TITLE: Counting by Fives

FANDOM: The Losers

CONTINUITY: What's that? *snort* Pre, during, and post the movie/comic/unholy mix of both.

RATING: R

DISCLIAMER: Diggle and Jock. DC/Vertigo. Dark Castle/WB.

WARNING: Pottymouth warning, violence, some slashiness (implied or otherwise – mostly of a Cougar/Jensen nature), emotional rollercoaster ranging from utter silliness to dark angst, minor crossover in a few spots.

SUMMARY: So…I threw a bunch of fanfic plot devices at the Losers; werewolves, genderswap, aliens, injuries, time travel fix-its.

Counting by Fives

by Scorpio

Five times one of the Losers was a werewolf…

Clay

Clay's front paws dug down into the soft damp loam and soil between the sweetly scented flowers planted around the flag pole outside of their barracks at Fort Bragg. As each paw would press into the dirt, his claws would come out to dig into it and then he'd curl his paw under to form a scoop that he used to yank the small bit of dirt out and back under his chest and belly. First he'd do it with one paw, then the next; right, left, right, left, repeat, repeat, repeat.

Clay was a good dirt digger as a human, but in wolf form he was excellent. Of course, he'd had a lot of practice digging holes into the dirt as a wolf. He couldn't help it. It was instinct; very strong instincts that he couldn't quite control, nor could he properly explain when he was human. He'd just dig his hole and bury important treasures in them…to keep them safe. Sorta.

He'd buried at least two of Roque's knives and a brick of his C-4. He'd buried several sets of Pooch's keys and his favorite adjustable wrench. He'd buried Jensen's wireless mouse and his PSP handheld. And now…now he was in the process of burying something of Cougar's.

Clay looked at the hole he'd dug and tilted his head to one side, then to the other. I was definitely deep enough, but maybe not quite as long as he'd like. With a huff, he started digging out a few more pawfuls of dirt. Pausing to consider his hole again, he decided that it was finally perfect. Then, being very careful of his teeth, Clay snatched up Cougar's favorite rifle scope and then dropped it down into the hole. He poked a paw down in the hole to nudge the scope into just the perfect position and then snorted in delighted canine pride.

Now to finish the job.

Turning to the pile of loose dirt and soil that he'd kicked up everywhere, Clay began the process of scooping it back into the hole to fill it up again.

Roque

William Roque was a Special Forces Captain in the US Army, so he always took his team's security very seriously. It's just that, when he was in wolf form this obsession with patrolling the perimeter gained new…quirks.

A rustle of movement over in the shrubs caught Roque's attention and his ears swiveled around and focused right in front on him. His nose twitched as he breathed the night in deeply. Dirt. Bugs. Grass. Flowers. Rabbit... Yum, rabbit. A low rumbling noise started up deep in Roque's chest.

Carefully moving one big paw in front of the other to try and make the least amount of noise possible, Roque silently stalked over to the bush. At the last moment, he pounced, his big head thrusting into the leaves. The rabbit startled instantly and dashed out of its hiding place to zig-zag across the lawn. With a loud howl of excitement, Roque gave chase barking loudly the entire time.

A minute or so later, Roque crouched down to crunch his way through his delicious snack. His sensitive ears caught flickers of words from his human packmates. His alpha was grumbling "Dammit Roque…it's the middle of the fucking night." and Jensen was moodily trying to talk Cougar into mischief "I'm not saying to shoot him with a silver bullet or anything. One of those rubber bouncers to the ass would be funny though and would so totally make up for him waking us up at O' Dark-Thirty." Roque would have to have a little talk with Cougar about his boy. A rubber bullet to the ass wouldn't kill Roque, but it would still sting like a bitch.

Just then a rustling in the tree above him caught his attention and his head whipped around and up.

*SQUIRREL!*

Before Roque's human mind could clamp down on his instincts, he was bouncing around the base of the tree snarling and barking like a lunatic in a mad effort to get up the tree to eat the squirrel sitting on the branch just out of reach.

"Really Roque? Really? All this fucking noise over a damn squirrel?"

Roque ignored Pooch who was standing on the back porch in nothing but his boxers and glaring out at the world still half asleep. Instead, he focused on tracking the squirrel as it leapt from branch to branch and made it all the way to the other tree in the yard. All Roque cared about at the point was that he was gonna catch that furry fucking squirrel and eat it.

Cougar

Cougar as a wolf was a creature of grace and beauty. All soft fur in tan and black, a long fluffy tail, a cold nose, and big dark eyes. Big beautifully sad dark eyes that he ruthlessly used to devastating effect on his teammates.

Clay glanced away from the report he was reading towards his plate only to be confronted with two dark eyes staring intently at his turkey club sandwich from the other side of the desk. Those eyes were framed by a furry face and topped with two dark ears. Then they shifted up to lock on his even as they got impossibly bigger, darker and oh so very sad.

"Cougar," Clay acknowledged even as he silently ordered himself to stay strong in the face of the dreaded puppy-eyes-of-doom. He could withstand torture, he could withstand this.

A soft quiet whine was Cougar's reply even as those puppy-eyes got even more sad and picked up a sheen of wetness as if he were about to shed tears. Impossible, but that's what it looked like to Clay.

"No," Clay said, trying to sound stern, "it's my sandwich. I'm not sharing."

That said, he reached out and picked up his sandwich. It was turkey, swiss and bacon with lettuce, tomatoes, and mayo on wheat. It was his and he was going to enjoy it. He took a bite.

Only to feel a warm weight settle gently on one leg. Clay glanced down into his lap to see Cougar's head resting there dejectedly with his big dark shiny puppy eyes looking up right at him. Cougar gave another little whimper.

