Terrill: I'm playing a new game. It's called "every time I feel depressed, I take a drink."
Sherry: Thatâs called alcoholism.
seen from Sweden
seen from United Kingdom

seen from South Korea
seen from United States
seen from Canada

seen from Sweden
seen from Croatia

seen from Philippines
seen from United Kingdom
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seen from Australia
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seen from Israel
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Hong Kong SAR China
seen from Armenia

seen from Sweden
seen from China
seen from Sweden
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Terrill: I'm playing a new game. It's called "every time I feel depressed, I take a drink."
Sherry: Thatâs called alcoholism.

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SOS (2/2)
Three months later than planned, here is the end to âSOSâ.
Read Chapter 1 here.
Rating: T
Characters: Ohio, Idaho, Iowa, Sherry, Terrill, Darryl
Relationships: Ohio/Sherry
Warnings: Major character death, canonical character death/injury, canon-typical language/violence
Summary:Â Maine's distress beacon is the first to set off the Triplets' comms system. But his isn't the last.
Chapter 2 below the cut or on Ao3.
EPILOGUE
Vera doesnât believe what sheâs seeing.
Itâs a dream, a hallucination, a result of too many glasses of Sherry, Terrill and Darrylâs moonshine. Or, itâs a nightmare, because only in nightmares would her mind tease her with the possibility the flashing light and incessant chirping are real.
But then Ezraâs shouting into the comms, and soon Mike is too.
They see it. They hear it. So, either itâs real, or itâs a group hallucination, and Vera doesnât know enough about that kind of stuff to make a decision.
Right now, Vera is tentatively siding with this being real.
Carolinaâs alive.
After years of radio silence, years of mourning and healing and starting to sort of forgetâbut not totally, Vera would never ever forget her friends or Freelancerâafter years of nothing, hereâs something.
âOh. My. God!â Vera screams into comms, only adding to the mess of ecstatic voices. âOh, my god.â
âSheâs still out there!â Ezra yells over comms. Thereâs an explosion, followed by a grunt. âShould weâow!âshould we call off the stealth mission?â
This mission hasnât been stealth since it started, but Vera will never admit that.
âI would like to go home so we can call Carolina, please,â Mike pitches in. He yells as the sound of bullets hitting metal flood the comms.
âYeah, yeah, call it off!â Vera says. Instead of running back to base, she lowers herself into a crouching position.
Veraâs a little fucking dizzy, but like, the good kind of dizzy. Sure, itâs a distress signal. Meaning Agent Carolina is probably in distress.
Logically, you gotta be alive to be in distress.
At least this is what Vera believes as she pushes herself to her feet and switches to the channel only she and Sherry share. Sheâs grinning so hard, sheâs surprised she can even speak.
âHey, where are you going, sweet cheeks?â Sherry chides.
âShe isnât dead!â Vera crows. One of the best sentences sheâs ever uttered, in her opinion. Sherryâs silent for a moment before responding.
âWho isnât dead?â she asks.
âAgent Carolina!â Vera says.
âWhat?!â
âSheâs alive!â Vera yells as she reaches their base.
Ezra and Mike are already inside as she bursts inside, reaching up to yank her helmetâstill shrieking glorious tidings of Carolinaâs distress. Before she pulls it off, she says,
âGet your ass over here, we have some phone calls to make!â
âPhone caââ Sherryâs voice is cut off as Vera removes her helmet.
âYou know, we canât actually, uh, call Agent Carolina,â Ezra points out as they make their way down the hall towards the computer.
After much debate, Ezra and Sherry rigged up a new computer, one with a comms system that worked about 60% of the time. They think. They arenât really sure, what with no one to reach out too. And when they shot random messages into the void, no one ever answered. It is what it is, and even with wonky means of communication, thereâs at least a sliver of hope for rescue.
âNo shit, Ezra, itâs just a figure of speech.â Vera rolls her eyes.
The three of them cram themselves into the computer room, Vera at the desk, Ezra and Mike hanging on the back of her chair.
âCan you reach her?â Ezra asks.
âIâm gonna fucking try,â Vera retorts.
By the time everything is ready to go, Sherry, Terrill and Darryl are there, watching with baited breath as Vera reaches over to press the Button. The Button that will, in theory, open up communication between them and Agent Carolinaâmore specifically, her helmet.
âAgent Carolina?â Vera squawks. She coughs. Shakes her head. Repeats. âAgent Carolina! This is Agent Ohio of Project Freelancer. I have Agents Idaho and Iowa with me, as well asââ Vera pauses, unsure if she should disclose Sherry and the others are technically Innies. Nah. âAs well as three other allies. You, uh, wouldnât know them. At all. Agent Carolina, if you hear me, please respond!â
There are thirty-two agonizing seconds of radio silence.
Then.
âOhio?â
LeRoy & Terrill
Youngstown, Ohio
c. 1875-1889
S.O.S (Ch. 1/2)
Hello, I am back from a stretch of not writing like. Anything. And what am I here to give you all? Angst, of course.Â
A while back, @wordsysayswords made a little post. I then asked if I could write a fic based on said post, and she said YES.
Title: SOS
Words: 3376
Characters: Sherry, Ohio, Terrill, Idaho, Iowa, Darryl, Freelancers mentioned
Relationship: Ohio/Sherry
Warnings: Canon-typical violence/language; implied/referenced character death; characters thought to be dead; angst
Summary: Maineâs distress beacon is the first to set off the Tripletsâ comms system. But it isnât the last. Read also on Ao3.
I
Their first temporary truce is celebrated with vodka and kisses, but their second is accompanied by sobriety and the incessant shriek of a distress beacon.
Huddled together in front of the only functioning computer on their base with Mike, Ezra, Sherry and the others, Vera tries to block out the noise. She can tune it out okay, and she doesnât really mind shutting her ears off. No oneâs saying anything anyway, just holding their breath.
A green glow illuminates the cold, dusty room, barely big enough to be a closet, interrupted only by a flash of red light every few seconds. The green light is from the outline of a suit of armorâof a bodyâdisplayed at the left side of the screen. There are words on the right, but either theyâre scrolling by too fast or Vera just canât read the language. She thinks itâs English. Too blurry to tell.
What she can tell is who the armor belongs too, and she chooses to focus on this fact for as long as possible.
But itâs kind of hard to ignore the flashing red light coming from the armorâs throat.
