A/N: Hello all and welcome to chapter 29. It seems like only yesterday this started. Oh how the time flies by when you're having fun. This has quite honestly turned into one of my favorite fics to write, even more so than my RWBY work. Something about the silliness of Red vs. Blue always appealed to me.

Paradox Effect

Summary: Dying sucked. Dying and being killed by the same teammate again? That sucked even more. Dying and being thrown back into Blood Gulch as a girl? That REALLY sucked. Now, Leona Church will have to deal with Tucker's perverted looks, Caboose's stupidity, and worst of all, Tex's laughter…

*Chapter 29*

Tucker stumbled into Blue Base about thirty minutes later with his arms full of the decorations that he stole from the Reds, helmet on and his rifle across his back. "Dude, that was way easier than it should have been. They held the front door right open!"

"Really?" York finished putting the star on the top and admired his handiwork, pulling out one of the Cuban cigars he nicked from Sarge's quarters and lighting it with a match. He was old fashioned like that. "I figured they would have had some sort of defenses put in place."

"They asked me the fucking password, dude," Tucker deadpanned. "By the way, for future reference, the password is, 'password'."

…

"Please tell me you're fucking with me." York sighed and puffed out a cloud of smoke. "I refuse to believe they're that stupid."

"Dude, it's the fucking Reds. Donut literally thought he bought our flag at the grocery store or something," Tucker reminded.

"Didn't Caboose think he was the general of the Blue Army?" the Freelancer countered.

"Hey man, don't associate the good name of Blue Team with that moron."

"Oh please."

"Where do you want me to put this shit anyway? My arms are dead." Tucker watched as one of the ornaments fell onto the floor with a loud clatter. "...oops."

"Smooth." York rolled his eyes and flicked away his ashes. "Just plop them on the ground over there. I'll handle putting them up."

"You sure man?" Tucker eyed him suspiciously. "You don't exactly look like you know what you're doing. The star is upside down for fuck's sake."

"We'll have to agree to disagree on that," the tan armored Freelancer said with a shrug and stuck his cigar in the corner of his mouth. "Besides, Leona is still asleep and Tex is doing God knows what. So it falls to me to run everything."

"She's still passed out? Good." Tucker rolled his eyes. "Seriously, how bad is it if Tex of all people is worried?"

"Pretty bad." York chuckled. "You should've seen her when Project Freelancer was still up. The only times I could remember her being concerned for anyone was when Carolina's AIs went insane in her head and when Massa lost her eyesight." Tex never forgave herself for that, either. She carried a lot of guilt on her shoulders and her ways of coping were not good. He wasn't a certified doctor of any kind, but he knew something was wrong with her. At times she wouldn't seem as though she was there. Rather, it was someone else entirely that just looked the same.

'D, you got anything?' he asked silently.

"There are several possibilities. One of them is that she is trying to cope with her post traumatic stress disorder by distancing her mind from the situation. The other is that she is suffering from dissociative identity disorder," Delta answered. "Considering how much trauma she has endured, the latter has a much higher probability of being fact. I would need more data to be sure, however."

'Gotcha. I'll have a chat with Leona when she wakes up if she's noticed anything unusual. She spends more time with Tex than anyone. Mainly because they're sleeping together.' He let out a frustrated sigh at that. If only they could keep it down and let him sleep at night. He did not want to know how good of a tongue either of them had. He had enough issues sleeping as it was.

"Hey, man, I know we have work to do with this stupid tree and all, but do you think we could have a few moments to have a drink or two?" Tucker asked hopefully. "Running all the way across the canyon has got me tired as shit. I ain't special forces and I'm not going to pretend to be something I'm not."

"At least you're honest." York chuckled and put down the decorations. "Grab us a few beers will you? I think the both of us have earned a nice break."

"Don't have to ask me twice." Tucker bolted into the kitchen and was back within thirty seconds with two beers in hand. "Here you are, man."

"Thanks." York plopped down in the nearest chair and twisted the cap off. It was still a little warm since it didn't have anywhere near enough time to cool down, but it was more than tolerable for now. It would help not get stressed over two of their current teammates.

Leona was a headache and a half but that's because she was an asshole. A tolerable one and one who flirted way too much for comfort, but an asshole nonetheless. She at least meant well by it for the most part. Tex on the other hand was a much bigger issue. She definitely had some sort of issues after Project Freelancer went to shit and was trying to keep it hidden. It was just like her to do that. Tex never was one to come forward with her problems.

"So, how long were you in Project Freelancer?" Tucker asked, taking a swig.

"About seven years," York answered. "I was one of the first, along with Carolina and Wyoming. Tex didn't come into the picture until about two years ago."

"What do you mean?" Tucker let out a hiccup.

"She just showed up out of nowhere one day. I was there in her first ever training session. Not like you could call it that." He laughed bitterly and traced a finger over the scar on his left eye. "She beat the shit out of us and saved my ass from a grenade. It's how I got this."

"Can you even see out of that?"

"Nope. Shrapnel blinded me permanently."

"Shit dude. You sure you're okay?" Tucker asked. "I wouldn't even be able to be in the same room as Tex after that."

"I'm fine. Besides like I said, she saved my sorry ass. I was dazed from a hit and couldn't even move out of the way. She shot my armor with lockdown paint to harden it and it absorbed the blast. Yeah, I lost my eye. But it's better than being nothing more than a pile of guts and metal on the training floor." York shrugged. "But what about you? How long have you been out here?"

"Eight months," Tucker answered. "Shit was boring as fuck. Our old captain, Flowers, died of a heart attack about three months ago and Leona took up the mantle the best she could. If you ask me, she's already proving to be a better leader than Flowers. Two successful raids, a jailbreak, beating the shit out of a Freelancer, and getting our flag back. More than Flowers ever did. When he was around all we did was sit around and talk."

"Isn't that pretty much all you do now?" York deadpanned.

"Oh fuck you, dude." Tucker drank the rest of his beer in a few quick chugs, slamming the empty bottle down. "And for the record, I don't. I sit by my rock and think terrible thoughts about my best friend turning into possibly the hottest chick I've ever seen. It's really fuckin' weird, man. Like, does that make me gay? Straight? Fucking hell I don't know."

"You're not the only one who thinks that," York muttered under his breath. He would deny it to the end of time. He definitely did not think Leona had a nice ass. "…and for the record, I seriously doubt Leona gives a shit what you do in your spare time. If anything she'd still treat you like one of the guys."

"I know that." Tucker sighed. "But fuckin' hell does it feel weird. This whole, 'Church is a girl' shit is really fucking with me. I can't even jack off properly anymore."

"That is more information than I needed to hear." The tan armored Freelancer pinched his brow. "Delta, contact Command. I'm requesting a pay raise. A hefty one at that."

"Agent York, may I remind you that you are currently listed as AWOL and labeled as a deserter. The only way that you will ever see an increase in pay is if you manage to kill the Director and reveal his crimes."

"I was kidding, D. Please log off to spare us both the headache."

"Affirmative." Delta vanished from his consciousness and York looked down at the empty beer in his hands. "Hey, Tucker?"

"Yeah?"

…

"Get us the rest of the beer. I'd rather not be sober when we finish this."

Tucker was off to get the beer without being asked again.

A/N: And that ends it for this one. Nice to have another update done before I move.

A Lovestruck A2#5371