Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

July 13, 1972, United States of America

Eva looked exhausted beyond belief, her hair a sweaty mess, dark bags under her eyes. The sheets underneath her looked like a murder scene. Next to her bed stood Zero, holding a newborn baby, freshly bathed and wrapped in a yellow blanket.

“Do I get to name them at least?” Eva asked, her voice raspy.

“I think we should name them Cain and Abel, you know, it would be funny,” Dr. Clark joked. She was standing at the table, sorting through her medical tools. 

Eva stared at her thin lipped. “Unless you mixed up your DNA samples I am pretty sure that Adam isn’t the father.”

“Goodness, can you imagine ? We could make the boys wear tiny matching cowboy outfits!” Dr. Clark was visibly delighted to finally have harvested the fruits of her labor. Eva however seemed like she was going to pass out from just having gone through her own.

Zero didn’t pay attention to either of them, instead his eyes were fixed on the bundle he was holding. The boy had blonde hair, like—

The raid on Bardia had been a fiasco. Eli found himself to be one of the 70 soldiers who had been taken as prisoners of war by the Axis as a result. A few days later a young woman infiltrated the camp and managed to break every single one of them out, spiriting them back to Egypt. David was overcome with joy to see his younger brother alive and well.

“—Eli. His name is Eli.” Exclaimed Zero after a moment, a wistful smile on his face.

Eva looked away, trying to hide her pain. She was too tired to keep up her usually impenetrable facade. Zero laid Eli down in the crib next to the other newborn, who was sleeping soundly, wrapped into a light blue blanket.

Zero chuckled. “I guess that makes you David then, does it not?” He gently ran his hand over the boy’s brown locks.

Dr. Clark turned to look at Zero. “‘David’? You are naming him after yourself?”

“I don’t see why not?” Zero stepped over to the sink, where he drew a glass of water. “Surely naming him after his biological father would cause too much confusion down the line, wouldn’t you agree?” Then he went back to the bed, where he handed Eva the glass. “You did very well, my dear. Thank you.” His voice was filled with warmth.

Eva managed to force a smile. “Of course, Major. I'm glad I got to do this.” She took a sip of water and handed the glass back to Zero. Then she rolled over and closed her eyes.

May 1941, Egypt

— “Wynn”, Old English for “joy”

Miss Wynn was only 19, barely an adult, but she had been appointed to a leadership position in the British Army Special Air Service and co-founded Layforce. It was already weird enough that a woman would find herself in a role like this, but at that age? And an American to boot? Insanity.

Of course she wasn’t granted any kind of official rank. What would the enemy think if they found out that the grand British Empire had appointed a little foreign girl to a leadership position? Unthinkable.

“I understand, sir,” Wynn had replied. Her face betrayed no personal feelings on the matter. “I am grateful so long as I can be of service.”

Her main job was as a “special adviser”, but she would also train the troops, mainly in hand-to-hand combat. Of course most of them took issue with that, but throwing their faces into the dust of the training ground one by one usually got them to listen. Any attempts at catcalling or otherwise harassing her usually got answered with having one’s shoulder dislocated. If they wouldn’t respect her, she would teach them to fear her instead. And it worked.

She knew of course how the men were talking about her behind her back, when they thought she couldn’t hear. 

“I heard she straight up castrated a lad who dared to talk to her.” 

“The Yanks pump their people full of experimental drugs to turn them into monsters.”

“She’s an escaped lab experiment, I tell you.” 

If this kind of talk affected her at all, she wouldn’t show it.

Then the raid on Bardia happened. Wynn had assembled a small intel team to assist her over the radio while she herself infiltrated the Axis’ prisoner of war camp, where she managed to rescue all 70 of the surviving British soldiers. And practically overnight the looks of fear were replaced with looks of awe and adoration.

A few days after the operation Miss Wynn found herself being escorted by Mr. David Oh, who had been part of her intel team, to one of the few bars in town. It was primarily a hangout spot for the occupying British forces.

“My, you look quite lovely, ma’am. It is nice to see you in something other than a uniform for once,” David mused. He had procured the dress for her himself.

“Thank you kindly. It can’t have been easy to find a dress like this here. It’s not exactly up to the local dress code.” Her tone was as reserved as ever.

He rubbed his chin. “Yes, well, I have connections. Some of the higher ups have their families stationed nearby, so I was able to acquire the dress from one of the wives.”