âIs thatâ?â Ezra starts to ask, but Vera cuts him off.
âAgent Maine.â
âAnother Freelancer?â Terrill asks from behind Mikeâs elbow. He and Darryl stand shoulder to shoulder hunched over Mike and Sherry, who are pressed tight up against Vera and Ezra.
A wave of irritation washes over Veraâmaybe at Terrill, maybe at the elbow digging into her ribs, maybe at the fact the room is no longer cold but is, in fact, very warmâand she sighs.
âYes, Terrill,â Vera retorts. âAgent Maine is a Freelancer. Just like Iowa, Idaho, and myself.â
âYou donât have to talk so slow, Iâm not an idiot,â Terrill says. âIt was a valid question!â
âShut up, Terrill,â Sherry snaps.
Vera can hear the hitched breath and clicking of teeth as Terrill contemplates arguing before closing his mouth, and she sends Sherry as many vibes of gratitude she can muster. She canât turn around to look at her, because, well, she canât fucking move in this computer âroomâ.
âHis vitals are so fucked,â Ezra mutters. Vera glances over at him. His eyes are glazed over, reflecting the alternating red and green lights.
âBut heâs still alive!â Mike points out.
âYeah.â Vera looks back up at the computer screen. She wonders if itâs possible to go blind from staring for too long. Then she realizes itâs been about a minute since sheâs blinked.
Closing her eyes, she lets out the first of many exasperated sighs.
âHow long do these distress thinga-ma-jigs last?â Sherry asks, leaning forward. Vera feels her breath tickle her ear and she shivers.
âI donât actually know,â Vera answers. âNever seen one before. Iâm surprised this one reached us.â
âDid your helmetsâ comms systems notify you of anything?â Sherry asks.
Vera blinks. She hasnât put her armor on yet todayâthe distress beacon screaming at them from the computer room is what woke her up. After that it was a blur of shaking Mike awake while Ezra put up the blue flag they found in the lower levels of the base. Some sim trooper thing they used as a truce signal.
Sherry, Terrill, and Darryl rushed over, brandishing their guns in case it was a trick, dropping them and shucking their armor when they realized it wasnât. Then they gathered around the nine-by-thirteen computer screen, watching in silence as almost certain death claimed their old teammate.
âI donât know,â Vera says. âAnd hopefully there wonât be another chance to find out.â
At that moment the computer flashed one last time, flickering out with a final squawk. The sudden darkness was both refreshing and disorienting, the silence unsettling.
Vera popped her jaw, trying to get rid of the ringing in her ears.
The beacon had been going off for an hour, the only change being Agent Maineâs erratic vital signs. It hurt to look at, but now Vera would give just about anything to get it back.
âDoes that mean heâsâow!â Darryl squeaks as someoneâprobably Sherryâjabs him in the ribs.
âI donât know what it means, okay?â Vera snaps, leaping to her feet.
Or, she tries to leap to her feet. As she rises, Ezra is knocked backward, taking his chair, Mike, and Terrill with him like a row of sentient dominoes. Terrill lets out a squeak as he smacks the back of his head into the metal door. It beeps and slides open, something itâs not technically supposed to do without a code, but whatever.
Everythingâs broken here.
âOw, the back of my head!â Terrill cries.
âShit, Iâm sorry!â Vera exclaims, whirling around to help Ezra to his feet.
Sherry grabs hold of Mike and pulls him up while Darryl takes care of Terrill. Massaging his head, Terrill gives her a dirty look, but it quickly softens.
âItâs all right,â he says. âIt, uh, doesnât hurt that much.â
âHey, you okay?â Sherry places a hand on Veraâs shoulder.
Veraâs face goes hot, and sheâs not sure whether to shake Sherryâs hand away or lean into the touch. She decides on option C, which is doing nothing, standing frozen like a deer in headlights.
âYeah, just,â Vera sniffles, unable to finish the thought. She reaches up, presses her fingers into her eyes in a feeble attempt to stop the tears.
Sheâs not even sure why this hit her so hard, she hardly knew Maineâand the boys only met him once or twice. The Alpha Team were like, likened to gods practically. When David and Connie moved up, Vera was afraid theyâd forget about her, Mike, and Ezra, leave them all behind to choke on their super badass Freelancer dust.
Not that they were around long enough for that to happen.
âI hope David and Connie are okay,â Mike says, echoing Veraâs thoughts. Ezra hums his agreement.
Sherry coughs, tightening her grip slightly. Vera looks up at her, praying her eyes arenât too red. Sheâs managed to stop her tears, but she still feels as exhausted as she might be after sobbing her eyes out.
âWe, uh, forgot our extra ammo, so we surrender,â Sherry says. Darryl nods so hard it looks like his head might fly off as Sherry continues, âWhy donât we make some coffee and watch a dumb movie, or something?â
Vera nods once, head heavy, and follows the others out of the computer room.
âWeâve only got, like five movies to pick from,â Ezra says. âI voteââ
âFour,â Mike interrupts.
âWhat?â Ezra asks, turning his head to squint at Mike.
âFour movies,â Mike says. âSomeone accidentally blew up âCharlotteâs Webâ.â
âGoddammit, Mikeââ
Sherry halts, grabbing Veraâs hand and pulling her gently backwards. Vera, unprepared, yelps, almost toppling over. Sherry holds her steady.
âHey.â Sherry grips Vera by her shoulders, looks her dead in the eyes.
Vera canât decide whether to be concerned or enticed by Sherryâs gorgeous fucking eyes, then shakes her head.
Snap out of it, dummy, she scolds herself.
âDo you want to talk about it?â Sherry asks her.
Something that Vera can only describe as a stab knifes through her, allowing those feelings she had just locked up tight to leak out. She wants to scream, she wants to cry, she wants to break something.
Instead Vera reaches up, wraps her fingers around Sherryâs wrists, and gently peels her hands from her shoulders.
âIâm fine, Sherry,â Vera says. âI donât want to talk about it. Maine wasnât my friend, anyway. I hardly knew the guy!â
Sherry frowns, but she doesnât protest. Doesnât yank her hands away either. Vera, suddenly very shy, lets Sherryâs wrists go.
âIâm fine,â Vera repeats. âNow just drop it, okay?â
âOkay,â Sherry says, voice short.
They walk the rest of the way to the breakroom in silence.
