[color=007236]>JOINT BASE ELMENDORF-RICHARDSON[/color]
[color=007236]>ANCHORAGE, AK
>13SEP2019
>0500[/color]

It had been a day or so since THUNDER and UMBRA were once again crammed into a house and told to wait. Poker and Donnelley had fought over the master bedroom, eventually culminating in a very intense arm wrestling match between the two that did bring up morale amongst all of them quite a bit. They were told all of their possessions left at the BLACKBOX would be flown in and would arrive today, Donnelley glad to have his things back finally. Sadly, the view from the master bedroom’s windows didn’t give him a good angle to see the sunrises, but he still spent the early mornings outside on the porch, just thinking and dragging away at his cigarettes.

Foster and Sobel had left them all to their own devices. Sobel had healed up quick, though there were concerns that an expenditure of that much energy again could lead to a brain hemorrhage if taken just a little farther than it was. Sobel didn’t seem to care. Foster disappeared to do whatever it was he was busy with for the past two days, which was fine with Donnelley. He didn’t mind not having daddy dearest around for a bit. They’d struggled on without him for long enough now. Donnelley was on the porch when the shipment of their stuff arrived. It was arranged neatly into bags, sorted by whoever had owned it. Donnelley had changed out of the redneck gear he was sporting after shopping in nothing but Cabela’s stores with Dave. Now he looked more like the security contractor type, could hardly tell him and Ghost apart save for the difference in muscle mass.

Looking at the folded up clothes he was wearing in Noatak though. He’d seen his own blood on his own clothes before, but he’d never held the clothes he’d died in. That was different. Almost unwelcome, and he left those clothes alone until he decided to go to the backyard. He’d started a fire in the pit there and thrown his clothes in. He’d gotten curious looks from Poker and Ghost, but it didn’t stop him. He listened to the sounds of waking and conversation inside the house as he sat in the backyard and watched the evidence of his murder or KIA status or whatever you wanted to call it just blacken and burn away. He took a drag off his cigarette and let it out, his old flask in his lap.

His sunglasses were on to cover the recently pouring eyes. He cleared his throat and took another drag, and another nip off his flask in another sunrise. His breath hitched in his throat again and he looked down with a heavy frown, tugging down the bill of the RealTree cap a bit lower.

Back in the living room Dave stirred, his eyes snapping open and awareness rushing in as it had been more and more lately. He didn’t [i]wake up[/i] anymore. Instead he [i]activated[/i], coming to the world instantly ready to fight. 

He looked around the room from his position on the couch, then turned, spotting Ava curled on the loveseat, Prince snuggled beside her. He smiled, feeling like he might laugh and cry at the same time just to see her lying there. Instead he rose, setting aside the AK he’d slept with, and after bending down to kiss her forehead and patting Prince he headed for the porch. 

Dave spotted Donnelley and crossed to sit down beside him. 

“Mornin’,” he grunted. He pulled out his Cope, snapped the can. As he loaded his lip and put it away he stared out at the yard, hoping he wasn’t intruding but unwilling to walk away. 

“Mornin.’” Donnelley said after a spell of silence. He added another piece of wood to the fire, wanting those clothes reduced to ashes by the time he was gone from this house. He didn’t look at Dave, the two of them just sitting in each other’s presence. Donnelley had his eyes on those clothes since he’d started the fire, almost like he was expecting them to jump up and strangle him.

“How you holdin’ up?” Donnelley broke the ambience of birds chirping and the faint sunlight of a fledgling day.

“Shit’s weird,” Dave said. He looked off into the distance, his left hand in his pocket, his right resting on the butt of the Sig he still wore at his belt. “You guys comin’ back is...It’s a lot. Don’t get me wrong, I couldn’t be happier, really,” he added hastily. “But...Three days…”

Dave shook his head, pushing back memories of what happened in that barn. “I thought we were payin’ ‘em back...Thought all I had left to do was kill the bastards. An’ I did a lot of that. I dunno, man, I ain’t tryin’ to dump on you. Can’t imagine what it’s like for y’all.” 

“Fuck it,” Donnelley glanced at Dave before he turned his head back to the fire, those glasses still hiding his bloodshot eyes, but nothing could mask the sound of his irritated throat from quietly choking back those pitiful half-sobs. Trying not to wake everyone else up. 

Besides, listening to Dave would keep his mind from wandering back to that Jeep Liberty and Gregory Morales’ innocent corpse. He took a drag off his shrinking cigarette and shamelessly pulled from his flask, “Just fuckin’ talk, man. If it helps.”

Dave sat down beside Donnelley, then took a quick look back over his shoulder. Satisfied they were alone he shifted his weight, considering his words. Donnelley had [i]been there[/i], as the saying goes. Dave trusted him, and knew that the man had been through a lot of the same hell in his past that Dave was currently experiencing. Belyaev’s name was on the tip of his tongue, but he balked at the last second. 

“I’m just not used to this...I dunno, the level of violence,” Dave said lamely. “When it happened in West Virginia, it was usually more sporadic, I guess? But since you guys...Well, since y’all died, it’s been a non-stop shit show. Hell, it’s been a shit show since we got to Alaska.” He waved a hand dismissively. “Anyway. I’m just bitchin’, if you believe what Ghost says. That guy’s a fuckin’ machine.” 

“Yeah, and I’m [i]not Ghost.[/i]” Donnelley shook his head, looked at Dave and then looked back at the fire. Shook his head again, “I been places, man. Done things that ain’t ever goin’ to see the light of day. Take ‘em all to my grave.”

Donnelley nodded at the fire then, eating up the clothes he’d died in, hungry. “Neither of us are Ghost and that’s fine. Man’s not fuckin’ human.” He sighed, “You wanna try to be like him, go ahead. Or you can take a pull off this flask and talk to me like the friend I am to you.”

Donnelley slowly extended his arm Dave’s way and offered the flask he held to the other man. He wished he’d offered the same to Avery when he could, but he let his own damn emotions control the way he held himself. Now one of the last memories Avery ever had of him was him yelling at him in a hotel parking lot. He didn’t want to be that leader.

Dave looked at the flask for a moment, then took it. He took a large swallow, drinking despite the dip like a true Ozark boy. 

“I cut a man up,” he said after, before he lost his nerve. “He uh...He was the dude we snatched up, Belyaev. Some Russian. But I blamed him for what happened, an’ I jointed him like a deer carcass. Real slow.” He took another drink, then offered it back. “It ain’t somethin’ Ava can ever know...I knew even while I did it that she’d hate it. She wouldn’t want it, even as revenge. But…” He sighed. “But it was what I thought I wanted, an’ I did it.” 

Donnelley watched him drink and speak on what he’d done at that barn to get himself so red to the elbows and blood-stains on his shirt. He’d seen it, everyone who knew to look for it saw it, and probably even those who didn’t know what it was saw it. The eyes of a man who’d done something regrettable. Donnelley nodded, knowing well enough how THUNDER did things, and if Dave was with THUNDER, well. “You know, Laine asked me once, on our first assignment together,” Donnelley looked up at the lightening sky and remembered back to Clyde Baughman’s apartment, “She asked me if the wives or girlfriends or any of their family ever knew the kinds of things that we had to do for the Program.”

“I’m pretty sure I told her that even if we could ever talk to anyone about what we saw and did, they wouldn’t want to know. Not really. Not if they knew what was good for them.” Donnelley looked back down to earth, pulled off of his flask when he got it back, “I killed plenty. Some of them I wish I didn’t have to. Laine ain’t ever goin’ to know about it.”

“I wish I knew the cure to wakin’ up soaked through with sweat, the nightmares, the not bein’ able to sleep or just really not fuckin’ wantin’ to.” Donnelley shrugged, “But talkin’ to folk who understand helps. Even if they don’t give me instructions like say ten Hail Mary’s and whatever, it helps.”

“I’m sorry you had to do that, man.” Donnelley reached up and took his sunglasses off, letting them hang off the neck of his hoodie. He looked at Dave with bloodshot eyes, tired bags weighing down his eyelids, “I’m really sorry.”

Dave nodded as he spoke, and when he’d finished he reached over to grab his shoulder. Donnelley looked like he felt, and he couldn’t help the bit of guilt that crept into him at unloading his pile of shit on a man fresh back from the dead. 

“I’m sorry for what happened to y’all,” he said. He wasn’t sure what else to say. Instead he gave Donnelley’s shoulder a squeeze. “You listened to me, so I’m down to listen to you. If you want. We got our li’l family back together, an’ we’re gonna see this shit through. But I’m here for you, same as you are for me.”

He gave Donnelley a final pat and then released him, stretching a bit to take some of the strain off his battered back. He felt like he’d been run through a machine, and after sparing a brief thought for what the shockwave of that explosion might have done to his previously concussed brain he shook his head, clearing the thought away. All things considered, an aneurysm might not be a bad way to go.

Dave leaned back, resting his weight on his hands, and simply watched the sky, content to either bring in the morning in silence or provide an ear as Donnelley dictated. 

