#let's not talk about how Tucker and alpha church never saw each other again after blood gulch

[agentark]

one of my favorite moments in rvb, that I always forget about until it happens, is when Caboose is trying to catch Tucker up on how Church is NOT a ghost, but is in fact an artificial intelligence program, and Tucker is like, "Yeah, duh?? I already knew that??"

[rubykgrant]

(Wash)

The first video plays for them all, automatically.

He’d set it to some kind of timer, they aren’t sure how he figured out how long to make it last… had he actually calculated the exact right amount of time it would take for them to win the fight? Even with all the unknowns and variables? It doesn’t seem possible, but it also seems to be what happened.

There was just enough of a pause when the battle was over for them to barely catch their breath, and start to feel cautiously optimistic. They did it, they won. In fact, that is exactly what he tells them.

It doesn’t feel like a victory.

The first message plays for them all automatically. They don’t have a choice but to listen to it. Carolina and Wash hear it together, Doc hears it alone, and the rest of them hear it as a group. When he’s done talking, and what just happened starts to sink in, they each notice they have another message waiting for them… from him. Individual messages, sent to them all. These need to be opened and played voluntarily.

None of them play these videos. None of them talk about it, either. Because of this, they don’t even realize he sent a message to ALL of them. They wonder, why did I get another message? If they listened, they would have their answers… but none of them do, and none of them talk about it. Perhaps if they did, things would have happened differently. They would have seen that he had, in fact, said good-bye to everybody. They would have understood how they each felt about this situation a little better. They would have made different choices later. Instead, they don’t talk about it, and they don’t listen to the messages…

Wash doesn’t listen because he honestly doesn’t trust himself to… he doesn’t know how he’ll react, hearing Church’s voice again. He’s not sure what this message is, but it sure isn’t something Wash needs to hear. He’s not entirely sure WHAT he needs to do right now… and when in doubt, a Freelancer trains.

He’s not over-doing it. No really, he’s NOT. Just light work-outs, and lots of stretching. He wants to feel loose in case any left-over space pirates try to start something. This isn’t being over-prepared, it doesn’t make him a “workaholic”, he’s just being REALISTIC. Things could still happen. It wasn’t as if Church had magically solved all their problems… there was aftermath. Consequences to actions. Even if things seemed OK, that could change, SUDDENLY, and Wash… he just wanted to be ready.

He had wanted Tucker to be ready… he had tried to prepare Tucker for whatever difficulties they might have to face, but Wash hadn’t even considered that they’d be separated and then tricked into taking part in a fabricated civil war. He hadn’t considered that Tucker, without his best friend OR his mentor around, would bond with a manipulative killer, only to be betrayed and humiliated. He hadn’t considered that Carolina and Church would suddenly return. He hadn’t considered that Church, who was really EPSILON, would go and…

Wash should have done a better job, but he had failed them. Nobody was looking at him with a glare or talking to him with a tone of blame, but that was just because they couldn’t see how much of this was his fault… not just here on Chorus, but before. WAY before. He should have done better on his Recovery missions. He should have figured the truth sooner; that Church was the Alpha. Wash should have SAVED Church, not let him destroy himself with the Emp (E-M-P, dang it! E-M-P! THEY GOT HIM DOING IT NOW, TOO!). Wash should have… not been so willing to hurt them all…

That still felt so awful to think about. He had decided that yes, it was totally a good idea to go on a murder-mission with the empty husk that, once-upon-a-time, had been a friend of his. Why? Oh, just to avoid being locked up. Who was going to lock him up? Why, the same people who had been pulling the strings from the beginning… they sold him a lie, and he willingly bought it, then told them to keep the change. Brilliant. Great choice. Best decision. Of all time. Ever.

The same people he had tried to kill decided to go ahead and basically adopt Wash, like a hissing stray cat that scratched and bit them… but they still took it home. They took Wash home with them, and it had actually been… OK. Weird, for sure, but mostly OK. Wash was starting to almost think he could get back to his “real self”, somewhere between the dork he always felt like around the other Freelancers, and the serious professional when he worked alone. He hoped this was the real him, it seemed the most “natural”, he wasn’t trying so hard to be something else or felt like he was losing control…

It was only in retrospect that Wash could see that the whole time he’d been working with the Meta, he hadn’t actually been in control. Sure, he had looked calm at times, but that was like the eye of a storm; deceptive and secretly violent. Looking back, it was clear he had been slowly going through a break-down that entire time. Cowardly and cruel. It was so OBVIOUS now, but when it was happening… he’d been willfully ignorant. The only other time he can think of… when he’d been so out of control, and yet later saw how things had been clearly building up to something awful… he’d been a kid. A stupid kid. A kid who had been dealing with a lot, too many problems that never really went away, nobody to help him, and then… he had hurt somebody. By the time he was sorry about it, it was far too late.

Wash wanted to try and think of problems BEFORE they happened, save other people the trouble of being hurt, either directly or indirectly by his actions. Tucker, Caboose, the others… they were his FRIENDS now. He wanted to keep them safe. He wanted to help them. Carolina was actually his friend now, too. After everything that happened, they were together again, and… Tucker hadn’t been ready. Wash hadn’t prepared him enough. Wash wasn’t good enough for ANY of them. Epsilon… Church… he had destroyed himself again. It wasn’t even the same “Church”, it wasn’t the Alpha, but still… he had deconstructed everything he was made of. Given his life to protect everybody. Again.

These were the consequences of Wash’s actions, the aftermath of his poor choices. When he heard that message, Church telling them they had won… Wash felt lost. Now that he’s learned to recognize his own emotions, Wash can sense something building up to a break-down. He doesn’t want to break anymore… himself, or other people. He has to step away from this, find a way to calm down. He can’t talk about it, because then everybody will KNOW this is all his fault. He can’t listen to Church again, either… he’ll lose control if he does, somehow, he’s not sure, but it feels too dangerous. He can apologize to everybody else, but he can’t apologize to Church... or forgive Epsilon, for what happened when they first met... when Epsilon had been out of control. Wash doesn’t play the other message.

[randomly-random-jen]

Attention to Detail (4/6)

A Red vs Blue fanfic

Chapter 4

It seemed like forever before Church got the vomiting under control. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand then gulped water right from the tap, swishing it around his mouth before spitting it out. What he wouldn’t give for a toothbrush right now.

He’d forgotten about this side of having fun. He found that kind of ironic—what with being made of pure memory. He didn’t dwell on it. He did consider ditching this body for someone less pukey, but after splashing water on his face, he felt better. And switching would just confuse Caboose.

Church hurried back to where he last saw the gang—near an ice cream stand where Grif had been trying to convince Simmons that mixing all ten flavors was a sure cure for a hangover—but when he got there, the shop had closed. Fuck.

He scanned the mass of people, looking for a mop of black hair bobbing above the others. Or a glimpse of the turquoise sundress Carolina was wearing that was giving Church very confusing and uncomfortable feelings. He saw only strangers.

“Great,” he muttered. “They ditched me.”