  II
 Vera can feel the room closing in on her and she struggles to breathe. Black spots dance before her eyes as she sinks to the ground, hands around her ears as if itâs going to block out the beaconâs scream. Muffled voices come from the blurry shapes fussing around her, but she canât bring them into focus. She presses harder on her ears, slamming her eyes shut.
But she can still see it.
Itâs still there, burnt into the back of her eyelids.
The outline of the soldier on the screen is unmistakable. Like Maineâs, one of a kind. But this oneâs much shorter.
âConnie,â Vera croaks. Tears, hot and heavy, roll down her face. She brings her knees in as close to her chest as possible, trying to fold into herself, to make herself smaller. Maybe even disappear.
Everything happened so fast.
Veraâs helmet screeching in her ear mid-skirmish. Vera looking over at Ezra and Mike, also frozen, before throwing down her gun and sprinting towards their base. Sherry shouting something. Stray bullets smacking into the snow around Vera as she ran. And with every heartbeat, with every strangled breath, one name reverberated through Veraâs head.
Connie. Connie. Connie.
Vera reached the computer first, chucking her helmet to the side. Eyes burning, she watched the little green-and-red model of Connie rotate on the screen. It didnât take long for the vitals to bottom out.
But the distress beacon kept going.
For forty-five more minutes.
For forty-five minutes, Vera sat there, hardly registering the sudden warmth of Ezra and Mike sinking to the floor beside her, wrapping their arms around her.
For forty-five minutes, Vera wishes theyâd destroyed their comms systems. Itâs painfully clear no one is coming for them, that theyâre clinging like idiots to false hopes.
For forty-five minutes, Vera considers shooting her gun next to her ears to drown out the computerâs eerie lament. She considers it, but she canât bring herself to move even a finger.
For forty-five minutes, Vera wants to murder the Director. Because if anyoneâs responsible for Connieâs death, itâs that motherfucker.
When the beacon finally dies, Veraâs run out of tears. Blinking, she lets out a shuddering sigh and returns Ezra and Mikeâs embrace. Her arms and elbows complain as she eases them from their tensed position to drape them over her friendsâ shoulders. Mike sniffles, but Ezra stares at the floor like he can see through it, eyes miles away.
Their grief eventually gives way to discomfort. Power armor isnât ideal for sitting in a sad huddle with your friends. Extracting herself from the hug, Vera rises to her feet, knees popping. She looks over at the computer screen, watches the cursor dart across the screen, writing out the date, time, and cause of death in bright green letters.
One word at the bottom of the report catches her eye, and Vera shuffles over to the computer, eyes narrowed.
There, at the bottom of the screen is one word, this time typed out in glowing red letters:
MISSING.
What the hell does that mean? That Connieâs missing? Missing where?
âWhat the fuck is going on?â Vera shouts, kicking the desk chair. It clatters across the room and smacks up against the wall.
Ezra and Mike donât say anything, but Ezra comes up beside her to look at the computer as well. His brows furrow when he reads the red lettering.
Vera growls and stomps out of the room, making her way down the corridor and toward her bunk.
This isnât fair, how come she and the others are here while Connie, Wash and the others are out risking their lives andâand fucking dying? If Freelancer was looking for soldiers ready to die for the cause, they threw away three of them on this frozen planet.
And nowâwhat, Connieâs freaking body is missing? Vera has no idea whatâs going on, and those old feelings of helplessness, of being useless, surface after months of figuring out how to shove them away. Freelancer continues to haunt them, which is hilarious to Vera, because shouldnât she, Mike, and Ezra be the ones to haunt Freelancer? Of course, that would only make a difference if the Director had a conscience.
Reaching the door to her bunk, Vera punches the button to open the door. As the door slides open, the pad the button is attached to pops, sparks, and fizzes. The door freezes half way, and Vera groans. She tries to shove the door the rest of the way open, but the base is content on working whenever the fuck it wants, and right now, it doesnât want to.
Vera huffs and removes her armor, dropping it all to the floor right outside the door before slipping inside her bunk.
She doesnât even bother turning on the light before falling into bed. Shoving her face into her pillow, she closes her eyes, only to find Connieâs face smirking at her. Eyes flying open, Vera flips over and stares at the small sliver of light cutting across the ceiling.
Maybe they should just shut off the computer.
  III
 They donât shut off the computer, of course. The miniscule chance someone would contact them, or hear their distress signals, keeps them from blowing it all up.
Deep down, Vera knowsâand she knows the others do tooâthat no one is ever going to call their names over that radio.
âYou could take turns checking the computer,â Sherry suggests to Vera one night.
Theyâre laying in Veraâs bed, limbs intertwined and tangled in the sheets, enjoying the warmth of each otherâs bare skin. Sherryâs arm is around Vera, and she reaches up to stroke Veraâs hair.
Sighing, Vera leans into Sherryâs hand. Electrified by the touch, she almost forgets what Sherry said.
âMaybe,â Vera says, closing her eyes for one. Two. Three seconds. Then she says, âI guess. I donât know.â
âThen maybe you wouldnât have to have it thrown in your face every time,â Sherry goes on. âTake turns reporting what you see?â
âI donât think Mike could do it on his own,â Vera says. âShit, I donât know if I could be in there alone. What ifâgod, what if itâs David who dies next? I mean, Connieâs gone, MaineâsâMaineâs maybe gone! What if they all just fucking die, Sherry?â
Vera sits up, slipping out of Sherryâs embrace and pulls her legs up towards her chest. Wrapping her arms around her legs, she presses her eyes into her knees. She shivers, her back now exposed to the barely tolerable chill. Since the baseâs energy is finite, theyâve started turning the heat down. Vera would almost rather die warm than freeze her ass off.
Almost.
Thereâs the swish of sheets as Vera feels Sherry sit up as well, and a warm pressure around her shoulders as Sherry holds her once more. Sherry rests her chin on the top of Veraâs head.
âIâm sorry, sweet cheeks,â Sherry murmurs into Veraâs hair. âIf I knew a way off this ice cube, youâd be the first to know.â
âHa!â The corners of Veraâs mouth twitch. âThanks, Sherry.â
Straightening out her legs, Vera moves to lay down again, and Sherry follows suit. Vera reaches up for the light switch, remembers there is no light switch, and sighs.
âLights off,â she commands, and the room goes dark.
Well, it sort-of goes dark. Thereâs still light peaking in through the door, which is still freaking busted. Luckily Mike and Ezraâs rooms are a floor below her, and they⌠probably canât hear anything.
