Sloane wouldn't trade the time spent with his Ashes for the world.

Despite the weakness, nausea, and pain he was experiencing, it was well worth it to see them.

He was still in bed when General Ulster arrived with Zak and Harper in tow. He managed a weary smile when a frowning Doctor James Moore pressed his fingers to his wrist.

"His pulse is nearly half their normal," he muttered. "Brig, what happened?"

Sloane blinked at him slowly, letting the question process. "I had a rough night, Dr. Jim," he finally croaked out.

Jim shook his head and popped the earpieces of the stethoscope hanging at his neck in. He blew on the end, warming it before pressing it against Sloane's chest, his side, and his belly.

"I need to order blood tests," Moore snapped out, narrowing his eyes at Ulster. "It's highly irregular for him to be so physically debilitated. The Collective has been in nearly perfect health. Their separation created anomalies, ongoing mid- to high-grade migraines, intermittent loss of appetite, infrequent fatigue, and sporadic fits of rage. This is an entirely new development."

Ulster scoffed. "You want me to believe this sudden illness is not a fake-out?"

Jim spoke in a low tone, but his dark blue eyes flashed with fury. "I don't give a fuck what you believe. I am a doctor, first and last. Do not think your rank will override my prerogatives when it comes to my patients. Zak."

The young man jumped. "Um yeah?"

"Call down to the clinic. Tell them to prep for my arrival with Captain Sloane."

"Um...yes, Doctor."

"It's nothing, Jim," Sloane whispered, feeling like he was slipping in and out. His awareness was grayed at the edges, and his head pounded. "I just need to sleep."

"You let me look after you, Brig," Moore, patted his arm absently. "It's what I'm here for."

He sighed when orderlies arrived with a gurney.

"This isn't necessary, Jim," Sloane insisted, feeling a little stronger. "I just didn't get much sleep the last few days, that's all."

"And once I confirm that," Jim told him, "I'll let it go." He gestured at the orderlies and followed while they wheeled him out.

Sloane noticed two tall and broad guards in front and presumed more behind the gurney. He felt Ulster's ponderous energy as well and let his eyes close.

He woke up in the clinic, with Jim hovering nearby with a tablet.

"Feel up to talking a bit?" he asked gently.

"Sure," Sloane nodded and swallowed. His throat felt dry, his voice a painful croak. "How long have I been out?"

"Two days," Jim nodded to someone on the other side of the bed.

Sloane rolled his head that way and smiled at Zak. "Well, hello."

"Hey, Captain," Zak smiled back and offered a straw.

Sloane sipped, grateful for the cool water.

When he laid back, Zak placed the cup on a tray and sat down on a high stool. A compact computer unit sat in front of him.

"Care to tell me how you ended up nearly comatose, Brig?" Jim drew his attention back.

He smiled. Very few people outside the Collective called him by his first name. He was glad Jim was one of them. "I went for a walk."

Zak frowned, but Jim arched a brow. "How far?"

"Just...around."

"How long?"

Sloane shrugged. "I'm not allowed a watch. It was late when I started, early when I finished."

Jim lifted his eyes to Zak, studying him for a few minutes.

"You don't mind him knowing?"

Sloane shrugged again. "We like him."

Jim nodded and Zak's frown cleared.

"Dude," he leaned close, speaking in a whisper. "You got out?"

Sloane chuckled. "In a way."

"Fuck yeah!" The hissed words did not diminish the glow of triumph in Zak's eyes. "I knew you could do it, I fuckin' knew it! When are you blowin' this joint? Can I come?"

Sloane winked at him. Just be ready...

Zak fell off his stool, stumbling before he caught himself at the foot of Sloane's bed. His bright blue eyes blinked rapidly. "Fuck," he squeaked.

"You'll get used to it," Jim told him. He dabbed a tissue at Sloane's nose, wiping away the blood.

You got the chip figured out?

Done deal...Just say when...

Two days...

I'll be ready...

"You have a low-grade fever," Jim lectured, tucking the tissue into his pocket. "And your blood pressure and heart rate are both low, even for your altered anatomy. I'd like you to take it easy for a day or so."

"I'll clear my calendar," Sloane quipped.

"You do that," Jim's lips twisted in a wry smile. "Zak here wants to discuss linguistics with you. I'll allow that if you stay in bed."

Sloane nodded, and Jim left them alone.

Zak scooted his stool closer to the bed and slid back onto it.

"So, this language the Hive spoke to you, can you explain it to me?"

***

Ofelia counted herself lucky.

Yeah, she was locked away from the Collective and experimented on three to five times a week.

Sure, she hadn't seen Brig, the love of her life, in five years. The time they did manage to spend together within their shared consciousness was precious but not nearly enough to ease the ache of loneliness.

Seeing the Twins was a thrill. Knowing they accepted her with their father was golden.

Despite everything going on, she had little to be angry about.

That didn't stop her from being angry, of course. She just chose where to focus it.

General Ulster was a prime target. She hated that fucker openly, actively, and passionately.

Brig toyed with Ulster and often amused the Collective by doing so.