Donnelley scooted down in the collapsible picnic chair he was sitting in, shimmying down so his legs were closer to the fire and he was more laying than sitting. Silence resumed again and the two rough and tumble men just sat like that for a good while. He swallowed, looking at Dave, then back at the fire. It was like whatever it was was clamping his jaw shut. He had to fight it all the way up until finally, he just spoke it out onto the cold morning, “Avery.” He said, clearing his throat and knowing he needed to say more or it wouldn’t mean anything, “I wish I talked to him like this. I mean, knowin’ what I know now. Knowin’ what happened to him, I… I made him feel like a damn fool in that parkin’ lot, and those were most of the last words I ever left in his mind.”

“Maybe he had a good fuckin’ reason for bein’ so stupid drunk he woke up not knowin’ where he was. Shit, I been there.” Donnelley just shook his head and sighed, “I told Laine, Ava, everyone who woke up and found each other that I was so fuckin’ sorry for lettin’ ‘em go out like that… I saw the woman that I-...” He looked sidelong at Dave and stopped himself for a second, “The woman… that I care so goddamn much about go down and there weren’t anythin’ I could fuckin’ do to stop it.”

“And even now that we’re up and walkin’ the fuck am I gonna say? I’ll get you next time? Just trust me?” Donnelley snorted bitterly and shook his head, “No matter what, I can never take any of that back. Not for Laine. Not for Ava. Ain’t never goin’ to be able to say any of that to Avery.”

He shrugged, not knowing what else to do or say, “I don’t know. That’s what’s on my mind.”

Dave heard him out, feeling his guts twist as Donnelley echoed his own thoughts and feelings. The guilt was something he understood. Pari, wherever she’d wound up, had called him their protector early on, and he’d adopted that persona, taken that responsibility. Then he’d somehow been the only one of them to walk away. 

“It’s heavy shit,” he said. “But...I know it.” He trailed off, unsure of what else to say. His own guilt had gnawed at him every moment of every day. “I know how that feels. I do. I ain’t sure what...We can say, or do, about it, you know? I ain’t a good talker. ‘Specially about stuff like this. Laine, she said we didn’t do anythin’ wrong, didn’t fuck up. But I get how you feel. Watchin’ it all happenin’, not able to do a goddamn thing except go after the bastards after they’ve already pulled the trigger.” 

He tightened a fist, his hate for the Russians rising for a brief moment. He sat in silence, then looked over at Donnelley. His admission about Laine had confirmed some things Dave had only suspected.

“Whatever happens, you got my gun in the fight,” he said finally. “We’re gonna handle our shit. Them Russian boys started a feud, and I’m plannin’ on showin’ them how an Ozark man handles his shit.” 

Donnelley looked at Dave with some renewed vigor. Feeling that same sense of brotherhood he’d felt just like before those three days he was absent. Looking at him and knowing the both of them were rearing for the fight. He smiled, placing his hands together behind his head to support it, “You know that sayin’, the one I’m thinkin’ about,” he huffed a chuckle through his nose, “Don't mess with Texas.”

He turned serious then, nodding as he looked off at the middle distance, “We’ll get ours from ‘em. Every ounce of blood owed.” Donnelley spoke low and mean through a dark frown, “At least [i]that[/i] much I can [i]promise.[/i]”

[color=007236]>...///[/color]

Laine shared a room with both Ava and Bajbala, the girl’s room as it was called. A pair of bunk beds and she could not shake the camp feeling every time they stayed in a safe house. She had called bottom bunk, putting the smaller redhead in the one above her and letting Baj take her pick of the other. 

It was still early when she woke, checking her phone and tossing it across the bed. She lay still, wanting nothing more to go back to sleep but the dream had been unsettling, the floating bodies had opened their eyes and stared down at her. Laine was not eager to go back to that so she sat up, swinging her legs over the bunk in the oversized man’s undershirt they had been given. Her foot bumped a bag and she reached over, flicking on the desk lamp, adjusting the shade so it would not be too annoying to Baj who was still asleep across from her. 

Laine pulled the bag up onto the bed, eager to get at the clean clothes and have a shower before the rest of the household woke up. Maybe she would make breakfast for everyone like she had back in the cabin in West Virginia.  

She pulled open the bag and her helmet rested on top. Laine blinked at it, not recognizing it for a moment then set it aside. On top of her personal bag of clean clothes was the neatly folded tactical pants and jacket, the gray under thermal shirt and leggings. They were dirty, the blood still staining them and when she held up the pants there was a ragged hole on either side of the upper right thigh. Dark stains ran down the whole leg and the jacket was no better, the collar and front had been soaked. 

Laine’s hands began to shake, she had no memory of dying, only what Donnelley had told her. Seeing her lifeless and she had believed him but it still had not touched her in the same way holding the clothes did. Her practiced eye knew by the amount of blood that had been spilled and the locations of the wounds death would have certainly occurred without immediate medical attention. She looked closer, making sure they were hers and a pin on the jacket lapel made her take a sharp breath. 

The little death’s head moth that Ava had given her was still pinned, the blood crusted on the brass and enamel. Laine bit back a whimper and pushed the clothes off her lap as if they had burned her. Laine wrapped her arms around herself as she trembled so violently her teeth chattered. The sudden and very real idea she had actually died and somehow came back, perhaps replacing another life, hit her with the force that knocked her breath away. 

A scream was trapped in her throat, she did not want to fall apart in front of the team. She had to be put together, she was the head doctor anyway. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she fought with breaking down. Laine closed her eyes and took deep breaths, pulling herself back from the brink, not wanting to look at the clothes again.  

The rustling of bags coming into the building had woken Bajbala. She felt safe there with the other two members of UMBRA. They seemed human, at least, and that was enough for her to at least kick off her boots. Hypnagogic thoughts faded with the hushed sounds of that humanity from the bed across the room, causing her to turn over.

“These beds... aren’t very comfortable,“ she whispered out with a freshly woken voice. It was filler, the anticipation of her new assignment the real culprit of discomfort. Her room-mate's eyes were still wet in the soft glow of the lamp. She knew that look, that posture. A woman feeling powerless or maybe confused beneath a sudden painful weight, Laine was in distress, her repression communicating more than she had security to show. Bajbala leaned up with an arm. Her dark hair hung free and tangled. 

“Are you okay?” she asked softly. Above her, Ava’s bed was undone and empty, part of the blanket hanging over the edge.

The sound of the voice startled her, jerking her out of the rhythmic breathing and she shook her head, her short black hair brushing against her neck. Laine took another breath and rubbed her hands over her face, embarrassed now at being caught by the newest member of their team. She tried to force a smile but it failed and she shrugged, “I’ll be okay, it’s just...”

Laine glanced over at the woman, studying her in the dim light. They were around the same age and dark haired but that was as much as she knew they had in common, this Afghani woman and the daughter of middle class Californians. She shook her head again, then said, “They told you what happened to us? That we died and came back.”

Her hands trembled again, her gaze drawn unwilling to the pile of clothing on the floor beside her bed. “It didn’t feel real, I don’t remember it. But that, that’s a crime scene.” 

She blew a breath out and rubbed her eyes, “Sorry, you had to wake up to that. I’ll be alright, it’s just a shock to actually see it...the uh, the clothes I was wearing.” 

Bajabala could see her look to the clothes. The blood stains were deep and dark like the articles were drenched in a puddle, whoever wore them likely wouldn't be breathing. It was hard believing what they were saying, but Laine's trauma was undeniable.

"No, no it's okay. I've been in and out of sleep." She waved it off then sat up and climbed out of bed wearing her same sweater and slipped on her pair of jeans that were folded at the foot. She approached Laine almost tip-toeing, " I heard. I don't know what to think of it. You are alive, now." The middle-eastern accent slipped through her tired voice.

Bajbala knelt down by the strewn contents of Laine’s bag. "Is there anything you need from here?" She asked while handling the bag, hiding away the blood-stained items to spare Laine from the sight.

Laine ran her fingers through her hair and looked up as Baj approached, "You'll find out. This weird shit..."

She dropped her hands in her lap, watching them tremble and she clenched them into fists. She had died and come back, and thank whatever god was out there she did not come back like Mrs. Baughman.

Another shudder ran through her and she swallowed hard, trying to focus on Baj's question. "Yes, that's what I brought with me. I was looking for my clothes. I want to shower."

In the bag was everything she brought with her from Idaho, black jeans and t-shirts, panties and everything else. Her laptop bag, her work. Her cigarettes. 

"Do you see a black pack of cigarettes in there? I need a smoke before I do anything," Laine asked.

"That's a good idea. Maybe I'll take one after." Bajbala said. She searched inside the bag looking wherever she'd suspect the pack to be. From some fold she felt edges and pulled free a wrinkled black carton, a lighter fell loose to the floor. Inside many of them were crushed and the thick aroma seized her nose.

"Here ya go," she handed both over with an apologetic smile.

She zipped the stuffed bag half closed and sat down from her knees, leaving one of Laine’s clean outfits roughly folded on top.