Soon Vera can hear Sherryâs breaths deepen and slow down as she falls asleep, humming softly into her pillow. Vera stares at the gap between the wall and the door, listening to Sherry sleep, trying to find some of her own. Sheâs generally good at falling asleepâa master, really. When her body finally realized no one was going to play âReveilleâ every morning at 0500, Vera even overslept.
Itâs kind of hard for Vera to fall asleep when sheâs waiting to be awakened by the sound of someone else dying.
Eventually, maybe two hours later, Vera starts to drift off. She nestles a little deeper into Sherryâs arms and some of the tension leaves her shoulders. Her last thought before she slips into an uneasy sleep is that she should probably just ask Sherry to move in.
At that same moment, far away in a distant corner of the galaxy, the Mother of Invention falls from the sky.
 IV
Vera crosses every name off in her head, each Freelancer popping up for a few seconds, screaming out vitals, and vanishing to make way for another soldierâs injury map.
Kansas. Louisiana. Vermont. Minnesota. South. North. York. Carolina.
Washington.
(Itâs easier than calling him David, than seeing his first name glaring at her; easier to picture Washington with all those broken bones, to picture David smiling, using that dumb silly strawâ)
Some are dying, some dead. The lucky ones only have a few broken bonesâwell, the lucky ones are probably the Freelancers that arenât showing up on the screen. Did they escape whatever fate the others met? Off on other missions, out of harmâs way? Or maybe theyâre just out of their power armorâVera shakes her head, refuses to consider the option a second longer.
âItâs gotta be an ambush,â Ezra says, his voice hitching up an octave. âIâI mean, how does someone get the drop on a ship full of fuckâfucking Freelancers?â
Theyâre all crowded in the computer room once again, this time without Terrill and Darryl, still asleep at their base. Sherry is the only one not huddled around the screen. Instead, she stands in the doorway, permanently open after the boys fell into it the one time, wrapped in Veraâs itchy wool comforter.
âWhoever attacked them, or whatever happened,â Vera croaks, finding her voice, âLots of them died from some huge impact.â
âThe Mother of Invention?â Ezra looks over at Vera, wild eyed. The green and red glow from the screen casts odd shadows on his face, making him look hollow. Horrifying and horrified. âYou mean, like, something hit it?â
âOr it fell,â Mike suggests.
âOr it fell,â Vera echoes.
They watch until the distress beacon screeches to a halt, about fifteen minutes too early. Something must have happened to the shipâs comms, or maybe it was something else, but Vera is the last person to ask about technology of that caliber.
What she does know is her friends are dead or dying, and thereâs nothing she can do about it.
Letting out a shriek, Vera leaps to her feet and punches the computer. The screen cracks, but doesnât go out, and Vera feels her anger surge, clawing its way out of her throat. Howling in frustration she strikes the computer again and again and again, ignoring the pain in her knuckles. She lifts her leg up and brings her bare foot down on the keyboard, and the machine finally pops and fizzes out.
Chest heaving, Vera watches the smoke rising and the sparks spitting from the screen. She hoped to feel some satisfaction, but all she feels is more anger.
Vera feels a hand on her shoulder and jerks away.
âDonât touch me!â she hisses.
âVera,â Sherry says, softly.
âJustâjust go,â Vera says, face hot. âYou donât wanna be around me right now andâand I donât want to say something Iâll regret.â
Sherry doesnât say anything, but Vera can feel her eyes burning into the back of her skull. It takes everything she has not to turn around and scream, curse, break something. She can feel Ezra and Mike on either side of her, tense, waitingânot for her reaction, but for their own.
Vera sucks in a huge breath and lets it out. Then she turns around to face Sherry. Their eyes meet, and Vera sees her pain reflected in Sherryâs.
âI love you, Sherry,â Vera says. âBut right now, me and Mike and Ezra need to be alone, okay?â
Sherry looks ready to protest, but then she seems to see something in Veraâs face. Nodding, she reaches out one more time, pausing inches from Veraâs face, and then letâs her arm drop.
âI love you too,â she whispers. âIâm so sorry.â
And then she leaves the three of them to mourn.
Reunited and it Feels So Awkward
Itâs been too long since Iâve written some OhSherry, so here you go! Ao3
Word Count: 3041
Pairings: Ohio/Sherry
Warnings: Canon-typical swearing, alcohol, terrible singing
Summary: Itâs been a few years since their rescue from that frozen planet, and Sherry and Vera have a lot of catching up to do. Or, Sherry and Vera sing karaoke and hurl snow at each other.
Itâs quiet, for a Saturday. Thereâs usually twenty or more people crowded around the bar, and more often than not, the room is so packed strangers end up sharing tables.
Tonight, though, thereâs no one.
The bar is empty and surprisingly well-lit, and Sherry can see the floor for the first time. She thinks maybe Roy, the bartender, should dim the lights again so she can forget she ever saw it.
At first, Sherryâs suspiciousâand the fact that Roy looks completely unperturbed doesnât help, because he always looks like that. But aside from the floor, it looks like he put an effort into cleaning the bar, which he never does himself. And thereâs no music. None.
Then she turns to Darryl, who casts his gaze around the establishment, satisfied smile on his face.
âYou rented the bar out, didnât you,â Sherry asks.
âWell, I thought some peace and quiet might be nice,â Darryl says. He crosses his arms and looks over his shoulder at Terrill, whoâs busy hanging their coats.
Sherry shivers. Not that the barâs coldâin fact, it could stand to be a few degrees cooler. No, itâs the fact that when theyâre done here, theyâll have to go back out into the freezing November air. Itâs nowhere near as intense as That Planet, but that doesnât mean Sherry likes it.
âDarryl, you and I both know you rented out the bar because a) you wanted to prove you could and b) youâre afraid that one guy will follow through on his threat to kick your ass,â Sherry says.
She makes her way to the bar, weaving around the tables smooshed together at haphazard angles.
âAll I did was spill my drink on him!â Darryl whines, sulks over to the jukebox (Sherryâs been meaning to ask where Roy dug up one of those dinosaurs), and begins flipping through the song choices.
âYou threw it at his face because he told you White Russians sucked,â Sherry says.
âAnd I seem to recall you saying something along the lines of, âyour mom sucksâ,â Terrill adds, joining Darryl at the jukebox. âWhat a waste ofââ
âOh, look, itâs Ezra!â Darryl shouts, dashing away from the jukeboxâand Terrill.