Clay said a very naughty word.

"Fine! Here!" Sighing with disgust at himself, Clay thrust the sandwich at Cougar. A long wet tongue licked out at his fingers in a canine 'thank you', then Cougar snapped up the sandwich in three gulps before trotting out of Clay's office with his tail high and wagging.

Pooch

He was on a leash because the last time they let Pooch out in wolf form without one, he'd gotten picked up by the dog-catcher and thrown in the pound. All jokes about puppy prison aside, Clay had gotten there just in time to prevent the vets from having Pooch fixed. So yeah…a leash.

Which Jensen was currently holding while chatting to Roque about some bit of tech he wanted to requisition. Suddenly, a bright yellow Ford Mustang roared past them with music blaring out the open windows and something deep inside of Pooch's mind flipped over.

*want**need* *must have* *WANT*

With a giant leap from his powerful legs, Pooch went from standing still to a full out run in the blink of an eye. He felt a brief tug on his leash and then Jensen yelped, "Shit!" before hitting the ground with a thud. Pooch ignored that and just lowered his head and drug Jensen along behind him as he chased the car down the street.

Jensen was chanting, "Shit! Fuck! Shit! Pooch stop! Shit! Fuck! Shit!" and Roque was gasping with hysterical laughter, but Pooch didn't care. He was gonna catch that car!

Jensen

SQUEAK *grrr* SQUEEEEAK *grrr* SQUEEE-EK SQUEEE-EK

The soft whomp of paw pads and the click of claws on wood flooring made its way across the room. A rubber ball painted to look like the moon was dropped into Cougar's outstretched hand. He pulled a face at the thick coating of dog drool, but didn't hesitate to hold it up in front of Jensen's furry face and wave it back and forth teasingly.

"Should I throw it?" he teased. In answer Jensen let out a soft *ruff* and bounced on his paws, his tail wagging hard enough to nearly knock him off balance. Cougar squeezed the toy twice getting a loud SQUEE-SQUEAK out of it before tossing it across the room.

With a loud *grrr* Jensen spun around and dashed after the ball. It bounced off the floor and hit the wall behind Roque before ricocheting off down the hall. Jensen tried to turn but slid on the slick wood floors instead. He bowled into Roque's legs and made him spill a bit of his beer.

"Fuck!"

Jensen didn't stick around; instead he scrambled back onto all fours and barking like a loon, took off down the hallway.

SQUEAK *grrr* *grrr-rufff* SQUEAK SQUEEE-EK

Then Jensen was padding back into the room, the ball crammed in his mouth and his tail wagging wildly behind him. This time he trotted up to Pooch. Pooch ignored him in favor of his car magazine. Jensen danced impatiently and made a little whining sound in his throat. Pooch huffed a sigh and looked up to eye the rubber toy in Jensen's mouth distastefully.

"You do know that it's totally gross to touch stuff coated in slobber don't you?"

*ruuuffff* *grrr* SQUEAK SQUEEEAK

Pooch sighed again and rolled his eyes before holding out a hand palm up. "Fine, but if the Pooch gets wolf cooties I'm telling Jolene it's all your fault."

Jensen dropped the ball into Pooch's hand and then draped his tongue out of the side of his muzzle in a doggy grin at the grossed out face Pooch made. "Ew!"

*grrr* *grrr-rufff*

"Yeah? Fuck you too, Jay." Pooch squeezed the rubber ball getting a loud SQUEAK from it before giving it a toss over the back of the couch Roque was sitting on.

Jensen spun and leapt onto the couch cushions and then up over the back leaving a sputtering and swearing Roque in his wake. He chased his ball across the floor and over to Cougar where he pounced on it right before the sniper could snatch it.

SQUEAK Jensen shot Cougar a smug look. *ruff* SQUEEE-EK *grrr* SQUEEEEAK

"Dammit Jensen!"

Jensen turned his head to see a sopping wet Roque pushing himself up off the floor in front of the couch, his now empty beer glass lying in a small puddle. The XO glared at him hard enough to make him hang his head and his tail to curl down between his legs.

"Stop with the fuckin' squeaky toy already!" Roque's glare shifted to take in a smirking Cougar and a grinning Pooch. "And you two assholes need to stop encouraging him!"

Five times one of the Losers was turned into a female…

Clay

Clay went from a bear of an Army Special Forces Colonel to a busty brunette beauty with smoky bedroom eyes. There were plenty of jokes about how she was now exactly the type of woman she usually dated as a man; hot, deadly, and more than a bit crazy. There were also a few inappropriate boners among her team whenever she sashayed by, but she pretended not to notice.

Instead, she wobbled across the room while teetering in a pair of high heels before tripping and landing on Roque's lap. "This is harder than it looks."

Roque snorted and then leered at Clay. She smacked his chest and growled out a throaty "I meant walking in heels…not your lap."

Roque

The door to Pooch's room slammed open and Roque stormed out wearing only a tight tee shirt and silk panties. A pair of BDU's were clenched in her fist as she snarled, "Pooch! I'm stealing a pair of your pants. Nothin' of mine fuckin' fits anymore!"

Everyone stared at her with their best 'not laughing' face. Except for Jensen. He grinned and took his life into his own hands by saying, "If you're all bloated and retaining water you should take…" Pooch wrapped an arm around Jensen's head to cover his mouth and shut him up while franticly babbling, "No problem, Roque. Take all my pants if you need 'em."

Sadly, he was not fast enough as Roque exploded. "I am NOT bloated and I do NOT have fucking PMS! Stop fucking offering me fucking Midol!" Flinging a knife at Jensen's feet to display her ire, Roque promptly burst into tears and stormed away to hide in her bedroom.

