As The Old Fall, New Ones Spring Up To Take Their PlaceMature

A/N: *whines* But I don't want to add actual plot... oh well. Next chapter, probably.

"What the f*ck is happening here?!" Andrea shouted, her voice rising steadily with every syllable her mouth spit out.

She was seated at a table, a woman with her hair pulled back and who was dressed in a gray pencil skirt and white blouse sitting primly across from her. They looked at each other from across the nondescript, standard-issue desk.

"Hello, Andrea." The woman said.

"That's 'Agent Carlson' to you, Dr. Golth." The Archer practically spat out the other female's name, as it if left a bad taste in her mouth.

"Now, now. There's no need to be unfriendly. Should I remind you that I am, after all, here to help you?" Margaret stated neatly.

"No, you aren't. Were you there when I actually needed help? No, no you weren't. Now, I don't give a damn if you excuse me or not, I'm leaving this sh*thole you call an office." And with that, she stood and left, the door swinging shut behind her.

Margaret dropped her head into her hands.


"Ivy, can you grab me a mocha, please? I've got another PTSD patient for 2 o'clock, and I need all the caffeine I can get." Dr. Golth was standing in front of Ivy's desk, which was piled high with paperwork.

"If you want a coffee, you can get up and off your a*ss and get yourself one." The reply was curt, and the assistant sounded slightly insulted. "I'm not here just to cater to your every whim. I'm here to make sure that you don't mess up. Besides," She sniffed, "I've got a helluva lotta stuff to finish." She patted a large hand onto one of the stacks of paperwork on the desk for emphasis.

Dr. Golth sighed. It was going to be a long day.


"Pull it together, pull it together, pull it together..." The agent was at home, back pressed to one of the glass sliding doors in the flat. Her knees were drawn up to her chest, and her head leaned back to rest on the cool glass behind her. She shuddered when another batch of memories assaulted her...

The gunfire was torture on her ears, the rat-a-tat-tat of machine guns bursting large and loud into the atmosphere. Turning, she saw an agent fall. Thank god it wasn't one of her squad. They weren't even supposed to be here! They were one of the Special Ops teams, but they did covert missions. Not this type! Not like this!

They were never supposed to be here. And the chances that she would lose precious members of the Squad were painfully high, she realized with a sinking heart.


{To be continued in the next chapter...}

The End

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