Shiny Things

Four Seven Niner glanced towards Caboose in the seat beside her with building amusement as she deftly switched the transport over to autopilot for the rest of the journey back to Chorus.

Her “little brother” was currently showing his new tiny floating friend all of the various ship controls and, despite how much temptation he no doubt felt to do otherwise, doing an excellent job adhering to her “no touching” rule. She might not even need the fire extinguisher this time.

“I still don’t know where the space brakes are though.” Caboose finished a few rambling seconds later.

“It seems as if space travel has evolved differently from when I was first created.” Santa mused in a way that Four Seven Niner recognized as politeness and a clear desire to not overstep any bounds.

The pilot regarded the red alien form with a keen eye, “You really do make some interesting friends, kiddo.” She said to her brother, clearly amused.

Caboose’s beaming smile practically lit up the whole cockpit, “Yeah, they are the best!” He exclaimed merrily.

Santa turned his flickering visage the tan-skinned pilot’s way, “Is it all right for me to be here, or…?”

She snorted at his attempt at being concerned, “I really couldn’t care less so long as it makes my little brother happy.” Niner told him reassuringly with a fond note to her voice (it seemed having a sibling was growing on her), “Just as long as you remember which one of us should be flying the ship and don’t make any dick moves like copying yourself while onboard, we’re golden.”

Santa inclined his head slightly in way of a nod, “Duly noted.”

“Hey,” Four Seven Niner spun her seat around to face the cyan-wearing figure currently standing behind them, “Sorry about bringing up the green guy.”

Carolina stiffened for a moment at the mention of Delta, the Veroni hacker who had been partners with York during Project Freelancer. The redhead relaxed not a second later as if the reaction hadn’t happened at all, “It’s fine. I honestly don’t mind given what we’ve just been through.”

Yeah, seeing ghostly visages from your nightmarish past probably would have that effect on you. The Arenian female pilot frowned slightly as she regarded her friend, “I can imagine.”

“Where’s Church? I would like to introduce him to Santa too!” Caboose spoke up eagerly, spinning his seat around to face Carolina as well.

“Now might not be the best time, Caboose.” Carolina offered him a slight, apologetic smile, “He went off to catch up with Tex a few minutes ago.”

“Oh.” Caboose looked somewhat downtrodden at the news until he remembered something else that caused him to brighten up once more, “But that is okay! I still need to introduce him to Smith!” He raced past the redhead to do just that, Four Seven Niner’s “No running on my ship to show off friends!” completely unheard. The silver-armored pilot watched him go until the door closed, shaking her head with a notably fond look in her brown eyes.

Caboose was growing on her more than she probably cared to admit. It was funny to think of how she would have probably kicked someone in the shins if they would ever have called her a “big sister type” before.

There was movement behind her seat as an altogether weary-looking half-Veroni came to settle into the spot that Caboose had just vacated with a soft sigh, “You look like shit.” Niner informed Carolina as a means to resume their friendly pleasantries.

If anyone enjoyed not beating around the bush, it was Carolina.

“I feel like it too.” The other woman admitted, closing her eyes briefly, “Especially in light of recent events.”

Yeah, it was already very much a given that Four Seven Niner wasn’t going to be visiting any planets noted for mind-fuckery. She sighed herself, “Well, you can’t win them all. At least we got everyone back, right?”

Her reasoning caused a contemplative frown to slide across her friend’s features, “I suppose.” Carolina finally said, almost reluctantly.

“Simmons and Matthews are both going to recover. You’ll see.”

Carolina nodded her head in agreement, “I’m still worried about whatever Charon managed to get off-planet though,” she admitted, tapping her index finger against her knee, “And having that huge information breach on Chorus is definitely not something we can take lightly.”

Which was pretty much exactly what Kimball had said earlier, come to think of it. Would wonders never cease?

Niner nodded her head in curt agreement, “That indeed sucks, but we’ll get through it.”

Carolina remained silent in response, closing her eyes once more.