Cougar

Cougar glided across the floor, her hips swaying from side to side hypnotically. When she reached the bar, she leaned back against it on both elbows, thrusting her braless breasts out in front of her. She reached up and tilted her cowboy hat back to expose her lovely face and deep dark eyes. Every man in the bar drooled as they shifted to adjust their sudden erections. This included all of Cougar's teammates.

Clay shook another cigarette out of the pack and sighed, "I can't believe Cougar's so damn hot. It's not fuckin' fair."

"Well," Roque smirked, "she's definitely deadly and more than a little crazy. That's right up your alley." Clay glared and sighed again.

Pooch refused to look in Cougar's direction and stared deeply into his beer. "If I don't look, I won't be tempted. Then Jolene won't kill me with my own gun."

Suddenly, Jensen gulped down his whiskey and stood up. "Okay. I'm gonna go for it. Wish me luck."

Clay, Roque and Pooch watched as Jensen made his way over to Cougar and fidgeted nervously before leaning down and saying something. Cougar blushed, smiled shyly at him and then looped her arm through his before leading Jensen out of the bar.

"Damn," Rogue grinned, "I didn't know white-boy had it in him."

Pooch

Truthfully, Pooch made a great girl once you got past the fact that she was still bald as an egg. Because seriously… Yowza! …those curves were kicking! She was also a wee bit pissed off. "How in the hell am I supposed to tell Jolene that her beloved husband is now a wife?! 'Cause I really don't think she's into kinky lesbian sex!"

Jensen snorted out a noise that would've been a laugh if Cougar hadn't crashed his hand over Jensen's mouth to muffle it. Roque leered, his eyes going unfocused as he considered the…uh, logistics of Pooch and Jolene having girl on girl sex. Clay…Clay just cringed. That was not a phone call he'd want to make because somehow it would end up being all his fault and Jolene was just plain scary.

Jensen

Cougar opened the door to the bedroom he shared with Jensen and stopped dead. Jensen was sitting in front of a laptop wearing only a pair of boxers. Nothing new. Only this time, Jensen was female and that was branding spanking new. If anyone had asked, Cougar would have guessed that a female Jensen would've looked like a lesbian weightlifter, instead she looked like Seven of Nine from Star Trek.

Naked Seven of Nine. Make that, naked Seven of Nine playing with her own nipples and moaning…

"Er…." Which was about as eloquent as Cougar could get at the moment.

Jensen looked up and beamed a dreamy smile. "Hey Cougs! Being a girl isn't as bad as I thought. My tits are like, hardwired directly to my hoo-hoo so playing with them feels amazing!" Jensen punctuated this statement by pinching her nipples and moaning again.

Cougar blinked; once, twice, then smiled. "Need some help?"

Five times one of the Losers was abducted by aliens…

Clay

"What the…?!" BLAM-BLAM! BLAM! "Kidnap me, motherfucker!" BLAM-BLAM-BLAM!

Roque

"Fuck!" BLAM! "You!" BLAM-BLAM! "Fuckin'!" BLAM! "Alien!" BLAM-BLAM-BLAM! "Bitch!" BOOOOM!

Cougar

*licks lips* BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! *smirk*

Pooch

"Seriously? Aliens?" BLAM-BLAM-BLAM! "The Pooch don't like anal probin' aliens!" BLAM-BLAM! BLAM!

Jensen

*sqeeeee!* OMG! Are you a real life alien? You don't look like a Roswell Grey? Although you do have big eyes and long fingers, you're definitely not grey. More purple-y…a sorta lavender, yeah? This is great, though. Do you have a spaceship? Can I see it? No! Wait! Can I fly it?! Yeah…probably not a good idea now that I think about it, but it's be so cool and Pooch'd be crazy jealous. Oh! Hey, let me grab my phone. I want to get a picture with you guys. The Losers are never gonna believe me without proof.

Five times one of the Losers suffered an embarrassing injury…

Clay

"This," Clay insisted, "is not very dignified."

Pooch snorted in amusement, "Colonel…you're belly down across your own dining table so that Cougar can remove a bullet lodged in your ass. The Pooch thinks the whole lack of dignity thing is the least of your problems."

Clay rolled his eyes and grimaced, "Yes, thank you Sergeant. That's a very helpful observation."

Pooch arched an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest. "You can be snarky and sarcastic all you want, Sir, but the Pooch ain't the one with a slug in his ass."

Cougar interrupted by gently poking Clay's backside near the entry wound. "Is it always this big or are you swelling up?"

"You two are funny comedians tonight," Clay snarled. "Don't you care that I'm wounded here?"

Pooch sighed and spoke in a tone of voice exasperated parents used to explain something obvious to a stubborn teenager. "You're wounded because you insisted on dating that psycho even though each of us had told you she was bad news. Congratulations, you proved us right by letting her shoot you in the ass."

Before Clay could respond, his front door opened and then slammed closed again. Two sets of feet pounded down the hall, Jensen calling out, "We're back and we've got the Med Kit." Then he and Roque made their way into the dining room.

"Damn Clay!" Roque snorted, "What'd you do, call her fat?"

Clay groaned and hid his face in his arms. "No." was his muffled reply.

"I know!" Jensen was bouncing on his toes as he handed over the Med Kit to Cougar. "You forgot to put the seat down, didn't you?"

Clay lifted his head and glared sullenly at the ruins of the diner he'd cooked that was currently smashed on the floor. "I hate my life."

Roque

It was just a coincidence. Really. No matter what the fuck Jensen said. It was just a case of bad timing and worse luck.

They were on an op in an Eastern European city in the dead of winter. It was balls numbingly cold and piles of dirty snow were clumped here and there. The storm grey sky was spitting down rain that was half icy sleet. Everything was slick as fuck and they had to slog through it all on foot.

