Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Author Note: Set after Expendables 2. Enjoy :)

OUR OWN LUCK

Barney didn't call her.

He had an ancient wreck of a plane to keep air-worthy, and jobs were coming in pretty fucking thick from Tool. They were the kind of jobs the group could handle fine – Caesar might have broken a leg bone or two and Gunner had had his bell rung pretty damn spectacularly in Thailand, but they'd gotten the jobs done and both Caesar and Gunner had recovered quickly enough, Gunnar healing as well as he ever would upstairs. Sometimes a knock to the head seemed to set his thinking straighter. Either that, or ten rounds with his favourite Japanese midget did.

So with that, and watching the trainwreck of Lee and Lacey's relationship, Barney's card was pretty full. But he did see Maggie again, even if he didn't call her. Less than a year later, he was in the middle of a firefight against a whole battalion of pissed-off former foreign servicemen. Everybody was having a hell of a time. Barney was dealing with a couple of mooks when he felt the snick of a blade drawing his blood, now that was from someone unaccounted for and made things a little too interesting...

Then several shots came out of nowhere and the now-very-ex-servicemen all hit the deck permanently. Barney looked around – he could hear Lee close by still swinging for the fences, spitting out curses like they were discounted. Then he spotted the lean figure caught up in wisps of smoke, reloading her weapon. Maggie's smile was a particularly sharp knife. Barney couldn't lie, it appealed.

"I told you you'd die if you didn't call, Italian."

Barney coughed, now that there was no one to hit, and therefore no need for the adrenaline anymore, his body was letting him know that he really needed a drink. He winced and checked his sidearm – yep, still ammo left. Good. The party might appear to be over, but there could still be unwanted guests lurking out of sight.

"You see a coffin round here?"

Maggie's frown was very clearly put-on as she glanced around the forest. "Do they grow on trees in your country?"

"Aha, is that a joke in your country?"

Maggie's smile became a little less deadly weapon, just as Lee shouted that Barney had better still be alive so that Lee could shoot him. Maggie and Barney exchanged a look, raised eyebrows and weary humour.

"Sounds like you'll need me for a while longer." Maggie hefted her gun expertly.

"Don't shoot him yet, he's probably taking a call."

"He's still dating her?"

"Tell me about it."

The others were all still alive, and all vocally appreciative when they clocked Maggie. She greeted them warmly, and exchanged a business-like head nod of a 'hello' with Yang. Caesar muttered that at least with Yang around they'd be spared Gunner's terrible attempts at flirting with Maggie.

"That was flirting?" was Maggie's reply.

Yang's smile was quick and sharp, his gaze zeroing in on Maggie before drifting to Gunner. "He does not get better with age. And his head is too far in the clouds for thinking."

"And that's Yang's idea of flirting," Toll told Maggie.

Maggie nodded sagely. "Explains a lot."

She walked at Barney's side as the group headed for their ride out. The next job Tool had already told them about included rumours of technology that packed a punch. It was too much of a coincidence that Maggie had turned up in time for that. She glanced over when she felt his assessing gaze slide her way.

"I have taken leave. And for now I prefer not to work with Church."

Barney couldn't argue with that. "So you just happened on us? I don't believe in coincidence."

Maggie smiled; the expression more sly this time. "I asked around."

"Uh huh, you a fan of tattoos?"

Maggie raised an eyebrow and her laugh was silent.

She talked to Yang in a progression of different dialects and asked Gunner if he'd made a bomb yet that had actually gone off successfully.

She asked Lee, with a perfectly straight face, how he afforded such an expansive call package on their payouts. Before Lee could retort, his phone rang for the third time that night.

She took watch just like everybody else.

Barney rubbed a thumb over the skull on his finger. He doubted even his lucky ring would help now that she'd gotten stuck in his orbit.

"I picked irises for Billy. And burned joss paper."

Maggie didn't look at him as she spoke. Barney didn't reply or look her way either. All he did was nod, his mind fixed on the blood that had dripped from Billy's mouth, and on the letter that he still knew by heart.

When Maggie stayed on for drinks after a third mission, Barney joined her outside the bar. She was wearing something pale pink and silky under her leather jacket. Slippery. That sounded right.

"Church doesn't want you back yet? He hates sharing."

Maggie shrugged a shoulder. "He'll live."

Barney downed the rest of his beer. He wondered where her tattoos were. "We talked about this."

"We did." Maggie's tone was matter-of-fact, the perfect warning. She tipped her head towards where the others were laughing and drinking. "They're not dead."

"They will be."

"I will be too. But first, I make my own luck."

She took his empty bottle as she ducked back into the bar, her fingers brushing his, pointedly touching his lucky ring.

Barney shook his head, resigned and less pissed off that he should have been - fucking stubborn, just like the rest of them. He'd made her choice for her once; he doubted he'd get a second shot at it. The rest of them hadn't obliged him either. He bit the end off of a cigar and reached for his lighter.

Their next job found them in Italy, holed up in an abandoned stormcellar until the weather outside stopped laying siege. At least for once they were stuck somewhere with decent supplies. Caesar and Toll were arguing over who got the coffee jars. Gunner was constructing something under Yang's watchful, sarcastic, eye. There were no prizes for guessing what Lee was doing. Maggie was sharpening the manicuring tools she'd used so effectively on her first mission with the team. They still couldn't carve a turkey.

Barney poked through the well-stocked shelves, taking what looked good to eat and use elsewhere. Tins were good weapons in a pinch.

Bathed in the light of a nearby dusty hurricane lamp, Maggie looked golden, the blade in her hand a sliver of deadly silver. At Barney's request, Tool had done some deep research into her background – some of her family had suffered thanks to corrupt officials (some things were the same the world over), she'd excelled physically and mentally at the CIA and, according to the agency, all she needed was some seasoning in the field. Barney hated to think he was helping the CIA.

Maggie didn't glance over her shoulder but Barney could tell that she was aware of him. Good.

He dropped a tin at her feet. She glanced down, turning it so that the label made sense. Something rare flickered through her expression.

"Plums?"

"They're all out of crispy aromatic duck."

The corner of Maggie's lips slanted upward and she tucked the tin into her bag. Her blades looked plenty sharp to Barney. He kept on watching anyway.

-the end