O outright attacked the General, leaving scars under his stiff uniform. She smiled every time she remembered raking her nails down his chest the first time she woke up in this room. The arrogant shit was standing there gloating at her, telling her about that stupid chip.

There was no question she was going for the kill, but the drugs they pumped her with slowed her down. She regretted not digging deep enough to snatch his heart out, but she put it down to lessons learned. They put up a barrier to protect him from her. It didn't stop her from banging on it, kicking it, and mean-mugging him.

"Commander."

"Fuck off," she hissed.

"Commander, Captain Sloane took ill two days ago," Ulster told her. He was working very hard to stand still behind his barrier.

Whenever she passed him in her circuit around the room he flinched. She took malicious pleasure in his fear of her.

A girl had to get her goodies somewhere.

She kept pacing the living room, arms crossed. She already knew Brig was wiped out. He knew what he was doing to himself when he went to see his Ashes.

She wasn't telling Ulster that, of course. O was delighted to let the fucker sweat.

"What did you do to him?" she snapped.

"He did it to himself," Ulster replied, "we think."

"You think?" she scoffed, passing close enough to the barrier to punch it. Ulster jumped back and she gave him a snarling smile, never breaking stride.

"He was exhausted," Ulster went on, swallowing. "Dr. Moore was concerned and took him to the clinic. Is there anything you care to share?"

"Not a fucking thing."

"We have a recording," Ulster went on. "Sloane confirmed it sounds like something your Hive sent you."

She glared at the techs behind the glass wall. They watched her with wide eyes. She didn't intend to terrorize them, but they witnessed her interaction with Ulster daily. It was an unavoidable side-effect.

"And?"

"We think it may have affected him negatively."

She shook her head. "After they realized we could not handle being part of their hive mind, they never did us any harm. They tried to adjust us so we could communicate with them. That only got us so far," O sighed. "That's why they sent Z, to relay information."

"Z?"

"I'm sure Brig told you they gave us an intermediary," she snapped. "We called him Z because we couldn't say his name, not even via the conduit."

"You don't want to hear the message?"

"Why, so you can find out if it knocks me out too?" O challenged. "Sure, cue it up."

"You and Captain Sloane are the strongest," Ulster pointed out. "If it harms both of you, perhaps we can figure out why."

"Fine." O dropped to the pile of cushions she christened the Not-Couch and arched a brow at the techs. "Play it, already."

She didn't pay any attention to it. She already knew what it said. She canted her head at Ulster, catching the fear the man had of her.

"That's it?"

He nodded.

O studied her nails. She kept them short when she was working, but after the journey home plus five years here, they were at least two inches long.

She kept them sharp by scratching at the pseudo-granite top of the kitchen island. When she got another chance at Ulster, she was making sure she could finish the job. It was highly satisfying.

"It's a message. We're coming. The date is two years out, give or take."

Ulster pressed his lips together, frowning.

"Brig told you that already."

"Captain Sloane said the translation was basic, at best. That it didn't really translate to any human language."

"True," O rolled her eyes, running a hand through her hair.

Something else that was longer than she normally kept it. Her hair hadn't been this long since before Academy. It was against regulation, and she always wanted to be a top soldier. The deep chocolate tresses fell to the middle of her back. A pang of longing hit her, remembering how much Brig loved her long hair.

Ulster cleared his throat, and she threw him a dark look.

"What? Am I supposed to fall into a seizure and foam at the mouth? Already?"

Ulster heaved a sigh. "You know, if you people would just give us the data, you would all be allowed to go free."

"No, we wouldn't you lying fuck," O growled. "If the general population knew you were holding us hostage all this time, there would be riots. No, I think you told everyone we died, so you can keep us as long as you want.

"Anyway," she tossed her hair over one shoulder, "we can't do what you want if we are separated. The hive mind of the Collective means we all have different parts of the whole. If one of us knew everything, that person's brain would leak from his ears. You'd think after years of us telling you this, you'd take a minute to wonder if it was, y'know, the fucking truth."

Ulster frowned at her, and she gave him another devilish smile. "I really do hate you; do you know that? I never hated anyone before, not even the bitch that married the man I loved, had his babies, and then screwed the man I married. You're just a piss poor excuse for a human."

Ulster swallowed and she was pleased to see sweat beading his brow.

Do you have to be so harsh?

I thought we were done being nice...

You've never been nice to him, darling... Brig's laughter was a balm to her soul.

And I never will be...Fuck him...Fuck them all...

Zak is in...Jim is ready...Two days, darling...

Can't come fast enough...

"Commander Munro, I am only doing my job."

"Yeah? So were we!" O streaked across the room and rammed into the barrier, violet eyes blazing.

Ulster slammed into the wall behind him, stark terror stretching his eyes wide.

"We never gave up. We did everything we could to get home. And you motherfuckers screwed us over! Fuck you all!" she raged.

She slammed her fists into the barrier, screaming her fury out until Ulster escaped the room.

Breathing hard, O glared at the obs room until the wall darkened, then stalked into the bedroom to fall onto the bed.

A bit much, darling...

It got rid of him...

How are your hands?

Sore...but it was worth it...