Laine gave her a weak attempt at a smile and fished out one of the black Djarums, then reached for the cheap Zippo lighter. She struck the flame and took a deep drag, the cloves crickling as she did. 

"Shit, sorry," she said, glancing up at the ceiling and remembered where she was. "Just this one, I promise."

Laine smoked for a moment, the calm starting to drift over her like ashes.  "Did you want one?"

She looked into the crushed box, finding one only slightly bent. Laine held out the smoldering clove cigarette between her fingers, "I always thought these would be the death of me."

Her voice hitched slightly and she pressed the cigarette between her lips. 

Bajbala sat quietly on her knees for a moment letting Laine find her peace. Her fair skin warmed in the light and the creamy stream of smoke dissipated beyond even silkier black hair; much straighter than Bajbala's.

"No, thank you. I'm not much a smoker." She smirked aside, briefly looking towards the floor and grabbing beneath her legs at the side. "It's your first smoke in what, four days? You're doing alright for having died once already."

Laine laughed a little at that, how many bummed cigarettes she had already gone through. She owed Donnelley a carton by now over the time she had lost hers or forgotten. “Yeah, you could say that. At least my own,” she replied, tapping the ashes into her cupped hand to avoid dropping them on the floor. “This is a hell of an introduction for you, but I guess we all get our trial by fire in the Program. And we’re not all like...those guys, THUNDER. We’re a different sort of team, you know?”

Her thoughts flicked back to Dave and Donnelley and the interrogation and execution of Michael. Her own hands now bloody after she had backed up over the Russian, running him over twice for good measure. She twitched her lips and took another drag, “Anyway, welcome aboard. We’ll probably be briefed soon, I have to start compiling my notes and...and the recordings.”

The air seemed to waver around her and Laine felt light headed, thinking about everything that had come down before the ambush. Her memory of the conversation with Ipiktok was disjointed and came in bits and pieces, thankfully she had recorded it. She wondered about the old shaman now and where he had gone or if he was dead, too. 

Her hands trembled again and she fought back against the anxiety that swelled up, the crashing of realization that occurred with such a trauma. With grief. 

Laine looked at Baj, then smiled a little sheepishly, her green eyes still glistening. “I’m sorry, I’m just...I’m processing this whole thing. You know? It’s a process...grief.” 

Her academic detachment was helpful sometimes and she rambled, “There’s just stages to it, we all go through it...pretty much. I was in denial I think, because I don’t remember getting shot. I don’t even have a wound or scar...it’s easy to just think of it abstractly.” 

She pinched the black cigarette between her first two fingers and drew on it hard enough to make her cheeks hollow. Holding the fragrant smoke, Laine slowly released it in a thin bluish stream away from Baj. 

“But those clothes, if I was looking at them at a crime scene I would determine the person that had been wearing them exsanguinated,” she said, “That they bled out. I can see it, I’ve seen it enough. Those are the clothes of a dead person.”

Laine met her eyes briefly, “Feels weird, to mourn yourself but still be alive. Feels a little selfish, considering some did not come back. But...yeah, it’s a process.” 

She shrugged, her tattooed shoulders on display in the sleeveless undershirt. Laine’s gaze shifted to the window where the sky was just starting to shift from black to gray. 

“So,” Laine continued, wanting to steer the conversation away from herself, embarrassed at the outpouring. “What’s your thing with the CIA? I’m afraid I’m only a lowly stateside Fed. This spy stuff is rather new.” 

Bajbala followed her through each word and occasionally muttered and nodded, subconsciously noting features like her tattoos. The fair and dark agent had her wits, only needing an anchor to pull herself up from the depths she was facing. The clove scent of smoke saturated the room, not bothering her but overwhelming the sleepiness.

"Oh," the question caught her off guard, rousing her into a different mode as her eyes met back with Laine. "No, please," she chuckled, "I couldn't do what you do I'm sure. I… watch people. Listen to them. Lots of following and waiting" She said glancing away. "Talk to them if I'm lucky. Then, if I'm told, make sure the ones that don't belong go away."  She struck a hand through her hair, setting it back over her shoulder.  "If you know Donnelly well, I'm with his sister group, basically."

She already knew there was no security in privacy, what she had seen only meant that this was the end of her road. Bajbala breathed a little easier as Laine leveled out.

"What is it you do?" She asked.

“I am sure you did a lot of important work, dangerous work,too,” Laine said. The thought of this woman eavesdropping on the Taliban and risking more than just her life doing it was impressive. If she was running with American operatives and was found out… Laine felt the prickling up her neck at what might have happened to her. 

“Yeah, I know him. I’ve been with his working group since…” she glanced up as if to recall and it felt like years but it had only been only months. “Well, shit, since late spring?” 

Laine reached up and brushed her hair behind her ear, “Time flies when you’re having fun, I guess.” 

She stayed quiet for a moment when Bajbala asked her the same question, her once intense focus on her job had taken a back burner since she entered the Program. She smoked silently then smiled a bit, “I am with the FBI, behavioral analysis.”

Laine met her eyes then continued, “Basically we study violent criminals and with that information we use it to create profiles of unknown subjects. I also have a doctorate in psychology…”

She rolled her eyes, the fresh memory of her meltdown now even more needling. Laine finished the cigarette and crushed it out, leaving the butt on her nightstand.  “Before that, I was a field agent and worked mostly missing and exploited children, international trafficking, things like that. It’s unfortunately been a theme in the cases we’ve had. Missing girls and women, murder. And much more.” 

Laine sounded like someone Bajbala could have used long ago. Now, there likely was no way to find the child she was looking for. No records, family, no one from that time may even be alive.

"That's intriguing!" She declared. "You would get along well with some people at the agency with those skills." She thought even more of what Laine had experienced with UMBRA previously. Her time must have been extremely busy even if it was less than a year.

Bajbala peered around the room for her own nonexistent bag. All of her belongings within the large purse tucked beneath her bunk or hanging. Whatever she had in the vehicle she was assigned here was gone, somewhere.

"Did they pull you into this with some gimmick too?"

“I do get along with at least one or two,” Laine smiled slightly. 

The next question reminded her of why she was there, the memory of the green shadows of Olympia State park and that black slab where no light reached. “It was one of my cases,” Laine said, “Sophie Childress. A missing college student from Seattle who had been gone a few weeks and her body recovered in the state park nearby but it was not a typical crime scene.”

She itched for another cigarette as she recalled the events, “She was murdered, left naked and mutilated on a strange black stone slab. It felt so wrong, of course now I know more but at the time I tried to write it off as just a trick of the mind. But I learned...that stone was pure malice.”

Laine glanced at Baj, “Then I got a visit. And an offer with a burner phone.” 

She fell silent for a moment, “I took the offer to join a team that was supposedly part of some federal clandestine investigation team. I figured itwas just another taskforce. We were cleaning up after a retired Program agent. And found clues to a cabin in West Virginia. But before we went, Donnelley and Foster gave us the [i]the talk.[/i].”

“And here we are,” Laine said, waving her hand around the room. “We’ve been chasing Russians in West Virginia and now here in Alaska.”                                                                                                                                                      

"That's horrible, and it goes on." Bajbala acknowledged. 

"The talk." She repeated. "Not much help that was…" She traced Laine's story with her imagination, noting the eerie and the black slab. It wasn't clear yet, but the mission in Pakistan kept coming back around and maybe there was a connection like Foster insisted. Then, she was brought on much the same way as Laine.

"I don't want to get ahead of myself, but if there are more Russians to deal with, I'm glad for the team change. Those THUNDER guys," she grit her teeth in a false shock, "that was a trip that couldn't have been longer." She pushed herself up from her knees and started to bundle up her belongings, giving Laine a short look.

"So, I need to get something done, you can shower first and I'll catch you in the brief?" Bajbala said, waving the phone in her hand and rolling her eyes about corresponding with her home station. 

Laine nodded, her feelings about THUNDER were they were a necessary evil in their line of work and she avoided any personal interaction. Professionalism was enough for her. 

"Right, of course," she said, taking the clothes Baj had laid out. Her gaze flicked down to the bloody remains of her old clothing. "I'll take care of that as well."

She left the woman and made her way to the restroom, she could hear the murmur of voices from the kitchen and smelled coffee. Laine shut the door behind her and turned on the water. 

[color=007236]>...///[/color]

Whatever nightmare woke him, Queen did not remember it, just the sudden awareness of being awake and the sweat on his pillow told him he had one. What a blessing, not to remember. He closed his eyes, listening to the snores of Ghost. He always seemed to sleep well. [/i]Like a big psychotic baby.[/i]

Queen rolled out of his bunk and groped in the darkness for his Kools, putting one between his lips and the lighter into the pocket of his gray sweatpants. Still bare chested and barefoot, he wandered to the restroom to take a piss. After he was done, he washed his hands and face, looking at the bloodshot whites but he had seen himself worse. Water dripped from his sandy beard onto his chest and he reminded himself he should probably hit the weights once things settled. 