He rubbed his face, wincing at his sore nose. This poor bastard was going to wake up to one hell of a hangover in the morning. Instinctively, Church reached for his radio toggle before remembering a second later he wasn’t wearing his armor. He wasn’t even wearing his own skin. Now what? Caboose would never voluntarily leave without him, so he figured they went on ahead when he took too long.

He located the looming beast towering over the other buildings—the sounds of delighted screams drifting on the wind like a dream. His stomach twisted again, but he ignored it. How many battles had he been in now? How many near-deaths? How many horrible tortures had he endured? 

“Too fucking many,” he mumbled, getting a nasty look from a mother dragging a little girl behind her. The girl had red pigtails and green eyes. They were the wrong shade, but for a second he was back on Earth—a tiny girl by his side.

“Look at my dress, Daddy. It floats.”

Church shook his head as the spinning girl in his memories morphed into the one in front of him who was currently sticking out her tongue. He resisted the urge to flip the kid off.

“Sorry,” he mumbled to the lady then sprinted away because she had that look like she was about to lay into him. Carolina gave him that look a lot—it never ended well.

His heart didn’t settle for three whole blocks. What the hell was that? It sure wasn’t his memory. Or Alpha’s. But he knew, deep down, it was still him—Leonard Church. They were all essentially the same person at their core. Just their experiences sent them on different paths.

Church swallowed the lump in his throat and wiped the dampness from his cheeks. Fuck, he was never drinking again.

“Cody! Hey, Cody, wait up. Cody!” Someone grabbed Church’s arm, spinning him around. “I knew it was you?” the petite brunette said, hugging him. “It’s been forever. How have you been?”

“Uh-” Church blinked at the girl. It took him a second to match the name she called him to the one on the ID in his wallet. Cody Lawson. Age twenty-two. From Portland, Oregon. Wonder what he was doing so far from home? He cleared his throat when he realized she was waiting for some kind of response. “Um, okay, I guess?”

She slapped his arm. Hard. “That’s all you have to say? Okay, you guess? What happened to your grand plan to see the galaxy one planet at a time?”

“Well, um. I-” Was he always this awkward talking to girls? Tex would say yes. He shoved the thought of Tex way back in his brain where he kept the shit he wasn’t ready to deal with yet. The girl was still waiting for a real answer. The best lies are the ones rooted in truth. Someone had told him that once—probably Tex. He took a deep breath. “Well, see, there’s this war. And it’s pretty much everywhere, and one thing led to another. And I got drafted.” He shrugged.

Horror replaced the curiosity on her face. “Oh, Cody, no! You’re a pacifist. Can’t you like conscientiously object or something? Protest?”

Figures the guy in plaid shorts would be a pussy. But then he thought of Doc, and as annoying and often useless as the guy was, he held his own in battle. With or without O’Malley riding shotgun. “See, I figure,” Church told her, “I go into the medical corps. Couple years training to be a medic and then I’ll be saving people instead of shooting them.” He felt really proud of that whopper until the girl gasped.

“But you didn’t even finish high school. You said you were dropping out because you couldn’t read. I think you need to know how to read to be a medic.”

For crying out loud. He was so done with this conversation. Thankfully, he saw a flash of aqua and red hair in the distance. Finally. He shrugged at the girl. “Eh, I hear they take anyone now—they’re kind of desperate. Gotta go.” He didn’t wait for her to respond before taking off.

“Where the hell have you been?” Carolina yelled. Church was amazed at how clear her speech was when he was still fighting his tongue every other word.

“Nice to see you, too, sis.”

That softened the anger storming in her eyes. She took a deep breath, letting it out in a puff that ruffled her bangs. “Did I mention I’m a mean drunk?”

“The meanest,” Wash agreed, coming up behind her with a steaming cup of coffee. “This one time, her and Maine-”

Carolina slapped her hand over his mouth. “We agreed we’d never speak of that again.”

Wash winked at Church and mouthed, “I’ll tell you later.”

Church smiled. Damn, his face hurt from all of the smiling he’d done today. And it felt pretty fucking good. Seeing Carolina and Wash happy after everything they’d been through—even if it was for this brief moment—was worth compromising his dicey morals. He knew he was the cause of most of their pain. In one way or another. Wash more personally. His smile faltered. Another thought to keep Tex company in the back of his mind. Eventually, he would have to take stock and clear the skeletons in his closet. But not today. Today, he was on vacation.

“Where is everybody?” Church asked before he was swallowed by his dark thoughts.

“Don’t know. We turned around a second and they were gone,” Carolina said.

“And by ‘turn around,’ she means puking in a trash can and getting a ticket for public intoxication.” 

Church snorted as Carolina punched Wash in the arm. He rubbed the spot with a goofy grin.

Carolina grabbed their arms, dragging them along. “Come on Tweedledee and Tweedledum, let’s go find the others. It’s getting dark and we should be heading back.”

“Yes, Mom,” Wash mumbled.

“Don’t make me smack you again.”

“Yeah, Tweedledum, leave her alone. She’s had a hard day of drinking and puking.”

“Reminds me of my college days. Brief as they were.”

Carolina glared at Church over her shoulder. “Don’t think I won’t deck you, too.”

Church laughed. “Oh, I know you would, Carolina.” He shot her a crooked grin, getting an eye roll in return. It was weird seeing everyone without their armor. Faces expressed so much emotion that was normally lost behind a visor. He wondered how often Carolina rolled her eyes at him.

“Now wait a minute,” Wash said. “I am most definitely Tweedledee. You’re Tweedledum.”

“What? No way. I’m not being Tweedledum. He’s, well, the dumb one.”

A grin slid across Wash’s face. “Too bad. I call dibs.”

“You can’t call dibs on a name.”

“Can.”

“Not.”

“Carolina?”

She let out an exasperated sigh—the kind Church’s mother gave him when he was little and on her last nerve. “They’re both idiots so the names could go either way.”

“See,” Church said, but was cut off by Carolina.

“But, Tweedledee did call dibs. Sorry, Dummy.”

“You both suck,” Church grumbled while Carolina and Wash laughed at him. There was nothing but affection behind his words, though.

They finally arrived at the line for the roller coaster. The front half was full of queued people. The end was occupied by only three red soldiers.

“Lift those legs, maggots. Double time!”

“But, Sarge,” Grif whined as he jogged through the winding fences. “I’m on vacation.”

Simmons was a few turns farther along, cursing under his breath.

“Preparedness takes no vacations, Private. What would you do if we were suddenly attacked by unseen alien forces?”

“Honestly, sir,” Grif said through gasps, “I’d just bow down to my new alien overlords. They probably treat their army better than this.”

Sarge smacked Grif with a stick he was carrying like a shotgun. “Nonsense. You will lay down your life in the line of fire protecting your commanding officer. As it says in my report, er, will say. Now drop and give me twenty.”

The three of them gave Sarge a wide berth. Church was pretty sure Grif was crying. He hopped over the barrier to join Simmons as he walked back and forth along the path. “You okay?”

Simmons held his side and sucked in gulping breaths. “That man is deranged. He’s going to kill us. Kill Grif.”

They glanced over their shoulders. Wash patted Simmons’ shoulder. “I think I’ll go rescue him. I really don’t want to drag an unconscious Grif back to the ship. Save me a spot in line.”

