9)

Someone smacked him on the back of the head and swerved around him. Zee set his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands together. The nice thing about being a synthoid is having the ability to reattach parts. His gaze lingered over the dark-haired agent sipping his coffee and taking a seat at his desk. Zee thought it a little late in the evening for caffeine, it was almost 1900, but Spencer never seemed to mind.

‘It’s been three months, Zeta,’ Spencer started, then glanced at the synthoid. ‘You can’t mope around here forever.’

‘But I’m a communications operative.’ He stated this as fact, something not to be toyed with or altered. ‘I’m supposed to be here.’

‘Every day?’ A laugh tickled the words. Spencer’s smile was faint but amused. ‘Remind me to scare you up some dinner dates. I’m going on one in a bit, but you’re certainly not invited. At the very least, as your handler, I’m going to try harder to find you some assignments.’

‘I don’t want any assignments.’

‘Yes, you do, you just don’t know it yet. I know it must be weird working for the NSA again.’

‘Weird is an understatement.’ But it was better than life on the road. He never would’ve believed that to be true, yet it was. Life on the road was bitter and reckless now that Ro was gone. It had no point. He had freedom of a sort now. He liked working alongside Agent Spencer. At least they could talk about things that had happened, things that had made them who they are. They had both lost friends.

‘It’ll get better. When you get settled,’ he tousled Zee’s black hair, ‘it’ll get better.’

Zee smiled at him, grateful. Spencer wasn’t like Ro, not hardly, but he was a good friend.

‘Hey, sorry to interrupt,’ said a voice from behind. ‘But I think we have a date.’ Just to be sure, West glanced at the clock on his phone unit. Satisfied, he put it away. Nearing Zee, he stuck out a hand. Zee slapped it in the way of camaraderie. ‘How’s you, Number Six? Still hanging out with this loser?’ He poked his forehead to indicate Spencer.

‘The lowly pot once again calls black the kettle,’ Spencer said, holding West at the shoulder. ‘We’re out of here for the night, Zee. Sure you don’t want to come with us?’

‘No,’ Zee politely shook his head. ‘Isn’t the saying “three’s a crowd”? I’ll stay here. I still have work to do.’

‘Suit yourself. We’ll have drinks on you.’ West donned his fedora and helped Spencer into his coat. He winked and pointed at Zee as he passed. ‘Don’t do nothing we wouldn’t do, eh?’

‘As you say.’ Zee enjoyed watching them walk away, two of his friends speaking animatedly with each other, enjoying the company of one another. There was something enviable in their relationship.

He swooped towards his computer and, instead of hooking up to its wireless network, began manual deletion of NSA files.

Text poured over the screen. Ro’s name was on it, up and down, back to front.

Zee, trying not to emote, a trait that annoyed Bucky, set his shoulders, put on his best NSA-agent face, and coded the file before deleting it from the hard drive. While the file encrypted, he glanced at two photographs tacked to the monitor edges. One was of Bucky, Ro, and him at a mountain overlook in northern California last year. His finger tenderly trailed over Ro’s image. And the second was of Spencer, West, and him at a party commending his bravery and freedom.

•oOo•

The End

•oOo•

A/N – So who did I trick with that ending? Anyone? All of you? Moo ha ha ha! It's just a little nothing of a story, without really a whole lot of details or plot, but it was fun to write something completely different and daring.

Thanks for reading and reviewing!