E/N For those of you who don't know, the artwork you see in the Chapter Header above is by obscuribus. I commissioned it when I was republishing Ships Ahoy! on Wattpad a year and a half ago, and it describes the climax of my first Odd Squad fanfic "Olive's Last Partner" which is referred to in this chapter of Agent0002's story. For this Chapter Header I did a simple photo edit where I placed a memed image of my own next to the artwork, and did not otherwise compromise the integrity of the original artwork in any way. For the original, see the chapter "The Rescuer" from Ships Ahoy!

DISCLAIMER: I do not own this fanfic, it is being republished with permission. Yes, I will say this in every chapter, just so y'all don't get the wrong idea.

"Ms. O, we have a report of oddness in... Ms. O? Ms. O?"

Olive looked up at the assistant who was holding a file and blinked. "Hm? Oh, sorry! I was just thinking about... Sorry. What were you saying?"

"I was just saying there was a report of oddness on the northeast side of town. Have you had lunch yet, Ms. O?"

"No, Ott—er, Mr. O and I were going to go grab a bite at Delivery Debbie's. Speaking of which, where is he?" Olive asked, looking around the room with confusion.

"Mr. O is out on quote 'Important Business.' Didn't he tell you before he left?"

"Oh, yes, of course. Sorry about that, just a lot of, er, oddness right now. Um, would you mind taking that file to..." she shuffled through a stack of papers, "Omicron and O'Shelby? I think I'll take my lunch break now."

"Yes ma'am, enjoy your lunch!"

Olive stood and forced a smile. "Thank you." As soon as the assistant left, she shut the door and pulled up her live map of headquarters, descending to the very lowest level of the building...

* * * * *

Oona and Otis leaned forward in their chairs, hanging on to Otto's every word.

"Then I opened the door and froze the orange juice. Oscar was holding Olive's head above it on top of the ladder, and she was holding onto him. At the time, I didn't really think about how strange it was that Olive suddenly trusted him so much, especially since she hadn't exactly liked being around him before. But I guess I was too scared of the flood to wonder about it. After that, Oscar and Olive slowly got friendlier in front of me, and secretly—"

"It wasn't really secretly, Otto. Everyone knew about it but you," Ms. O chuckled.

"Oh, fine. Well, without me knowing, they were going out to dinner together and on cases and stuff. Anyways, I didn't suspect anything until suddenly they were sitting side by side on a bench in the warehouse with his arm around her."

"Wait, so what happened in the boiler room that made them change so quickly?" Olympia asked, eyebrows furrowed.

"Aside from almost dying together? This," Ms. O replied as she turned off the lights and pressed a button on her remote.

A grainy security camera video filled the screen, and the sickening roar of liquid filling a room—well—filled the room. Two figures stood on a ladder, a girl and a boy. The roar of the orange juice drowned out most of the conversation, but it was clear that, while Oscar was afraid, Olive was angry. Then, with a final outburst from Olive, the tone of the room suddenly changed, as if all of the rage and fear had frozen at her words. Oscar nodded. And suddenly Olive was crying, talking through tears.

Oona stood subconsciously and leaned in even closer to the screen, mentally measuring every centimeter between them. Olive was sobbing now, sending shudders through her entire body. Oona held her breath as she watched the distance between the two disappear, Olive resting her head on a bewildered Oscar's shoulder. Oona melted to the floor.

"Oona," Otis whispered. "I think you're going to want to see this."

The orange juice had risen nearly to Olive's shoulders, but neither agent seemed to notice. Oscar was speaking now. He reached up to scratch the back of his neck.

Oona pointed at the screen. "THERE! The neck scratch! It's sort of a nervous habit, he only ever does it around Olive. I guess it's actually an I-really-like-this-person habit."

Olympia crossed her arms. "Or a this-person-makes-me-uncomfortable habit."

Oona ignored her comment and kept watching as the pair finally noticed how perilously close Olive was to drowning. Oscar picked her up and held her tight as she once again laid her head on his shoulder. The screen went dark.

* * * * *

Olive strode out of her office confidently, calmly slid down the fire pole, nodded at the few agents still at headquarters for their lunch break, grabbed a sandwich and thermos of tea from the break room, and called up the elevator. An eternity passed before it finally reached the main floor. She stepped inside and pressed a button that would take her to the underbelly of headquarters.