Simmons moaned. “I am not going on that thing. I don’t care what Sarge does. I’ll take the court-martial. I don’t give a fuck. I’m done.” He slid under the fence and trudged to the nearest bench where he collapsed.

“Wow,” Church said. “Looks like Red team is falling apart.”

“It’s a nice change of pace,” Carolina said with a nod. The two of them continued to zig-zag along the path. Church smiled when Carolina started singing along with the song playing over the speakers lining the path. God, she was awful.

As they caught up with the tail end of the line, Church caught sight of a pink oxford shirt and ugly purple hoodie. “Hey, there’s the others,” he said with a sigh. “Finally.”

They annoyed quite a few people in line as they pushed through and hopped the fences to get to their friends. Doc and Donut waved, each holding an ice cream cone.

“Where the fu-” Tucker uncharacteristically stumbled over his words. He eyed a little old lady standing nearby and cleared his throat. “Heck. Where the heck have you been?”

“Long story,” Church said, absently. He counted the people with Tucker and came up one short. Church looked around. “Where’s Caboose?”

Tucker frowned. “I don’t know. I thought he was with you.”

Church’s real human heart stopped. His lungs refused to work. Shit. Shit. Shit. How could he let this happen? Caboose depended on him to keep him safe. And he failed.

Again.

Later, they’d go over the day, detail by detail, looking for those missed signs. Beating themselves up for not paying better attention. For not keeping a closer eye on Caboose. It will be one of those lessons they learned the hard way. Which, let’s face it, has been the majority of their lessons so far.

Chapter 3 | Chapter 5

[illumynare]

Red vs Blue Fic: Dibs

Summary: Wash has always wanted someone to choose him.

Parings: Wash/Carolina, mentions of past Yorkalina and Wash/CT

Warnings: Canon-typical language

Notes: also available on AO3!

Thanks to @tuckerfuckingdidit for Wash's line about calling dibs. <3

"C'mon," says York, heedlessly confident, "it's not the same."

Wash stares at him. He's lost track of what York was talking about—but York always creates his own context, and Wash finds himself nodding along regardless.

They're in a dirtside bar on a backwater colony. Wash is on his second Cosmo, Maine and Connie are both on their fourth vodkas, York has had only one one beer, and Carolina—

Carolina has her hand pressed between York's shoulder blades, her mouth kissing his temple.

It doesn't matter what she has or hasn't drunk; what matters is whom she blesses with her attention. And it's York she chooses, York whose lap she sits on as she calls out, "Hey, give me a bourbon," and the bartender slides her the drink. She tosses it back and for a moment Wash sees the pale arc of her throat—

He isn't jealous. Right now, Wash is in love with Connie; when her hand finds his under the table a moment later, he squeezes back, and his heart thumps. Later that night on the Mother of Invention, when the doors are safely locked behind them, he will kiss her and misunderstand her with a simple, honest delight.

(In another world, he will love her a little more, understand her a little better, and she will trust him a little further. They will save each other from the Project, and they will greet Carolina together when she comes looking for somebody to help her take down the Director.)

But right now, Wash stares at Carolina and York, at what seems like perfection in the way they smile at each other, and he slurps his drink. He remembers the first time he saw them together: in the Project Freelancer locker room, York fresh from the shower, Carolina drenched with sweat from a workout with Maine. He remembers how Carolina grinned as she slapped York's back with her sweaty towel, how he snapped to attention and said, "Yes, ma'am."

Wash isn't jealous of their relationship, of the open secret that makes South roll her eyes every time they sit together.

But the way that York was claimed by Carolina—the Carolina, leader of Alpha Squad and their undefeated Number One—so confidently and completely?

Yeah. He's jealous of that.

In this world, Wash serves the Project that murdered Connie, that turned Maine into a monster. He seldom dares to drink, but when he does, it's shot after shot of vodka, until the memories of Alpha and Epsilon start to blur in his head. (Until he can imagine that Maine and Connie are still beside him.)

Then he meets the Reds and Blues. He works with them, helps them—and they fucking betray him, leave him to rot in prison.

They deserve to have him turn on them, Wash tells himself, fiercely, desperately. He's done being the one left behind and screwed over. Let someone else pay the price for a change, he thinks, and he pulls the trigger on Donut. It's all they deserve.

But in the end, all it gets him is cracked ribs and blood in his mouth, a broken memory unit and no hope left.

"I'm done," he tells Sarge, and lets himself fall into the snow.

"We are going to be best friends," says Caboose, five minutes later when Wash wakes up to find himself half-naked.

"Caboose, none of us are friends," Tucker groans, but he keeps snapping pieces of Church's armor onto Wash.

That night, Caboose gives him orange juice and Tucker gives him tequila and Wash can't believe this is happening, that this is real. That somebody, somewhere, wants to claim him. He sips at his drink and waits for it all to disappear.

But when he wakes up the next morning, Caboose is still slouched against him, snoring. Tucker is still curled up in his chair, the half-empty bottle of tequila cradled against his chest.

Wash thinks, What the hell. Maybe.

So he lives.

He lives, and that means that eventually, he lives with Carolina.

He lives with her, and he watches her drink from her water bottle after a work-out. He sees the glistening sweat on her arms, he sees the silhouette of her throat, and there's a sudden heat at the pit of his stomach, a wanting that makes his breath shallow.

But he knows: she doesn't want him.

If she did, she would already have claimed him.

Tucker pulls him aside one afternoon after Wash's gaze has been too naked. He says, "Okay, so you want to bang her."

"What?" Wash's voice cracks. "I don't—"

"Dude," says Tucker, "it's simple. You just gotta say, 'Hey baby, did you fall from heaven? Because I've always wanted to bone an angel.'"

Wash stares at him. "You think that line will work. On Carolina."

"Well, I mean, it didn't work when I used it, but you're a Freelancer, right? It's gotta work for you."

Wash looks at Tucker, at his wide open eyes and his simple, honest faith. He thinks of how all the Freelancers looked at each other—even York and Carolina, even Wash and Connie—when the numbers changed on the leaderboard. And he thinks again of how he is not worthy of his new team, he has never been worthy.

But here he is.

And gratefully, wordlessly, he pulls Tucker into a hug.

"Uh, dude—"

"Shut up, Captain Tucker," Wash says into his shoulder, and Tucker grumbles, "Ugh, fine," but he hugs him back and his fingers find that special spot at the base of Wash's neck.

"If you lick it," says Grif, "it's yours. Subsection 26.107 of the International Dibs Protocol."

"But mint-chocolate is my favorite," Simmons wails, as Grif crams half the ice cream bar into his mouth.

"Mwuh meh yuhh ohhhh," says Grif, and Wash is a little embarrassed at how easily he translates that into Go get your own.

"That was the only one, you fucker!" Simmons yells, and tackles him.

Wash looks at the pile of ice cream bars, and wonders if he could manage to grab the double-fudge one without Tucker stabbing him—

And Carolina leans over to lick his cheek.

Her tongue is warm and wet and it sends an electric shock down his spine. He can't move, he can't breathe. His face is burning hot, and he knows he's turning five different shades of red.