“I do hope it wasn’t too much trouble.”

“Not at all, my dear. It really is the least I could do, after you managed to bring my brother back alive.” Ah yes, the brother. Eli had been purposefully avoiding eye contact with Miss Wynn the entire ride. His being mentioned made him shift in his seat. Then the car stopped. “Ah, there we are.”

They stepped out of the car and David led her by the arm into the establishment. The men cheered over the music as they stepped through the door. Wynn immediately got swarmed by a number of them, who wished to kiss her hand. And before she knew it she was dancing with one of them after the other. She couldn’t help but notice that Eli kept trying to sneak glances at her the entire time.

After several songs and dance partners, Wynn found herself sitting at one of the tables in the back, wetting her throat with a stiff drink. From the corner of her eye she saw David giving his brother a slap on the back that almost knocked him over. Once Eli had caught himself he stepped towards Wynn, while David stayed back. She pretended not to notice.

“Uhm… Miss?” He looked incredibly flustered, his cheeks and ears tinted pink. Alcohol or embarrassment? Maybe both.

She turned her head up to look at him. “What can I help you with, Mr. Oh?”

He swallowed, his eyes wide as if he was just face to face with a hungry lion. “I… ah… I was wondering, if you would, uhm…” he said.

“Any day now, soldier.”

He held out a trembling hand and averted his gaze, his head now red like a ripe tomato. “... please dance with me? If I, ah… may be so bold?”

She finished her drink in one gulp, gently took his hand in hers and rose from her seat. “Why yes, I would.”

David looked on fondly as his little brother and Miss Wynn swerved across the dance floor.

Eli and Miss Wynn had stolen away into the alley behind the establishment. He broke away from her lips, breathing heavily, frowning.

“If you think I’m a bad kisser, we can stop, you know,” she teased.

“What? No! Gosh…” he exclaimed, visibly embarrassed. “It’s just … I don’t even know your first name.”

“It’s Yahvi,” she replied nonchalantly as she nestled into his embrace.

He raised an eyebrow. “Huh? ‘Yahvi Wynn’? That’s a really weird name.”

“So is ‘Eli Oh’.”

He chuckled. “I suppose so.”

“It’s Sanskrit. Means ‘heaven’. My father was the … philosophical type.”

He pulled her in for another kiss.

Winter 1941, Egypt

Eli was sitting across from Yahvi in the mess hall, poking at his mashed potatoes. His brother David was sitting next to him. The three of them found themselves spending a lot of time together these days. Eli cleared his throat. “I’d like to take you back with me to Exeter, if you would.” David almost spat out the food he was chewing on.

“I assume that’s where the two of you are from?” Yahvi didn’t even look up from her food.

“I… yeah.”

“I would like that.” She smiled slightly, while continuing to eat her lunch.

David jumped up from his chair and slapped Eli over the back of the head. “Is that how you are proposing?!”

“Hey, ow!” Eli was clearly caught off guard while Yahvi chuckled.

“I am so sorry, Yahvi. My brother here is a moron.”

“Perhaps.” She put down her fork, placed her elbows on the tabletop, and rested her chin on her hands. “But I’d still ask you not to harm my fiancé , thank you.”

Eli’s eyes were wide. He first stared across at Yahvi, then up at David. He was grinning like a buffoon. “Dave, did you hear that?! Her FIANCÉ !”

David slumped back down into his chair, using one hand to massage between his eyebrows. “Sometimes I wonder how in God’s name the two of us are related.”

New Years 1942, Egypt

Yahvi heard a knock on her door. “Come in.”

The door opened, David stepped in and closed it behind himself. His gaze was fixed on the floor. Yahvi immediately noticed his dour expression, and how red his eyes were. Please, God, no.

“Dave.” She got up from her chair and stumbled towards him, grabbing his sleeve. Her voice was shaking, and it sounded alien to her own ears. “Dave, what happened?”

He raised his hand that was clasped into a first and opened it. In it rested a pin of the emblem of the Special Air Service. A winged dagger surmounted by a banderole charged with the words WHO DARES WINS. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he looked up at Yahvi. “He didn’t make it. Died two days ago while out on a supply run. They say that his party was ambushed.” He handed her the pin.

She walked back over to her chair to sit down. Her thumbs trailed over the edges of the badge and she eyed it intently, as if she was trying to burn the image into her memory. Then she turned it over. It had an inscription etched into its back: 30th of December, 1941. She gently ran her fingers over the date, repeatedly. David must have put this there.

