"Caboose?" Tucker's voice slices gently through the tangible silence that has fallen on the cell.

Caboose does not stir from where he sits, slumped in the corner of the cell. His knees are drawn up to his chest with his arms crossed on top of them, effectively blocking the world out until he is ready to deal with it.

"Caboose come on, everything is gonna be okay." Tucker says, kneeling to Caboose's level. "Grif brought help and we are going to get out of here and kill those asshole imposters. But when . . . Ugh, when Locus comes we all need to be ready so would you please stand up?"

Tucker is met with more silence. The only indication that Caboose has heard him is the sharp jerk of the blue soldier's helmet as he turns his face even further from Tucker's gaze.

Tucker looks through two sets of bars at Grif and Simmons, shrugging and making an exasperated grunt.

Grif steps forward, "Caboose I know that this totally sucks, and that you really really miss your best friend," he glances at Simmons, "but sometimes life is just really fucking stupid. This is one of those times, but you have all of us and we all have a new friend coming to help us"

"I wouldn't say friend per say-" Simmons starts but Grif elbows him in the stomach. Simmons sighs, "I mean yes we have a brand new friend coming to rescue us and he definitely won't kill us and team up with the bad guys because he has no history of bad judgement whatsoever."

Grif and Tucker stare at Simmons. "What?" He asks incredulously.

Tucker is about to agree with Simmons and also scold him for making the Caboose situation worse when a quiet statement reaches his helmet's audio receptors.

"I don't want any new friends." Caboose says in a sulky near-whisper. "I just want Church back." He draws his arms tighter around his shoulders.

"Oh Caboose . . ." Simmons says softly.

"He can't come back buddy," Tucker says, placing a hand on his friend's shaking shoulder, "but I've got a very important job for you okay?"

Caboose looks up in a small gesture of curiosity. "You do?"

"Yeah," he says, scooting closer, "I want you to remember Church."

"Of course I remember him, he is my best friend." The others flinch at the use of the present tense.

"No no not like that. I want you to keep thinking about him, think about all the good times we had together, all the adventures. Focus on those things because we are lucky we had those times."

"I know I'm not very good at remembering, and," he sniffs, "stuff, but I'll try really hard this time."

"Good. Now pretty soon we are gonna be knee deep in some pretty fucked up shit so I want you to keep remembering him then, that's when you'll need him the most."

"But . . . But he's never coming back. He's gone like mean not-Church said."

"You know Caboose," Simmons chimes in, "a pretty wise person once told me that if you care about someone enough they never really are gone."

"Was it Ghandi?" Caboose says, perking up a bit.

"No. . ." Simmons said, confused.

"Was it Sarge?"

"No?"

"Was it the voices in your head because mine tell me things all the time." Caboose says.

Simmons laughs curtly, "No Caboose, it was you."

Caboose lifts his head from his arms for the first time since he sat down. "It was? Well wow I'm pretty smart then aren't I? I like me."

"Yeah we like you too, you big idiot. Now will you please get up so we can get ready to leave?" Grif asks affectionately.

"Okay." Caboose says simply, the dark cloud passing over for the moment. He stands with the help of Tucker, who offers a hand, and looks at his friends.

"I'll remember Church for all of us, Tucker. Promise" Caboose said, gripping his gun tighter and standing up to his full height

He would remember Church alright. He would remember him while he was ripping the heads off the heads of the blues and reds.