“Speaking of Chorus though,” Four Seven Niner strummed her own fingers along the control panel of the ship’s navigation systems, “I bet Kimball would love to get a report from you soon.”

Despite herself, the mention of the Elvari female had the corners of Carolina’s mouth curving upwards ever so slightly. The reaction immediately joined a surprising amount of red when she turned to notice Four Seven Niner’s knowing smirk.

“Stop that.”

“What?” Four Seven Niner’s expression only grew with the mischievous glint in her dark eyes, “I’m not doing anything.”

Carolina didn’t try to deny anything, a satisfied Four Seven Niner noted.

Leonard Church winced when Tex grabbed him by the shoulders and slammed him into the wall of the ship’s conference room with so much force that he swore he could feel the metallic surface rattle underneath him.

He would have probably yelled at her if she hadn’t in the next moment begun to, none-too-gently, kiss up and down his exposed neck. Whatever annoyance he may have felt at the somewhat rough handling had dissolved into a pool of desperate desire and longing to so clearly match the blonde’s own.

Still, that annoyingly analytical part of his brain wasn’t shutting up along with the rest of him: clearly something was going on for Tex to be acting so forward on the return trip from a mission.

Church let out a groan due to his current position and her administrations, “Not that I really fucking mind this kind of greeting given all the shit I’ve been through,” he managed to speak up, “But are you sure you want to do this instead of having a proper conversation about whatever it is that’s fucking bothering you?”

Tex paused long enough to shoot him a look and, yeah, she had him there: when was the last time either of them had a proper conversation in regards to their feelings? It had been dumb of him to even ask.

As if reading his mind, the blonde snorted, “Talking about feelings isn’t really for people like us, Church.” She reminded him succinctly before pressing her lips against his in what could honestly be described as a “breathtaking” kiss, “Right now, I just really need to feel alive.”

Church’s legs had already turned to jelly, and his moan was cut off by Tex passionately kissing him once more.

“I can get behind that.” He murmured as she ran her hands underneath his shirt and he hurried to respond in kind.

A split-second thought made him pause briefly to regard his partner curiously, “Hey, does this mean we’re back together or what?”

Tex rolled her eyes before wrapping her arms around him and pulling Church even closer, “Just try not to kill the fucking mood for once.” She advised him cheekily.

“Okay, little guy, you get yourself ready for bed and I’ll be back home by the time you’re up!”

Junior’s always expressive face morphed once more with an impressive pout and his customary “puppy dog” eyes, “Aw, but can’t I just stay up until you get here?” He asked innocently, in that devious way children excelled at. Unfortunately for his son, Lavernius Tucker was immune.

The half-Strassian snorted, “Sure, if you want to be super-grouchy for the fun Game Day I’ve planned tomorrow.” He told the boy conspiratorially, “And you know how short being a grouch tends to make those.”

Junior let out a long-suffering sigh that Tucker seriously had to fight to not laugh or snicker at, “I know.” He finally relented.

“Don’t give your babysitter a hard time now.” Tucker advised, warmth lacing his tone as staunch indignation flared up in his son’s large brown eyes.

“I won’t!” Junior assured him, as if they very idea was insulting.

Tucker grinned, “I know.” He leaned his head close to the digital monitor, “Love you, kiddo.”

“Love you too.” Junior did the same, and Tucker imagined the warmth coursing through him then was from their foreheads actually touching instead of just energy from the projected communications before the channel turned off.

He sighed just as the door to the ship’s common area opened behind him, glancing over his shoulder as a tired-looking Washington, who somehow managed to appear even more disheveled than he had the last time Tucker had seen him, stepped inside.

Tucker could guess the reason why, “How’s Simmons doing?” He asked as Washington sunk into one of the couches in the space, knowing that the older Strassian had returned from visiting the maroon-wearing mech pilot in the infirmary.

