florida's bunkroom, a pair of blue eyes snapped open and regarded the ceiling with a keen gaze. Built into it was a tiny little skylight, and through it, he could see stars.

What a great way to start the day! Though what with all the blackness outside and around, it sure as shootin' didn't look like day. Best way to change that was to get to work, get the blood pumpin' and keep on truckin'!

He started his day off as he usually did-flinging himself off the top bunk and landing on the ground with near-catlike grace. Once he was outta bed, it was time for a little exercise. His breath puffed and wheezed like a teakettle as he began some one-handed push-ups. Healthy workout, that was the ticket!

Only a few metres from his head, Alaska still slept. The man's face was far from serene, and he tossed and turned and grumbled like a toddler in a crib. Haha, another funny image! Maybe he'd take some time off to draw it and paste it on his locker. He used to be quite the drawer, way back in the day…before he'd come to the UNSC and started up a brand new life. Though Florida hated wallowing in bygone events more than cherry tomatoes, it was the one thing he had no bones about taking with him, into this new chapter of the life of Butch Flowers.

Even as he flipped over and began a series of gruelling sit-ups with the medicine ball he'd requisitioned from inventory, an image came unbidden to his head. He almost stopped immediately, frozen to his core by the sheer force of the memory. Oh, godda-

"Daddy! Lookit, lookit!"
He turned, bent down and swept the little golden-headed blur up into his arms with a joyous cry. "Ellie, sweetheart! What is it you've got to show me? Did you find another shinebeetle? Don't get dirt all down your dress now, it's almost supper time!"
Elizabeth Flowers, all of four years old, shook her head firmly and withdrew a grubby piece of paper from a pocket in her overalls. "No, daddy, lookit. I drawed you a pick chair."
"Did you now?" He unrolled the scrap of paper, and his heart melted at the sight. A brown line, with pink and red flowers drawn on it, and five stick figures standing holding hands. One of them was wearing blue clothing, and above the figure's head, were the words, in childish scrawl, "the best daddy ever."
He placed the drawing to his heart and swept Ellie up in another hug. "You are my world, "he whispered quietly. "And I'll always be here for you."
"Promise, daddy?"
"You betcha." He then scooped her up and placed her on his back, roaring like a dinosaur. Shrieking with delight, the two of them careered off through the house, laughing like a pair of maniacs."-mnit."

He dropped the medicine ball to the floor with a resounding thud, and flopped down onto the floor. Stared at the ceiling. But not even the skylight offered him any comfort now. He drew in a shaky breath. Why did the past keep sinking its claws into him?

Maybe he should just go back to sleep. Sure, he might run into some nasty nightmares, but he might not. You never knew, was one of his mottos.

Yep. You never know when the sky will burn, and take everything you love with it. You really don't.He grimaced, and massaged his forehead. "Quiet you!" he whispered furiously. "Just be quiet-"

A pillow sailed from out of nowhere and smacked him firmly in the head. He yelped and whirled around.

Alaska had propped himself up on one elbow, a big ol' frown on his face. "Three things, Florida my friend. One, talking to oneself is MY thing. Certainly not yours. Second, just because you bested me in our last practice match doesn't make us the best of friends. Third and last of all…" He quickly turned and threw the shipboard alarm clock next to his bed directly at his head. "Shut up!"

He ducked, and the clock flew over his head and hit the far wall. Pieces of plastic and glass were strewn across the carpet like leaves. Florida shook his head at such a mess, and for such a silly reason, but he stood up and nodded in apology. "Sorry, Al. Didn't mean to wake you. Just…ah, just one of those mornings, you know?"

Alaska snorted, and swung his legs onto the floor. "With you, Florida, every morning is one of those mornings." He scratched his head vigorously, like a mouse devouring a piece of cheese. "You are obviously feeling social this morning, so I propose that you leave our little abode and go find those who have a far more agreeable start to the day-" he yanked out a black hair that had a touch of grey about it-"than me. Why don't you go do that?"

Well, Florida was no noddy. He knew Al just wanted him to leave him alone. But heck, having time to yourself was hardly a crime! And maybe the man was right, who could say who was around the ship at this time of day? Who knows what he'd find? A little smile coursed over his face. It'd be like an adventure!