Through the daze, he realizes that both Tucker and Donut are whistling and clapping. And Carolina—she can't mean this, she can't, but she's still beside Wash, her hand pressed into into his spine between his shoulder blades.

"Carolina," he says, and his voice is hoarse—everyone is looking at him, this is the most embarrassing thing he has ever experienced, but Carolina is what matters, Carolina who cannot possibly—

"You could've just called dibs," he manages to mutter.

She catches at his chin with two fingers. Turns his face to look at her.

"Dibs," she says, and only somebody who had been in Project Freelancer with her could hear the doubt in her voice now.

So Wash can only give her one answer.

He takes her hand. Leans forward. Lets his nose nuzzle hers—their lips brush for a moment, and it feels like the world is shivering apart—

She kisses him.

He kisses her back.

Vaguely, Wash is aware of his own heartbeat. Of Carolina's fingers almost painfully locked into his hair. Of Red Team and Blue Team settling up bets around them.

But what he truly knows is just—

Carolina.

Choosing him.

So he kisses her, and chooses her back.

[secretlystephaniebrown]

Time’s Running Out: India

Sorry for the delay on this chapter, there were a lot of things happening these past few weeks! Hopefully things will normalize a bit from now on!

Anyways, on to part 2, where we pat canon condescendingly on the head. Thanks to everyone who took the time to leave a comment on the last chapter, you guys are wonderful and help motivate me to keep this story going!

Summary: The Reds and Blues; and their respective Freelancers, find themselves stranded on a strange planet named Chorus. Secrets, lies, and the unexpected seem to lie around every corner, and there might be even larger threats looming over the horizon.

They’re possibly even less ready for Chorus than Chorus is for them.

Pairings: Lots of friendships, Suckington, Yorkalina, Chex, eventual Yorkimbalina, possible others.

Start

Previous

Ao3

Tex didn’t like Armonia. But then again, she didn’t have the best track record with cities.

It was a well-formed grid of a city, complete with two walls. Turrets and watch towers were visible at regular intervals, showcasing that this was the city of a world at war. The capital city, no less. There were roads and various buildings, the city divided into various quarters. Once, according to the maps Tex had managed to download, the city would have had all sorts of things. Museums and tourist places, residential areas, and the like. There were parks and people lived in houses, not barracks.

Years at war had changed that. No one lived too far from the military bases, as Armonia no longer had a civilian population to speak of. Instead, they crowded into barracks not too far from headquarters, which had once been the capitol building of the city. The parks that Tex had seen had been turned into functional farms to try to grow crops to help supplement the ordinary rations.

Tex gazed upwards, at the open sky. The New Republic had lived in caves for years, avoiding the gaze of the Federal Army and protecting them from aerial attacks.

Armonia had no such defenses. They were vulnerable to the sky. They were a bright, obvious target. The New Republic, by moving here, had sacrificed mobility and the option of guerilla warfare. Tex knew there was an argument to be made for strength in numbers, but she hated the idea of being trapped here. There was a river right to the south, another major weak point that Felix and Locus would be sure to exploit. She’d have to talk to the generals about doubling the patrol there, maybe mining the river…

“Why are you on the roof?” Church’s voice said behind her. Tex didn’t turn around.

“I like roofs,” she said.

Church hesitated, as if he had something he wanted to say, but he decided against it. He sat next to her instead. Tex angled her head slightly to look at him, making sure that he hadn’t fallen apart since she’d seen him last. But he still looked fine, his new armor clean and remarkably intact for everything they’d gone through. And he felt whole as he ever did, another thing to be grateful for. They hadn’t touched him. She’d know if they had, she was sure of that.  

“I’m glad you’re back,” he said.

Tex nodded. After a moment of hesitation, she placed her hand on top of his in a deliberate motion. She saw no need for physical affection beyond that, not here and now. Later, maybe, she’d check him over fully and let him do the same for her. But now, this was enough.

She’d take these quiet moments where she could find them, in the middle of this new war.  

“I need to go,” she said after a moment.  “I want to investigate the docking bay.”

He nodded. She was loathe to remove her hand, but she did, jumping off the roof without care that the fall would injure most people.

Tex was not most people. Her landing was heavy, sure, but there were no witnesses besides Church, and it was faster than the stairs. So what if there were a few small cracks in the concrete that hadn’t been there before? No one would notice.

The docking bay was a bit of a walk from the headquarters, but Tex took it invisibly. It would be faster if she had borrowed a mongoose, but she couldn’t be bothered to do so, not when the trip was so short. People were already running around, moving in supplies from the caches both armies had all over the planet. Tex wanted to inspect some of them. Felix and Locus had known where these caches were, and she wouldn’t put it below them to do something like tampering with the weapons or food that they were going to need to survive.

She was initially pleased to spot a group of mixed cadets; Feds and Rebels both unloading their shipments, before she realized that they were tolerating each other for the sake of gossip.

“I definitely heard that Felix skinned a guy alive,” one of the Feds said, leaning in close, as if afraid she might be overheard. “I know a chick who was stationed in the south, and she swears she found the knife near his body. Orange stripe on the blade, y’know. Like he’s bragging. He wants people to know it’s him” She shook her head. “Locus was creepy and all, but at least I never heard of him torturing people for information.”

One of the rebels scoffed. “That’s a load of bullshit,” he said. “I heard that Locus tortures plenty.”

“Yeah, c’mon,” another rebel added. “The guy’s a fucking machine. He doesn’t care about things like that. I heard he tried to kill Agent Washington even though he was supposed to be with your group.”

Tex felt her mouth tug down in a frown, despite herself. Gossip was normally just irritating, but this was getting under her skin for reasons she didn’t care to examine. Tex ducked behind a pillar to decloak, before stepping out behind them. Normally she wouldn’t have bothered to hide her appearance, but people were jumpy about invisibility because of Locus. Yet another thing for her to hold against him. “You should probably get moving,” she said, keeping her voice deceptively mild. “We’re on a schedule.”

One of the Feds let out a small scream. “Yes, sir, Agent Texas!”

Tex was glad to see that Grif and Simmons were spreading her reputation around.

Seeing Tucker in a hospital bed, surrounded by medical equipment and all-too-still was one of the most difficult sights of Wash’s life. Wash didn’t like to quantify things like this, didn’t like to make lists of the macabre and awful things he’d seen and even done. But there were bandages on Tucker’s stomach stained with blood.

Doctor Grey had assured him and Kai repeatedly that Tucker was fine, but none of that removed the image seared into his mind from Kai’s description of the way that Tucker had crumpled to the ground. He hadn’t been there. He’d been too far away to be of any help, his ribs cracked and bruised from the brutal beating Locus had given him. But Kai had seen it all, seen every second, perched as she was on top of the tower with Carolina and the others. And from the way that she held Tucker’s hand, Wash thought she might have had it worse.

Wash held Tucker’s left hand in his own, running his thumb over his knuckles, his eyes flickering between Tucker and Kai.

The Reds and Blues had taken him in. They had given him a home. But it was Kai and Tucker who had looked at him, broken and screwed up as he was, and wanted him anyways. They were everything Wash wanted, and everything he knew he didn’t deserve, no matter how many times that they told him otherwise. He was lucky, amazingly lucky, that they loved him.