Sherry shoots Terrill a look. He grins, pushes a button on the jukebox, and goes over to greet their friend. Music starts to fill the barâsome jazz number Sherry doesnât recognize. Â
Ezra nods at her over Darryl and Terrillâs heads. He looks pretty much the same as last time, hair maybe a little grayer but thatâs it. Sherry nods back. Sheâs not great at the sappy reunion stuff, and by the deer-in-headlights look Ezra has on his face as Terrill leans in for a hug, he isnât either.
Laughing, she turns to face the bar.
âIâll haveââ
The bathroom door to Sherryâs right bursts open and out struts Vera.
âTwo shots of whiskey, and two margaritas to chase them downâone peach, one lime,â she says. Sherry stares as her old frenemy makes finger guns at Roy, who sighs and starts making their drinks.
Vera slides onto the stool to Sherryâs leftâor, she tries to slide onto the stool. She ends up miscalculating and scoots right off the other side, crashing onto the floor, taking the barstool down with her.
Sherry gapes at Vera, whoâs massaging her elbow, and Roy peers over the edge of the bar.
âOw, my butt,â Vera grumbles.
Sherry opens her mouth to ask if Veraâs okay, but what comes out is a high-pitched giggle, followed by the obnoxious, snorting kind of laughter that makes her double over.
Reaching up to wipe the tears from her eyes, Sherry hops off her stool.
âDoâdo youâ?â Sherry chokes on her question and dissolves into another fit of laughter while Vera gives her a look that would make most peopleâs hearts freeze over. Catching her breath, she tries again.
âDo you need a hand?â
She reaches down, trembling slightly as she tries to compose herself.
By this time Ezra has made his way to the bar, half-concerned-half-amused look on his face.
Vera bats Sherryâs hand away and brings herself to a kneel.
âI got this you guys!â she snaps. Sherry and Ezra hold their hands up and back away.
Vera stands. Reaches down and grabs the toppled stool. Sets the stool up. And slowly climbs onto it.
Shaking his head, Roy plunks two shots of whiskey and two margaritas in front of Sherry and, noticing Terrill and Darryl approaching the bar, sets to making some White Russians.
âSo? Letâs do this,â Vera says, snatching up the whiskey.
Sherry follows suit, doing her best not to smile at how red Veraâs face is or at how Vera is pretending not to notice how very, very red her face is.
Their glasses clink together and Sherry downs the shot, relishing the burn as the liquid travels to her stomach.
Itâs the good shit, much better than the crap they dug up on That Planet. Everything is much better now that theyâre off That Planet.
For a few moments, they sit in silence. No one is quite sure what to say, and Sherry, who used to pride herself at her conversation skills, can only think of weather-related comments. And sheâs not about to gossip about the goddamned weather. So, she keeps her mouth shut. The jukebox continues to wheeze out that old jazz song.
âIs it just me, or is it, like, super weird how quiet it is in here?â Ezra asks. âI was expecting⌠I dunno, rowdy drunks? Overplayed radio hits? Crowded bathrooms?â
âThereâs a perfectly good explanation for that,â Terrill says, taking a sip of his drink.
Darryl, whoâs sitting next to Terrill, leans back and glares at his him.
âAn explanation that most certainly isnât worth his time,â he growls.
âDarryl rented out the entire bar,â Sherry says before taking a long drink of her margarita. Lime. Itâs delicious, and Sherryâs almost annoyed. Vera read her wellâthatâs supposed to be her party trick!
Darryl opens his mouth to retort but the door to the bar opens with a BANG!
Roy drops the glass heâs cleaning and reaches for the shotgun hidden under the counter. Sherry whirls around, hand dropping to her hip. When her fingers brush the fabric of her jeans she remembers whereâand whenâshe is. Back in the war, a loud noise usually meant an explosion, or that someone was shooting at you, and that meant grab your gun, get to cover, and shoot back.
Sheâs so busy reaching for a gun thatâs isnât there it takes her a few seconds to figure out the source of the noise.
Itâs Mike.
Dumb grin on his face, jacket unzipped, and hat pulled way too far down on his head, Mike waves and almost knocks over the coat rack in the process.
âHey, everyone!â he calls. âThere was a spider on the door, but donât worry, I got it!â
Thereâs a collective sigh of relief as everyone but Roy relaxes and goes back to their drinks.
Sherry chuckles.
âDonât worry, Roy, Mikeâs a friend,â she reassures him. Turning to Vera, she whispers, âIâm glad he didnât actually have a gun, he probably wouldâve shot the door.â
Roy narrows his eyes at Mike when he hears this. Then, with a shrug, he begins sweeping up the shattered glass. Good old No-Fucks-Given Roy.
Thereâs a sharp pain in Sherryâs side as Vera elbows her in the ribs.
âOwâHey!â
âSorry,â Vera says in a voice that sounds a lot like she really isnât that sorry.
Vera takes a drink and glances over at Sherry.
âHowâre you liking Maine?â she asks. The way she spits out Maine makes it sound like a dirty word, and Sherryâs heart plummets.
âItâs, well, you know. Itâs nice,â Sherry answers. âNothing exciting really happens and believe me, Iâm good with that.â
âBut why Maine?â Vera asks shaking her head.
âWhat do you mean?â Sherry tries to keep her voice even.
âI donât know! Itâs justâwell, itâs justâcold,â Vera says. âAnywhere in the worldâheck, anywhere in the galaxy, and you chose⌠Maine. If you were looking for boring and quiet, there are, like, much betterâand warmerâplaces.â
Veraâs not wrong about the cold. Winters here can be brutal. But there are colder places to be. Much colder.
As for why she picked Maine?
âI dunno,â Sherry replies with a shrug. Staring down her drink, she adds, âMy parents are from here, and Terrill and Darryl got a place here, it just seemed like the place to be.â
Vera doesnât say anything.
âWhat about you? Whyâd you choose Hawaii?â
âSimple!â Vera says. âI got abandoned and forgotten on a literal ice cube for years by Project Freelancer! So, I decided screwâscrew the cold, screw snow, Iâm moving to Hawaii.â
âWhat about the sharks?â Sherry asks.
âOh, psh come on, shark attacks, like, never happen,â Vera scoffs. âThough I could live without the, uh, volcanic fog-stuff.â
âFive things you couldnât live without!â Ezra breaks in. Vera lets out an exasperated sigh.