As he returned he passed the living room and he spotted a floof of red hair poking out from one side of the loveseat. Queen grinned slightly, then it faded. He had not dared tell Dave or Donnelley about how he had taken her along for a dangerous venture to rob a drug dealer for much needed pills and cash, letting the story of Prince’s rescue stand alone. He sure as shit would never admit how he lulled the dealer into a position of vulnerability. 

Queen’s lips curled at that memory, the fear in the much larger man’s eyes both thrilled and sickened him knowing he had put it there. He passed the living room and went back into the darkness of the men’s bedroom. He found the wonderfully Alaksan brand of tacky t-shirt he bought, the three wolves and teal and purple colors and pulled it over his head to hide the canvas of colorful tattoos. He put on the boots that had been returned, the clothes he had brought and those he had been wearing when he died still sat in the bag beside his bunk. 

Once he was dressed, he went back to the living room. Ava slept alone on the loveseat and the dalmatian was curled on her, his head resting on her hip. Queen passed him and patted his spotted head. The dog blinked awake and wagged his tail slowly, yawning. 

“Yeah, it’s early,” he murmured, pausing to look out the window into the backyard. A fire burned in the pit and he could see the backs of Donnelley and Dave passing the flask. Queen sighed inwardly, swallowing back unnecessary jealousy. Things change, that was always a sure thing and he could not remember the thing that likely kept them up all night. 

He walked over to the kitchen, hearing the clicking of Prince’s claws on the wooden floor as he tagged along. 

“Coming to keep this pitiful specimen company? You had a much nicer bed,” he muttered around his cigarette before leaning over to light it on the gas stove. Queen shuffled around the kitchen, putting coffee on then leaned back against the counter, smoking. He knew he should go outside but had no desire to interrupt the men by the fire. 

Ava blinked awake as the warm weight that had been snuggled up with her disappeared. She lifted her head up, spotting the light on in the kitchen and seeing Prince walk off in that direction. 

She laid her head back down, rubbing at her eyes and contemplating going back to sleep. She looked over at the couch where Dave had been but found it empty.

The beep of the coffee maker caught her attention and she uncurled herself to make her way to the smell of dark roast. 

She walked in expecting to find Dave, but was surprised to see Queen leaning against the counter. Even without her glasses, she could recognize his build and features, blurry as they may be.

“Oh, good morning Queen,” She said around a yawn, reaching down to idly pet Prince’s head. “What time is it?”

When Ava entered the kitchen, the dog jumped up and began doing circles around until she pet him and he wagged his tail, whining for attention. Queen glanced up and smiled a bit, then turned to tap out his cigarette in the empty sink. “Morning, Angel. It’s just past fuck off o’clock. I hope I didn’t wake you.” 

His pale gaze ran over her in the characteristically cute attire, a pajama set featuring the plump Pusheen cat. He tried not to linger over her chest under the loose shirt and flicked his eyes somewhere else, over the top of her head which was surrounded by a halo of red fluff. “Seems like we’re not the only ones up, if you’re looking for Dave. He’s outside talking with Donnelley.”

Prince whined again and pawed at Ava. Queen said, “I wasn’t sure where his leash was or I would have taken him out. Probably could let him run around the backyard, the fence is solid.” 

He turned to check the coffee as it ran through the maker. Queen stretched to reach the cupboard, his shirt riding up and the tattoos of guns on his pelvic bone peeked over his sweats. He gathered mugs, most of them the diner style white but a few leftover personalized ones from whatever team had been there before them. He handed her one of those and moved to the refrigerator for the milk. 

“How you holding up?” he asked, popping the milk open. “Get your prescription and all?” 

“M’okay.” She said looking down at the mug for a few quiet moments before finally looking down at Prince. “I think you’re hungry, that’s why you’re in the kitchen. For breakfast.” She scratched his ears, setting down the mug on the counter and moving over to the cabinet with Prince’s dog food. “Prince, sit.”

Prince sat and wiggled in place as he anticipated being fed. 

“That good?” he grinned at her sleep creased face. “Hey I was thinking maybe I could make breakfast for the gang.” 

Queen went to the pantry and pulled out two boxes of Bisquick mix, “I can’t cook much but I do make some pretty good pancakes.”

Ava looked at him and smiled. “Usually that’s what Laine does, but I think she’d like being surprised.” She pulled down the medium sized bag of dog food and poured out some into the cheap doggy food bowl they picked up at Target. She packed the bag up and stepped back. “Good boy, go eat.”

She turned to Queen. “You don’t suppose there’s a waffle iron in here somewhere?” She said with a faint chuckle, rubbing at her eyes.

“That so?” he said, “I wouldn’t want to step on her toes.”

Queen grinned then and a wicked gleam flashed in his eyes, “She’s a little scary when she’s mad.”

He looked over at the pantry, “Waffle maker? I didn’t see anything like that. But trust me, the pancakes I make are my mother’s recipe.”

Shaking the box of premade mix, he smiled and went to find a large bowl. As he worked, he felt the tickling need rising in the back of his mind, crawling up his neck and the craving hit him. Queen thought about the stash under his bunk and found himself reading the instructions on the box of mix three times. Making pancakes was fun, but everything was more fun on cocaine. He had yet to try what he stole, trying to hold out to get some test strips but the distraction was growing and he had felt the withdrawal over the last few days. 

He shook the box and set it down, rubbing his hands down the front of the wolves on his shirt. Queen glanced at Ava, the missing bottle of Xanax sprung to mind. Trying to distract himself, he asked, “So, did you ever get your prescription filled or...you trying something else?”

Ava looked over at Queen, putting the coffee decanter back after pouring herself a cup. “Um, no, they said they were going to be bringing our stuff by so I had to wait to get the prescription I had brought with me.” She explained, digging the sugar out of the cupboard and a spoon to dump into her coffee. 

Her shoulders were tense and she busied herself with making up her coffee without creamer. “We should pour some coffee for Donnelley and Dave, I can take it out to them.”

Queen shifted his gaze over to her, side eying Ava as she made coffee. He picked up a mug that had a pair of polar bears on it and filled it with coffee, then a little milk. “That’s good you got your meds back, guess you won’t be needing that Xanax then.” 

He turned and leaned a hip against the counter and smiled a little as he blew off the steam from the cup. Queen was trying not to laugh, it was sort of adorable that she stole it but at the same time a troubling action. Secrecy and stealing were red flags, he should know. He was DEA. 

Ava dropped the spoon she was mixing with and looked back over at Queen in surprise before guilt and shame quickly shifted her expression. “I...I didn’t think you’d notice.” She said quietly, looking away and running a hand over her face.

Queen glanced around then leaned towards her, “Darlin’, I shoved a gun in someone’s mouth for that shit, I keep track.”

He looked her over, a mixture of amusement and something deeper glinted in his eyes. “Question is, why did you think you needed to steal it? It was my idea in the first place to help you. I wouldn’t deny you anything, but I’d at least get the chance to teach you how to use without hurting yourself. Use the Xanax, that is.”

Queen looked down into his coffee, studying it for a while before he added, “I won’t say anything about it. This is between you and me. If you want some for emergencies or when the Klonopin just isn’t enough, let me know. I’d have started you with .5 milligrams since you already use heavy stuff.” 

Ava covered her face with her hands and leaned back against the counter. “I don’t know.” She said quietly. “You left the car to go to the bathroom, Laine and Donnelley were talking and the tacklebox was right there. I just...I guess I didn’t want anyone to know.” She sniffed and lowered her hands to wrap her arms around herself. “Because if no one knew, then it wasn’t…” She trailed off, shaking her head at herself. “I’m sorry.”

Queen set his coffee down and shifted a little closer to her, clasping his hands as he leaned an elbow on the counter, “Then it wasn’t real? If no one knows, then it’s easier to pretend it’s normal. And maybe you were worried about what they might think of you. What the doc or Dave might think.” 

He stayed quiet for a moment, torn between the want to do what he knew was right and what the devil inside whispered to him. The addict, the adrenaline junky, the libertine in him, he could try and turn it to his favor. Queen pressed his lips together, jerking his head and shrugging his shoulders as if to rid him himself physically of that craving he felt earlier. 

“Do you still want it?” he asked plainly.

“Part of me does,” She answered quietly, still looking at the kitchen floor. “Part of me doesn’t and is scared. I usually try to drink tea or watch something cute if I’m having a bad time and that usually helps. But, the Xanax worked better and quicker…” She trailed off and scrubbed her hands over her face. “I shouldn’t keep it.” She said, finally lifting up her head with a firm resolve to her expression.

It faltered after a second and she glanced to Queen. “Right?”

Queen only looked at her, the same trusting face that had turned to him for protection in Anchorage. He could push and pull her at this moment, he knew she teetered on the edge of something that would start her down into the hole he was in. And how it could be manipulated for his own gain. But it would be a betrayal of a magnitude he might not be able to live with. Whether from his own conscience or Dave’s buck knife. 

He bit his thumbnail then shook his head, “That’s up to you, Angel. You know the answer without me telling you.” 