Washington sighed as Tucker came to sit down beside him on the couch without pausing to think about why he was doing so, “Still unconscious.” He frowned, a sudden faraway look in his gray eyes, “He might even look worse in some ways than he had when I first met him, and he had been in a pretty bad place then.”

Tucker nodded sympathetically, his mind going back briefly to when that asshole Price had mentioned Simmons having “past traumas” or whatever. He regarded Washington carefully, “Is that how you two got so close?” He asked curiously, “Became mentor and protégé or whatever it really is?”

Washington nodded, “That’s about as close a description in human terminology as I can come up with.” He told him, “But, yeah, I ended up inadvertently becoming his mentor.”

Like how Simmons had apparently become the same to Jensen at some point. It was a reminder that he still wasn’t entirely sure he understand his absent father’s Strassian culture, and Tucker felt oddly bothered by that for the first time that he could really remember.

Perhaps it was written on his face, because the blond-haired alien decided to elaborate further, “To put it more accurately though, it’s like adopting a younger sibling into your family. It just happens so often on our home world that it ultimately became ingrained as a part of our culture.”

“Gotcha.” Tucker nodded his head, smiling ruefully, “Guess I’ve just missed out on a lot because of my asshole dad.”

Washington looked at him with mild amusement, “Jealous?”

Tucker instantly scoffed at the notion and waved a hand dismissively, “Fuck no, dude!” He told him emphatically, “I’m pretty sure being like a little brother to you would make shit hella awkward in the long run.”

Especially given… He felt his face heating up at the unexpected direction of his thoughts, his gaze suddenly focused on the floor as an all-too awkward silence settled over the pair. Ultimately, Tucker decided it was best to steer the conversation away from what he had just said, “Anyways, your nerdy brother should be okay, especially with his doting fat-ass watching over him.”

Washington let out a breath that Tucker was surprised to find him holding in the first place. When he braved a peek at the former Freelancer, he was further surprised at the telltale dusting of pink still on his cheeks, “Y—you’re absolutely right, Tucker.” Washington gave a slight smile, “How is Junior doing, by the way?”

Tucker grinned proudly at being asked about his son, the earlier awkwardness forgotten, “He’s doing fucking great!” He stated, “I can’t wait to see him again, especially with how crazy shit got back there.”

Washington gave a small hum of agreement, resting his head as he frowned slightly a moment later, “We still need to figure out how you breached that forcefield and could understand an unknown ancient language though.”

Leave it to Washington to be such a killjoy.

Tucker rolled his eyes, “Dude, we have more than enough time to worry about shit like that later.” He was quick to carry on as he noticed Washington looking ready to argue with him, “You wanna talk about what happened with the Meta ghost?”

Washington made a face that would have been downright comical any other time, “Not really. Not yet.” A tinge of remorse laced his next words, “I still need to apologize to Donut.”

“I’m pretty sure the pink guy forgave you the second it happened, Wash.” Tucker tried reassuring him.

“But…!”

Tucker figured another change in conversation was appropriate given Washington’s extreme guilt complex, “You haven’t gone to check on Steel even after we dragged it back to the ship with us.” He noted, remembering how the mech had suddenly gone powerless again the second they had been out of harm’s way of the earlier explosion.

Washington let out another sigh as if this was also a conversation he did not want to be having, “I just can’t right now.” He admitted shakily, “Just knowing he’s out of Charon’s hands is enough for me.”

Tucker’s gaze was far more analytical than usual as he worked up the nerve to ask, “Is it because you’ve lost the ability to pilot?”

Washington let out another sigh, “It’s—”

“Complicated.” Tucker guessed before the former Freelancer could even finish, grinning mischievously at the glare Washington threw his way, “Dude, come on! You’re just totally predictable.”

“No, I’m not.” Washington weakly protested, sounding doubtful even to himself.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” Tucker’s expression became a rather sincere and thoughtful one, “I’ll totally go with you when you do decide to check up on Steel. If you want, that is.”