Through muffled crying she whispered “...never again.”

Chapter Text

1943, Place Unknown

“Going forward we will be going by code names. You’ll call me ‘The Joy’.” She was sitting at a shabby table accompanied by her five brothers-in-arms. 

The man sitting across her raised an eyebrow and stared at her with his unnaturally yellow eyes. “That’s a bit ironic, dontcha think? Considering—” He gesticulated at her, well, everything. A chuckle came from another man who was leaning against the wall. The motion caused his glasses to glint pale white in the light that shone in through the window.

“I think it’s poetic. It’s about what I carry into battle and set out to gain from it.” If she was offended by the yellow-eyed man’s comment, she didn’t show it. “Which is why I christen you ‘The Fear’.”

“Ah, because I strike fear into my enemies, right?” He puffed up his chest, radiating smugness.

Joy threw him a little smile. “More so because you could do with a bit more humility sometimes. You have a bad habit of overestimating yourself.” Fear’s chest deflated in response. All the other men chuckled. Joy pointed to the man sitting next to her, his face hidden under a balaclava. “You shall be ‘The Pain’. To remind yourself that even though you can’t feel pain yourself, your body still has limits.” The Pain just nodded in response.

Next to the Fear sat a man who was fidgeting with a Zippo lighter. Joy looked at him and said: “Your name shall be ‘The Fury’, because I know how you can lose focus when your anger gets away with you. Don’t let your flames consume yourself.” 

Fury snapped his lighter shut. “Good name.”

“He over there—” Joy pointed at the man sleeping on one of the cots at the other side of the room “—his name shall be ‘The End’, because he is on the constant brink of his own demise.” Everyone turned to look at the End. No response. Joy chuckled. “... we’ll let him know the next time he wakes up.”

The man with the glasses stepped forward. Joy regarded him with a smile so warm it could have melted ice.

“And you, my love, shall be ‘The Sorrow’.” Because your heart is burdened by the whole weight of the world, she thought. Because one day you’ll lose your beautiful smile, she kept to herself. Because I know it will break me beyond repair should I lose you too, she didn’t say. “Because you alleviate sadness wherever you go.” she finished.

The Sorrow stepped up next to the Joy where he reached for her hand to place a kiss on it. For a brief moment it felt like the two of them were all alone in the world with each other. He let go of her hand and stepped back again, his naturally sharp features softened by his expression. 

Joy turned her attention back to the group. “I'm glad to have you all by my side. Together we will do everything within our power to end this senseless war. The world may never learn about the Cobra Unit or know our individual names, but I'll sleep soundly knowing that we made a difference out there. Being able to call you my family is the greatest honor I could ever wish for.”

The room was filled with a sense of warmth.

June 6, 1944, Normandy, France

“Stay with me, Joy!” the Sorrow pleaded, pressing his jacket against the gashing serpentine wound that trailed from her chest all the way down to her pelvis. He was running on pure adrenalin. 

The Fear lifted her up in his arms. “We have to get her out of here! End, Fury, Pain, give us cover fire!” He and Sorrow ran. 

After what simultaneously felt like a lifetime and only a split second they managed to find shelter inside a partially destroyed barn. They could still hear gunshots, screams and artillery fire way too close by, but they knew that this was as good of a hideout as they could manage for now, so Fear gently laid down the heaving Joy in a pile of hay, while Sorrow knelt down next to her, putting pressure on the wound again.

Fear looked her up and down in panic, then his yellow eyes fixated on Sorrow. He swallowed. “We have to cut the baby out.”

“This is not up for discussion, Sorrow.” Joy’s voice was calm and collected as she sat on the couch looking through some paperwork, one hand on her very round belly. She was eight months along.

Sorrow stood there, his fist trembling. “Joy, I beg you...”

“I will go and this is final. I am your commanding officer, you do not have the authority.” She didn’t even look up from the file she held. “This mission is more important than you, or me, or the baby. It’s more important than all of us. Our bodies stopped belonging to ourselves when we joined the military.”

He sighed deeply as a single tear ran down his cheek. He shifted to stand to attention. “Yes, ma’am, please forgive me.” He saluted and stepped out the door. After closing it behind himself he leaned back against it and sank to the floor, crying.