Okay Olive, think about this logically. It was just a compliment, people compliment their ex-girlfriends. You're just trying to make it into something it wasn't.

The elevator doors opened into a long, artificially-lit corridor filled with pipes. Though she had never seen it before, the hallway was warm and familiar, an exact copy of Precinct 13579's. Just as she had commissioned it.

* * * * *

As the lights came back on, Oona turned to see a very stunned Olympia sitting with her knees up to her chest, biting her lip.

"See, Olympia? Even you assumed shipping position," Oona said triumphantly.

Olympia's feet snapped back to the floor. "No I didn't!" She cleared her throat and crossed her arms, attempting to look nonchalant. "I mean, none of us even know what they were saying."

"Well, actually we do have a version with enhanced audio, but we didn't show it to you out of respect for their privacy," Ms. O explained.

"And because we lost it," Otto mumbled. Ms. O elbowed him.

"Basically they admit that they both liked each other all along."

Olympia threw her hands in the air. "Okay, fine, maybe they did, but they were about to drown! I mean, I bet if Otis and Oona were locked in a room filling with orange juice, they'd do the same thing!"

Otis and Oona looked at her, eyebrows raised.

She lowered her voice. "Too far fetched?"

Otis nodded slowly.

"Well, you get the point! I need more proof than that, and NOT in a life or death situation."

Ms. O looked at Otto. "Should we show her?"

He pursed his lips. "I'm afraid it's the only way she'll accept it."

* * * * *

Olive's hand shook as she pushed the familiar orange triangle. The door hissed open. Her eyes searched every surface, and she was filled with awe. Everything was exactly the same as 13579's boiler room, all the way down to the smell. She leaned against a wall and sank to the floor.

You're not ready for a relationship again, you know that. You're being selfish, Olive. Look at all the great things that have happened! You break up for a few months, and already he's become President of the Scientists and helped save the world. There's no way that would've happened if you were still in a relationship. What's the point of being back together anyway? You're only twelve and he's only eleven. Well, actually, considering the voice change and all, he's probably...

"Oh! Ms. O? I-I hope I didn't interrupt anything, I w-was just g-going to..." stammered the very small boy in a maintenance uniform, a look of terror filling his eyes.

"No, no, you're fine! I was just...thinking. Nothing important," she interjected with a smile. My goodness, he can't be much older than six, and the poor thing is terrified. Come on, Ms. O, stop thinking about yourself, make him welcome. "I don't believe we've met. Are you new here?"

"Y-yes ma'am, it's my first day. O-officially. I mean, I was here a few months ago for the big renovations, b-but I was just in training." He put his hands behind the back and glued his eyes to the floor.

"You helped with all this?" she asked, standing and gesturing at the room.

A smile flickered across his face. "Yes, they let me help fill the boilers with orange juice."

"Well, you and the rest of the maintenance team did a fantastic job, Agent...?"

"Oh, my name is Oliver," he provided, then grinned. "Agent Oliver."

"Really? What a coincidence, your name sounds a lot like mine!" she remarked, extending her hand to him. "You can call me Olive." She glanced around the empty room and whispered conspiratorially, "But don't tell the others."

He nodded, wide eyed. "Um, Ms. Olive, can I ask you a question?"

"Sure, Oliver, what is it?"

"Why did you want the boiler room to look like this? And why orange juice?"

She sat down again and stared off into space. "Well, that's a very long story." That I don't really feel like telling right now.

The little boy sat down cross-legged and looked at her expectantly.

She looked at him. He's not leaving.

He looked at her.

She looked at him.

He looked at her.

Finally, she shook her head. I've gotta hand it to him, the kid's persistent. "Okay, fine, I've got some time. One day, all the way back in 1996, a boy even younger than you joined Odd Squad..."

* * * * *

Oona sniffled and dabbed a tissue at her eyes.

"No, no, you're right," Oscar said on the screen and took a shuddering breath. "Still... y-you're the best thing that's h-happened to me, and—"

"Oh no, same, absolutely! Even when we—well, even when I hated you for that awful year, I...I wouldn't trade one day for anything. Not one day."

"N-neither would I, heh. Neither would I." He let go of her hands.

Oona, eyes still glued to the screen, put a death grip on one of Otis's hands.

Oscar's arms slowly enveloped Olive.

Otis, startled and in pain, attempted to wriggle his hand free.

Oona made a sound resembling a balloon losing air.