He was never going to let anything like this happen to Tucker again. Bad enough they’d been separated for so long, bad enough having spent every day not knowing if he was alright. But this?

Wash didn’t know how many more times he could take a sight like this before he lost it.  

“How’s he doing?” Tex asked, poking her head in. She looked tired. She’d been running ragged over these past few days, trying to hunt down Felix and Locus. Wash had tried to tell her that she was wasting her time, but then he’d looked at Tucker again, and hadn’t found the words.

“He was awake longer this time,” Kai said quietly.

“Good,” Tex said. There was a dark, dangerous note to her voice that was reminiscent of how she’d sounded under Omega’s influence. “Has Church come to visit?”

“No,” Wash said. He reached up and pressed his fingers against Tucker’s cheek. “I think he’s… struggling.”

Tex let out a sound that Wash might have described as tired. “He is.” She moved closer to Tucker’s bed, hovering. “We were lucky,” she said. “They didn’t know who he was. They would have…”

“I know,” Wash said. God, he knew all too well the kind of things that might happen to Alpha if people with few enough morals got their hands on him. “But they don’t know. He’s safe.”

“They’ll figure it out if they put together that Epsilon sounds just like him,” Tex said. She stood at the foot of Tucker’s bed and gripped the posts, bowing her head. She was practically shaking with exhaustion or rage or something else entirely that Wash couldn’t place. She hadn’t removed her armor, but Wash knew her eyes were firmly on Tucker’s face. “This was too close,” she said.

“Yes,” Wash agreed.

“I’ve gotten sloppy,” Tex muttered, more to herself than to Wash. Wash looked up, surprised.

“Tex,” he said. “This wasn’t on you.” There were a thousand people Wash would blame before he thought to blame Tex. A part of him, before he’d met Kai and Tucker, had blamed Tex for parts of Freelancer. He was not immune from the competitiveness, from the bitterness that had tainted the rest of the project, and the favoritism that the Director had shown Tex, and the knowledge that the Director had thought that everything he was doing, he was doing for her, grated.

But he knew better now. Tex had been a victim, as much as the rest of them had been.

And she had been the one to take her vengeance on the man who had ruined all their lives, at least, if Sarge had guessed correctly. And Wash had learned long ago not to doubt Sarge’s deductions.

“I should have killed Felix at the cliff,” she said. “Sloppy. Soft.” There was a huff, as if she was taking a deep breath, but that was impossible, because Tex didn’t breathe anymore than Church did. But somewhere in that sound, Wash thought he heard another word, hissed like a curse.

“Human.”

But before Wash could ask Tex any questions, Tucker began to stir again, eyelids fluttering as he started to drift awake. When Wash looked up from Tucker’s face again, Tex was gone, without as much as a shimmer in the air to indicate that she was nearby.

And then Wash was too busy to remember Tex’s musings, occupied as he was with trying to stop Tucker from ripping his stitches as he tried to get out of bed far before Dr. Grey wanted him to.

“Tucker, sit down,” he said. “You’re going to make it worse.”

“Fuck that! I’ve been in here forever, I want to go home!”

“Our quarters’ situation hasn’t been fixed yet,” Wash lied through his teeth. Doyle’s second in command, a man named Fredericks, had already helped finish the paperwork to get the three of them reassigned into shared quarters. Wash had expected that they’d have to share with someone else, or that there would be protests about Kai sharing with two men, but Fredericks had tapped his nose and said that General Doyle had said that everything was okay.

The General of the Army had basically given them the okay to fraternize. And Wash had thought he and Kai had done a good job at keeping things secret while they were with the Federal Army, but it seemed that not only that, but Doyle had known about Tucker too. Wash didn’t know really what he was supposed to do with that, but he intended to make the most of it.

After Kai had threatened to tie Tucker to the bed, and then promised to do that to him when they got their quarters situation straightened out, Tucker finally agreed to lie back down. From the wince he was trying to hide, Wash suspected that he had been hoping for a promise like that all along.

Rolling his eyes exasperatedly, Wash pressed a kiss to Tucker’s knuckles as Grey began to fuss with his IV and painkillers.  

And he didn’t think about how close they had nearly come to losing Tucker.

Kimball’s new office was bigger than three of her bunks back at the New Republic base. It was a strange thing. She’d never had a desk before; the leaders before her had, but she’d never really seen the need. The metal desk of her predecessor had been smelted down for bullets before his plane had been shot down anyways.

Felix had shot him down, she thought, running her hands over the wooden grains of the desk. Killed him for trying to leave the planet. They were trapped here, truly trapped, like rats in a trap.

The familiar burning sensation rose up in her throat but she swallowed it down. There wasn’t time for anything like that. She had too much to do, she couldn’t afford to linger on the way Felix had laughed in the video, and how it compared to every other time she’d heard him laugh.

There was already paperwork accumulating on her desk; Martinez, one of the soldiers who Harris had rescued, had appointed herself Kimball’s assistant, and had been helping her put together the paperwork they’d need to try to calculate the exact state of the New Republic and Federal Armies’ joint supplies.

Slipping into the seat behind the desk, Kimball set to work, internally marveling at the fact she wasn’t crouched over a card table in her bunk. There simply wasn’t enough room at their old base for an office to only be an office, so her private quarters had doubled as hers. But Armonia had rooms to spare, even now with the New Republic squeezing in.

It was hard not to envy the Federal Army for all this space. Logistically, it made things difficult for them she knew. They didn’t have the population to man a city of this size, and defending it was difficult. The city was formed by three rings; the suburbs outside the city wall, the city itself inside the city wall, and then the military area, inside yet another wall. All of the suburbs and the city outside of the inner wall had been abandoned, and were trapped to try to form additional layers of defenses. It was in those defenses where Kimball and her people had been caught when they’d tried to attack Armonia.

There was a knock on the door, and Kimball straightened up.

A tall woman in teal armor walked in, and Kimball wanted to stare. She’d seen photographs of Agent Carolina, but none of them had really done her justice. There was an aura she carried with her, of sheer power and confidence. Her armor was well worn, like all other armor on this planet, but it was still a sight. It was augmented in ways that Kimball could notice, but she had no idea what they were supposed to do. It was clearly the kind of armor that Kimball couldn’t afford to equip her own soldiers with; the kind of armor that people like Felix and Locus wore.

Kimball hadn’t met Carolina, even amongst all the chaos of readjusting. There hadn’t been time. She’d been coordinating with Doyle, writing peace treaties, agreeing to terms of alliances. She’d stopped by the infirmary to check on Tucker, and met the frequently mentioned Washington and Kaikaina in the process, but other than those two, she’d only seen the captains out of the vaunted Reds and Blues. There was too much going on.

“General Kimball?” Agent Carolina said, saluting.

“Just Kimball, please. You must be Agent Carolina,” she said. “Tucker spoke of you often.”

There was the slightest of softening to Carolina at that. “I see.”

“How can I help you?” Kimball said, before realizing there wasn’t a spare chair in her office. Grimacing, she made a note to ask Martinez to try to find one—surely there was a storage room with furniture somewhere in this city.