Not to mention he could use some Butch Flowers time. It had been non-stop go-action since he arrived and he was hankerin' for some…hmm, what was the word?

He broke out of his funk and asked his roommate, "Hey, Al. What's that word for when you just wanna have a look around the old brain-box, you know, check up on how everything's going-"

"Introspection."

He snapped his fingers. "That's the one, alright!" Heading over to his miniature locker near the door, he pulled out his training gloves, a sweatband and a pair of running shoes. "I reckon you've hit the nail on the head, Al. A good walk-around the mother'll do me the world of good!" He paused, then asked, "Al?"

Alaska was staring intently at the wall, occasionally nodding. "Yes, yes. Good. Off you go."

"Are you-"

"Shhhh. Moi is trying to speak. Don't interrupt. Rude, rude."

And since Florida had the highest respect for a person's morning ritual, he left without saying anythin' else.


The training room was a few floors up from where he was bunking, so he went down the corridor and stepped into the personnel elevator. The doors slid shut, and the intercom came on. "Good morning, Agent Florida! Where would you like to go?""Mornin', F.I.L.S.S.! Hope you're having a lovely day! Training room, please."

"Certainly! And may I say, Agent, that you seem to be in a good mood today. Your dopamine levels are at an exceptionally good standard!""Thanks a bunch, F.I.L.S.S.!" Gosh, what a nice computer lady!

The smooth ride came to an abrupt stop, and the doors slid open a second time. Florida immediately straightened up, in case it was the Director or the Counselor. Wouldn't do to look slouchy in front of the bosses!

But it wasn't either of them, instead, it was a fella of average size and the most colourful clothes he'd ever laid eyes on. Good grief, it looked like he'd been attacked by a gang of rabid spray-cans! He tried not to laugh as the new arrival stepped into the elevator and hit a button of his own. He shot a glance at Florida through his visor. "You're up early."

Florida grinned. "I'll be getting the worm! Ha ha ha!"

The man stared at him for a few seconds, and then shook his head. "Not sure I understand." He folded his arms, and Florida noticed he had the medical insignia on his shoulder, underneath a smear of orange and purple. A medic, then! He felt a sudden rush or gratitude towards the man. It was him and his that were helping Penn get back on his feet.

Smoothing over the awkward pause, he stuck out a paw. "I'm Agent Florida! What's your name?"

The multi-coloured man extended his own set-o'-five and they shook. "Oh, so you're that guy, are you? Heard about the job you did on Alaska. Nice going. The guy's a prick."

Florida tried not to let his smile falter, but right now he was torn. Al could be kind of a bozo, but he was still his bunkmate. "Oh, you know, it was just a splendid tussle all around-"

"What many fail to realise, "the medic continued, not even registering the fact that he'd cut him off, "is the sheer uninhibited levelof prickness he has. Pricks come and go, but Alaska is, like, the one prick to rule them all. King of the pricks. Chairman of the fucking board. Oh, and he's crazy. Did I mention he's crazy?"

Florida shook his head. He got the feeling talking was kind of…not an option at this moment. Maybe in a second.

"Well. He is. And not the good kind of crazy either. The kind that doesn't know the difference between throwing rocks at a cat and setting it on fire. You watch out for him."

"Umm…will Penn be ok?" This all came out rushed.

"Hmm? Oh, right, that guy. Yeah, he'll be fine. Nabbed a sweet bit of downtime from me but whatever. I'll get my payback someday." The elevator came to a stop, and the door dinged. "Here's my stop. You have a nice day now. Or don't. I'm a medic, not a PR man." He stepped out, and half-turned. "Private First Class Killian Jay. Since you asked." The door closed, and the ascent continued.

Florida would have mulled over his comments regarding Al, but for some reason, all he did was stand there and blink. Sometimes in life you'll find moments that aren't in any sorta manual to life,his dad had stated once, and you won't do anything but stop and stare.He was pretty sure his dad wouldn't have counted on this, though. "Good grief, " he muttered.


At this hour, he was pretty darned certain of finding himself a comfy spot in the training room, but as luck would have it, when he walked up to the entrance door, the lock buzzed red. He frowned, and spoke aloud. "F.I.L.S.S., is there somebody in there already?"

