Apologies to anyone who got spammed with notifications, FFN has a fit and copied the text from last chapter into this one, and I've been trying to correct the issue.

"I'm fine." 9A-91's words made 74M jump, which probably should have been a sign that something didn't sit right by itself. She did not jump, even when relaxed. Jumping revealed things even if they were innocuous and to people that were allowed to know them.

"Aware of that." Pushing off the wall she'd been leaning on, 74M shrugged out of her jacket, throwing it on the empty chair, and dropping into another, taking a few fractions of a second to visually confirm that she had in fact locked the door when she came in. "I can't just want to spend time with you?"

"You also wanted to be subtle." Her girlfriend countered, shifting some papers to the side, gaze sharper than her words. "Living in my office every evening isn't exactly subtle." 74M considered pointing out that nobody on base, with the singular exception of the Commander, might notice, with people moving in and out, on top of other distractions. Her own team might, but even they were pulled off on other matters, making the odds of anyone catching on slim to none, and it wasn't as if she was unsubtle regardless. But, she knew her girlfriend knew all those things. Thus, she chose to simply keep her counsel, earning a sigh and a grumble in return. They were quiet again, for a few minutes, before the sudden question. "Tell me, Natalya, what do you think of the Commander?"

That felt like a loaded question, and one that 74M shouldn't be answering. 9A rarely asked her work questions, one of those ways they both tried to keep their obviously entwined work apart. That meant there was a point to this line of questioning that didn't strike her as obvious on the surface. She'd start off simple, and gauge where to go from there. "He was not like me. KSG believes he'd have been giving orders." No reaction suggested that information to be already known. "From speaking with and watching him, I would be inclined to agree with her assessment, adding the caveat that he did spend at least some time in the field. I don't think he enjoyed the field work."

"You did not enjoy it." A dry statement, probing that indication that they were not alike. 74M hummed.

"Work was work." That was the easiest way to explain her feelings on that matter. "I would shoot Peter in the back of the head and feel nothing, because it was my assignment. Where the roles reserved, he would have objected, for the crimes of the dead should not be used to punish the living." Any complaints they both had about that went unvoiced. "Cruel deeds troubled him deeply."

"And they trouble you."

"I am not so much a monster that the things I did will not haunt me. But I accept them as the unfortunate reality of the position I had." 9A's eyes flashed. "I recognize my own rationalization and do not contend that it is a good one."

"As long as you understand that." For an old argument, it came up surprisingly frequently. Or perhaps it served as one of the few true points of contention left between them now.

"From speaking with him the Commander is far more troubled by those things than I. Likely his list of crimes is longer and more detailed than mine, and doubtless far darker. Perhaps it is a foible of our line of work, to either become numb, or consumed by misery." Shrugging her did her best to summon up the rest of her thoughts. "Griffin is not what he wanted, I think." A small gesture asked her to elaborate. "What else could he do? He claims to have worked for the West Germans for a while, but that was likely purely civilian in nature. I don't see that sitting well, in the end."

"Like most people on this damn base." She probably wasn't supposed to hear that, and so 74M didn't. "Sometimes, I think you went into the wrong field."

"I'd have killed one of us." 74M's voice was dry. "I am not nearly so good at being empathetic, and unlike you, I cannot pretend that I don't think someone is an absolute moron."

"True." They were quiet again. "You could try scaring them less."

"I didn't turn that Finnish [appropriate word here] into a nice recreation of a torture chamber for calling me a vatnik." Not what 9A was talking about, but deflection would work for now.

"That does not count." The reply was sharp once more, for valid reason.

"I only shot that Sangvis." A beat. The first time one of them admitted to how close things got while deployed in Sector 14. She'd wanted to do far worse, but that would have compromised her cover without a doubt.

"No." A beat, as 9A considered how to approach the next part. "But you absolutely scare the civilians."

"I know." She'd long since had that problem. Just visiting each other proved tricky given how 74M could clear a room just by walking in, even off duty back in Russia. She never quite managed to turn off that instinctive projection of danger, even now, although it was better. The owner of that corner café only put up with her because 74M insisted on paying outrageously more than she owed when she visited.

"As long as you know." 9A dropped onto the chair beside her, curling into her side. Again, they were quiet, a rare moment of contentment for either of them. Somewhere outside the sound of a helicopter taking off rattled the base, registering only vaguely in the back of 74M's mind.

"I'm sorry."

"Huh?" Taken aback by the sudden apology, 9A sat up, eyes dancing with confusion.

"I'm sorry." 74M repeated, doing her best to convey the sincerity with her voice, as her eyes and expression would not. "For getting you dragged into a mess."