No one was happy about the weather, but what can you fucking do? Nothing, that's what.

The incident happened when they were making their way back to the safe house. A man and woman were screaming at each other loudly about fidelity…or the lack thereof. They were making quite the spectacle of themselves and just as the Losers were nearly directly across the street from them, the man finally had enough. Calling the woman a faithless whore, he turned and stormed off. The woman, not to be outdone, tore open her long coat to reveal she was completely nude underneath.

"Take one last look at what you'll never have again!" she shrieked to the man's departing back.

Everyone on the street, all the Losers included, turned to look at her.

Just then, Roque's left foot slid out from under him on a patch of ice and with a yelp, he crashed down hard on his right kneecap. The loud crack sound it made when it hit the concrete echoed all along the street. Then, after a second or two of shock, the pain hit and Roque swore the air blue.

Luckily they weren't too far from the safe house, so Jensen and Clay were able to carry him back. Once there they could load him in the van and get him to medical treatment. Still, however short the walk was, it was a misery all its own since no matter how hard they tried, Clay and Jensen couldn't help but jostle his leg.

And then there was the Jensen factor….

Jensen tended to use words and babble to distract injured people from their pain or any danger they might be in. And while that was fine in theory, in practice it usually meant that Jensen annoyed the person by being completely obnoxious.

If Roque was being fair, he'd admit that it was fucking hilarious when he wasn't the target of Jensen's sharp wit. Sadly, that wasn't the case and he was sure it wouldn't be long until he wanted to strangle the younger man with his own intestines.

"You know," Jensen began and Roque gritted his teeth, "I've never seen you fall for a woman before, Roque. Was it love at first sight, man?"

Roque glared at Jensen and bared his teeth in a quiet growl. Jensen gleefully ignored his ire and grinned.

"Or did she scare you? 'Cause I am here to tell you that you don't need to be afraid of big bad women and their bare naked tits." Jensen leered comically around Roque and told Clay in a conspiratorial tone, "Tits are of the good."

Clay nodded and snickered, "Yes, Corporal. That they are."

Jensen beamed. "See Roque. The Colonel agrees. No need to be frightened of naked tits."

Pooch snorted a laugh and Cougar smirked, the smug fucker.

Roque announced in all seriousness, "As soon as I can put weight on this knee again, I'm gonna gut you like a pig."

"Now Roque," Pooch teased. "don't be hatin' on JJ just 'cause he isn't afraid of boobies."

Roque growled, "Oh, fuck you, Pooch. Don't encourage his stupid ass."

Jensen chuckled. "Look, I've got a simple solution to your irrational tit fear. Next time a random woman flashes you some naked breast, instead of freaking out and hitting the dirt, you should just throw Cougar at her."

"Only if she's pretty," Cougar added with a smirk.

Roque grit his teeth. "You're all evil fuckers, you know that, right? I am NOT afraid of women's breasts, naked or otherwise! I just slipped on the fucking ice!"

There was a brief but meaningful pause filled with exchanged looks of faux disbelief.

"Suuurrrre, Roque." Jensen bobbed his head in a nod. "We believe you."

Roque sighed. "Fuck my life. This is adding insult to fucking injury, is what this is…"

Cougar

The Losers, for the most part, have no problem with any and all types of wildlife be they flora or fauna. This is a good thing in their line of work as they tend to be shipped around the world to all sorts of environments; from the sandbox, to the jungle, to cramped urban areas. They tend to ignore the wildlife until they can't and then just deal with it in the fastest most efficient way possible.

Usually the wildlife will ignore them back, but sometimes things happen unexpectedly. Like the goat that followed Clay around for a week, nibbling at his shirt cuffs and shoelaces. Or the squirrel that Pooch had to shoo out of the engine block of a truck he was working on. Or the stray cat that adopted Roque. Or the snake that kept trying to wiggle its way into Jensen's sleeping bag. Or even the pigeon that tried to nest on Cougar's hat on that one rooftop.

However, that being said, it didn't mean that they all *liked* the various bits of wildlife that they came into contact with. Jensen, for example, absolutely hated spiders. Claimed they were evil and wrong with too many legs and too many eyes; proof they were made out of nightmares and children's tears. When unexpectedly confronted with a spider, Jensen tended to shriek like a girl and dance back out of range while shouting, "KILL IT! KILL IT! KILL IT!"

Cougar was Jensen's designated spider killer. Pooch tended to capture it and set it free elsewhere and that wasn't good enough for Jensen. He wanted to know the thing was dead. Clay just ignored him and the spider…Cougar didn't know if that was because Clay was secretly too freaked out by spiders to actually touch one or if it was some sort of tough love to try and make Jensen overcome his fears. Roque would kill it, but then use the spider corpse to taunt Jensen with until someone made him stop.

So yeah…Cougar: Spider Elimination Specialist.

Cougar didn't mind though. He understood where Jensen was coming from because even though spiders, scorpions, snakes, birds, cats, dogs and everything in between didn't bother him; Bees. Freaked. Him. Out.

He couldn't really say why. Maybe it was the way they flew through the air despite it being an aerodynamic impossibility. Or that damn freaky buzzing noise they made. Or because he was allergic and if stung would swell up like a balloon and stop breathing. Whatever. All he knew was that he hated them and tended to panic at the sight of one; a full on flinch away while shrieking and flailing panic, which is what lead him to here.

Here being on the ground at the base of the tree he'd just fallen out of with Jensen hovering and fussing over his obviously broken wrist.

"What happened, man?" Jensen's tone was a mix of worry and confusion. "I've never seen you fall out of a tree before. I didn't think it was possible for you to fall out of one, to be honest. You're usually so sure-footed and well balanced I'd think you were a real cougar."