She looked at him and sighed, her shoulders sagging as she came to her decision. “I have my proper prescription now...I don’t need it.” She said, whether she was saying it to Queen or herself was unclear. “I’ll give it back.” 

She wrapped an arm around his shoulders and gave him a partial hug. “Thanks Queen, for talking to me.”

Queen drew a deep breath when she answered, relief that he did not expect washed over him. They both had passed the offers of a darker temptation and he smiled at her when she gave him a side hug. “Anytime,” he said, turning to look down at her, “I knew you would do the right thing. But if you ever...it gets hard sometimes. When you know how quick something might work but there’s a price. And I don’t want you to pay that.”

He nudged her gently, meeting her gaze, “It’s Billy, by the way.” 

Ava blinked her eyes in surprise, then a smile started to spread across her face. “Billy.” She said, while looking at him. “I like it. It suits you.” She turned and gave him a full hug. “Nice to meet you Billy.”

“Thanks, my mom gave it to me,” he quipped, then he smiled when she hugged him. Queen put a hand on her back and held her briefly, glancing up to check that Dave or Donnelley wasn’t walking in. It was an innocent thing but he knew his own reputation. Pulling back gently, he looked down at Ava, “Just keep it between us, or you know...not around Ghost or Poker, it’s a THUNDER thing. Just call signs.” 

She nodded as he stepped back, wiping at her eye and letting a deep sigh, her shoulders feeling heavy but at the same time, something inside felt lighter. “Right, okay, I can do that.” She nodded, looking over at Prince who was watching them with his head cocked to the side. “Done eating? I guess I should take you outside.” She chuckled, happy to put the topic of the pills she stole behind her.

“I should take some coffee out to Donnelley and Dave.” She said, glancing around for the extra mugs. “Dave takes his black and I think Donnelley does too...I might be the only person in this house that doesn’t drink it black.”

“Te- uh, Donnelley does take his coffee very straight,” he said, the twitch of his lips hidden under the coffee mug he brought up to them. “Like his whiskey.” 

Queen lowered his cup, the coffee was decent and he held it so she could see the caramel color of the brew after he had put milk in it. “I think I need a little sugar.” 

“At least you understand me.” She chuckled, passing him the bag of sugar. She poured some milk for her own cup of coffee and lifted up the mug, pausing as she noticed the writing on the side. It was a very cute white mug, with a black handle, some watercolor style flower painted on the ceramic below some black cursive writing.

“I don’t have my glasses on, but does this say, ‘It’s a throat punch kinda day’?” She asked Queen, holding up the mug for him to see.

“Why suffer when you don’t have to?” he said, adding a half a spoon of sugar, then a little more. He looked at the mug she held up and chuckled, “Yep, looks like it. Must have not been a morning person.” 

He tasted his coffee and nodded, “Well, you gonna get their coffee. I might as well get to mixing this batter.” 

Ava found herself tempted to keep the mug for fun, before chuckling at Queen. “It’s not waffles, but I’ll take it.”

[color=007236]>...///[/color]

Ava slid open the door to the backyard and Prince bolted out, galloping along on his long legs with his tongue out and his tail whipping around. “Um, incoming.” Ava chuckled sheepishly, stepping outside and shutting the door, three mugs of hot coffee carefully cradled in her hands. “I thought you guys might want some coffee, it's,” She shivered as the cold seeped in through the relatively thin layers of her pajamas. “Brisk, out here.”

Dave brightened when Ava came outside, his delight at seeing her plain. He hauled himself upright, knees cracking, and then reached  to help her with the coffee. 

“Hey, mornin’ sugar,” he said as he took the mugs. He kept the red flannel one for himself with a grin, passing the other to Donnelley, then leaned down to kiss her forehead. “How’d you sleep?” 

She smiled at the kiss, happy to see him happy. “I slept alright, that loveseat is surprisingly comfortable; even with Prince taking up half of it.” She looked at Donnelley taking the last mug and said, “That was Queen’s idea, not mine. He insisted.” She inched herself behind Dave.

When Ava showed up through the sliding door to the back Donnelley was busy putting another piece of wood on the fire and shifting around the others. As time went on, it became less about erasing the traumatic reminder and more about keeping the ambience with Dave in his company. Donnelley watched them greet each other and he snapped his attention away when Dave kissed Ava’s forehead, feeling a longing for Laine who had still yet to show. He went back to laying in his slouching back in his chair and accepted his mug with a tight smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

He took a sip of the coffee and then looked at it when Ava had said something about the design. He snorted, nodding, “Funny.” He said, chuckling a tiny bit, “I’d go back to Dalhart before I step foot back here any day.”

“Thanks, Ava.” He added, raising the mug to her.

Ava smiled at him, walking over to the fire to take advantage of its warmth. “Queen is making pancakes, hopefully Laine won’t be too mad someone is intruding on her territory.” She said with a faint chuckle.

She looked between Dave and Donnelley, her customary glasses on her face after fishing them out of her bag of belongings. She could see the bone deep wariness in both their postures and her immediate question about how they were doing got caught in her throat.

After everything, how else could they be doing? 

She looked down at her coffee and then at the fire, the flames reflecting in her glasses.

Prince trotted over with a tennis ball he had found,  walking up to Donnelley and sitting down next to him with the toy in his mouth. Proudly presenting his find.

“You guys...doing okay out here?” She asked, looking up at both of them.

“Yeah,” Donnelley said, as if it was. As if Donnelley hadn’t been crying into the crook of his elbow all morning trying not to wake everyone up thinking on how he would’ve died a shit father. He smiled at Ava, “Yeah, we’re just enjoyin’ a fire.”

He held his hand out for the ball in Prince’s mouth and he dropped it slobbery into Donnelley’s hand. Unbothered, Donnelley tossed it to the other side of the yard and watched Prince sprint after it for all he had.

“Doin’ fine,” Dave said. He dropped a hand on the back of Ava’s neck and gave it a squeeze, then reluctantly stepped away. He’d caught Donnelley’s reaction. He was hyper alert these days, watching everything, and while it hurt that his shows of affection with Ava caused his friends pain, he wasn’t going to mention it. 

Laine’s shower was brief and the change into her own clothes gave her a sense of comfort she had not expected. She no longer was in that gray area of existence, wearing the clothes of a dead woman or some pieced together things from the PX. Black jeans, Converse sneakers, and the David Bowie t-shirt and she felt at home again. 

She left a fresh towel for Baj and hung hers up on the back of the bunk bed to dry. The clothes she had worn when she died were still there on the floor and Laine forced herself to pick them back up, to look at them. Just as she did with the first crime scene and child exploitation photos she had to face for her job. She had to bear witness. 

Laine saw Queen making pancakes, they made eye contact and she tilted her head slightly, “Smells good.” 

He watched her walk out the sliding glass door before turning back and flipping the golden brown cakes onto a towel covered plate. 

Laine paused, watching her team. Ava and Dave, they had been inseparable since the reunion and she did not blame them one bit. It was another story for herself and Donnelley, always toeing that line especially with THUNDER in the house. She saw him slumped in his chair and tossing the ball for the dalmatian who seemed to revel in the play. 

She crossed the patio to the firepit and said nothing, pulling the moth pin from her jacket and pocketing it before she unceremoniously began tossing her clothes into the flames. She saw bits of clothing still in there, the heavy seamed collars and cuffs the last to be consumed. 

“Morning,” she said, throwing the last piece, the pants she had worn with the ragged hole in the leg and dark stained. She bundled them up and tossed them into the center, watching the flames catch the fabric. 

Laine glanced over at Donnelley, meeting his gaze. His eyes were tired, bloodshot, and sad. There was such sadness in there she felt her chest tighten and she wanted only to curl up on his lap and hold him.

Donnelley almost flinched when the first article of clothing hit the fire and sent up smoldering ashes. The clothes caught but the flames receded a bit. Donnelley just reached down and squirted a stream of lighter fluid into the fire and watched it roar in delight at the sudden resolve it was given. His first genuine smile, and it only grew when he looked at Laine. He wanted to reach out and hold her hand, or jump up and hug her, hold her tight and just feel her skin and hear and feel her breathe against him. Instead he just swallowed that lump and held back those urges, “Hey, you.” His tired voice croaked, with whatever love he could muster into it.

Dave looked from Donnelley to Laine. He gave the dark-haired woman a smile and a nod, then put his hand on Ava’s shoulder.

“C’mon sugar,” he said. “It’s kinda chilly out here, you still got your hoodie right? Let’s go grab that.” He gave her shoulder another squeeze and gently urged her towards the house. 

“We’ll be back in a bit, I wanna warm up too,” he said to Donnelley and Laine. 

Ava happily went with Dave, eager to be out of the cold. She looked to Laine as she passed, though she was surprised by the burning of the bloody clothing, she couldn’t say she didn’t understand. She smiled at Laine, giving her a goodmorning wave before stepping into the warmth of the house with Dave.

Laine watched the fire jump and dance as the starter fluid hit it. She waved at Ava and briefly met Dave's eyes with a hint of an appreciative smile. Her hair was still damp and even as close to the fire she shivered as she looked back at Donnelley, hearing the weariness in his voice. His blue eyes told her something of what was going on in his head and heart. 