"Correct, Agent Florida. Agent Carolina is currently in the middle of a hand-to-hand simulation. However, she has only logged herself in for another seven minutes, so she should be finishing shortly. Would you like to listen to some music while you wait?""Boy, would I!" What a treat! Usually free play of music was banned by the Director, but that was F.I.L.S.S. for you; trying to put a smile on everyone's dial, any way she could! He sat himself down on a bench beside the doors and tapped his foot and nodded his head to the beat as he waited.

In a little while, he heard the doors slide open with a muted groan, and footsteps. He immediately stood. He had whole bags full o' respect for Carolina. She was practically their leader. Or would be, pretty soon! He beamed as she walked in. "Morning, Carolina!"

She was wearing a black training vest, trousers and combat boots, but her forehead was sheathed in sweat. Hearing his greeting, she turned slowly and gave him a curt nod. "Florida. Come to train, I see. Good. We all need to stay sharp." She started pulling off her boots, flexing her toes.

"I'll say! We're a fit bunch, alright, but it always pays to keep yourself up to the mark." He started donning his gloves and sweatband. "How did the session go?"

"Fine. Some improvement. I'll be back later today, so don't stay too long." She started unstrapping the vest, to reveal a tank top underneath. He winced at seeing the red marks on her underarms. The woman worked harder than his ma ever had, and that was a fact. Always a go-getter, Carolina, but sometimes she worked too darned hard. Work and play, and some people tended to forget the latter.

Obviously, she wasn't much of a talker, but Florida was a big believer in cheering people up, so he tried one last time. "Apparently Penn's gonna be A-ok! Isn't that good news?"

He watched her face closely, and as she nodded slowly, he understood. She wants to be all hard and tough like a rock,he thought, but she does care. Deep down. You just gotta dig a little…A small smile on her face, come and gone in a flash. "That is good news. I'm glad to hear it." She stood up, gear in hands and no nonsense in her voice. "There's no time for laying about on this ship. Later, Florida." She walked out of the room, head held high.

Looking after her, Florida smiled a little smile of his own. Not so bad, after all. But by cheese and whiskers, she needed to let her hair down a little! That York fellow was surely the expert on that. Hmm, maybe he and Carolina…nope, nope, enough of that. It was no-one's business but theirs. It would be effrontery of the worst kind.

It would be rather nice, though. Young love was always a sight to see!

He got up, and started stretching his arms as he walked into the training room. The cavernous space was quite empty, except for a small console set in the far wall. When he'd finally reached it, he started inputting commands for a hand-to-hand drill. "Darn thing should be near the door, " he grumbled. But he put that out of his mind as he stepped into the middle, and waited for the simulation to begin.

Normally, he would be practising something more suited to his style, like infiltration, or attrition-style combat. But that last tiff with Al had shown that his CQC skills weren't up to snuff, no sir! So, since FILSS hadn't yet crafted a bunch of ninja robot dummies (as York had been plaintively wishing for the other day), he had to use this instead. What a shame! An army of robots would be a heck of a challenge, and by gum, Florida always appreciated challenges. It would be like that time on Antilles IX-

A series of holographic green circles rose up from the floor and started circling him. Whops-a-daisy! No time for that now. He immediately ducked into a fighting stance and started the drill. Two orbs flew at him like angry ghosts, but he dispatched one with a thrust elbow and the other with a mean right hook. They turned red after a loud beep, and continued to spin. It was up to him to make sure he didn't accidentally hit them again, otherwise his score would take a big ol' hit. But he stayed intent on the green ones. He could feel the sweat starting to run down his forehead already as he delivered a roundhouse kick, pivoted on his grounded foot and punched another orb. Beep. Beep beep. Beep.

After what seemed like an eternity of laying the hurt on the holograms, he came to a stop, fists up and panting heavily. Holy smokes, what a workout! He should do this one more often, keep his body guessing. At his age, it would help anyway. After a fair bit of living, the body gets to know things,as dad had once said philosophically, so throwing new things at it is always interesting."Score, F.I.L.S.S.?" He hastily added, "Please!"

"Calculcating. You showed an efficiency score of 72%, Agent. Might I suggest lowering the difficulty level?"That didn't sound like no good idea to him! "Sorry F.I.L.S.S., but you have to train like you'd fight in the real world! Our enemies aren't gonna be takin' it easy on us, that's for sure. Thanks for asking though!" He wiped sweat from his upper lip, and then breathed in heavily. "Run it again, please."