Sorrow swallowed, then nodded shakily. 

Fear reached into one of his pouches and got out a vial and a syringe. “This will help somewhat with the pain.” After injecting her he pulled out a bottle of disinfectant and his combat knife. Once the blade was sterile, he took a deep breath. “Hold her still for me.” Sorrow put his hands on her shoulders to push her down.

Minutes later the sounds of a crying newborn mixed in with the sounds of warfare coming from outside the barn. Sorrow let go of Joy’s shoulders and took her hand in his, tears streaming down his face.

She opened a single eye halfway to look at him. Her voice was almost too quiet to hear over all the noise. “...why are you crying, my love?”

Mid June, 1944, England

Joy felt utterly disoriented and her vision was blurry. All she could make out around her were shades of white and light blue. There was also a rhythmic beeping noise.

A hospital?

She strained to lift her hand to rub her eyes. Her vision slowly became clearer. Definitely a hospital. It took her a few more moments to sit up and shift sideways to have her legs out of the bed. Her entire body ached. She looked down. Something was missing. 

What was missing?

She ran one hand down over the hospital gown that covered her chest and belly. A large wound all the way from her chest down over her belly? Hm. She stood up and almost toppled over in the process. Something tugged at her arm. There was a needle in it with a thin rubber hose attached. She pulled it out and set out towards the door. The nurse outside yelped as she saw Joy making her way down the hallway.

Her vision went blurry again and then it went dark.

The next time she woke up, an agent was there to greet her and inform her that the Sorrow had taken their child and vanished.

“...they're alive?”

September 3, 1945, Germany

“I suppose this is it?” Fury said. “It’s finally over?”

“Officially, anyway. No war ever truly ends,” End replied. He spoke from experience.

“I wish Sorrow was here with us,” Pain stated.

Joy stepped forward and put a hand on Pain’s shoulder, a sad smile on her face. “Me too, friend,” she sighed. “But for today, let’s enjoy this long deserved victory. And then tomorrow we get back to work.”

“Tomorrow?! You are working us like dogs, Joy.” Fear had a deep frown on his face. 

Joy chuckled. “As End said, no war is ever truly over. The only thing that changes now is that all remaining operations shift from open battlefields into secretive darkness. So our work still continues.”

1947, United States of America

“We have no further use for the Cobra Unit, miss Joy,” said the older man wearing a gray suit.

“May I inquire why, sir?” The Joy asked.

“There’s simply no more need for an international special forces group. Now it’s America first.”

Joy kept herself from screaming out loud at the statement. Her face did not betray a single emotion. “What will become of me, sir?”

“You'll still be working in special ops, but not in a group anymore. We're shifting you to solo missions. And in between you’ll be working as an instructor as per usual. And whatever other projects may come up.”

“Understood, sir.”

“Oh, and one more thing, miss ‘Joy’ .”

“Yes, sir?”

“Your new codename is going to be ‘The Boss’. It should help to instill better discipline in the people you encounter. We understand that this has been an issue in the past, due to you being a female.”

She wanted to leap over this pompous ass’ desk and punch him in the face. “Understood, sir. Thank you, sir.”

“Dismissed, Boss. ”

Chapter Text

June 6, 1950, Korea

It was nonsense of course. The locals swore they had seen some kind of deranged monster terrorizing the nearby countryside. The soldiers  figured it must be a bear or maybe a rabid tiger, but the higher ups wanted to make sure that it wasn’t going to be an issue for future operations.

And the Boss happened to be stationed closeby, so the higher ups chose to send her out to investigate and take care of this “beast”.

She was not in the mood for this, but a mission is a mission, and she would always give 110% for her job. She pushed the thought of her lost child turning six today to the back of her mind A deep breath. Focus.

After several hours worth of tracking through the forest she found herself pinning down a caucasian looking teenage boy under her knee, pushing a knife to his neck. His eyes were wild, his hair long and unkempt, and overall he was covered head to toe in dirt and grime. He certainly smelled like a bear. And he had been chewing down on a raw river fish when she ambushed him.

“I don’t suppose you understand English, do you?” she asked, without much hope.

His breathing shifted. He was listening.

“Do you understand what I'm saying, boy?”

He blinked repeatedly, as if he had been snapped out of a trance. “...yeah.”

Okay, good. “What’s your name, boy?”

Silence.

She pressed her knife down. “Your name, boy.”