“I just wanted to let you know that Epsilon has finished decrypting the manifest the Reds took from The Hand of Merope,” Carolina said.

“Yeah, cuz I’m fucking awesome like that,” said a voice that was vaguely familiar to Kimball as a bright blue light shimmered before forming the small armored figure.

Kimball frowned, before placing the voice. “You sound like Private Church,” she said. She still hadn’t met him, but he’d radioed her several times, helping out the Federal Army with their own logistics.

Epsilon paused, and then fidgeted, in an act of sheer, unmistakable humanity. “It’s… complicated,” he said. “But hey! I figured out the identity of this “Control” guy.”

Kimball swallowed. “I—we should get Doyle, he’ll want to be here.” She paused, looking at Epsilon. “Did you—do you know why he wants Chorus?”

“He’s reverse engineering the alien technology he finds on this planet,” Carolina said. “And then he’s selling them.”

It was like the world falling out from under her again. “All this… for money?”

People had died. Their world was savaged. Kimball had sent people to their deaths, had been willing to die, had believed every lie that had come out of Felix’s mouth, and it had all been for profit. Someone, out there, was profiting off the deaths of her people. Maybe they had started it, but there was more to it than that. Someone had paid Felix and Locus to make sure they never made it to the negotiation table. Someone made sure no one could go for help.

All so he could reap the rewards from a planet of the dead.

Carolina placed a hand on Kimball’s arm, warm and comforting. “We’ll make sure they pay for this,” she said, and there was a ferocity in her voice that made Kimball’s knees weak. She tried to remind herself that now was not the time, but it really didn’t help much. There was a presence to Carolina that was almost intoxicating, and Kimball was caught up in it.

There was another knock on the door, and Harris poked his head in. “Hey Kimball, do you have a sec—oh. Carolina.”

Kimball felt her heart leap at the sight of him. She still hadn’t managed to get a hold of him since finding out he was alive. It was odd, but she’d missed him a lot, even though she’d known he was alive and well.

(She refused to let herself think of her reaction to his death.)

“Private Harris,” she said, and she couldn’t quite keep the fondness out of her voice. Glancing at Carolina, she decided to risk some unprofessional behavior, and crossed the room, intending to hug him before she lost her nerve. She wasn’t sure if Harris would be comfortable with that, after all. She placed a hand on his shoulder instead, but she couldn’t help feeling that the gesture was insufficient. “It’s good to see you alive,” she said.

Harris suddenly seemed incredibly uncomfortable. “That’s—that’s what I’m here to talk to you about. Kind of. Not the alive thing. But there’s… there’s something I need to tell you.”

Kimball frowned. “Can it wait? Agent Carolina says Epsilon has cracked the encryption. I was going to call Doyle.”

“That is an incorrect statement,” an unfamiliar voice said, and Kimball leapt back as a green armored hologram, the exact size of Epsilon, appeared in front of her. “Epsilon never was fond of sharing credit.”

“Oh, c’mon Dee, don’t be like that,” Epsilon snapped.

“Dee?” Kimball said. “Another AI?”

“Uh, Kimball, this is Delta,” Harris said, rubbing the back of his neck. “He’s… he’s my partner.”

“It is good to meet you at last, General Kimball,” Delta said, and his voice was distorted, so clearly inhuman compared to Epsilon’s. There was intonation there, she realized, separating him from the voices of normal machines. But she’d never mistake his voice for that of a natural human one.  

“But… I thought only Freelancers were partnered with AI,” Kimball said, numbly staring at the little green avatar. Delta was wearing outdated armor, but was looking at her curiously, as if gauging her reaction.

Harris scuffed his foot on the floor, but met her gaze. He was bracing for something, she realized. He was expecting something bad to happen. The thought chilled her to the core. “That’s the part I need to tell you.” He took a deep breath. “My name isn’t Nick Harris. I’m… I’m Agent New York of Project Freelancer.”

Kimball stared at him, and then looked at Delta. “Why didn’t you tell me?” She said, feeling honestly hurt. He hadn’t trusted her. All this time, she’d thought he was her friend, and he hadn’t trusted her.

After Felix, that cut deeper than it should have.

“I do!” Harris—York?—said quickly, holding up his hands. “But I thought Felix might sell me and Delta out, and—”

“What?” Kimball said, incredulously.

“Pff, some friends you have, York,” Epsilon said, and she turned slightly, remembering that he and Carolina were still in the room, watching all of this. “Can’t trust them not to sell you out.”

Kimball’s head swiveled to Epsilon. “Friends?”

Even through his helmet, Kimball could tell that York was currently trying to kill Epsilon with his gaze. “Felix and I served in the war together,” York said. He was standing straighter, all of a sudden, his hands clasped behind his back. Suddenly, she could see it. A Freelancer. She had been working with a Freelancer this whole time. She felt that when she had time, she’d be able to put things together more coherently. That he’d provided her with some parts of the picture that she’d been missing this whole time. “Alongside Locus.”

Kimball felt her own gaze harden. The taste on her tongue was bitter and fresh. She could recognize it as betrayal now. When had it become such a familiar feeling? “You knew?”

“No!” York said. “I—look, he was a bastard, but you were paying him, so I didn’t think—I didn’t know he’d—”

Kimball had heard plenty.

“Agent York, I think that’s enough for now,” she said, and she was amazed by the steadiness of her own voice. She didn’t feel steady. First Felix, then Harris… what was next? Tucker? Caboose? Was there anyone that she could trust? “You’re dismissed.”

There was a moment when he just looked at her. Then his gaze jumped to Carolina for a moment, almost as if he was expecting her to have something to add, before looking back to Kimball. He nodded once, then saluted her. But it wasn’t the normal, lazy one that usually could make her smile, even on the worst days, but a proper salute, stiff and formal.

And then he left, leaving Kimball alone with the other Freelancer and the other AI.

[carryonmywitingson]

Crash Landing on Chorus

Chapter 1 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9

Chapter 2: A Blast From the Past

After Ohio had finished telling the story of how she'd ended up on Chorus she asked them the same and they all helped tell the story. Or tried before it was just Carolina and Wash telling it. "Wait a minute..." Ohio said when they came to the part about the mercenaries. "What did you say their names was?" she asked. "Felix and Locus. Why?" Epsilon, or Church, said. "Because I think I might know them" she said and they all just looked at her. "You do?" Carolina asked and she nodded. "Yeah, from before my time in Project Freelancer. Say, how much do you actually know about my life before I joined the army?" Ohio asked the two freelancers. "Um... Not much actually..." Wash answered. "So... Wanna tell us how you know Felix and Locus?" Church asked and Ohio sighed.

"Well... before I joined Project Freelancer I was a mercenary and on one job I had to work together with three other mercenaries. Felix, Locus and Siris" she explained. "Siris?" Tucker said. "Who the fuck is that?" Ohio sighed. "It's one of Locus and Felix's old partners. And their real names aren't even Locus and Felix. Siris's real name is, or rather was, Mason Wu. Felix is Isaac Gates and Locus is Samuel Ortez. As for me? I was Naomi." "Naomi?" Grif said.

"Oh shut up" Carolina said.