Cougar winced and blushed lightly. "There was a bee…" he muttered.

Jensen grew still. "Oh."

Then he sighed softly and said, "You should have just called me, Cougs. I'd have killed it for you."

Pooch

Pooch came in early from leave with one eye swollen shut and tape across his nose. He had a shell-shocked expression on his face like he wasn't sure if he was awake or still dreaming. He shuffled forward in a daze before flopping on the couch to stare blankly into middle space.

Roque and Jensen looked at each other meaningfully around Pooch. Roque made a 'wtf' gesture, but Jensen shrugged and shook his head in confusion. Roque jerked his head in Pooch's direction, his eyebrows and hand gesture clearly saying 'find out what the hell's up Pooch's ass'. Jensen nodded his understanding and made 'calm down' gestures.

"So…uh…Pooch." Jensen said awkwardly. Pooch grunted. "How was your leave?" And because Jensen could never leave well enough alone, he pointed to Pooch's face before tapping his own under his right eye. "I mean, I can't help but notice the nice shiner you got there, buddy."

Pooch glared up at Jensen expecting to see teasing, but only found genuine concern.

"I may have, uh…possibly, suggested that Jolene's pot roast wasn't…er, edible."

Roque's eyes went wide with surprise as he whistled in awe. Pooch wasn't usually that stupid.

Pooch just nodded sadly, "Yeah, not the Pooch's finest moment. That's for sure."

"So," Jensen asked, "She what? Threw the pot roast at your head?"

Pooch sighed and glanced up sheepishly before looking away like a naughty schoolboy caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"No." The answer was short, curt and so totally not the full story. Jensen just nodded encouragingly while Roque pretended disinterest despite hanging on every word. Finally Pooch caved and added, "Um…I might have followed up that comment by hinting that Jolene could stand to miss a meal…or two."

Roque shot out of his chair and jabbed a finger at Pooch. "Do you have a death wish or something? I don't need no suicidal motherfucker watching my back or flying my planes."

Pooch flinched back, but Jensen scoffed. "Roque, don't be stupid. Pooch isn't looking to buy a farm. He uh…he was probably drunk. Right, Pooch?"

Jensen and Roque both stared at Pooch intently, silently begging him to announce that he was just a mean drunk and was planning to join AA and get right with God for dissing Jolene's cooking and calling her fat.

"You guys gotta understand," he nearly wailed in desperation to be believed, "the Pooch wasn't trying to be mean. I was just kiddin' around. Teasing, ya know? I didn't know she'd take it all personal."

Roque snorted in disdain. No woman anywhere liked to be teased about their weight. He'd learned that the hard way. Jensen, on the other hand, was nodding along in agreement. "Yeah. Okay. Just a joke. No harm, no foul. But something must have gone wrong, Pooch. Jolene usually has a cool sense of humor and gives as good as she gets. She's like, the Queen of Snark. So what's up with the shiner?"

"Jolene's…prrnan." Pooch mumbled.

"Huh?" Two sets of confused eyes stared at him. "Run that by me again. In English this time."

"Pregnant!" Pooch shouted. Jensen and Roque flinched back.

"Wha…."

Pooch nodded, the shell-shocked look coming back to his eyes.

"Yeah. Pregnant. That's…uh…why she's put on a little weight. And she burnt dinner because she was nervous about telling me. Then I cracked those jokes…that really weren't meant to be mean, but she…uh, she burst into tears and ran off to lock herself in the bathroom. She finally confessed she was pregnant while sobbing through the door."

Roque looked a mix of confused and fascinated, but Jensen began to smile like a loon as the news set in. Pooch didn't seem to notice as he relayed the rest of the story.

"The Pooch was beginning to panic. I mean, my pregnant wife was locked in the bathroom being hysterical. That can't be good for her or the baby. So, I crouched down on the floor to pick the lock when she decided to forgive me. She opened the door and the doorknob bashed in my nose and eye."

A smile of sheer pride crossed his face. "Knocked me on my ass, too."

Roque chuckled and slapped Pooch on the shoulder before yanking him up off the couch. "Come on, let's celebrate. Drinks are on me tonight." Jensen laughed and said, "Congratulations Daddy!"

Pooch's smile grew even bigger.

"But I have to tell ya, telling people you walked into a door makes you sound like a battered housewife. You should just tell people Jolene hit you upside the head with the pot roast platter for calling her cooking bad."

Jensen

The front door to the team house opened and Jensen hobbled in being supported by Pooch. Cougar sidled in after them and shut the door. Clay eyed them up and down and wondered if it was better not to know. Still, it was his job as the CO, so…

"What happened this time?"

In answer, Cougar handed over a packet of paper before taking what was obviously a pharmacy prescription bag into the kitchen. He could hear Cougar pouring out a glass of water even as Pooch helped Jensen down the hall towards the younger man's bedroom. Sighing, Clay unfolded the packet of paper and saw it was ER discharge papers. When Cougar left the kitchen and made his way to Jensen's room, Clay followed.

Pooch was helping Jensen peel out of his clothes and Clay winced at the sight of the man's back. It was mottled black and blue from shoulder to shoulder and from the base of his neck to mid-back. It was a huge fucking bruise and looked painful as fuck.

"Explain to me how my Comm Tech went out for a nice night on the town with you two clowns and ended up with…" Clay raised the discharge papers and read, "A mild concussion, massive contusions, a pulled groin and a strained shoulder?"

Pooch snickered, Cougar smirked, and Jensen blushed before insisting, "It was nothing, Clay. I uh…I fell. That's all."