“... I don’t … I don’t know.”

A lie or amnesia? Judging by his accent he must be from the upper Midwestern US or maybe southern Canada. “Where are you from?”

Silence again.

The Boss nudged with her knife again.

“I don’t know! I don’t know!” He started to wiggle and writhe underneath her, resulting in her blade breaking his skin. A thin line of red ran down his neck. She turned her arm into a chokehold and pressed until he passed out.

Mid June 1950, Korea

“We're not making any progress with him, Boss. Still says he doesn’t know anything. He also injured several of our men.” The soldier informed her.

The Boss sighed and got up from behind her desk. “Fine, I’ll have a go at him.” The soldier saluted her and left. She left soon after.

The boy was being kept in a single holding cell on the military base. They had tried to get him to wash himself and cut his hair, but he wouldn’t let anyone get near him. As soon as he saw the Boss stepping into view he jumped up and grabbed at the bars on the small window of the cell, snarling like some kind of hungry wolf. Saliva ran down his chin.

“Hello, Jack.” The Boss said calmly. The boy immediately stopped his gnashing, looking at her in confusion.

“... who?”

“You. I’ll be calling you Jack. John Doe in full, Jack is a common nickname for John.”

“That's stupid.”

“Excuse you?”

“Shouldn’t Jack be short for Jacob or something? What dumbass thought of this.”

The Boss stared at him, blank faced. Turns out even she could be surprised at times.

“John Doe.” He rolled the words around in his mouth like a piece of hard candy. ”So that’s my name?”

“Not exactly, it’s what we call fallen soldiers that we can’t identify. Until we figure out what your real name is, your name will be John Doe.”

Jack tilted his head to the side. “I'm a fallen soldier?”

The Boss couldn’t help but chuckle. “You look quite alive to me.”

“Oh. Yeah.” He looked so sweet and innocent with that expression.

“May I come in, Jack?”

He stepped away from the window. “Uh… sure.”

The Boss nodded to the guard to unlock the door. She stepped in and Jack instinctively backed away from her. The guard locked the door again. “They tell me that you haven't been nice to the guards. That you hurt some of them.”

He looked pensive. “They tried to touch me.”

Interesting. “If I make sure that no one touches you, would you go take a shower?” She could see the gears rattling in his head as he mulled over the question. Oh no. “... you do know what a shower is, right?

“Of course I do!” He looked offended. “I just… I don’t know this place. Or any of the people here. Where can I shower?” He looked down at himself. “Also I don’t have any clean clothes…”

She chuckled. “We can fix that.”

Jack stepped out of the showers into the locker room, a towel wrapped around his waist. The Boss was waiting for him.

“Oh good, there was actually a person hidden underneath all that grime. I wasn’t sure to be honest.” She smiled at his frown. “Here, sit down. I’ll cut your hair.” He did as he was told and sat on the chair in front of her. “I’ll put this towel on you now, Jack.” He nodded and didn’t make a fuss as her hand brushed over his skin in the process. “So it's alright to get into your space so long as I ask permission first, correct?”

He leaned his head back to look at her, frowning again. “Yeah, obviously?”

Clearly not obviously, otherwise he wouldn’t have sent so many soldiers to the infirmary. “Alright Jack, may I begin on your hair then?” She looked him over. “I'm afraid we are gonna have to shear it all off, it's matted beyond belief and I don’t want to know what kind of critters live in there.”

He groaned. “Yeah, sure, whatever.”

The Boss nodded intently and went to work. The electric razor was making quick work of the tangled mess on Jack’s head, as the hair fell in clumps to the floor. As suspected, she discovered a freshly healed head wound under the mess.

“Jack, how did you get this injury?”

“Huh?”

“The one on your head.”

“I don’t remember.”

So it was amnesia. Probably. She finished her work and then used a clean towel to rub away any loose hairs. “Alright, go get dressed. I put a stack of clean clothes over there.” She pointed at one of the benches.

“Okay.”

“That's ‘Yes, Boss’ to you.”

He tilted his head again in question. It almost made him look like a puppy. “Uh… yes, Boss?” He would learn in time. Jack went to get dressed as quickly as he could manage, then returned to the Boss, who was waiting for him with a broom and a dust bin.

“Here, clean up the hair.”