"I wouldn't be here if I didn't know what I was getting into." A measured, and entirely untrue response, intended to placate her, and push aside the guilt that had been bubbling under the surface for several days now.

"What you thought you were getting into was keeping a bunch of Dolls sane, and maybe a bit of shooting if things really got bad. Not getting thrown into frontline combat." 74M countered, and from the twitch she hit the mark. "Something that I know you are not comfortable with."

"I can-"

"I'm not questioning your ability to take care of yourself, Dahlya." Hard to do that, when she effectively taught the therapist everything she knew about fighting, and 74M would indulge in the small ego trip that she was quite good at inflicting violence on the things that require violence. "You do not enjoy fighting."

"No." 9A agreed. Arguing that point would be tricky given how much they fought about the basic act of self-defense.

"Nor do you aspire to end up in a position of leadership." Again, a negative. "Which it seems like you ended up with anyway, based on how that bunch are."

"It is probably a good thing, Natalya, that you speak rarely." Insultingly complimentary seemed like the best way to describe that statement. "Your ability to be observant would set them even more on edge."

That, 74M could not deny, for her girlfriend was indeed entirely right. "While true, that doesn't invalidate my point that I've been a remarkably useless girlfriend, getting you dragged into this mess without doing my own due diligence."

"I could have refused the position." A good attempt, but one that held little weight considering the situation and the actual argument to hand.

"I also knew you wouldn't. I know you." 9A obviously wanted to object, before she backed down, knowing it was true. "And on a base like this, it stands to reason you would be outside of active-duty combat. A factor in the choice you would make, and a factor in me pointing that choice at you. Which makes this latest mess a bit of a screw up on my part."

"It's okay." 74M opened her mouth to object, and 9A cut her off. "I'm okay."

Wrapping an arm around her, 74M pulled her closer. She rarely gave much thought to the concept of those around her being hurt. Things that tried to hurt people she cared about tended to answer to her long before they got the chance to try anything. It helped that the list of people who she cared about that much could be counted on one hand, and that the idea that if you died, nobody would even try and investigate your death tended to dissuade any still foolish enough to try. On those limited occasions it did not, demonstrations of a practical nature did the rest.

So, being confronted with the fact that, by her own fault, she'd gotten her girlfriend into a situation that put said girlfriend in danger, and in such a way that 74M would not get out in front of the problem hit hard. The chance of losing 9A, even briefly, weighed on her. 74M did not like it but didn't quite know what to do about those feelings.

"Hey." The quiet word shattered her introspective mood. "I thought hugs weren't more than five seconds."

"Just," The words caught in her throat, as they often did, and she could only pull the smaller Doll closer against her side and press her lips against hers. Answering the actual question to hand proved impossible. "A soldier's worries."

Sitting up a bit, 9A-91 met her eyes, expression firm. "You made sure I can take care of myself, Natalya."

"I know that." Again, the words were hard to find, leaving only the agreement the limits of what she could manage.

Again, her girlfriend seemed to understand, kissing her gently. "I'm not going anywhere."

74M pulled her tight, resting her head on the comforting shoulder. "I know." The physical comfort proved welcome. "And I'm sorry."

"You are apologizing a lot today."

"Apparently I'm introspective today." 74M didn't know how to feel about that, but she was, and she couldn't say she liked it. "I've asked a lot of you." No answer served as confirmation that she had. "And without giving much back."

"I don't want-"

"I know you don't want anything, and that you don't mind, and that you understand, and that my reasoning is sound." 74M cut her off. She licked her lips, suddenly not sure how to press forwards with the topic. "I'm always asking things of you. To put up with my line of work. To learn to fight for when my enemies come after you. To come join me on this hairbrained mess. To hide our relationship."

Despite obviously having strong opinions about that, 9A kept her counsel to herself, just watching as 74M gathered herself.

"Just…" The thoughts spilled out in a tumble. "Sometimes I feel as if all I do is take from you, and ask, and this, and that. You care about gestures of affection, and knowing that I care, and that's something I'm utterly useless at, and instead I ask you to do none of those things-"

"Natalya." She was cut off abruptly.

"Yes?"

"It's okay." She started to object, before being cut off once more. "It is okay." 9A drew a slow breath. "I have you now, and that's enough." A pause. "I'll probably be upset about it all at some point, but this is enough. We'll get through things, as we always have." 74M hummed. She understood that, but her feelings remained a jumbled mess. "Everything you do you do for a reason, and I cannot be upset with you for caring about me, even if when you insisted that I learned how to shoot, I wanted to strangle you."

74M sighed, knowing better than to try and start that old argument again. "I may have deserved that."