"Of course."And off he was again! The orbs spun and whirred, and he found himself jumping like a monkey trying to hit them all. Efficiency in this sim, he'd learned, was less about hitting the targets and more about how quickly you could hit them. That was probably why Carolina liked it so much, she was like greased lightning! He would have to be the same. He jumped into the air and delivered a quick one-two kick, but landed awkwardly and lost vital seconds getting his balance back. "Fudge!" he hissed.

He didn't expect a good result, and he didn't get it. "Your efficiency level was at 67%, Agent. Would you like to run it again?""You bet." He was hard pressed to keep up a cheerful attitude now, for some reason. He scowled a little. His bad morning was doing its dandiest to stay with him. The holograms winked green, and he threw himself back into it, uncomfortably aware of the numbness creeping up his arms and legs.

Three more times he ran the simulation, and he never managed more than seventy percent. At the end of the last one, he sighed, and conceded defeat. He just wasn't on his best game today. Thanking FILSS for the session, he trudged dispiritedly out of the room, tearing the sweatband from his sticky forehead and shoving it into his pocket. "What a lousy day, " he mumbled to himself. Looks like today just wasn't gonna work for him.

When he stepped back through the door, he closed his eyes for a second and immediately regretted it. The holograms had reminded him of the green of plasma fire during the war, and though he hadn't wanted to let on to anyone about it, let alone himself, he found that they triggered some nasty memories. Nasty as he'd ever encountered.

-roaring tall aliens skewering innocent people on their swords-
-the screams of alien fliers bombarding houses to rubble-
-the terrified shouts of marines and civilians alike-
-the emerald flashes of alien weapons scorching themselves in his retinas forever-
-his family-"Florida, old chap!"

He awoke from his awake-nightmare with a start, and saw Wyoming standing before him, hands on hips. He was in armour, but his helmet was off. His eyebrows were bunched in concern, and one hand went up to stroke his moustache. "Are you quite alright, mate? You look…flustered."

"Oh, me?" Florida did his best to shake off the grisly thoughts and treated the other man to one of his biggest smiles. "Not to worry! Just not the best go of it in the training room. Those hand-to-hand sims are a doozy and a half." He sat down on a bench and pulled off his gloves.

To his surprise, Wyoming went and sat alongside him, nodding fervently. "You're bloody right about that. Personally, I don't see what the fuss is about. We all have our specialties, hmm? We can leave the up-close-and-personal work to brutes like Pennsylvania, whilst sneaky fellows like you and I get the real work done."

He winked and laughed heartily. Florida found himself doing the same, despite the fact he wasn't sure calling Penn a brute was nice, though definitely deserved. It sure was a nice way of looking at it! "You've got something there, Wyoming. There are plenty of us around anyhow, we should be fine, right?"

"Right you are, old chap. The Director can't always get what he wants, after all." He stood up, and slapped his haunches. "I'm due for a spot of hand-to-hand myself, but later on we should team up on a stealth drill. What do you say? I think we'd work rather well together."

Boy, what a nice offer! Florida clasped Wyoming's alabaster-sheathed hand and shook. "That sounds terrific!"

"Excellent." The door slid open, and Wyoming slotted his helmet onto his head. "Must go now, "he said briskly, "but I'll see you later. Cheerio!" And with that, he stepped into the training room and was gone.

Florida grinned a little bit. Wyoming sure was different once you got past all his nose-in-the-air behaviour and actually talked to him. Maybe not the nicest fella as far as everyone was concerned, but good enough in his book!

Suddenly, F.I.L.S.S.' blue avatar lit up in a small sconce above his head. "Agent Florida, your presence is required in the briefing room. The Director is preparing a mission briefing. Ensure you have your armour with you. Have a nice day!"The avatar winked off.

A new mission! How exciting! Hopefully, he reflected, it would go a heck of a lot better than the last. But hey, last time had been a big ol' muddle, right? This time, he knew, Project Freelancer would take to their task like a duck to water and pass with flying colours!

He padded out of the training room, reached the elevator and pressed the button that would lead back to the floor where his room was located. It was time to get down and dirty!