“Yes, Boss.” Cleaned up and wearing combat fatigues he looked like so many other young men she had met. So many other young men who had died too soon. Many who had died either by her hand or on her command. Her own child would have turned six this month. She watched blankly as Jack cleaned up after himself.

Winter 1950, Korea

“You've been doing well, Jack.” The Boss looked her young disciple over.

“Thank you, Boss!” His hair had been growing out again and the more balanced diet had contributed to him looking much more healthy in general. She’d been putting him to work at the military base, and when he wasn’t given any tasks to do he would follow the Boss around like a shadow.

Any efforts to figure out his true identity or where he came from turned up nothing. Her best guess was that he was a runaway orphan who snuck on a ship from the US to try his luck in the big wide world. He truly was a John Doe.

“Please, have a seat. I have good news for you.” The Boss waved him over and he went to sit at her behest, his blue eyes gleaming in anticipation. “Your paperwork went through. Since we couldn’t figure out who you are or where you are from, I pulled some strings to find you a new identity.” She slid a passport across her desk. Jack took it and had a look inside.

“‘Johnathan Jacob Donovan.’” He frowned. “But I like the name ‘John Doe’.”

The Boss seemed nonplussed. “It’s just a legal measure. Ultimately you can call yourself whatever you wish.” 

“‘Born: June 6, 1935’...”

“The day we met. And ‘35 was the doctor’s best estimate, based on your appearance.” She leaned back in her chair. “I have to ask though… why do you prefer the name ‘John Doe’?”

He looked at her as if she had just asked the most stupid question in the universe. “Because deer meat is delicious, Boss.”

“You know, Jack, I am beginning to regret having pulled you out of that forest.” She smiled.

June 12, 1959, United States of America

“I’m sorry, Jack. I don’t know when — or if — we get to see each other again.” The Boss raised her hand to gently cup his cheek. “You've grown up into a fine man and into an exceptional soldier.”

His jaw was shaking. “Boss, why—”

She shook her head. “I have work to do, and I've taught you everything I could. You're the best student I’ve ever had.”

“...Boss…” Tears rolled down his cheeks. He was 24 now, but right now to her he looked like the 15 year old boy again. She lowered her hand and rested it on his shoulder.

“You don’t need me anymore. Now get a grip, soldier.” 

Jack snapped to attention in response.

“Good. Farewell, Jack.”

“Farewell, Boss.”

Chapter Text

1960, United States of America

“Didn’t you ever miss being around other women?” Strangelove inquired after taking another sip of her drink.

“Less so the company of women, but rather not just being surrounded by men at all times, if that makes sense,” the Boss replied. “Also I did work around other women on occasion. Just usually not while out in the field.”

“It sounds positively horrifying to me.”

“I am sure that all the killing and dying would be even less to your liking.”

That caught Strangelove off guard. The concept of being actively involved in warfare sounded entirely alien to her. “Yes, well…”

“You don’t have to feel bad about that.”

“About what?”

“About never having seen an active warzone. People like me fight so that everyone else doesn’t have to.”

“‘People like you’?”

“Yes.”

Strangelove frowned. “Would you mind elaborating on that?”

“People who were either born to wield a weapon, or who have never learned to do anything but. In other words: Soldiers.”

“Surely no-one is actually born to be a soldier.”

The Boss smiled, but it did not reach her eyes. “Let me phrase it like this: We all have our God given strength and weaknesses. Some people are born with an aptitude for mathematics, others with naturally acute instincts, and so on. Some of these talents lend themselves to being better soldiers than others.”

Strangelove scoffed. “‘God’ has nothing to do with this.”

“Maybe not. But my point still stands. You don’t belong on a battlefield.”

Strangelove sat her drink down and leaned in closer to the Boss. She was studying her face intently, as if she was trying to commit every last detail of it to memory. “ You don’t belong on a battlefield either.”

The Boss chuckled and reached for Strangelove’s sunglasses, tugged them off her face, and gently placed them on the table next to their drinks. “And where do I belong then, hm?” Her voice had turned playful.

“You belong on a throne. That’s the place you were born to be.” Strangelove leaned in to kiss her on the lips. After she broke away she said, “But right now you belong in my bed, with me.” Then she got up and dragged the Boss by the hand to the bedroom.

The Boss followed with an enthusiastic, “Yes, Ma’am!”

April 12, 1961, United States of America

“Mercury Lady, do you copy?”

Static.

“I repeat, Mercury Lady, do you copy?”