"Anyway... We were on this job..."

~Flash back~

"Okay, the main objective to get through the guards as quietly as possible, we can't risk any alarms going off, and get to Camille Wickham and bring her back alive" Siris said and looked at Felix while empathizing the word 'alive'. "Yeah, yeah. Get the girl back alive without drawing too much attention to ourselves. Got it." Felix said. Locus nodded as Siris started handed handing out earpieces to make sure we could keep in contact during the mission. "Anything else we should be aware of?" Ohio asked. Siris shook his head. "I will help you guys out from the outside. I'll have a sniper rifle in case anything goes wrong. Here's the plan: Locus, you go in by yourself and focus on locating all the guards and neutralize as many as possible without drawing attention to yourself and be ready in case Naomi and Felix need help. Naomi and Felix, you two go in and go up to the bar. Locate Camille and try to get her away from the rest of them. And be discreet." he looked at Felix. "Think you can handle that?" Felix sighed and nodded. "Yes. I can handle it. Jesus Wu, calm down." he said. "Code names" Locus quickly said as soon as Felix used Siris's real name.

Once at the club the plan was in action. "Put your arm around me" Ohio told Felix who raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?" he said. "Just do it." she said as she unbuttoned her shirt a bit and Felix obeyed. As they walked up to the guard, Ohio smiled and led Felix to the front of the line. "Whoa, back of the line guys" the guard said. "Look... My boyfriend and I are celebrating our first anniversary and were hoping that maybe you'd just let us in....?" she said and looked at Felix who was just getting what she was playing at. "I'm sorry, there's no exceptions." the guard said. Felix dug his hand into his pocked and picked up a some money. "How about you just look away and never saw my girlfriend and I?" he asked as he waved a few hundred dollars in front of the guard. He looked both ways before accepting the money and letting you into the club.

"Okay... We need some way of getting Wickham's attention..." Ohio said. just then there was some static in the earpiece before Locus started talking. "Naomi, Felix. I need a distraction. I need you two to draw the spotlight." he said. "Copy that" Felix said before looking at Ohio. "Naomi...?" he said. "Yeah?" she answered. "Are you ready for the biggest distraction of a lifetime?" he asked and smirked as he looked at her. "Siris said not to draw too much attention to ourselves..." she muttered. "I don't always listen." he said as he lead her to the middle of the room and then he stopped. "Can I have everyone's attention please!" Felix shouted. "Felix, what are you doing?" Siris said over the earpiece. "Improvising." he whispered back before getting down on one knee and continuing. "Naomi... We've known each other for a long time and I love you so much so... Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?" he asked as everyone looked at her. "I said not to draw attention to yourselves Felix!" Siris nearly shouted but Ohio just acted natural and did what she was supposed to. "Yes, of course!" she said, acting surprised and happy. Everyone around you cheered. He stood up and hugged her. "Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!" the crowd cheered. She looked at Felix before he kissed her.

The kiss only lasted a few seconds before everyone started cheering again and then went back to their own business. Ohio and Felix made their way over to the bar. Ohio sighed before she spotted the target. "There she is..." she quietly said to Felix and gesturing towards the end of the bar.  "Looks like she's alone..." he said. "Yeah... C'mon. We've a mission to complete." Ohio mumbled before dragging Felix along towards Camille'who looked up at them as they approached. "Congratulations!" she said. "I saw the whole thing." she waved to the bartender and ordered some champagne. "On me. It's not everyday people get engaged in my club." she said and smiled. "This is you club?" Ohio asked and acted surprised and Camille nodded. "Great place you've got!" Felix chimed in. "Isn't it just...." Camille said as the champagne appeared. "Well, cheers. Hope you two have a long happy life ahead of you" she said and raised her glass. Ohio and Felix did the same. "Cheers" they said and they each took a sip before Ohio started talking to Camille. Just making small talk. "Well I'll be right back. I need to go to the ladies room." Ohio said after a couple of minutes. "I'll come with." Camille said and they made their way over to the bathroom.

Once there and after all the people had left Ohio blocked the door with a trashcan and quickly got behind Camille and choked her until she passed out. She pressed her fingers onto the small earpiece and started talking. "The target is unconscious. Prepare to leave. I'll take her through the vents to the backdoor. Meet me there." she said and soon after she heard Locus, Felix and Siris confirming the plan. She dragged her to the vent and lifted her up. "You're heavier than you look..." Ohio mumbled to herself as she climbed in after and then started to drag her towards the backdoor. Once there she looked down  to make sure the coast was clear before jumping down. She'd left Camille in the vent but only until she saw the boys. "Locus, get Camille, she's in the vent." she said before opening the backdoor to make sure no one'd see them. Felix watched in towards the club to make sure no one came that way.

Once outside a car pulled into the small space between the buildings and Siris poked out his head. "Get in" he said Locus carried Camille to the trunk and then got into the back seat beside Felix while Ohio rode shotgun.

~Present time~

"We worked a few more jobs after that before becoming regular partners. After this one job Siris quit and I haven't heard from him since but I found out a few weeks ago that he'd gotten killed a few weeks after that last mission. I worked with Locus and Felix for a few years before they just disappeared. This is the first I've heard of them since, and that was a few years ago. A few months after I saw something about this experimental military crap and decided to join in. And that's when I became Agent Ohio of project Freelancer." Ohio ended the story, leaving out a few details she didn't think to be important. Everyone was quiet. "So... Did you guys bang?" Tucker asked and everyone just shouted "Shut up Tucker!" and Washington shouted the loudest of them all.

"Okay... Well since you spent so much time with them you must know them... Right?" Church said to which she nodded. "Would you like to help us take these assholes out?" he asked and even though she was wearing a helmet she was pretty sure they knew she was smiling. "It's be my pleasure!" she said.

~Time skip~

"Alright, each team has two teleportation grenades. One to transport you there and want to get you back. First priority is obtaining the manifest, but, while we're in, we should also search for additional supplies. Teleporters, weaponry, anything that could help." Carolina said and turned to the Reds. "I don't expect there to be a hostile presence at Bravo, but be careful nonetheless. " she told them. "Don't get shot. Got it." Sarge said. "Alpha's another story. We've acquired its coordinates for teleportation, but never actually investigated the area. From what we've gathered it's a massive hotspot for pirate activity. I'd understand if you don't want to join us." Carolina said to the Blues and Wash. "Given the situation, I'd say you need all the help you can get. Count us in." Wash said. "Yeah, pretty sure Church would be disappointed if I didn't come also, sooo..." Caboose said and stepped forward. "I'll come too" Ohio said. "No. You stay here with Grey and guard the base in case someone  comes here looking for us." Carolina said. Ohio sighed but didn't argue.

A/N: Hello again guys! I hope you like this chapter and there will be more flashbacks through out the book. And if you have anything to say just leave a comment and I'll answer as soon as possible! Have a good day! XOXO CarryOnMyWritingSon

[secretlystephaniebrown]

Time’s Running Out: Alpha

Holy shit, here we are! The third story (I'm not counting the PWP snippet okay) in the BFF verse, and likely the grand finale! I'm really excited to get to share this with you guys, I hope you'll enjoy it as much as I do!