Clay crossed his arms over his chest. "Uh huh. Somehow I think there might be more to it than that." He turned his glare on Pooch who snickered again.

"Ya see, Colonel. White boy here, after his eighth beer and who knows how much tequila, decided that the reason for Cougs' success with the ladies was because he sometimes rides the mechanical bull down at the bar."

Clay could see where this was going and reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose even as Jensen turned a pained glare on Pooch and snarled, "Shut up, man! Stop being such a dick."

Pooch ignored him and continued his story as if there hadn't been any interruptions. "Said he was gonna ride it and steal all the women for once. I told him that it wasn't as easy as it looked, but he insisted on climbing on it."

Cougar interjected, "I tried to get him to turn down the difficulty setting to beginner."

Jensen's glare shifted to Cougar, "Not helping, Cougs."

Cougar smirked and handed over the glass of water and shook out two pills for Jensen to take. "Next time, you will listen, Si?"

Clay glanced down at the discharge papers and then back up at Jensen. He sighed deeply and shook his head. "So…how long did he last before it threw him and what the hell did he hit?"

Pooch snickered again. "Four seconds. And he hit the wall, bounced off it and hit a table full of drinks."

Five times one of the Losers traveled back in time to make things right…

Clay

Lieutenant Colonel Franklin Clay stood in front of the mirror and adjusted the lines of his jacket meticulously. He wanted to look perfect, not a single hair out of place. He normally wasn't this vain, but this was the last time he'd ever get to wear his dress uniform and he wanted it to count.

Today was his Court Marshall. His next posting was, most likely, Leavenworth.

When he had woken up screaming in the middle of the night with the memory of his own death at Aisha's hand still ripping through his brain only to find himself back in the past, in his own bed at the Loser's house at Fort Bragg, he had no clue it would come down to this. Trembling with his heart slamming behind his ribs and cold sweat sticking his sheets to his skin, he'd silently vowed to do everything possible to prevent that dreaded future from coming to pass.

Twenty-Five innocent children in Bolivia were still alive and safe. Aisha and her father were dead, their international drug operation shut down. Goliath was being actively investigated by international sources and was bleeding money from every division and department. The Losers were still a US Army Spec Ops team and not a rogue until hunted by the CIA. Roque was alive and not a traitor. Cougar wasn't on the edge of a total mental breakdown due to overwhelming PTSD. Pooch's newborn son was safe and healthy. Jensen's sister and niece had never had to mourn his passing.

Best of all, Max was dead by Clay's own hand and his plans to build and then detonate the snukes were widely known by all.

When he first began to make his plans to stop Max, he'd seriously considered bringing his team into it. He didn't, of course, but mostly because he couldn't figure out a way to explain that he really had come back from the future to possess his younger self and no he wasn't crazy. As a bonus, that kept them out of danger and free from persecution.

Yeah, going off the grid by himself and stopping Max's plans before they could be put into play had earned him a Court Marshall…but in the end: totally worth it.

Roque

Roque stumbled as a wave of dizzying disorientation washed over him. His right arm shot out and automatically braced himself against a painted cement wall. His stomach rolled and he heaved, but nothing came up. He took a deep breath and the nausea faded only to be replaced by a swarm of burning pain rushing over his skin. He clenched his teeth and bit back the scream of agony that wanted to come out of him. Instead, he snarled fiercely and shuddered.

Slowly, the pain and disorientation faded away and left him panting and sweating. He looked around, confused for a moment before he realized where he was. And more importantly *when* he was.

He was back in Bolivia…just moments after his fight with Clay about focusing more on getting the team home and less on revenge. He had stomped off in an angry snit hoping and praying that Clay would actually spend time thinking about what he'd said. Only…that's not what happened the first time around. Clay had met Aisha that very night and she had been the real beginning of the end.

God, how Roque hated that bitch. She had fed promises into Clay's obsession and twisted him around until there was nothing left of the man he once knew. She had sworn Clay would get his revenge and all would be well, but all she did was let their enemies know they were still alive and get the team listed as Anti-American Terrorists.

Yeah…big help. Thanks cunt!

Well, not this time. He was back in the past and he was gonna make sure things turned out differently. He wasn't gonna lose his best friend to that bitch and he wasn't gonna sell his soul and his self-respect to the devil in a vain attempt to get his team free of her influence. He was gonna stop that shit before it even started.

Pushing off the wall, Roque spun around and stomped off down the street, weaving through the crowds easily as he made his way to the bar he knew Clay had headed for. He knew his window of opportunity was a small one, but he didn't want to attract unwanted attention by running. Instead, he slid from shadow to shadow and told himself to be patient and calm.

Finally, he saw her strutting along the street like she owned the place, a cocky smirk on her lips and hat set on her head at a flirty angle. He would have preferred to handle this with his bare hands, to snap her neck or sink a blade deep into her chest, but needs must when the devil drives and all. He didn't want his face associated with what was about to go down, so…he drew his gun, took aim, and planted a bullet right between her eyes. She dropped like a rock to the pavement even as a few bystanders screamed and ran off.

Smirking, Roque spit on the ground in her direction, holstered his gun and melted back into the shadows. Things'd be better this time around. He'd make sure of it.

Cougar

At first Cougar was convinced he was in Hell. He was, after all, a sinner of the worst sort. He had lied and stolen, he had killed and coveted. And worst of all, he had died by his own hand. Oh…the illusion that he had died in battle was there. An illusion so that Pooch and any remainders of his family might take comfort in thinking that he had died well. He knew better, however, and so did God and Jensen.

Was this his punishment from God?

To be thrust into the past; a time before Max had destroyed their lives and reputations? Before he'd taken Jensen as his lover and then forced him to leave Cougar to die? To be the only one to remember a future that has not yet come to pass?