"You absolutely did, but I cannot deny that it saved my life, and saved you from going after someone with a knife and vengeance." 74M could concede that point, such that it was. "We are both experts in our field, Natalya, and we can both recognize when the other is acting in their area of expertise and trust them."

"We do."

"So I trust you." 9A's eyes danced in the light. "Even if we will find time for a date at some point."

"I think I can manage that much." She would manage that much.

-Faded Glory-

"So, you heard that someone slugged Suomi?" KSG glanced up from her book, giving RFB her best 'of course I did' look. "You were up in meetings and stuff all day, you never know. Maybe they didn't tell you to not make you mad or something like that."

"Someone punched your racist sister; I'm going to hear about it." KSG verbalized her stare, going back to her book. "Sounds like she went and earned it this time."

"Commander is pretty mad at her." RFB confirmed, sounding like she wanted to laugh. "You're not going to make a deal out of it." Probing, curious, but not accusatory. That suggested that RFB didn't approve either.

"I have better things to do than bother with her. If she's a problem, I'll hear about it and resolve it then." How KSG would resolve it, she didn't know yet, but by the sounds of it, letting M16 punch her was good enough for purpose. Maybe charge admission, that'd probably be good. "I've got a day off, I'd like to do something enjoyable with it."

"Oh yeah?" Smirking, RFB leaned forwards. "Like what?"

"This and that." She turned a page. Winding up RFB probably shouldn't be fun, but they did it to each other.

"Oh come on." Doubtlessly she'd be pouting, at not getting the 'cute' answer that she wanted.

"You're going to have to try harder than that, RFB." KSG let her eyes roll up enough to see what RFB was doing.

Sticking out her tongue, RFB flopped back on the couch, just staring at the ceiling. "I ever tell you that you're ridiculous?"

"Repeatedly." Now this, KSG didn't know where it was going. "Usually when I'm being stubborn about something pointless, or not flirting back when you want me to."

"Well yeah." Waving that aside, a smile danced over her face. "I've given up on you managing to learn how to flirt."

"Evidence does suggest that is wise." Closing her book with a sharp snap, KSG crossed her legs, looking up fully now. "Given that I nearly killed you with 'cringe' doing so last time, at least, according to you."

"Look, you can't have thought that was cute."

"My intents have since been forgotten, but I suspect they were entirely innocent." KSG didn't try to keep a straight face, even if she did keep her voice level. "I would hardly stoop to such lows as deliberately causing mental trauma to make you stop trying something."

"Says the woman who bet on her own love life specifically for petty revenge on a colleague. Even if he was a prick."

"Was. I don't think losing half his savings changed him." KSG shrugged, trying and failing not to smile.

"Probably not." RFB rolled her eyes, before going back to watching the ceiling. "Neither did getting a girlfriend help you figure out how to be romantic, you know."

"That is a fault of your judgement, you knew what you were getting into." KSG returned. "I seem to recall telling you to your face, in fact." RFB made a dismissive gesture. "What has you guys here anyway? Not to complain but wasn't expecting you to have the spare time to visit as a group."

"No idea. The Commander just told everyone we were on leave." Stretching dramatically, RFB's eyes narrowed, a gesture that might have been intimidating if she hadn't' managed to do it with her head upside down. "What, you don't know either?"

"No, I in fact, do not keep tabs on you, despite what your sisters think." KSG frowned, mind already going into overdrive with the new information. "And I'm not going too, because I don't want to think about work today."

"And you're asking me about work."

"Just because I try things doesn't mean they work, or do I need to remind you about flirting again?"

"Point." Her face scrunched in disgust, RFB considered for a while. "Haven't you finished that book anyway?"

"Twice." KSG put it aside. "It's more a focusing exercise than reading. Just getting my thoughts in order."

"Is that why you weren't cussing out that guy who was saying all that last night?" RFB rolled over, regarding KSG with a deeper intensity than before. "Normally somebody says something like that you get a little feisty."

"Part of it, yes." KSG dipped her head. "Unfortunately, not everything in life is as simple as deciding if I want to keep you around."

Completely passing over the compliment, RFB folded her legs up, crossing them at the ankles. "Talking help?"

"Dunno." Shrugging, KSG stood, wandering over to her desk to put her book down as she mulled over the best approach. "Don't think you really want to listen to me talk about how messed up my head is."

"You know full well I don't mind." RFB admonished. "How often do I start going off to you about some nonsense?"

"Often enough. Don't keep count." KSG took the point for what it was. "Spent some time talking to Blackwood. Touched a nerve." RFB's eyes lit up in understanding, but she held her tongue. "SYou ever tried to catch someone in a trap and then find yourself spun around and absolutely bamboozled by the same trap?"