She thought about making a joke they had destroyed evidence, her own murder but even her dark sense of humor failed her and Laine moved over to Donnelley's side. She stood close enough to brush her hip against the back of the chair, the scent of the body wash still lingering on her freshly washed skin.  

"Hey, there," she replied, her voice more husky than usual and she moved to rest a hand on his shoulder. He might feel a slight trembling before she gave him a squeeze. "Watching the sunrise?"

“Like always.” Donnelley said, a small smirk in his voice, “Gotta make up for the three we… [i]missed.[/i]”

Donnelley leaned closer to Laine as she squeezed his shoulder. The moment grew quiet and he closed his eyes and sighed, turning his face to rub against her forearm. He got up from sitting and stood close to Laine, almost ashamed of how haggard he knew he had to look after not sleeping all night and having alcohol and cigarettes for breakfast. He searched her eyes and then looked away, “Dave and I, we… talked. And I said it to Ava, but…” Donnelley shook his head, “If that was it, Laine… if we just didn’t wake up like we did, I know my daughter would never get to know me, and there’d be so many things I wish I could’ve said to her.”

He paused, stepping a bit closer to her until they were almost touching, “And you.”

Laine gazed up at him, taking in the rough beard and the patch of scar tissue, and the fine lines that seemed a little deeper now. How much she wanted to touch him and assure him but held back. She glanced towards the house and then back at him. 

"It just hit me," she said, then turned to the fire pit. "Seeing those clothes...and the damage. It...it was real. I might have never..."

She sighed and rubbed her hand over her forehead and through her short dark hair. "I'm so sorry you have to remember it."

Laine met his eyes, her deep green and his bright blue, the longing clear in the depths. There were things she had wanted to tell him, but fear had held her back. Now standing with him, her heart jumped and she murmured, "I just want to hold you so much right now."

“Me too.” Donnelley said, he reached forward and hooked one of his fingers around hers, “God, you have no idea how much I just want to lay next to you.”

His smile was there, but there was a sadness in his eyes, a gathering wetness. He chuckled and wiped at his eyes, muttering an apology. He moved his hand over hers and held it, walking away from the back patio while Prince looked at them leaving through the closed sliding door. Once they were away from any prying eyes in windows, he leaned into her and looked into her eyes. He chuckled, “I fuckin’ hate not just bein’ able to do this.”

He leaned in and pressed his lips against hers, eyes closing and his hands on her waist. Laine closed her eyes as well, a flush of warmth rushing through her body when his lips touched hers she reached to run her fingers through his shaggy red hair. 

Her lips parted slightly against his, inviting him in as her pulse raced with excitement and the danger. She murmured against his mouth, "Me too..."

Laine finally broke the kiss, pressing up against him as she slipped her arms over his shoulders to hold him, "I've been wanting to just get to hug you."

Donnelley accepted the hug, slipping his own arms around Laine and nuzzling his face against her neck, taking in her scent and breathing deep. The soft feeling of her skin on his and just the closeness of their bodies. He could feel the horrible feelings of the past few days slip away ever so slowly as they held each other. He stayed like that for a moment, knowing what he wanted to say, because it just felt right in that moment. But there was still that fear in him, that it would send her running, or that he would ruin it like the rest of his romances. He muttered out, “Laine…”

She clung to him, the feeling of his strong body and the protection of his arms even to a woman like Laine was a deep comfort. Even more she felt the emotion they had not voiced, not dared entertain thoughts of for too long in fear it might show on their faces. The loss it would cause if they were found out. It all slipped back, into the cold fog and she nuzzled against his neck when she heard him whisper her name. 

The words did not come, the ones she felt as sure as she had felt in the moments before their first kiss. Big strong operator CIA agent but she felt his fear and understood it, she had enough of her own self doubt and worries over repercussions.  Her slim fingers ran through his hair and cupped his jaw as she met his gaze, holding him.

"I love you," she murmured, her smoke soft voice just audible to him.

He pulled back from her slowly, searched her face and his eyes settled on hers. Whatever they found, it was honest. He smiled softly, and chuckled, leaning forward and ever so gently kissing her, “I love you too.”

Laine smiled at his admittance, her eyes now glistening as she held him. It was out now, they could not put those words back and it may show now more than ever. A brief thought to how they could possibly sneak back to his master bedroom entered her mind but she waved it away. There were too many people in the safehouse and a couple she hardly knew enough to trust. 

Instead, she kissed Donnelley again, hugging him close as she leaned back against the wooden siding of the house. 

[color=007236]>...///[/color]

Ava set down her mug on the coffee table, sitting down on the couch and looking over at her bag with her belongings that had been put by the loveseat. She could hear Queen moving around in the kitchen, smelt the sweet scent of pancakes in the air and sighed. They were as alone as they were going to be.

She looked up at Dave and smiled tiredly at him. “How are you really doing Dave?” She asked, her voice soft but searching. 

“I’m...Tired,” Dave said as he sat beside her. He scooted up next to Ava, slipping his arm around her waist and holding her against him. He sighed and smiled weakly. “Just tired, sugar. Things have been…”

He paused, then shrugged. “We all went through a lot, an’ it all happened so fast. I just wanna get away from here. From...Everything, just for a bit, ya know?” 

She leaned against him as he pulled her in, resting her head against his chest and listening to him speak. “Yeah, I understand that.” She said, putting a hand on his knee and giving it a gentle squeeze. “We’ll be out of here soon, I’m sure.” She looked up at him again and leaned up to kiss his cheek. “Then we can go back to my place for a bit and you can go see your son.”

“I’d like that,” he smiled. He leaned down for a kiss, holding her close for a moment before reluctantly pulling back. “I’m lookin’ forward to spendin’ time with you. Just us, without all this shit goin’ on.” 

“Me too.” She sighed, leaning back against him, her own exhaustion both physically and emotionally catching up to her. “Alaska is so pretty, but I think it might be ruined for me.” She said with a hollow chuckle.

A glint of metal caught her eye and she glanced up, seeing her St. Michael’s pendant hanging around Dave’s neck. She smiled and reached up to touch it, running her finger over the engravings.

“I took it from uh...From your personal effects,” he said. He cleared his throat. “The chain was a bit short, so I put it on a dogtag chain. But...I wanted somethin’ else to remember you by. You can have it back, if you want it.” 

Ava felt tears start to well up in her eyes. “Oh, right,” She chuckled and pushed her glasses up to rubbed at her eyes. “I forgot for a second…” She shook her head, sniffing softly. 

“Did I ever tell you how I got that necklace?” She asked Dave, adjusting her glasses back down to look up at him. 

“Don’t believe you have,” Dave said. He reached up and brushed her cheek, giving her a squeeze to comfort her. His own heart twisted when he saw the tears in her eyes. “Ya wanna tell me now?” 

“My grandparents gave it to me, the ones from New Jersey I told you about.” She sighed and leaned into Dave’s embrace. “When I was little I had nightmares off and on, but when I was 13 they were really bad. It was a hard year for me and my grandparents got me this pendant,” She reached up to touch it. “To wear when I go to sleep, so the Archangel Michael would watch over me in my dreams.” 

She smiled at the memory and studied the pendant. “It...didn’t really help with the nightmares, but just having it as a reminder that they wanted me to be safe, even in my sleep...It helped when I was awake.”

Ava lifted her bright blue eyes to meet Dave’s. “I want you to keep it. I want you to be safe.”

Dave sniffed, swallowed hard, and put his other arm around Ava to pull her into a tight hug. He laid his cheek on top of her head and took a breath, closing his eyes for a moment.

“Thank you, sugar,” he whispered. After a long moment he released her, then raised her face to his for another quick kiss. “We’ll be home soon. Get some time off. Just us. Just hang in there.” 

“I know.” She smiled at the kiss, reaching up to touch his cheek. “I’m excited, Thor will pout for half a day for me being gone for so long. Then he’ll be attached at the hip for a week.” She sighed and touched their foreheads together. “I can’t wait and I’m happy that you’ll be there. However long you might need.”

“Good,” he chuckled. “We’ll get plenty of time to recharge.” He gave her forehead a final quick peck and then sat back, content to simply hold her while they lounged. “You think breakfast is ‘bout ready? I could eat.” 

“You’d have to ask Chef Queen.” She chuckled, pointing over to her bag of stuff. “I do still want to bust out that hoodie, you know the one.” She flushed and smiled at him with a slightly awkward wink. “It’s soft and cozy.” Dave laughed, coloring slightly at the memories at the BLACKBOX, Ava wearing that hoodie and...Not much else. He gave her a quick squeeze and then let her go, pushing himself to his feet. He went to go check on breakfast and refill my coffee,” he said. “You can dig out your hoodie. Want me to refill yours?” 

“That would be great, thanks.” She stood up with a stretch and wandered over to the plain military duffle bag. “Ignore the weirdly threatening writing on the side of the mug.”