More static. Then a click. “This is Mercury Lady, I read you.”

Strangelove sighed in relief. “We thought we lost you there. Status report.”

“It’s so beautiful.”

“The stars must be quite something out there, mustn’t they?”

“No, not the stars… our world. One single blue sphere. All our problems seem so small from up here.”

Strangelove paused. What was the Boss seeing up there? “Mercury Lady, prepare for re-entry.”

“Roger.”

That was the last word Strangelove heard from her.

August, 1961, United States of America

“Still no change?” Strangelove was addressing the attending nurse while setting down a vase of red lilies on the nightstand.

The nurse shook her head. “I am afraid not, Ma’am. You're still welcome to stay a while with her, though.”

Strangelove sighed. “Thank you.” The nurse left the room and Strangelove pulled a chair up next to the hospital bed, taking a seat. “Hello, darling.”

No response.

Another sigh. She reached out to push a strand of hair out of the Boss’ face. “Your burns are healing nicely. Soon you'll be as beautiful as ever again.” Her hand lingered for a moment against the Boss’ cheek before she withdrew. “I'm afraid this will be the last time I can visit you. I decided to leave NASA. Though I had been hoping to at least hear your voice once more before I left.” 

She leaned back in her chair and her eyes wandered to the window. The curtains were drawn to keep some of the oppressive summer heat out. It didn’t help much. Strangelove sat awhile and watched the Boss’s unconscious face.

Time passed.

When she stood up again she went to lean over her lover’s body and placed a kiss on her forehead. “I sincerely wish that I get to see you again one day… Farewell, my beloved.”

Chapter Text

1962, Tselinoyarsk, Soviet Union

It was time. Sorrow knew that the US Philosophers would set out to retaliate any day now. But it was alright. He knew now that he was safe. The mission now was to keep it that way.

Sorrow was carrying his lover’s mangled body while Fear took to carrying the baby. They needed to get them out of the active war zone posthaste. It was a miracle that they managed to make it to one of the ships back on the beach. But even with the Boss out of commission, the Cobra Unit still had work to do. So they handed her and the baby over to the medics and got back out there. It’s what she would have wanted.

They had taken him away. Had hidden him somewhere in the US. They kept sending Sorrow photos of his son, to make sure that he kept spying for them. But after a lot of work, many risks taken, and a grand number of traded-in favors, he knew now that his boy was safely in the care of his countrymen.

Some part of Sorrow knew deep down that they would send her after him. She was their best, after all. But still he clung on to hope. Surely they wouldn’t be so cruel. But he knew better.

He waited for her on a river bank in Tselinoyarsk.

“... Sorrow?” She couldn't believe it, to see him here, and lowered her gun.

The corners of his mouth curled upwards at her sight, but his eyes betrayed the sadness behind them. “Hello, my Joy.” Her confusion was clear to him. “So they didn’t tell you.”

She snapped her gun back up. “Tell me what, Sorrow?”

“That it was me who took him.”

“Took who? What are you talking about?!”

“Our son, Joy.”

“Of course they did. You took him back in Normandy and abandoned the mission. You put his life above that of countless civilians and ran .” She spat out the words.

Sorrow sighed deeply. “I thought you knew me better than that. The day he was born was the last time I saw him in person. They took him, Joy. And I returned to the mission straight away.”

“Then where were you when I woke up?! Why did you leave the Cobras?! Why did you leave me?!”

“They sent me away, Joy. They threatened to kill him if I didn’t do their bidding.”

“But you were already working for the Philosophers! What woul—” She stopped herself. Now the pieces snapped into place. “They split. The Philosophers already split up into separate factions while the war was still going.”

“They made me spy on the Soviet Philosophers for them. I didn’t know what to do. So I bided my time. Played along. Gathered information. I finally found him.” A glimmer of hope shone behind his glasses and he took a few steps towards the Boss. “I spirited him to safety. They can’t hurt him anymore, Joy. He’s safe. Adam is safe.”

The Boss stood there, frozen in place. Sorrow put his arms around her and rested his chin on her shoulder.

“They can’t use him to hurt us anymore, my love.”

The Boss’ posture softened and she gently pushed Sorrow away. “Sorrow, they said they have a hostage. That they were gonna kill the hostage if I didn’t get the rogue spy.”

“Aren’t you listening? They don’t have a hostage anymore!”