They might try to gas you...

Nah...I only get worked up when he's in here...I'm a pussy cat with everyone else...

A pussy cat with sharp claws...

Meow muthafucka...

General amusement echoed back from the Collective. The flow of groovy vibes improved her mood considerably, and when Jim stepped in, she was smiling.

"Hey Jimmy," she greeted him from the door of her bedroom. "What's shakin'?"

He eyed her from behind the barrier. "Are you going to behave, Ofelia?"

"Is that fucktard with you?"

"No, he's not." Jim didn't even pretend he didn't know who she meant.

"Then you're safe."

He nodded to the obs room, and the opaque wall lit up. A moment later, the barrier slid up into the ceiling and Jim stepped further into the room.

"So, Brig had a rough night. He's been in the clinic for two days and just woke up today."

"I heard," her eyes gleamed at him. "How is he?"

"Resting in the clinic. Doctor Zak is with him, discussing linguistics. Did they let you hear the message?"

"Just now."

Jim arched a brow. "The brass thinks hearing it put Brig down."

She shrugged. "We shall see."

He nodded. "I don't agree with them, of course." He opened his black bag and dragged out a blood pressure cuff.

O dutifully offered her arm. He slapped it on and tapped the button to start it up. She lifted her chin so he could put his fingers at the pulse point at her throat.

Brig says two days...

I'll be ready...

Once we're out, we'll have to move fast...

Understood...

Can you keep up?

If I can't I deserve to be left behind...

No one deserves to be left behind... Brig chimed in. Least of all you. You've fought them every step of the way, tried to make them leave us alone...

I agree...If anybody falls behind it'll be Zak...

Bitch...

Your bitch...

Always...

Jim rolled his eyes and O chuckled.

Is there anyone you want to bring along, Jim?

I am disgustingly solitary... he answered. Not a single second date in five years...

That's unsettling, Jim...Your callouses must have callouses...

Well, considering all the meta-sexual mambo you two get up to, I have plenty of material in the spank bank...

O sputtered laughing, and Jim pulled the blood pressure cuff off.

Thanks...I think...

Shut up, I'm dying...

Laughter echoed across the Collective.

O frowned when the barrier slid down, and Ulster came back.

"General," Jim sighed. "I'm just about to take a blood sample and I'll be out of the way."

"You don't seem to be angry with Doctor Moore, Commander," Ulster pointed out.

"Doctor Moore is not a lying prick that locked me up," O pointed out.

"Watch your blood pressure," Jim murmured, tying a tourniquet around her bicep.

She rolled her eyes, making a fist while he inserted the needle. He filled three tubes with blood, then pressed a cotton ball to the tiny wound. By the time he removed the tourniquet, the bleeding had stopped, and the wound was healed over as if it was never there.

One of the ongoing experiments was designed to find out just how severe an injury had to be to leave a scar on them.

To Jim's horror, they hadn't gotten there yet. He put his foot down with extreme force when Ulster wanted to go from poisons, guns, and knives to explosive devices.

The Collective was grateful for that. 

Ulster was a loose cannon and O hoped he would use violence to stop them when they made their move. As much as she wanted to kill him, Brig wouldn't allow it if he did nothing to threaten them directly. It was rare for him to deny her anything, so she bowed to his wishes and bided her time.

Power-drunk assholes like Ulster always went too far. She had dibs on his head when that time came.

Jim shook his head at her predatory smile. "Pump the brakes, Commander," he muttered.

O took a deep breath, the Collective buzzing in her head. Brig was a calming presence, slowly easing her fury to a manageable level. She was always angry, but she could tone it down.

Some.

"The fuck do you want, anyway? Didn't we get enough playtime?" she flung at Ulster.

"Your husband wants to see you," Ulster told her, and her rage roared back to life.

"That man," she hissed, "is not my husband. He can suck my dick and choke on it."

Ulster swallowed, and Jim squeezed her shoulder. "Commander," he said quietly.

O closed her eyes, feeling the Collective raging along with her. "Gimme a minute," she growled.

Jim nodded and packed up his bag. He arched a brow at Ulster. "You gonna let me out?"

Ulster narrowed his eyes at him. "When will she be ready to see her...Mr. Nichols?"

Jim shrugged. "The hell should I know? Maybe if you clear out, she'll calm back down. I mean, it's not like she hasn't got cause."

"Talking like that is contrary to our cause, Doctor," Ulster snapped.

"Fuck you and your cause!" O snarled. "Fuck all the way off."

Ulster snarled at Jim and slipped out the door. It closed behind him before the barrier lifted and Jim turned to her.

Dave is sure to be rattled after what happened with Molly yesterday... Brig advised her. See what you can pick up off him...

Aye, Sir...she answered cheekily.

Be careful of him... Jim added, turning back to the door. The one thing he always brings up is money...He's far too invested in staying on the Alliance's good side as long as it doesn't cost him anything...

That's nothing new... O rolled her eyes. Dave was all about the money...

Milk him, darling... Brig said. We need intel on the compounds and unforeseen security...

I'll get what we need, baby... O assured him Watch me work...