"Nope." Shaking her head, RFB obviously thought about that for a while. "I mean, I don't tend to try and get into verbal circles with people."

"Don't advise it." KSG pinched the bridge of her nose. "He's got a way of getting in your head. Knowing things he shouldn't, and no matter how hard you try and put up armor, dancing around it to the heart of the issue."

"Sounds like someone I know." She could hear the laugh, and KSG wanted to deny it, a denial even on her tongue. "I've watched you do that a few times."

"Verbally flaying your sister for being even more racist than my neighbors back in Florida is not an achievement."

"Suomi, no. But you've twisted the other two into pretzels too, or people back in Minsk…or the Commander, or-"

"Alright alright, I get the point, I can be overly analytical and sometimes guess correctly." KSG threw up her hands. "If you're about to say something about how we're made for each other-"

"You and Meadows are made for each other. One of you is utterly insane, and the other keeps them on a leash, while being dragged into being reasonable." RFB cut her off, pointedly not delineating which one was which, which probably said something about her own nature of "You and this Commander are more…" RFB frowned. "It's like having two healers in the same party. You both do the same things, but you do them differently, like, instant heals instead of over time."

"That is perhaps the weirdest analogy you could have chosen."

"I'm working with what I've got." Faux pouting, RFB broke into giggles after a few seconds. "But you can't tell me I'm wrong."

"Just because you aren't wrong doesn't mean that you are right, but I take your point." KSG relented. "I so rarely think about what I want, when I do, it takes a while."

"Cost benefit analysis isn't speedy." RFB teased, then went serious again. "It only took you how long to decide that a cute girlfriend was worth the hassle?"

"A bit over a day and a half when I decided." KSG's shot back. "The part that took a while involved planning and implementation."

"Uh huh." Still serious, RFB stood. "Don't get caught up in your own head, 'kay?" She made her way across the room slowly, until they were only an arm's length away, putting some emphasis on the height difference between them. "Every time you start trying to talk yourself out of something it's because you know what the right answer is, and you're desperately searching for a counter example."

"That so?" KSG cocked her head, curious where this was going.

"Yup." RFB nodded, stepping forward, arms suddenly wrapping around KSG's neck and pulling her into a kiss. Pulling back, RFB smirked. "Every time."

Unscrambling her thoughts took KSG precious seconds, as her Neural Cloud processed the emotional whiplash of that five seconds. "And what would you suggest I do?"

"Think less, and trust more."

"Not kiss you again?"

"See, I thought about suggesting that, but then I realized you didn't have a choice." To prove her point, RFB kissed her again, albeit with less intensity this time. "Thinking is what you're best at KSG, but when you're thinking about thinking it's a bit far."

She was not thinking about thinking, or so KSG wanted to protest, but RFB was, in her own way, right as usual. "Maybe."

"Definitely." She was pushed back gently, and they landed with a thump on the chair in front of KSG's computer. "Now less thinking, more doing."

More doing, as a rule, KSG could manage.

-Faded Glory-

"I win." SV-98 flipped her hand onto the table, trying very hard not to smirk as everyone else stared in disbelief.

"How!?" OTs-12 lost her battle with confusion first. "I know all of them are cheating, but how are you doing it?"

"Who said I'm cheating?" SV-98 countered. To be fair, she probably was cheating, just not in the way most people thought of it.

"She isn't cheating." Ballista, lounging in the chair on the far side of the room confirmed. "Five-seveN has cards up somewhere, M16's just adding new cards to the deck, Lena is pulling cards out of the deck every time she shuffles, and as far as I can tell SV-98 is just keeping track of what everyone else is doing and then keeping an array in her head of all the cheating and it's impacts and working off that."

"Hey!" Five-seveN and M16 both exclaimed, to the amusement of bystanders.

"No reason to cheat when you're predictable." SV-98 declared blithely. "Took like five rounds to realize that Tiss isn't cheating."

"Wait, you thought I was?" The shorter doll squawked indignantly.

"You're playing poker with us lot, of course you are cheating." SV-98 rolled her eyes. "It's just a fact."

"When GSh was playing she wasn't cheating." Someone pointed out from the side.

"And now she isn't playing." M16 pointed out. "Probably because she wasn't cheating." Also because she had basic common sense, but SV-98 wouldn't say that part.

"That isn't how logic works!" Tiss flailed, verbally and literally, as the next hand was dealt, and bets were made. Someone else was taking bets on which one of them would win. Tiss, frowned, which meant she had a bad hand. SV-98 settled back to watch. She had the only Ace still in the deck, so that was good to know.