He picked up their mugs, looked at hers, and laughed. “Throat punch...I’ll be back,” he chuckled, then headed for the kitchen with a mug in each hand. 

“I said ignore it!” Ava called after him with a grin. She shook her head and unzipped the bag, finding the laptop bag first and instantly pulled out, opening it to give it a look over. She sighed in relief seeing everything was still there from her laptop, to her Switch and even her little sketch book. She smiled and fished that out along with a spare pencil, setting them on the coffee table. 

Setting the satchel aside, she dug around in the duffle bag and found her fancy, English style coat neatly folded inside, her hiking boots and her other outfits. She found the hoodie she was looking for tucked at the bottom and as she picked it up she discovered an unfamiliar bag. It looked like a plastic trash bag, wrapped around a set of folded clothes and taped shut.

She picked it up, confused for a few moments before realization clicked. She looked toward the sliding glass door leading into the backyard,  the glow and the dancing flames of the small fire Donnelley had lit. Her mind drifted to the sight of Laine, chucking her bloody clothing into the inferno and she felt her hands start to shake.

She shook her head, took in a deep breath and tucked the plastic wrapped clothes back into the duffle bag. She slipped on her hoodie and dug around until she found her prescription bottle. Without much thought, she twisted open the lid and swallowed back one of the pills, shutting her eyes and breathing for a few moments.

Then she tucked her pills away, picked up her little sketchbook and pencil and sat back down on the couch. The clicking of claws on the hardwood alerted her to Prince’s approach, even before he rested his head on her lap with an almost deep, rumbling sigh. 

Ava smiled at the dog, giving his soft ears a scratch and opening her sketchbook, waiting for Dave to come back with their coffee.

[color=007236]>0900...///[/color]

Donnelley was standing at the back wall, arms crossed as they all filtered into the room. He watched all of them find their places, watching Laine. Bajbala was on her lonesome, being the odd one out still with no idea what she just got dropped into. Foster swept his eyes over all of them and waited for them to all settle before he spoke. The idle chit chat died down as they found their places and Foster began, “With the interrogation of Ivan Belyaev and the killing of his team, the GRU operations in Alaska have effectively been severely crippled or ruined. From what we can surmise from intercepted transmissions, the Kremlin is not happy.”

“Since he was not under Official Cover and operating clandestinely, they can’t really do anything about it. No legal leg to stand on.” Foster smirked, “That said, there is still the threat of moles inside the Program, and perhaps other elements of the US Government and intelligence community.”

“We have a list of names and locations from Belyaev, and Office of Intelligence and Office of Security is hard at work vetting all of these.” Foster crossed his arms then, looking from Donnelley to the others, “With the… betrayal of several Program teams by their own, security is a concern. Because of this, I’m folding THUNDER into UMBRA both for protection and to augment UMBRA’s capabilities.”

“Speaking of augmenting, I’d also like to welcome our newest member to UMBRA. Everyone,” Foster rose a hand in gesture to Bajbala, “This is Bajbala Shirzad, from the Special Activities Center at Langley. Along with Donnelley and Queen there, she’s well-versed at acting clandestinely in the interest of US objectives, and now in interest to the Program’s.”

“I understand that the CSAR mission in Noatak was not simple. None of us thought it was going to be, but…” Foster cleared his throat, reluctant to look at them now, “Hypergeometric anomalies around the town of Noatak, as well as the reserve itself were reported to me by Poker.”

“Whether or not Ipiktok Irniq’s activities there were the reason I’m… able to talk to some of you here is up for debate.” Foster looked at Donnelley, then away at the others, “The official story of what went down in Noatak is that the US Marshal Service, the ATF, and the FBI were attempting to serve a warrant on both Ipiktok Irniq and Yutu Aklaq. This resulted in the deaths of both Ipiktok and Yutu, as well as local tribal officer Tsarlis Inuksuk.”

“The Home Agencies of Agents Edward Ekewaka Fuaalau, callsign Maui, Avery Morales, Sarah Jung, and the rest will be notified of their deaths in the line of duty.” Foster’s voice was sullen and low, “They will be buried with full honors in their home states. A list will be put up, but as always, attendance at these funerals by active members of the Program are forbidden due to the clandestine nature of our work.”

“Please refrain from visiting until an appropriate time. I’m sorry for all of your losses,” Foster looked up at them, and Donnelley wouldn’t meet his eye, simply staring out the window bitterly, “It never gets easier. I know.”

Foster cleared his throat then, “Well, our flight back to the mainland US is scheduled for twelve-hundred. Now’s the time for questions. I understand there’s some Intel to be shared.”

There was a brief but serious pause in the room. Bajbala scooted herself onto a creaking stool ready to soak up the immensity of their situation. Prince took an obtuse pass at her. Besides his wagging tail he matched the grimacing Tex. She paid the toll with some scratching and pats behind his ears before he moved on, satisfied.

Ava stopped staring Foster down when Prince sat down next to her, resting his head on her leg while looking at Foster, a decidedly unhappy sound rumbling from his chest. She stroked his head, sparing a glance over at Donnelley before sighing and addressing the room at large, “When we encountered GRU operatives at Ipiktok’s compound, we recovered a number of their devices.”

Ava shifted, absently brushing at some of the white dog hairs clinging to her dusky rose sweater dress. “Like I told you,” She looked at Foster flatly, none of the usual spark of warmth in her blue eyes. “At the barn, I managed to de-encrypt their devices and discovered what appear to be official Russian government documents, likely their mission parameters. I copied them over onto an external harddrive that I’m sure the Program still has. They’re in Russian so they’ll need to be translated and then likely decoded. I have a copy on my laptop still so I thought we could also take a crack at it.” She finished, still stroking Prince’s head while the dog watched Foster intently.

“Thank you, Ava.” Foster smiled tightly at her for a brief moment before his face took on a more tepid expression. He looked at Donnelley, then the others, “I know this may come at a very inopportune time for many of you, but due to concerns about the safety of this Working Group, and some concerns that we are being targeted directly by foreign elements…”

“Working Group UMBRA is to be placed on administrative leave for an indeterminate period of time until the issue of security breaches is concluded.” Donnelley’s eyes turned from the window to Foster, and Foster could already tell there was a quickly spreading wildfire in them, “UMBRA is to officially stand down pending an internal investigation into the Program carried out by trusted persons. Any evidence and intelligence gathered in relation to UMBRA’s cases is to be handed over to be disseminated to the Working Group taking over the West Virginia case.”

“That’s fuckin’ bullshit, Foster.” Donnelley growled from his corner, walking a few steps closer until he was behind the couch that Ava was on, “What about my personal work with the Company?”

“You are also being put on administrative leave with the Agency-“

“Fuck that!” Donnelley yelled, “You motherfucker, you remember what happened there! I was close to something!”

“Iraq wasn’t sanctioned. You weren’t even supposed to be operating in that capacity, and you and Jason were effectively rogue actors!” Foster squared up with Donnelley, though he kept his distance, “This is an official order from the Director of Operations. Program and Agency. I’m sorry, Donnelley-“

“[i]Fuck[/i] you.” Donnelley snarled, gripping one of the cushions on the couch and squeezing down on it as if it was Foster’s throat, “Anzor Bekzhaev. I had him. He was [i]still[/i] out there.”

“We are to stand down. That’s enough.” Foster said.

“Not for me.” Donnelley hissed, turning and exiting the room, going back to the backyard.

“Are there any other questions or concerns?” Foster asked after a heavily pregnant silence.

Laine looked at the notes in her lap, the drone footage on the USB, and the other pieces of evidence gathered from the cabin and Yutu’s home. She reached down and began stuffing them back into her laptop bag, the internal rage now burning masked by her composure but it was a very razor thin edge to the coolness in her expression. She zipped the bag up and slid it over her shoulder, her heart racing as she watched Donnelley snap and exit the house. A part of her wondered if it was her fault, if their relationship had been whispered about like every other damn turn UMBRA made. That would just be icing on the shit cake that had been UMBRA’s luck in their cases since they began. 

She glanced at Ava, then Dave and to poor Baj, what an impression they had made. Laine stood up and looked at Foster, then turned to leave the room without a word. 

Bajbala's eyes danced back and forth between the team, her frustration building with everyone else. It didn't take five minutes for the debriefing to crash. Bajbala turned green at the confrontation but swallowed the discomfort. 

"I'm glad to be working with you all!" She said to the room, prickly. She dreaded the idea of being ferried back to Langley. Being a lab-room liaison for her peers wasn't her idea of fulfilling work and neither was four months of training.

Dave gave Bajbala an apologetic shrug. He figured this wasn't the best first impression. Throughout the briefing he'd held his peace, content to simply listen; going home sounded like a great plan to him. 

At the back of the room Ghost loomed, leaning against the wall to take some of the weight off his wounded leg. The swelling had gone down on his face, though it was still an ugly looking mess of stitches and damaged tissue. As people began leaving he straightened, a growl building in his chest. 

