Caboose is aware of her. She's Agent Carolina, she's from home, she's familiar. She's Reds and Blues and Bases and Freelancers and Military. She's Known, she's Safe. She's his friend, she's Important.

So he can notice her and not have to do anything and nobody will yell at him. Even soldiers can trust their team mates. They're your friends.

She comes to the fire, and he notices her but he's also glad. He worried he wouldn't see her, that she might hurt too much.

(He knows she got on the big stage. He knows everyone who did got hurt. He is ready for her to pretend to be mean because it hurts so bad--Church did that. He did that a lot of times. He misses Church.)

He misses Church so much.

She sits next to him, and she curls up into a little ball, and even though he's still sad, still hurts, still misses Church so much, Caboose feels like he can breathe.

She gets all of five seconds before Caboose turns towards her--and just wraps his arms around her, face mashed to her shoulder, squeezing tight but not to hurt.

Squeezing to hold the broken pieces together. Squeezing to get the rest of the hurt out. Squeezing to keep the warmth and the quiet and the home in so there won't be so many bad dreams later.

Squeezing because...

"...bloop, squish--sound 'ffects."