"Guess poker is a universal thing then?" M16 asked it casually, but SV-98 could tell it was a fish for information. "Mercs, soldiers, everybody?"

"Needed something to do to stay busy." SV-98 tossed a token in for her bet.

Ballista just shrugged. Lena took up the torch of being personable. "People play cards to pass the time, just seems to happen." She tossed in her own bet. "It didn't usually involve getting cleaned out by a supercomputer though."

"Have you considered not sucking?" SV-98 upped the bet. She didn't have crap in her hand but neither did anyone else. Even the cheaters weren't trying to cheat this hand.

"Meatbag, playing against people with supercomputers for brains." Lena reiterated.

"At least one of whom is beating you while extremely drunk." Ballista's deadpan manner made it all the funnier, at least to SV-98. "I believe that qualifies as at least mildly embarrassing."

Whatever Lena might have wanted to say she swallowed, folding on the hand, which SV-98 found amusing as she was fairly certain the human woman had the best hand of the lot.

The rest of the round went quietly, and SV-98 collected her winnings. They dealt in SRS, who also seemed determined to prove that cheaters didn't prosper. SV-98 didn't really care, although she was considering if she could get M16 to bet that she'd drink Vodka only for a week when her chips ran out.

Frankly it made for startling normalcy, to be thinking about if she could use poker as leverage over her fellow soldier instead of if she was going to get gutted like a fish. Most of the non-off base, and off duty Dolls were gathered about, based on SV-98's guess when she swept the room visually. Made for a strange collection of two dozen or so Dolls gathered around the worlds least honest poker game, enemies and allies alike. Groza, SV-98 felt sure, would have said something sappy.

Groza, also in SV-98's opinion, could stuff it. Or maybe she had a point. Throwing a handful of chips into the pot, and staring down M16 with her best 'try me' expression, SV-98 decided she'd resolve muddy feelings later, and instead focus on the important things in life, like taking this whiskey drinking idiot for everything she had, and then more.

-Faded Glory-

"You know, we both have really shit taste in movies." FAL observed, after a few minutes.

"I don't know what you expected." Groza really didn't. "I can pick up many skills and acquire knowledge, but movies aren't exactly easy to get a hold of." She gestured vaguely. "And I think our mistake was trusting movie critics to have opinions that are worth respecting."

FAL's low chuckle took a while to die off. "You may have a point. Critics of anything tend to be of suspect quality and opinions."

Something about the tone of voice caught Groza off guard. FAL rarely sounded bitter about anything, and that wasn't quite bitterness, but it edged over the line from deep dislike in that direction. Shifting to get a better look at FAL's expression, Groza gave up on figuring out the answer without asking. "Experience talking?"

"We are Dolls. We are designed, yes?" A rhetorical question, but Groza nodded anyway. FAL didn't seem to notice, having paused more to gather her thoughts. "Five-seveN, Ballista, and I are from the same designer, all intended for the world of fashion. Perfect models, in theory." Groza could see that. While she didn't understand all that much of how the fashion world worked, despite having better taste than FAL, she would see the 'logic' in the 'design' choices made for her, Ballista and Five-seveN that would match to that purpose. She also didn't want to comment, as the topic of what brought a Doll into the world could be a touchy one. "I'm sure you can guess that didn't pan out for Ballista."

"I admit, imagining her as a runway model is difficult." That image of stone-faced Ballista delivering a death stare to some photographer trying to get an indecent angle of her was an amusing one though. "Although, did the stare come before or after?

Melancholy, and perhaps even a bit of regret were visible on FAL's face. "For that, you can blame Five-seveN, and her desire to be the best, and in charge." True bitterness, and perhaps anger slipped out, FAL's entire body coiling tight for just a moment. Groza gave her hand a squeeze, filing away that, yes, Five-seveN had done something awful in the past and that FAL didn't quite forgive her for later consideration. "She's never let go of an article written about our models, talking about how, of the three, she was the superior 'physical design'."

"That…" Groza fumbled with the words, caught between a desire to call Five-seveN something absolutely horrible, and the desire to not badmouth what was effectively her girlfriend's sister.

"Is exceedingly twisted. It probably molded all three of us more than either of them realizes." FAL stopped again, eyes drifting out of focus, as an open debate playing out on her face. "It helped fuel Five-seveN's complex. Made Ballista quieter and colder. And somehow, I had to spend my time juggling the nonsense in the middle." Rolling so that her back faced Groza, her voice dropped a few degrees. "And so, I became…whatever the hell I am now."