To deny him the forgiveness and oblivion he craves more than air itself?

He knew that the team was terribly worried for him. To them, he had woken early one morning screaming in terror and denial at the carnage that lived only in his own memories and seemed a completely different man. He had changed…but they had not. They were still as they had been…before.

Before Bolivia and Max. Before Aisha and obsession. Before dying became the preferred option to reliving the nightmare his life had become in his dreams over and over again.

From their perspective, he had simply stopped speaking, but they did not know why. His eyes were hunted and haunted instead of full of humor and pride. He was jumpy and paranoid. He sought high ground and was suspicious of everyone. But he couldn't explain what was inside of his mind…how could he? How could they ever understand when God had forgiven them and removed those memories?

How could those who had been saved help one who was damned?

The nights were the worst as he desperately tried to stay awake, to avoid the terrors that waited for him behind sleep closed eyes. It only took a week for him to break, to sneak into Jensen's bed with him, clutching his gun in one hand and Jensen's tee-shirt in the other. In the here and now, Jensen wasn't his lover and he didn't share Cougar's memories, but Cougar simply couldn't face another night alone. And so he'd clung to Jensen as he whimpered and trembled and sobbed his way through several nightmares. Jensen had held him tightly, whispering soft nonsense into his ear until the early dawn.

It helped…a little. Enough so that Cougar began to believe that this wasn't Hell, but instead was Purgatory. He was a sinner, this was true. But God was testing him…giving him a chance to earn his way into Heaven. But how?

Two weeks later, he got his answer. Clay had announced that they'd been offered a mission to Bolivia; however, Clay had turned it down. He said that he didn't think the team was ready for a mission just yet. And the way that everyone refused to meet his eyes said louder than words that it was him that had Clay pulling the mission. They thought he'd cracked. They whispered in sad tones about PTSD and how he 'needed a rest' and they made sure that they didn't infringe on Jensen's time too much since he was the only one that Cougar interacted with anymore. They wanted the hacker available to keep Cougar from going on a killing spree.

Only…with the mention of Bolivia, that's exactly what came to Cougar's mind. Max. Max and all his evil minions were going to die. Only this time, they'd die before their evil could come to fruition.

Cougar gazed out at his team from under his hat brim. He couldn't involve them at all. They had been forgiven and saved…he couldn't tarnish that or risk them getting banned from Heaven. No…this was his test and he would pass. He'd have to go AWOL to do it and he'd miss them…miss having them watch his back. Jensen most of all.

But it would be worth it all in the end if God forgave him and welcomed him into Heaven.

Pooch

Pooch swayed on his feet and clutched at the checkout counter Jensen was sprawled across. Cougar looked up from his stitching, the question clear in his eyes.

"Yeah man…I'm fine."

Cougar continued to stare for another long moment, then turned back to fixing the bullet hole Aisha had put in Jensen's shoulder. Pooch looked around the pharmacy, looked at each of his teammates amazed that they were all alive and *damn* goggled at how fucking young they were.

What. The. Fuck.

"Pooch?" Clay's voice was concerned… Pooch glanced up at him and saw the look in his eyes, took a moment to wish the concern was for Pooch himself and not his ability to get revenge on Max.

This was a nightmare. One that he'd survived and regretted until his dying day. Roque had been the first to fall…his loyalty shattering long before his life. Then months later Clay had followed him into death with Cougar right on his heels, each a broken man in their own ways. Only he and Jensen had lived to see the end of Max…and Jensen's sanity was just as dead as his lover. Pooch had gone home to his wife and son and Jensen had wandered the globe in a haze of tequila and rage only to pop up again several years later with a new name and a new team of mercs.

Jensen had been calling himself Gunnar and running with a crew calling themselves the Expendables. Pooch'd done some work for them as a mechanic and come running to pick them up in some God-forsaken spot as an emergency extraction a time or two…but for the most part, he'd been retired. A family man.

Now here he was, back in the past and wondering what the fuck had happened to bring him there.

He listened, in horror, as Clay gave a speech about getting Max and their lives back. *No. This was not happening.* He listened to Roque lie and say he was in total support of the plan. *Not again. He couldn't go through all this shit again.*He saw out of the corner of his eyes as Cougar opened his mouth to chime in support and quickly snapped out a hand to clench the sniper on the shoulder, halting him before he said a word.

"Fuck you!" Pooch could hear the rage in his own voice; see the shocked looks on his teammate's faces. "No! Revenge Clay? That's your big plan? Putting personal revenge ahead of your team's health and happiness? Ahead of the safety of their families?"

He turned his glare on Roque.

"And you! You fucker! You planning to double cross Max and Wade the way you are us? So…what did they offer you that was worth handing us over to them? Huh?"

Roque's eyes went wide and all the confused yelling by Clay and Jensen stopped when the SIC said, "How did you know...?" and then pulled a gun.

Cougar dove onto Jensen, rolling them both off the checkout counter to the floor even as Clay and Pooch both dodged to either side. Roque was faster though, and a bullet blasted its way through Pooch's side. With a grunt of pain, Pooch dropped to the ground and clutched at his wound, desperately trying to ride the waves of burning agony assaulting him. It was so bad he'd nearly missed the second bang of a gunshot or the wet thud of a body hitting the ground.

He looked up to see Clay with a smoking gun in his hand and a broken look in his eyes. He glanced down to see Roque laying in a puddle of puddle, half his skull missing.

"Damn…" he wasn't sure who said it, but he full heartedly agreed.

"He was really going to sell us out?" Clay's voice was sad beyond belief and he looked like someone had canceled Christmas forever.