âOxygen,â Terrill chirps.
âWell, obviously,â Darryl says, rolling his eyes. âHe means personally, as in you personally, not everyone else.â
âI, personally,â Terrill says, âcould not live without oxygen.â
âPotato chips,â Mike calls from the jukebox. Heâs busy flipping through songs, moving past them so fast Sherry doubts heâs actually reading the titles.
âOkay, thatâs two,â Ezra says.
âWait, so oxygen counts?â
âInternet,â Vera adds.
âThatâs three!â
âTips,â comes a voice right next to Sherryâs ear. She jumps and swivels on her stool to face the bar where Roy stands, wiping down the counter.
Sherry makes a mental note to leave him a larger tip than usual.
For a few moments, everyoneâs quiet as they think about what they couldnât live without. Sherry smiles, remembering the times they used to call a truce, gather together and share their resourcesâhot chocolate, alcohol, MREs, warmth. And they always ended up playing five things.
Sherry remembers the oneâor three or fourâtimes the game ended with a kiss. Sometimes Sherry would kiss Vera, or Vera would kiss Sherry. They tried to chalk it up to the booze, or the cold, or to tripping and falling⌠onto each otherâs faces.
And she remembers when the rescue ship finally came. Vera knew some of them, and spent hours asking question after question. Sherry remembers being jealous that Veraâs attention wasnât being spent on plotting her and Terrill and Darrylâs demise.
Then Sherry remembers the night they went their separate ways, how she wanted to punch herself in the face for not going to fucking Hawaii.
âFive,â Sherry says. âMy memories. Couldnât live without âem.â
No one says anything for a few seconds, and then Ezra whistles.
âWhoa, dropping that deep shit on us already, huh?â he says. âI donât know if Iâm drunk enough for that.â
âBut letâs think about this,â Terrill says. He sets his empty glass on the table, and he gets this look on his face that makes Sherry groan. Heâs preparing for a Philosophical Discussion.
âOh, God,â Vera mutters. She spins her stool around so she can rest her elbows on the counter and finish off her margarita.
âLetâs say you did lose your memories. How would you know you had them to begin with? Can you miss something that youâve forgotten?â Terrill asks.
âDependsâsix more shots, please!â Ezra calls over to Roy, holding up six fingers. âDo you know your memories were taken, or do you not remember that either?â
âOohh, great pointâŚâ
Mike skips away from the jukebox to join the conversation. The song he chose begins to drift through the bar.
Yesterday,
all my troubles seemed so far away
Sherry did not pin Mike as a Beatles fan. With a shrug, she knocks back the shot Roy places in front of her. Vera does the same, and, out of nowhere, springs up from the stool and grabâs Ezraâs beer bottle.
Using the bottle as a makeshift microphone, Vera begins to belt out the chorus.
âWhy she had to go! I donât know, she wouldnât say!â
Vera chugs the rest of Ezraâs beer then finishes the song.
And itâs.
Amazing.
When Vera comes back to sit at the bar, Sherry greets her with applause. Roy just shakes his head and hands Ezra another beer.
âI didnât know you sang,â Sherry says as Vera plops down beside her.
âShe doesnât!â Ezra calls.
âFuck off, Ezra!â Vera retorts. Her eyes light up and she turns to look at Sherry.
Sherryâs stomach twists for two different reasons. One: Vera is looking her right in the eyes and Sherry isnât sure how to handle thatâespecially after that song. Sherry isnât even sure if that qualifies as passive-aggressive or just flat out aggressive at this point.
Two: she knows exactly what Vera is about to say next and would honestly rather be stranded on that frozen planet for five more years.
âYour turn,â Vera says.
âNooooo.â Sherry waves her arms in protest. âNope.â
âOh, come on, itâll be fun!â
âIâm not nearly drunk enough forââ
âMore shots!â
âNo, Iâmââ
âDonât sell yourself short, Sherry, youâre a wonderful singer.â
âShut up, Terrill!â
âShots.â
âThanks, Roy!â
âTip your bartender.â
âYou underestimate my ability to hold my liquor, sweet cheeks.â
âShots, shots, shots shots shotsââ
âShut up, Darryl! Donât encourageââ
âOne, two, three, go!â
**
Sherry decides Veraâs idea might be the best idea in the history of ideas. And Terrill is right, Sherryâs a great singer. Her stuffed animals would agree.
Using Ezra, Terrill, Darryl, and Mikeâs table as a stage, Sherry grabs a nearby bottle (âGoddammit not again!â) and points at Vera, who presses play on the jukebox.
        Ma ma ma maaaa
Darryl and Ezra let out a cheer as Lady Gaga starts blasting through the barâs speakers.
Sherry isnât sure what all the words are, so she just fakes itâwhile staying in perfect pitchâuntil she reachesâ
âPa-Pa-Pa-Poker face pa-pa-poker faaace!â
Mike has started dancing. Or maybe heâs trying to squash a spider.
Sherry makes eye-contact with Roy, who looks dead inside. She gives him a wink, but he doesnât even blink.
As the song reaches itâs close Vera leaps up onto the table and starts dancing alongside Sherry, who is very. Very. Aware. Just how close she is. Like. Shoulder-touching, arm-bumping, hands-brushing close.
And suddenly the song is over and Veraâs clambering down from the table. She holds out her hand, and Sherry, wobbling on the shitty, unbalanced table, takes it. So she doesnât fall. Obviously.
âMy turn!â Darryl declares.
Sherry and Vera collapse into a couple nearby chairs, and it isnât until Roy tells them itâs fifteen minutes to close that Sherry realizes sheâs still holding Veraâs hand.
**
Frozen air smacks them in the face, taking their breath away for a few seconds as they walk out of the bar and into the night.
Veraâs right. Maine. Maybe not the best choice.
âMy place is a few blocks away, if you all want to head over there,â Sherry suggests.
No one says anything, but no one protests either, so Sherry shrugs and takes off down the sidewalk to her place.
Snow drifts down from the sky, light and lazy in the breeze. Sherry loves how the light from the streetlamp catches on the snowflakes, making them sparkle. She loves how every breath makes its own little cloud, how the snow crunches beneath her shoes, how the growing anticipation of reaching the warmth of her apartment makes appreciate home that much more.
Okay, maybe she doesnât hate Maine.
But⌠she wouldnât hate Hawaii either.