Groza struggled to draw that connection, as 'what she was now' seemed a few degrees away from playing mediator for her sisters. "By having to constantly juggle those competing things?"

"The fashion industry is not a kind place. Being a Doll did not help, a Doll with Dolls for help further dug into that." Shoulders slumping with her sigh, FAL seemed to curl inwards slightly. "Five-seveN can be at once incredibly charming and incredibly cruel, and I spent as much time cleaning up her messes with others as anything else, as well as pointing her in the ways I needed her pointed."

That sounded unpleasant all on its own, as did the idea that FAL used Five-seveN as something of a weapon against those around her. Although it did make sense, thinking about their dynamic now.

"I was the one people liked, as a rule. I'm a pretty face, and I can say the right things, and more importantly, I kept Five-seveN on a leash, which made me desirable by itself." Sheets bunched in her fists, and the silence dragged on long enough to be deeply uncomfortable. "Eventually we arrived at the bizarre compromise that I was the 'model', Ballista was my 'bodyguard' and Five-seveN my 'agent'. The group we worked for didn't mind because having someone who made them money be self-sufficient saved staff and money and it let them handle some of the other drama and nonsense better."

"How long did that last?"

"About a year." That sounded wistful, although Groza suspected it to be the same sort of wistfulness that she felt for her early life, when things were simpler, but more miserable. "When the war broke out, and Dolls started getting called up to fight, we went as a group. FNC and FN-49 were assigned to our group after that, and only then did I learn that FNC worked at a pastry shop not too far from our apartment. I still don't know where FN-49 is from, just that she was happy there."

"Huh." Groza didn't know what to think about that knowledge, considering how few Dolls on the eastern front knew life before the war. "I'm surprised you manage to stay together."

"Forming a squad out of dolls who already had a bit of a hierarchy to them and worked together saved time and effort. We were needed on the frontlines immediately; they didn't have time to try and optimize more than that." Laughing, FAL slumped onto her back again. "It's odd, to think that I had the most 'normal' military life of the three of us." Being KSG, Groza and FAL.

"Just a soldier, doing what soldiers did without any fuss or chaos?"

"Compared to the Russians, who had no rights, and attacked on mass without much strategy behind it, and the Americans who were treated as all but equals to human soldiers, and generally found themselves in the absolute worst of the fighting, we occupied our little stretch of battlefield, fought when we fought, complained when we didn't, and just tried to live."

"And then ended up having to pick up the pieces when you did."

"From what I can tell most soldiers on all sides got that part. 74M and MG4 are the only counterexamples I know of." FAL considered her next words more carefully. "It is a strange experience."

"It is." Groza conceded. "What was it like…before the war?"

"Hm?" That question took FAL aback, before her thoughts caught up. "I'm the wrong person to ask that, I think. Most of my life involved rigorous schedules, pretending to be happy, and exploiting the fact that I'm physically attractive to either get what I needed, or otherwise benefit myself." She trailed off, seeming lost in memories once again.

Groza felt content to leave her there for the time being, mulling over what she'd now learned. Most of it did not surprise her, except perhaps the insight into FAL's relationship with Five-seveN. They fit together very well in one sense and in the other they fit together terribly, two very similar people who went about life very differently.

"It's funny." FAL seemed to just be talking to herself now. "That in the end this is the place I feel the most comfortable."

"Being a PMC soldier in a unit that is rapidly turning into chaos and with a superior who is some variety of jackass?" Groza felt her brow rise, skipping over the cheeky question about being in bed with her. "That seems a bit at odds."

"It's different from my old life but at a high level it's not that different, and at least here, I have choices, and control." FAL's lips curled upwards. "I can also call this boss a jackass to his face if I want, and everyone agrees that he's got problems." That, they did agree on. "I actually like the people here, outside of the obvious, and even my idiot sisters have found themselves things to occupy themselves that don't require a babysitter."

"I did hear a rumor that Five-seveN and Kalina were…involved."

"9A and Fleur walked in on them." FAL's eyes danced with a dark glee, even as Groza tried to decide if they needed to convince the Commander to get Fleur therapy.

"That explains quite a few things actually." Groza swallowed her building laugh, letting her head roll back in turn. "I do see what you mean. For everything that is going on, I have more control and autonomy here than I ever did before."

"Strange isn't it." FAL shifted at her side. "A part of me wonders when it's all going to fall apart."

"In that sense, I truly believe the Commander when he promises that it will not." Groza took her own chance to think through her words. "While I can't say I think he's ever said entirely what he means, his actions suggest that he's going to stay out of our way, and that whatever goes on in that head of his largely stays there, unless we are KSG and get ourselves involved."