For a brief moment, Washington’s entire face seemed to turn absolutely red save for his blue-tinged freckles, but he coughed awkwardly and it faded just as quickly, “Thanks, Tucker.” He stated softly before adding, “Right now, I’m just glad that the rescue mission went well.”

Tucker nodded his head in agreement, “I was pretty kick-ass too, am I right?”

“Sure, whatever you say.” Washington told him in a fond, smug sort-of way before his eyes closed, “What I really want to do right now is rest.”

“Go right ahead, Wash. I’ll be here.” Tucker didn’t even think about the words until they were out of his mouth, and he nearly panicked at how that must have sounded to Washington.

But he was caught off-guard when a dozing Washington’s head came to fall onto his shoulder a split-second later, his mind going completely blank in response. Which was probably a good thing, considering that Palomo poked his head into the room a few minutes later, quickly retreating in a surprisingly quiet fashion as soon as he caught sight of the two of them.

The door to the ship’s infirmary closed as Katie Jensen leaned back against it. She let out a quiet sigh, brown eyes glancing over to her two friends waiting just outside for news.

“Well?” Kaikaina Grif demanded as she stood up from the bench that she and Volleyball had been sitting on, “How’s the nerd doing?”

Her big brother had already kicked her out of the infirmary once, and as much as she wanted to huff and rail against such unfair treatment, she had let it graciously slide since he had let Jensen stay longer to visit her mentor. She knew that Grif was going through a lot of shit now too.

“He…he’s just sleeping now, but he really looked awful.” Jensen stated with a watery look to her eyes. She made way shakily to the bench and bit the bottom of her lip in a nervous fashion, “I just…I just wish there was more that I could do for him and Matthews right now!”

As her entire frame began to shake with unrestrained sobs, Volleyball and Kai shared a significant look over her head. Suddenly, they were both wrapping their arms around the younger girl’s shoulders and pulling her into a warm hug.

“Hey,” Volleyball told her in a quiet, earnest voice, “They’re going to get better.”

Jensen hiccupped softly, nodding her head, “I…I really hope so.” She shot them both a grateful smile, “Thanks, you guys. I just…I just have to do my best so they won’t have another thing to worry about.”

The human blonde smiled and patted the top of her head, “We all will.”

“Fuck yeah, we will!” Kai chimed in whole-heartedly, “I’ll stick around even if I have to kick my big bro’s ass to let me do it!”

Jensen laughed, glad for her friends’ support. Speaking of them though… “Where is everybody?” The Strassian asked curiously.

“Oh! Captain Caboose wanted to show Andersmith something, and I think Palomo wandered off to try and figure out where Bitters is sulking.” Volleyball informed her.

For some reason, that last bit of news in particular was somehow disappointing, but Jensen resolutely squared her shoulders to not let the other girls know, “I’ll go see if I can’t find them then.” She stated, determined to give herself something to do.

“Unorthodox and as medically unsound as they may so often be, thanks to Doc’s first aid skills you should be right as rain in no time!” Doctor Emily Grey exclaimed cheerfully as she finished her examination, making it rather obvious that she was trying to hide her shock.

“Thank you, Doctor Grey. That’s a load I’m more than willing to bear!” Donut smiled up at her from his bed cheerfully.

“Doc’s the one who did the hard work, sweetie. I just finished the patch-up, so to speak.” She looked over at a closed door on the other side of the area, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to check on my other patient.”

As she exited, the dirty blond turned his smiling regard over to Frank “Doc” DuFresne sitting in the chair at his side, the medic’s face still looking warmly surprised at Doctor Grey’s earlier comment. “One less hole that still needs filling!” Donut exclaimed cheerily, “And you heard the lady, it’s all thanks to you, Doc!”

The other Elvari’s blush reached all the way to the tips of his pointed ears, and he looked down at his hands in his lap, “It…it was nothing.” He assured him, “I would try to do the same for any of our friends.”

Donut beamed, “I know, and that’s what makes you so awesome! You’re totally equal opportunity, and I love it.”