Sherry is momentarily blinded by something cold and white smacking her in the face. She sputters and wipes the snow from her eyes as Vera snickers a few feet away.
âSo thatâs how it is?â
Reaching down and grabbing a fistful of snowâitâs not quite warm enough to form into a ballâSherry springs up and flings it at Vera, who dances away.
Mike realizes whatâs going on first and charges right into Terrill, knocking him off his feet and into the snow.
âHeyyyy! Iâm not wearing snowpants!â Terrill protests.
Ezra and Darryl watch the events before them unfold. Ezra glances at Darryl, who glances back at him. They shrug, and Darryl kicks up a cloud of snow into Ezraâs face.
âEat ice, ass hole!â Ezra shouts, tackling Darryl in the legs. They both go down in a tangle of limbs as Terrill struggles to get away from Mike, whoâs somehow gotten a hold of Terrillâs boot.
Sherry narrows her eyes, grin tugging at the corners of her mouth, and glares at Vera.
âYou never could catch me,â Vera taunts.
âI totally let you win,â Sherry says. âYou were too easy to catch, and I had to have something fun to do on that frozen wasteland.â
âOh yeah?â
âYeah.â
âWell then,â Vera says. âProve it. If you can get me before I reach your apartment, Iâll move to Maine.â
Sherry is 99% sure her heart has stopped working.
âDeal,â she says.
âOne more thing!â Vera holds up her hand. âIf I get there first, you have to move to Hawaii.â
âIt is so on!â Sherry says. She crouches down, heart racing.
âOh, uh, wait!â Vera takes a step back. âWhatâs your address?â
Duh.
â782 North Lake Avenue, itâs straight that way,â Sherry says.
âOkay, thanks!â And with that, Vera sprints away. Looking over her shoulder she shouts, âCatch me if you can!â
Sherry takes off after her.
Later, sheâll blame it on the ice, on her shoes not being good for running in snow, for the cold air burning in her lungs. Itâs winter, after all, and they donât have power armor anymore.
Vera makes it to the apartment a solid thirty seconds before her.
And after Veraâs makes fun of her for an hour, after Darryl and Ezra come staggering home, followed by Mike, whoâs carrying Terrill, after they all collapse into bed, Sherry tiptoes to her dresser and pulls out an envelope.
From the envelope, she pulls out the plane ticket she bought weeks ago, and smiles.
âTotally let you win,â she whispers.

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Confessions of a Freelancer Reject
For the RvB Fluff Week! ( @rvbficwars)
Original Prompt from @whatevertotesyourgoat:â Fluff Week Prompto: Ohsherry ~ The first "I love you", whether it was accidental or purposefully said is up to you. :3 Have fun fam~â
Hope you like it! Ao3
Warnings: Canon-typical violence/language, Swearing, Alcohol
Word Count: 1566
Pairings: Ohio/Sherry
Summary: Itâs the little things in life that keep Sherry going. The little things, and a little alcohol.Â
Or-Sherry and Ohio get drunk and play Five Things.
Itâs the little things that keep Sherry going.
Hot chocolate on those nights where itâs colder than usualâwhich means, fucking cold. Movie night with Terrill and Darryl. Narrowly dodging a grenade as she high-tails it through the snow, getting shot just a little to the left so the bullet only grazes her arm, having a Warthog careen into her hangar.
There isnât much else Sherry needs in life, except maybe a ride off this goddamn wasteland.
And more alcohol.
âDarryl, Terrill, youâre needed in the breakroom,â Sherry calls over the baseâs intercom.
âBreakroomâ is generous. Itâs more like a closet.
Twelve feet by twelve feet. Table barely larger than a chess board, crates for chairs, ratty yellow couch that was probably white at some point, faded propaganda posters that someoneâdefinitely not Sherryâhas plastered with googly eyes. The microwave takes ages to cook anything, and their counter consists of another crate that doubled as MRE storage.
Itâs Sherryâs favorite spot on the entire planet.
âWhatâs going on?â Darryl asks as he trots into the room. Terrill is right behind him, doing nothing to hide his disappointed frown.
âI donât mean to be a drag, but itâs almost midnight,â Terrill complains.
âWere you asleep?â Sherry asks.
âYes,â Terrill says at the same time Darryl says âNo.â
âGuys, I donât have time for you to get your story straight,â Sherry says, rolling her eyes. âWeâve got bigger problems.â
Terrill and Darryl glance at each other and then back at Sherry.
âLiiiike?â Terrill crosses his arms.
âLike, weâre out of booze,â Sherry says. âAll we have left are maraschino cherries.â
Terrill goes pale and Darryl sinks to his knees.
âButââ Terrill starts but Darryl cuts him off.
âNooo!!â
Knowing sheâs already won, Sherry bites back a grin while she waits for Darryl to finish his tantrum. Terrill pats him on the shoulder, haunted look in his eyes. These two and their goddamn white Russians. Sheâs more of a whiskey gal, really.
âYou know who isnât out of alcohol?â Sherry asks, once Darrylâs calmed down a bit.
Terrill and Darrylâs heads shoot up.
âWeââ Sherry doesnât even have to pitch her proposal because Terrill has already rushed out of the breakroom, shouting something about his grenade stash.
âWhat the heck are you waiting for?â Darryl asks, jumping to his feet. âLetâs suit up!â
**
Breaking into Ohioâs base is childâs play.
The guard on duty is Iowa and, well. The guard on duty is Iowa.
They slip past him and duck inside a supply closet when he starts firing at a random snowflake. This must be a common occurrence because no one comes to investigate.
âOkay, Sherry, lead the way,â Terrill hisses into the radio.
One by one they move out of the supply closet and into the hallway. Sherry takes the lead, making sure to wave at all the security cameras they pass.
âAre you trying to get caught?â Darryl says.
âWeâre going to get caught, Darryl,â Sherry says. âWhy not have fun with it?â
âWell maybe we wouldnât get caught if someone hadnât left the blueprints with the camera locations back at base,â Terrill mumbles.
âI didnât think we needed it!â Darryl protests. âItâs not like we havenât been here before.â
Before the arrival Ohio and Company, Sherry and her boys had plenty of time to explore the bases. They knew the area like the back of their handsânot much else to do when youâre stranded on a frozen planet with no contact with the outside world.
Thatâs how Sherry knows thereâs alcohol here: she stashed it for a rainyâor, perhaps more appropriately, a snowyâday.