"In fairness, we nominated KSG to be involved." That was indeed a fair counterpoint, but it didn't affect Groza any. "But I suppose you are right, and we have talked about work too much already." That made Groza snort.

"We have." As if neither of them ever stopped working. A bit of her mind lingered there, and she knew that FAL's did too. A good thing, then that they ended up at that mutual understanding by themselves. "What would you rather talk about then?"

"Perhaps another day, I want to know just how you ended up who you are." FAL rolled onto her side, propped up on one elbow, burning eyes fixed on Groza. "As I struggle to think how a Soviet infantrywoman ended up doing a remarkably good impersonation of a high society socialite when she wanted to, while being able to fall back into the life of a soldier without a second thought."

"But?" That statement left such an obvious but that Groza couldn't ignore it.

"That story sounds entirely depressing to me, and we've been depressing enough." FAL's lips curled upwards, a genuine smile. "We have at least an entire day ourselves, and I think we should make the most of it."

Heat rushed into Groza's cheeks with the realization. It shouldn't have, she was not some blushing virgin, but the implication from her girlfriend still caught her aback, for a few seconds. "That does sound like a good idea."

-Faded Glory-

Fleur flopped onto her bed, entirely exhausted. While the days of quiet were nice, one of the things she realized early on was that quiet days in Sector 9 meant quiet for the people doing the shooting, and the quiet for the logistics staff happened far less often. Today they had to bring in fuel, ammunition, a bunch of weird crap that AR-57 wanted, and then got some random request from the Commander that involved spending two hours researching communications equipment, making for a chaotic day and that was before lunch.

If nothing else, she enjoyed this far more than sitting in classes, because at least out here, Fleur felt like she was doing something. Even if that something was giving her 'boss' grief for getting bent over a desk by Five-seveN, or trying to decipher the mind of a man probably twice her age, and afflicted with some form of insanity.

Her phone had the usual assortment of things, requests to talk from her friends in Prague, to be ignored for now, texts from her parents which she would actually answer, news from back home, and then a message from an unknown person that was just a waving emote.

"The hell?" She blinked, checking again but the message was absolutely there. A second later another appeared, this time text.

This is Sier. You've been looking for me?

"The fuck?" Fleur dropped her phone, fumbling to pick it back up again in her surprise. Getting random messages from people who were probably mercenaries was not part of her job description. And even if it did, mercenaries were not supposed to send her random emotes to start a conversation!

Sorry if I surprised you, but I was asked to reach out and find out what we could offer you. How the hell did they- Fleur caught herself. Tracking her phone probably was possible if they really tried and neither she nor Kalina had been subtle when looking up Sier. And wait, she'd been told? That meant someone else was in charge, which did answer a few questions, only to raise a few more.

"Told by who?" She sent back, after a few seconds of deliberation. The Commander wanted information, so she figured she'd try and get something. Or stall long enough to get control of her shock and think about this logically.

A friend of mine. A pause, then another message. They want to know what we can do for you?

"Friend." Fleur muttered aloud. Some friend, to be sure. "Sure, we'll go with that." Sure, we can go with friend. As for what you can do, that's not my job. That felt like the best answer, as she started writing the message to the Commander.

Of course. Entirely professional, at odds with a random emote from earlier. Probably a strategy to get her off guard. Please let your associates know that we are interested in a partnership. I believe you know what sort of services we provide.

I am familiar with the fact that you will probably shoot orphans or something, yes. Fleur physically rolled her eyes as she sent the message. That's half the appeal, isn't it.

This time the answer took a while. I don't think they've ever shot orphans.

The fact that has a caveat proves my point. Okay she could start to see why Blackwood liked doing this, messing with people could be funny.

They wouldn't- The message cut off, and Fleur considered feeling bad for bullying someone she barely knew about working for people who did war crimes professionally. Then, she thought about it more and decided that, no she didn't feel bad at all. Most of them wouldn't.

I won't judge too hard. No, she absolutely would. There's people here who I'm entirely sure would sell their own kids for a profit if given the chance. She considered for a beat. Actually no, absolutely would. No matter how many that was, she knew it to be true.

That sounds alarming.

Eh, I can't judge. Political dissidence, selling you children….it wasn't that different from a certain point of view. Or maybe the presence of lunatics was corrupting her. Probably that one. In either case, Fleur wouldn't be telling the mercenary person that.

Why not? The question seems genuine, if that was possible from text. Before Fleur could deflect, a follow up rushed out. You are the one mystery to me. A Miss Kalina is known for being a money-grubbing devil, but you're a bit of a mystery aside from your employers.