With a start, Doc jumped from his seat, “Uh!” His voice came out in a sort-of squeak that Donut couldn’t help but think of as rather cute, “Would you care for some orange juice?”

“Yes, please. I love it freshly squeezed.” Donut tilted his head thoughtfully, “And I really should tell Wash the good news as soon as possible. I’m sure he’s still pounding away on himself about the whole mix-up.”

“That…that would be a very nice thing to do.” Doc told him, his back to Donut while pouring the juice, “It’s honestly amazing how kind you are, Donut.”

“Well, you should be blown away by yourself then, Doc, because you’re really kind too!” Donut responded back quickly with a wink and a compliment.

Doc was blushing once again when he handed Donut his glass.

“And this Veroni female,” Sheila began, looking unusually pale around her gunmetal green line markings, “You are certain that her name was Filss?”

Sarge nodded, a contemplative look crossing over his weathered features, “That’s definitely what that Price fella called her right before she utterly annihilated him.” He sounded both awed over the feat as well as disappointed that he hadn’t gotten the chance to implement it himself.

The petite brunette looked down at her hands with undisguised shock. After all this time, her first clue about Filss’ whereabouts and it was…! “I don’t understand.” She stated weakly, more to herself than to either male standing nearby, “What could she possibly be doing with Charon of all things?”

Sheila was so lost in her troubled musings that she did not register Lopez reaching over until he was actually grasping one of her hands in his robotic one, giving it a gentle and reassuring squeeze.

“Descubriremos la razón y traeremos a tu hermana de regreso, Sheila.” {“We will find the reason and bring your sister back, Sheila.”}

Sheila’s lips curved upwards slightly, and she returned his hand squeeze with a gentle one of her own, “Oh, Lopez…”

Neither robot nor Veroni even noticed when Sarge excused himself.

Bitters had apparently decided to hide himself away in the armory, not expecting Palomo of all people to be so tenacious and actually finding him. “Hey,” he didn’t even bother to turn around from where he was standing and staring at the weapons and armor pieces lining the backwall when he heard the dark-skinned young man’s voice behind him, “We just got word that Matthews is showing signs of consciousness back on Chorus.”

It was the first time Matthews had since all of that shit with Miller and Locus went down, and Bitters responded to it automatically as best he knew how, “That’s fucking great.” His tone was both relieved (because he was, fucking really!) and still rather glum-sounding even to his own ears.

And he guessed probably to Palomo too, because the other man stepped further into the space, “Really? Because with your attitude, I wouldn’t have guessed that.”

Palomo’s voice was both accusatory and hurt, and Bitters couldn’t take it. He rounded on the smaller half-human in an instant, “Shut the fuck up, Palomo!” He shouted without thinking.

Normally, that would diffuse the situation. Either Palomo would make a sheepish joke and back off, or simply leave altogether. But apparently nothing was normal anymore.

“No,” Palomo stood his ground rather fiercely even in the wake of Bitters’ genuine anger, “Because Matthews is my friend too! Has been longer than anyone, even.” He grit his teeth determinedly, “And I don’t want him to get upset by you acting like this when we all go to see him later.”

Bitters scoffed, “You’re wasting your time, then.” He informed the teal-lined young man rather matter-of-factly, “Because I don’t plan on going to see him.”

Palomo’s eyes widened in shock at the admission, the glow from his Veroni markings becoming even brighter in the dim lighting of the armory, “Why?” He asked, genuine surprise lining the question.

Fuck it. Bitters really didn’t want to be having this conversation but it wasn’t like he could avoid it now unless he slammed past Palomo to get to the door. He contemplated that course of action for a moment before resigning himself to just getting things over with.

“Because it’s my fucking fault that Matthews got hurt, okay?” Bitters let out in a hurried, heated jumble of words, “I should have listened when he said he got a weird feeling about that asshole!”

Especially since, for whatever petty reasons they had seemed to be at the time, he hadn’t even liked Miller to begin with.