Joy shook her head. “No, Sorrow. Not the US Philosophers. The Soviets.”

Sorrow was filled with sudden dread and realization. “No… all I did… it was for nothing… what have I done…” He sank to his knees. Tears ran down his cheeks. Then he suddenly snapped his head up to meet the Boss’ eyes. “It’s fine. You know what I can do, Joy. You know you can still finish your mission while I can still protect him.”

“Sorrow…”

“No, listen. I was already many things when we first met. A spy, a medium, a man. But you—” He reached for her hand and grasped it firmly. “—you taught me to be a warrior. Something beyond being a mere soldier. And you know that I may well be the only person who can keep fighting after their death.”

The Boss looked at him with a pained expression. “You don’t know that for certain…”

“One of us has to die here today, my love. Let it be me. I beg you.” He reached for the hand that was holding the gun and made it point against his left eye. “It’s alright.” He smiled.

Tears streamed down the Boss’ face. 

“The spirit of the warrior will always be with you.”

Then she pulled the trigger.

Chapter Text

September 2, 1964, Tselinoyarsk, Soviet Union

“Jack… or should I say… Snake. Kill me now. Do it. … There is only room for one Boss … and one Snake.”

Moments passed.

A single gunshot.

And all the flowers turned from white to red.

Morning, September 2, 1972, Arlington National Cemetery, United States of America

To most people Eva probably looked as beautiful as ever. But Snake was more perceptive than most people. He stood in front of her grave, surrounded by white flowers. Today marked the eighth anniversary of her death.

He briefly glanced at Eva over his shoulder, turned back to face the gravestone, and took a drag from his cigar. “You look like shit.” 

“Lovely to see you, too, Jack.” Not what she had hoped to hear from him after having been apart for nearly a year, but she refused to show it. Instead she wore her usual perfect smile and stepped up next to him. “He doesn’t know that we're meeting like this, but…” The words got stuck in her throat.

“But what?”

“I wanted to tell you myself.”

“Tell me what, Eva?” He clearly wasn’t in the mood for any of her games.

“I gave birth about two months ago. Twins.”

“Congratulations?” He didn’t seem phased. Another drag. "Who’s the father?”

Eva sighed. “You are, Jack.”

He turned to look at her, his eyebrows crossed. “I'm not a doctor, Eva, but that is impossible. We haven’t slept with each other in a long-ass time, and I've been sterile since the nuclear tests in Hawaii.”

She stared down at her feet. “Zero and Clark, they…” She swallowed the tears that were starting to build up. Snake’s shoes came into view and she felt his hand on her shoulder.

“What did they do, Eva?”

Silence.

“Eva!” His grip tightened and he raised his voice. “What the fuck did you do?!”

Evening, September 2, 1972, United States of America

Snake made Eva take him to where Zero and Clark were keeping the twins. Snake didn’t stop to ask for entry and instead immediately went to violently knock out every guard he came across, finally kicking down the door to Zero’s office. The Englishman was sitting at his desk.

“Ah, welcome, Jack.” He glanced past him. “ Eva. ”

Snake’s voice was cold as ice. “Give me one good reason to not kill you right here, right now.”

“And have you throw away everything we've worked for? That you've worked for? That she died fo—”

Snake slammed his hands on Zero’s desk. “You had no FUCKING RIGHT!”

Zero seemed unimpressed. “You said you’d sacrifice your own body for the cause, Jack. It’s what she taught you. Us . To give your whole self for the mission.” He rose from his chair to meet him at eye level. “Or am I wrong, Snake?”

Snake grabbed him by the collar and pulled him halfway over the desk. “Which part of the mission requires cloning me, huh?!”

He tried to keep his composure. “You're getting old, Jack. I'm getting even older. We need to make sure we have someone to keep this going when we can’t anymore.” Snake released Zero from his grip. He inelegantly slid back off the desk and went to straighten his collar.

“ Fine.” The word dripped like venom from Snake’s mouth. “You’ve got yourselves some replacements for me. You don’t need me anymore. I fucking QUIT!” He turned to storm off, shoving Eva out of his way on the way out.

“Jack, please!” she called after him. “Don’t you at least want to see your sons?!”

Snake stopped, but didn’t turn around. “They are not my sons.”

He left without another word.

Days later Adam found Snake in his home, delirious, a bloodied dagger in his hand, and a long, serpentine wound cut from his chest down to his pelvis.