Olympia held her breath.

Oscar's hand intertwined in Olive's hair.

Oona brought her knees to her chin and rocked back and forth, making delighted pterodactyl noises.

Ms. O's voice on the recording broke the mood. "Places, everyone! They're on their way back now!"

Olive quickly stepped back. "We should go."

"Yeah. We'll still keep in touch, right? Y'know, just as friends?" Oscar asked, his voice husky.

"Otto turns eleven next week," she reminded him. "I'll look forward to it. Just as friends."

"Yeah. Just as friends."

"Yeah."

The pair didn't move.

Ms. O's voice cut through the hallway again. "Olive! Oscar! Your doors, now!"

They looked at each other, eyes filled with every emotion imaginable. Olive bounced on the balls of her feet, and suddenly her lips met his.

* * * * *

"I was so angry that I ran away and hid in the ball pit all afternoon. I spent an entire year hating him, and even Ms. O a little. I was bitter and hurt and, all in all, miserable. Then one day, Ms. O sent Otto and me on a sort of mission to the boiler room."

Oliver looked around the room they sat in. "One that looked just like this?"

"Well, almost. Most days it looked just like this, but that day—" she stood and walked to a certain spot "—there was a ladder right here. And a lot of green slime from a blobisite who was clogging the pipes. And..."

"Agent Oscar?"

"Right. I was irritated to say the least. To make matters worse, Oscar sent Otto to the next room over in order to catch the blobisite. It was just me and him, and, well, I'm not really proud of what happened next..."

Oliver's eyes widened.

"I... It was all my fault, really. Listen, this is your life lesson for the day. If you are ever assigned to work with someone, always listen to and work with them, even if you hate them. I didn't do that, and it nearly cost two lives. Oscar warned me not to turn around, so of course I turned around. He was holding the one thing that scares me most, because apparently it scares blobisites too. When I saw it, I backed into one of the boilers and accidentally ripped a hole in the metal. The room started filling with orange juice, and fast. We both climbed up the ladder to buy some time and...well, it's hard to stay mad at someone you're going to die with. We both did what we should've done years before, told each other everything. Absolutely everything." Olive stopped for a beat before continuing. "He...he saved my life that day by holding me above the juice. Finally, just before our heads went under, Otto froze all of the juice with a Freeze-Ray-inator and got us free."

"That sounds scary!"

"It was, even scarier than...the thing Oscar was holding. Ahem, anyways, that's beside the point. That actually turned out to be one of the best days of my life—it helped me let go of the bitterness and realize what was really important. Oscar and I were friends again," she explained. "So that's why I asked you guys to make the changes to the boiler room and sprinkler system, to remind me of Osc—of my friends that I had to leave at Precinct 13579."

Oliver nodded. "I think I get it. I have one more question, though. How do you do the thing?"

Olive looked confused. "What thing?"

"The age thing? If I added it right, you're 22, and President Oscar is 24. That can't be right."

"Oh, no, I'm 12. I forgot, some maintenance workers don't get badges, right?"

Oliver shook his head.

"You probably want to know how that works, huh? Listen, we better get back to work now, but if you come here for lunch tomorrow, I'll explain it to you."

Oliver grinned brightly and called back to her as he bounced out the door. "Thank you, Ms. O, I'll be here!"

* * * * *

"Oona!" Ms. O yelled for the third time.

"Come on, Oona, wake up," Olympia urged her.

The girl blinked slowly and sat up on her elbows. "Wh-what happened?"

"Olive and Oscar kissed and you passed out," Otis explained matter-of-factly.

Oona began to fall backwards again, but Olympia caught her.

"Whoa there. Listen, you were right. I don't really like it," Olympia acknowledged, "but you were right, and if it means Olive's happiness, I'll help."

Oona sat up. "Wait, really?"

Olympia nodded.

Oona squealed. "This is the third best day of my life!"

"Yeah, yeah. So what's the plan?"

Otto sat on the desk. "Well, actually we were hoping you'd have a plan."

The agents all looked at each other silently for a few minutes. Finally, Olympia spoke up.

"Okay," she said, standing. "So we come up with a plan. Chalkboard room?"

* * * * *

Olive leaned her head against the wall and took a deep breath. Okay, Olive. You can do this. He's just your friend. You don't want it to be that way, but it's better for him. You can do it for him. Now what are you waiting for? Get back to work!