Says the mystery girl working for a mercenary outfit that does the shadiest stuff. Fleur countered. Only thing out there about you is that you're connected to people who are in it deep, and your name.

Yes, well it would be problematic if more than that got out. Several aborted messages appeared. And a name is more than I know about you.

I'd tell you a good try, but I guess fair enough. I'm Fleur.

Sier, but you know that. A pause. Mercenary agent, CIC and general-purpose person who knows things.

Knower of things appears to be a common job title. Then again, she didn't quite have an official title. Other than logistics, keeps one busy enough to not get up to other kinds of trouble.

I would think other kinds of trouble is most of what someone in your position can get up to, given the number of soldiers. Seir mused. Or at least that there wouldn't be enough to keep a single person so busy.

You've never met our boss. Blame it on Blackwood, yeah that sounded good. And Kalina being distracted by horny Belgians.

That is suspiciously specific.

Some things don't need to be seen, yeah? A lot of things but they all boiled down to one thing. She finished her message to the Commander, and despite it being horrifically late got a reply in a matter of seconds.

The flurry of messages followed, before the simple 'get information and let them know we'd be potentially interested' settled in. Boss says he's interested and will be in touch.

I'll let them know. They'll be pleased.

Doubtless. You guys take cash only, or there some fancy way to pay you with credit? A beat passed, as the realization that she'd turned into some kind of adult who asked 'sensible' questions hit, and Fleur groaned.

Credit. A laughing emote followed. I can take care of that when it's needed.

I'll let you wrangle with Kalina about that part. And Fleur would hide. Far far away. The reply took a while to come up.

I'll stay in touch then, Miss Fleur.

Part of Fleur wanted to object to being called 'Miss' because frankly that just made her feel old and she wasn't a 'miss anything' but that felt like one of those arguments where you found yourself wound in a knot and losing.

Frankly she didn't quite know how things ended up in this kind of mess, even having lived through it all. Going from political dissident to knower of things and logistics helper for a mercenary unit sounded insane even on the surface.

She glanced at the messages from her friends. Most of them felt weirdly out of place, in the context of her current life. When you spent your time talking about bullets, fuel, and how to load up a helicopter optimally to deploy the troops inside with maximal supplies, getting asked about math homework seemed so utterly foreign.

Then again, she hadn't talked with a lot of them in probably a month so maybe she did owe them that much.

"Fleur!" Three waving faces filled the screen, all of them crammed in around the phone, making it impossible to see much of anything.

"I can't see any of you dumbasses." She rolled her eyes, flopping back onto her bed. "Whatdaya want anyway? Been up my ass for days, you'd think the city was on fire."

"Well, you weren't talking to us, and we didn't know if you'd gone and managed to get yourself thrown in a gulag." Came the quick reply. "Which er…you didn't, right?"

"First, screw you, second, no." Did they really think that little of her ability to not get caught? It took tactical dolls to catch her. Although there wasn't anything saying she couldn't still get thrown in a Gulag.

"So, what did you do, cause you sure aren't here, and nobody is talking about it?"

"Get hired to play knower of things by a PMC unit, so I get paid to do crimes now." She enjoyed watching the complete confusion and shock flicker across a bunch of teenage faces when she said that. It was only sort of a joke, Kalina probably did commit tax fraud. "Negotiate with people who probably don't shoot orphans, you know, normal things." As the sputtering died down, Fleur decided to take some pity on them. "Putting aside my questionable associates, what's things like back there now?"

"It's all quieted down. There's some new government officials, and less Russian troops, but everyone's still on edge. And you up and vanished, that isn't helping."

"Yeah yeah, local political agitator vanishes, teenagers panic."

"No really, we've been worried about you." Fleur flipped them off. "And what's this about a PMC?"

"Just that. Got hired by a PMC to know stuff. Got tangled up in a mess." They'd probably think it as cool if she said the line about telling and killing but that sounded stupid. "Mom's pissed at me, it's fine."

"You fine?"

Was she fine? That was a hard question to answer. "Yes." Fleur nodded. "It's fun, if completely insane work." And, she was surprised to realize after some reflection that wasn't a lie. Her boss, and her boss's boss were nuts but she enjoyed it, and liked the people.

AN: Turns out, I can write not depressing things! Imagine that?

In either case, forewarning that hte next chapter may be somewhat delayed. We're about to transition from the AR team arc, into some new and exciting things. However, in order to make them, new, and exciting, instead of new, and stupid, I need to sit down and finish planning things out, which means that it might take a bit to finish them off. The better news, is that in theory that will accelerate the posting process after that, so silver linings and all that.

As always, a thanks to Branded for putting up with my nonsense, and questions/comments/concerns are always appreciated.