Thereâs a loose panel in the ceiling of the showers, and when she stands on Darrylâs shoulders, sheâs able to reach up and produce two bottles of vodka, half a bottle of kalua, and some moonshine.
âExcelsior!â Terrill shouts, grabbing the kalua and hoisting it above his head like an offering.
âWhat was that about not getting caught?â Sherry teases.
âLike you said,â Terrill says, hugging the alcohol to his chest, âWeâre going to get caught. So, Iâm going to savor this moment, Sherry.â
They donât get much of a chance to bask in the glory of their reclaimed goods, because at that exact moment Ohio, Iowa, and Idaho burst into the shower room.
Sherry freezes, moonshine clutched in her hand, and waits for the firefight to begin. Hopes a stray bullet doesnât break open the bottle sheâs holding, spilling its priceless contents all over the floor.
Ohio looks down at the bottles of alcohol, then back at Sherry.
Then she reaches into the pouch attached to her hip and produces a stainless-steel shot glass.
âTruce?â
**
Sherry canât believe this is happening.
Sheâs waiting for Ohio to whip out her gun, shriek âPsych!â, and start shooting.
That would be normal.
Right now, sitting in the showers surrounded by the enemy, a very drunk Terrill, and a passed-out Darryl, things are decidedly abnormal.
Iowa, Idaho, and Terrill are in the middle of a game of Five Things while Sherry and Ohio share a bottle of vodka.
Ohio pours herself another shotâit isnât top shelf, but it gets the job doneâand, after knocking it back with a cough, smiles and closes her eyes.
âThisâs nice,â she says.
âBeats getting shot ân the foot any day,â Sherry agrees, pouring a shot of her own.
âHey, you know what?â Ohio leans in like sheâs about to tell Sherry a secret. âYou know what? Youâre thâone⌠the one who let her guard down.â
âExcuse you.â Sherry gives Ohio a tiny shove. âExcuse you, I was jusâ trying to be nice.â
Ohio tilts her head back and laughs. She looks so happy, like truly happyâSherry should know, sheâs great at reading body language.
This is the first time Sherryâs seen the ex-Freelancer out of her armor, and Sherry thinks, not for the first time, OhioâVeraâmight be the most wonderful woman sheâs ever met. She might blame it on the alcohol if she hadnât already concluded this the day the woman shot her in the foot.
âI was jusâ⌠I was just trying to find my purpose,â Vera says once sheâs caught her breath.
âAnd?â Sherry scoots a little closer to Vera. âDid you?â
âMm.â Vera closes her eyes. âI think so.â
Terrill stumbles over then, followed by Idaho. Sherry looks over and grinsâIowa and Darryl are now huddled together, passed out and snoring.
âFive things you love about being trapped on a frozen planet,â Idaho says, plopping to the ground. Terrill follows suit, almost dropping his white Russian in the process.
âWhat the fuck could I possibly love about being stranded in the middle ofâof nowhere, Ezra?â Vera snorts.
I can think of a few things, Sherry thinks.
âWhite Russians,â Terrill declares.
âPredictable,â Sherry laughs.
âThatâs one,â Idaho says.
âIâm able to get more beauty sleep,â Terrill says.
âNo, you just refuse to get up,â Sherry retorts.
âThatâs two!â Idaho says.
Vera takes another shot of Vodka.
âSnowball fights,â Sherry adds.
âThree!â
âWhite Russians?â
âYou already said that, Terrill,â Idaho says.
âOh, I did, didnât I?â Terrill taps a finger on his chin then says, âSherry and Darryl.â
âSap,â Sherry says, nudging her teammate. Heâs so drunk it almost tips him over. She considers adding that he and Darryl make this wasteland bearable too when Vera slams her shot glass down onto the floor.
How many is that, five? Sherry thinks. Time to catch up.
She starts to pull the bottle towards her but Vera catches her by the wrist.
Sherry thinks sheâs going to have to cut Vera off, and opens her mouth to say soâ
âbut sheâs interrupted as Vera leans forward and fucking kisses her.
It lasts maybe three seconds, but itâs the best three seconds of Sherryâs life. And when Vera pulls away, she looks Sherry dead in the face and says,
âYou.â
Sherry doesnât know what to say because at the moment, she doesnât even know what to think. Her mind is a whirlwind of happiness and anxiety and shock andâand, holy shit Vera kissed her. She thinks she hears Idaho let out a whoop (âTHATâS FIVE!â) and Terrill shouting at Darryl, but she canât be sure because the blood is rushing in her ears, and sheâs pretty sure her heart is about to climb out her throat.
Sheâs been waiting for this for so long, preparing her speech, cheesy as it may be, and now that itâs finally hear all she can muster is
âWuh?â
Wuh?! Sherry wants to die.
Eyes widening, Vera backs away and jumps to her feet. This isnât the best ideaâsheâs clumsy when sheâs soberâand she almost topples backwards.
Once she regains her balance, Vera puts her hands on her hips.
âBooze! I said âboozeâ!â She cries. Then she produces a smoke bomb fromâwhere did she get that fromâand raises it above her head.
An enormous grin splits Veraâs face. She winks.
Sherry smirks. Grabs the bottle of vodka, twists on the cap, and reaches for her helmet.
What a woman, she thinks as she yanks on her helmet just in time.
And just like that, everything goes back to normal.
Well.
As normal as drunkenly chasing after the love of your life as they hurl smoke bombs at you can be.
Diamonds Rihanna Terrill Cover
Terrill Sollec
Moon Elf
Male
5â˛11
When Terrill was born blind, the midwife told his mother that the merciful thing to do would be to euthanize the child. His mother rejected this idea immediately, swearing that someone who would so casually suggest and offer to take the life of a newborn was unfit to be a midwife. She demanded Terrill be left with her and that the midwife leave.
All would have been well, however, Terrillâs mother became obsessed with him being able to operate as well as a child with sight. It was Terrill who escalated it, however, asking to be taught how to use a sword and how to track. His intention at first was to become a ranger. However, when his lack of sight became an obstacle, he began looking into magical means to aid himself.Â
What he came across was the fae peddler Fatima. She offered him a deal forged with blood and demanding favors. He took it, binding himself to do her bidding in exchange for the ability to see living things of his choosing. He eventually fell into contract killing and thievery, collecting money for himself and curios for Fatima.
He has a room rented at the Fairfoot familyâs inn in Artisanâs Sanctuary indefinitely for the time being.