"Yeah," Pooch sighed even as Cougar rolled him over to check out his brand new bullet hole. "At the Port of LA. It's a trap…he was gonna turn us over to Max and Wade for money."

Jensen

Jensen blinked and looked around at the jungle he'd suddenly found himself in. His first thought was that Barney was gonna kick his ass and that Yin would let him, twisted little fucker that he was. That's when he noticed he wasn't surrounded by the Expendables, but by ghosts from the past.

Clay. Roque. Pooch. Cougar. *fuck* The Losers.

Jensen wasn't a Loser anymore, hadn't been for…damn, decades. Shortly after Clay and Max and fuck…Cougar…had died, he'd changed his name to Gunnar and joined a merc group called the Expendables. Speaking of, when the hell was Yin gonna yank him back out of this memory based delusion or dream or whatever and back into reality. Reality in which he was a quickly aging merc whose sanity had been lost long ago in the blast of an environmentally clean mushroom cloud.

His mind shied away from that memory and focused on his surroundings to distract himself.

The Losers. Bolivia. al-Fadhil's compound in the valley below.

Well…fuck.

Why is his mind dredging up this shit again? Fuck that, why is he hallucinating at all? Because this can't be real. He doesn't remember doing any drugs recently. Hell, he'd been clean for months now. Wait…he'd been shot, so he must be drugged up in some two-bit shady hospital or clinic somewhere. If so, Yin is probably pissed off. Damn.

Feeling very surreal and out of place, Jensen watched Cougar set up his scope. He knows what Cougar will see…innocent children. He grimaced and looked away.

Why is his drugged mind replaying this memory? Sadly, twenty five dead kids isn't the worst thing Jensen has ever seen. He forced away the memory of a mushroom cloud once again and conceded that this memory sucks. Mostly because it was the mission that broke Roque's faith in his nation, Clay's purpose in life, and Cougar's belief in God.

Jensen would spare them all that pain if he could, but he's not really here. This is just a memory from when he was still young innocent Corporal Jake Jensen and soon he'll wake back up to find he's Gunnar Jensen and Barney will bitch him out while Yin stands there like a silent guardian angel with love in his eyes and violence only a heartbeat away.

Then, just as he knew he would, Cougar spotted the kids and called Clay over to look. Jensen glared down at his Comm equipment and contemplated all the various scenarios he'd ever considered doing if he could just go back in time to this one moment and change things.

Was this a lucid dream? Could he go against his memories? Could he change things? Does it even matter?

Yeah…yeah it does. He's got to try and save the Losers even if it's only in his dreams.

By the time Clay's demanding to speak to Mission Control, Jensen has set up his equipment to record every word of the conversation. He listened with wicked glee as Max radiated evil across the open channel and incriminated himself by forcing through illegal orders. The others scrambled to quickly plan an invasion of al-Fadhil's compound to rescue the children, but Jensen was busy typing furiously on his laptop. It was crazy easy to bypass what are ancient, to him, encryptions and his younger less-damaged fingers can once again keep up with his brain. Finally ready, he opened the Comm channel to Max once again.

"Hey, Max ol' boy."

The Losers all stopped what they were doing and turned to stare at him like he's a lunatic…or perhaps a live grenade.

"Yes?" Max's voice seemed amused under the layers of oily smarminess. "Corporal Jensen, is it?"

"Yeah…that's me." He winked at Cougar's stunned expression and continued talking to Max. "I just sent you an email, buddy. You might want to open it and follow the YouTube link. I think you'll find it…educational."

"Jensen!" Clay hissed, "What the fuck!"

Jensen just beamed a smile and flashed the battle hand signal for 'wait' at him.

"This better be good, Corporal. I don't appreciate people wasting my time." Max's voice came over the Comm a mix of suspicion and curiosity. They could hear the soft sounds of mouse clicks. Then suddenly, they heard a perfectly clear recording of the conversation between Max and Clay.

((Clay: I'm calling an onsite abort.))

((Max: Well, that was just stupid.))

((Clay: Is this the Mission Controller?))

((Max: This is Max, Colonel Clay.))

((Clay: No one uses names on Comms. This is a secure military channel.))

((Max: Is it really…))

((Clay: Goddammit! You listen to me! There are children on site!))

((Max: And you think I didn't know that? We locked coordinates the moment you painted. Delivery will occur on schedule. You have yourself a super day.))

When the recording ended, Jensen chuckled wickedly. "If you look at the email header, you'll see that I carbon copied that link to the POTUS, the VP, and the heads of the CIA, the FBI, the NSA, and even the DOD."

Jensen looked up to see Clay grinning proudly, Roque and Pooch clapping each other's backs and Cougar mentally undressing him with bedroom eyes. This was turning from a nightmare into one hell of a good dream.

"You're done Max." Jensen said over the Comms. "No matter what happens to us, you are done!"

Incoherent sounds of anger and denial sputtered from Max's lips even as random people were yelling conflicting orders in the background. Jensen just smirked at the chaos he'd caused.

"I'm sorry Max. I can't stay and chat longer. The Colonel is making hurry it up motions. He's all eager to save those innocent children from your evil diabolical plans of world domination. Later, man."

With that, Jensen switched the Comms to the team's private secure line. He looked up in time to have Clay's hand grip him on the back of the neck and squeeze approvingly.

"You'll probably get in trouble for that little stunt, but for what it's worth, I'm proud of you and will back you up."

Then Clay gave him a gentle shove towards Cougar.

"Get your gear together, we got kids to save and we're on a timer."

Cougar helped him pack his stuff together quickly and just before he turned to get in the truck he whispered in Jensen's ear, "If we survive this, I am going to suck your cock."

Jensen beamed. This…was a pretty damn good dream. He'd have to tell Yin about it when he woke up.