"THUNDER doesn't belong with UMBRA," he said, walking towards Foster, not quite disguising his limp. "[I]I[/i] don't belong with UMBRA. I should be reading dossiers and getting a training plan together to rebuild my team, not babysitting nerds." 

“You’ve got four months to read dossiers. I’m not putting you on guard duty.” Foster shook his head, “I’m as happy with this as you are, but what am I going to do with a three man Wetwork Team? Train them if you have to, unless you want to go crucify the Director onto his desk.”

Ghost's eyes narrowed behind his Oakleys and he growled. The thought was tempting; it would be more tempting if he could be sure that the 'Director' he knew was actually the Director, but with the nature of the Program the man might just be a smokescreen meant to take exactly that kind of attention off the real boss. He grunted and then turned, eyeing the rest of the room. 

"If I'm stuck with all of you, then that's how it is," he said after a moment. His tone was hard but resigned. He was a pro, he could accept his fate, even if he hated it. "But listen up. I know Lucky and Tex can handle themselves."

He pointed at Bajbala. "You're still an unknown, but they trust your skills enough for field work. I'll make my own evaluation. As for you other two…" 

Ghost turned his gaze on Ava, then to Laine.

"I'm not going out with people who can't hang. You've got four months to start on the basics. When I'm cleared for training, I plan to spin you up more. That won't be negotiable. In the meantime do what you've got to do to make sure you're at least physically fit enough to survive."

With that he left the room, brushing past Foster on his way out. 

Ava took off her glasses and pinched the bridge of her nose as the briefing dissolved. Not that it surprised her given everything that happened. She sighed and put her glasses back on, looking up at Dave and smiling slightly at him. She patted Prince’s head and stood up from the couch. “I’m gonna make some tea.” Her eyes landed on the new unfortunate addition to their dysfunctional little group. 

She couldn’t blame Agent Bajbala for being frustrated. She was a professional and they were all barking at each other like junkyard dogs. She felt bad for the woman, though a part of her, a new little voice nagging at the back of her mind, was wary about trusting her. 

“Um, Agent Bajbala,” She said, saying the name carefully to make sure she said it correctly. “Would you like some tea?”

Bajbala canted in Ava's direction and her eyes scried her thoughts. "Um-" she heaved a light chuckle then in a silvery voice she replied, "you know, I would love some tea." 

She slid off the stool and shot Foster an awkward half-smile excusing herself and marching off to the kitchen with Ava. 

"Yeah, just call me Baj."

“I can do that.” Ava smiled trying to hide her nerves as the two of them stepped away from the others, alone in the kitchen. She mentally kicked herself, the others were 10 feet away, there was nothing to worry about.

Prince trotted in after them, tail wagging and brown eyes bright as he went up to Baj for more pets. Ava smiled more easily as she filled a kettle with water and set it onto the stove to boil.

“I’m sorry about...everything.” She said with a sigh, rinsing the coffee out of the ‘throat punch’ mug. “We’re not normally this much of a mess, but...A lot has happened.” She said, frowning down at the mug as she dried it off. “But I don’t blame you for thinking we’re a bunch of assholes, we’ve hardly made a good impression.” 

"I appreciate that Ava," Baj said, giving a warm smile.

The red-head was very pretty, even Baj couldn't deny the girlish charm that radiated from Ava and seemed to make the day a little less stressful. "I get it, there is a lot I don't know and every team has their day." She leaned onto the counter near Ava. Prince made small passes rubbing on her leg, where eventually she anchored him with heavy petting. "Everyone is an asshole in this work somehow or another."

"But, wow, these past few days. The mission from the start was off. I could have handled it myself without the mess I think." Bajabala's voice toned down to express the disappointment. She reached up into a cabinet and grabbed a mug, grey with no personality on its face.

"If I could get any of those targets ten feet from others, I could have put them down no fussing! Just nobody would know what hit them." She chuckled with a disarming smile.

Ava smiled awkwardly. “Ah ha, yeah, I bet.” She opened up the cupboard and started pulling out the small selection of tea she picked up at Target. “Here, pick your poison.” She said, selecting a honey lavender blend for herself.

There was a beat of awkward silence while the water boiled before Ava spoke again, “You worked with Dave, um, Lucky, while we were...gone, right?” 

Bajbala pinched a green tea bag free from its little box.

"Lucky, yeah." She said, remembering the rage, the blood in his clothes. How he took off the Russian's head like he didn't have a second thought. Ava and him have been close the past few days, and she noticed. "Seems like a nice guy, troubled at times. Why?" She asked casually.

“Just, worried about him,” She said, glancing over to the living room to make sure Dave wasn’t about to walk in. “I want to make sure he’s okay. He’s...not his usual self in some ways.” The kettle started to whistle and she shut off the stove, pouring the hot water into her mug and then passing the kettle to Baj.

"I couldn’t tell you.” Bajbala said. A stream of steam swirled up when she poured from the kettle.  “There was much pain in his eyes, the few times we spoke. He...  I haven't seen hatred like that in someone since a long time ago.” She stirred the tea, hastening the darkening of the water. She offered up the most delicate expression she could, facing the twisted reality of Dave’s response to the betrayal.

 “Whatever you’ve heard… Or have you heard anything? About the other day.” She blew carefully over the surface of the tea.

Ava glanced back out of the kitchen, her concern plain. “No, I haven’t heard anything. It’s been a little chaotic, coming back from the...Well.” She chuckled awkwardly, keeping herself from actually uttering the words, ‘back from the dead’. Part of her still couldn’t believe it, nor wanted to acknowledge it. 

She dunked the tea bag slightly and cleared her throat, “What happened? The other day?”

Bajbala continued to blow on the tea, pushing down the anxiety of having to discuss this with Ava. It wasn’t her place, but Ava would hear it eventually and she may as well be prepared.

“Um, he took things a little far. Fortunately, we were all okay but I know what he did he’s not proud of. I think maybe it’s something you should talk to him about, he seems to need you. If there was anything I got from our chat it’s that he needs you.” She took a small sip and twitched at the slight burn to her lips.

“You are the girl right… I’m sorry, like he would have talked about you?” She chuckled uncomfortably while nursing her lip. She garnered the impression that Dave’s woes at the first safehouse were about a love interest.

Ava furrowed her brow in concern, wondering what she meant by ‘taking things a little far’. She reached up to absently touch her pendant, but her fingers touched nothing. “Uh, yeah, he probably meant me.” She said, letting her hand fall back to her mug. “We’re kind of...together.” She flushed and lifted up her tea to take a sip, uncaring of the hot temperature of the beverage.

“Great, I thought... I was mistaken! As long as you’re living he’ll be fine.” Bajbala reassured haltingly. Dave had a taste for something that lingers. Ava was alive but his new instinct and craving would be hard to rinse clean.  Driven to protect recklessly; the drive stronger with each threat to what is loved.

“This could use some honey.” Baj looked into the swirling bitter tea. 

Ava swallowed her tea hard at that, a sweat prickling along the back of her neck. “Uh, right.” She said, looking down into the amber colored tea. “We don’t have any honey. Sorry.”

She took another sip, the mellow sweetness of her own tea turned bitter in her mouth.

[color=007236]>...///[/color]

Laine shot a look at Ghost, her sharp green eyes sparking with heat that wanted an outlet. She glared at his broad back, the arrogance even discernible by the set of his broad shoulders, but he left before she could snipe at him about not wanting to be on a team with hitmen. In the back of her mind, she knew he was right about taking care of themselves. They had died once and come back, there would not be a second chance again. 

Her attention shifted to Foster and the distrust that had developed over the months since West Virginia coiled hot within her. Once again, they were shoved away from the case after taking the bullets and the danger, just when they were getting somewhere and then betrayed. The leak was obvious, someone was giving their locations and information to the Russians, someone was using them as canaries in the mines. 

SIREN and ARTEMIS might have died out there for the same reason, the memory of something Ipitok had told her, something she had never had a chance to follow up on. The man who had been found turned into beef jerky, he had turned on his own team before fleeing. Cursing inwardly, Laine turned her back on Foster, keeping her reports that he had not even bothered to give a shit about in the farce of a briefing. 

Laine was at least glad Donnelley had finally come around to her suspicions and their evidence that Foster was not being honest with them and they had all agreed to withhold the information on the tracker given to them by Renko. It was their ace up the sleeve right now and she planned to try and keep it that way. She felt a heaviness in her chest, the same elation of the emotional exchange with Donnelley earlier reversed course and the crush of this sent her back down to where she had been as she sat with her death clothes and wept. 

She left the room as Ava was inviting Baj for tea, ducking the invitation that was sure to follow. If Foster wanted to release them on leave, she was starting now, even if she had to walk to the Ted Stevens Airport. 

Laine went to the women’s bedroom and closed the door behind her, jamming a chair under the door knob. She sat on the bunk, opening her laptop to bring up her notes. She slipped the USB into it that had the raw video of the drones and uploaded it. She went to work taking photos of the documents from  Yutu’s room and the strange old parchment, getting as close to the details as she could and saved them to her laptop. Laine then gathered all the original documents and evidence and put them together to hand over to Foster.