Palomo opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by the door opening behind him.

“If that’s the case,” Jensen spoke up quietly, “Neither I nor Palomo should visit Matthews either because we actually caught Miller snooping around. We didn’t pick up on what he was really doing.” She stepped right up next to Palomo as she added, “We can’t keep blaming ourselves for things we missed.”

“That’s easy for you to say.” Bitters scoffed once more, his anger momentarily fading only to be replaced by a deep-rooted fatigue, “Just leave me the fuck alone, okay?”

He moved past them quickly without making eye contact, glad that he didn’t get to see the two of them watching him depart sadly. For a moment, the two lieutenants remained standing together in pained silence.

Jensen let out a shaky breath, “Things will be all right, won’t they?”

Palomo thought on her tentatively asked question for only a moment before responding earnestly, “I really hope so.”

Neither of them seemed to notice how they were now tightly holding onto the other’s hand.

“As I said the previous seven times you asked, the best thing you can do for Captain Simmons at the moment is let him rest.” Doctor Grey explained patiently to the heavyset human sitting next to the bedridden Strassian.

Dexter Grif frowned, his sense of urgency not having dimmed in the slightest even with everyone safely back on their way to Chorus, “But…” He trailed off, unsure of how to finish his thought.

“You heard the doctor, numb-nuts.” Sarge, who had apparently stopped by the infirmary to check up on things, poked his head into the room just then, “The little lady clearly knows what she’s talking about, so it’s best for you and for Simmons to listen.”

“Thank you for the added support, Colonel.” She smiled at the older Arenian before gently turning her attention back to Grif, “Don’t think of hesitating to come get me if you think there’s a problem!” She informed him before excusing herself.

Grif didn’t even bother looking up again from Simmons’ sleeping facial features as the Veroni exited the room.

He did, however, glance up briefly a few minutes later when he heard Grey and Sarge’s voices just outside, conversing in hushed tones.

“Might be nice, when everyone’s up to it. Whaddya think?” Sarge was asking the doctor, and Grif wasn’t even sure if the Arenian was remotely aware of how closely their heads were bowed together, or that he had moved his hand to get a surprisingly gentle grip on her elbow.

Grey didn’t seem to mind or to notice, “Why, Sarge, that could be an excellent idea!” She softly exclaimed, “We’d have to wait until full recoveries are made, of course.”

“Of course.”

“But I’m sure we can arrange it!” She sounded pleasantly surprised as she added, “You are quite the thoughtful man.”

“You’re gonna start making me blush.” Sarge replied, apparently not aware of how red his face currently was.

As their voices drifted further away, Grif shook his head and focused his attention back to where he felt it needed to currently be. On Simmons. He let out a tired sigh as he reached down for Simmons’ hand, only to stop himself when the memory of him gripping flashing metal and Simmons lying in a pool of blood haunted him once more.

Grif put his head in his hands and groaned instead, “C’mon, nerd, wake up.” He distantly heard himself begging.

He wanted, needed, to talk to Maroon’s pilot again.

“…G—Grif?” An altogether exhausted and raspy-sounding voice spoke up.

Grif couldn’t help it if the small smile he ended up giving then was a bit watery, but he covered it up well, “Welcome back, kiss-ass.” He said fondly.

Simmons blinked up at the orange-armored soldier, confused, “What happened? I…” His expression went alarmingly blank a split-second later before panic suffused his blue freckled features as he remembered, suddenly on the verge of a panic attack and appearing as if he had forgotten how to breathe.

This time, Grif did reach out and wrap his large hand around Simmons’ in what he hoped was a steadying grip, “I’m here, Simmons.” He said softly, earnestly, “Everyone’s here. We’re all okay.”

He was trying to believe it too.

“Things are going to be all right.”

Simmons looked doubtful about that through the unshed tears now pricking against his green eyes, but he shot Grif a grateful look all the same. Neither one of them chose to remark on Simmons squeezing back on Grif’s hand with what was probably more force than necessary.