For those of you who are joining us for the first time... well, what you really need to know is this: York and Tex both survived Blood Gulch, are best friends forever, and Kai, Tucker, and Wash are all dating. And Alpha-Church is also still hanging around somewhere.

I keep coming back to the Chorus trilogy when I write it seems, so when I realized I was bringing this lot to Chorus, I knew I'd be seriously overhauling things. So. Be prepared. We've got four Freelancers here. Drastic measures are going to be taken. My apologies to Miles Luna.

Summary: The Reds and Blues; and their respective Freelancers, find themselves stranded on a strange planet named Chorus. Secrets, lies, and the unexpected seem to lie around every corner, and there might be even larger threats looming over the horizon.

They're possibly even less ready for Chorus than Chorus is for them.

Pairings: Lots of friendships, Suckington, Yorkalina, Chex, eventual Yorkimbalina, possible others.

Next

Also on Ao3

It didn’t matter how many times he did this, York thought he’d never tire of space travel. There was something calming about the way the ship glided through space, about the humming of the engines, about the spiraling patterns the stars formed. He leaned against the large observation window, fingers tapping his thigh in a nervous pattern. The journey back to Valhalla was a long one, and the cramped nature of The Hand of Merope had started to get to him on day three of their trip.

He saw Carolina out of the corner of his eye and tensed for a moment before forcing himself to relax. It was fine, he reminded himself. Things were okay. Sort of.

Carolina stood next to him, saying nothing for a long moment before admitting defeat and speaking first. “We should… talk, shouldn’t we?”

York stared out at the stars for a moment. “Probably,” he admitted. He stopped leaning against the window and turned to face her.

“Who starts?” He asked her, trying to keep his tone light but failing. They’d kissed twice since finding each other again, but York didn’t pretend that it had fixed things.

He wished he could smoke on the ship. Maybe that would make his hands feel less like shaking.

York sat down on one of the couches nearby. Hesitantly, she sat across from him. They were both in their full armor, and York had to stop himself from reaching out to try to remove her helmet, from trying to just see her expressions, so he could get a better idea of what he was dealing with.  

They remained in silence for long enough for Delta to start buzzing nervously.

York forced himself to speak first. “I’m sorry about the Director,” he said quietly.

Carolina looked away. “That’s not what I’m here to talk about,” she said tensely.

“Then talk,” he said. “I… Carolina... I don’t even know where to begin.”

“You picked her,” Carolina said harshly. “You sided with her.”

Of all the openings she had to pick, that was the one she went with? York closed his eyes, even though she couldn’t see what he was doing. “Yes.”

“Why?”

York shrugged. “She came to me. She had proof; proof of what the Director was doing. I couldn’t just… let it happen.”

She seemed prepared to say something so he plowed on. “You were still out, Carolina. And they were already talking about pulling Delta. Tex made her case. She made it, and I chose. Going to you wasn’t an option. We needed to leave if we were going to get anything done. If we were going to help anyone.”

“So that was why?” Carolina demanded. “You needed to ‘do the right thing?’”

York felt something rise in his chest but he shoved it aside. “I joined Freelancer to be a good guy,” he snapped. “We were supposed to help people. End the war! Experimental research, cutting edge technology, the best of the best, all in one place. That was the pitch, wasn’t it? But none of it was true. I couldn’t pretend anymore once Tex showed me Connie’s files. I couldn’t stay, not after that.”

Not even for you, he wanted to say. He didn’t. She had to know it was there. It had to be enough.

He pushed himself to his feet. “I need some air,” he said abruptly.

“York.” Her voice was warning.

“Hold it against me or don’t, Carolina,” he said quietly. “But it seemed like you made up your mind when you stayed away for years.”

Carolina looked away.

<York,> Delta said, disapproving as York strode towards the nearest hallway.

“I know Dee,” York sighed.

York shook his head. He needed nicotine; and Delta was being smug about the addiction too, because of course he was. How had this become his life?

“Found you,” Tex said, and York tried to pretend he hadn’t just jumped. Even without using her camouflage unit, Tex was still sneaky when she wanted to be.

“Hey Tex,” York said, grinning.

She knocked her shoulder against his. “Running again?”

“No!” He paused as she tilted her head, always able to tell when he was lying. The downside to being an awful liar, he supposed. “Okay, maybe a little.”

She huffed. “Do you two have to make everything complicated?” She asked, seeming curious.

“I’ll let you know when I figure it out,” York said, laughing slightly.

She shook her head. “Well, you’ll have lots of time to figure things out back at Valhalla, Private Harris.”

York couldn’t help but snicker at that. “Got to love Delta’s ability to fake paperwork, right?”

“I’m pretty sure it’s a reference I should hit you for,” she told him. The two of them kept walking, side by side, and York felt himself relax in her presence. Tex would hate for him to ever tell her that, but she was a comforting person to be around, in her own way.

“Probably. Remind me to get Lopez to cue up some of those old earth shows when we get back. I bet you’ll like it.”

“We’ll see,” Tex said. There was a pause, before she added a quiet, “Sorry I broke your helmet.”

“Eh,” York tapped his fist against the cracked surface of his visor. “I’ll get a new one soon, probably.” He nudged her. “It’s fine. Much better than the last time you cracked my visor, right?”

“Oh, shut up.”

“Look I’m just saying, you could have taken my other eye, and you didn’t, so I’m grateful.”

Tex looked like she was considering saying something else, so York drew to a halt. “Look. Tex. It’s fine. No harm done.”

There was a long pause, but then Tex shook her head at him. “Grif’s right, isn’t he?”

“About what? I understand Grif to be right about most things.”

“You really are a masochist.”

York laughed. “Tex, we’ve been friends for how long?”

Tex paused, taking his question seriously. “Not sure.”

York wasn’t sure either; he’d be hard pressed to find a hard starting point; a single moment when he’d looked at Tex and thought of her as a friend. They hadn’t started there, sure. But they’d made it. And now, York honestly wasn’t sure if he could imagine his life without his prickly, awkward, brilliant best friend.

“Years!” York said. “Years, and you’ve only just figured that part out?”

Tex shoved him lightly. “You’re a pain in my ass, York.”

“And you wouldn’t have it any other way,” York said, nudging her back, harder this time.

Tex sighed. “I need to find Church. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Bye,” York said absently, before starting to continue his exploration of the ship.

He hadn’t been on his own for more than five minutes when he felt the ship shudder and the lights began to flash.

“Okay,” he told Delta. “This time, I swear it’s not our fault.”

<I believe that can be assumed, York.>

Tucker loved that he was getting used to this; waking up between the two of them. He could feel Wash’s heartbeat under his fingertips, and Kai’s hands were wrapped tightly around his waist, keeping him pressed up against the soft curves of her body.

No matter how many times it happened, it was still incredible. The bunk the three of them were sharing was small so that Kai was pressed against the wall and Wash was sometimes on the verge of nearly falling off the bed, but they made it work. And they’d be back to Valhalla soon enough; and Tucker’s head was filled with plans for how to renovate the room they all shared, so they’d have enough room. Not too much room though; Wash slept best when they were all close. No need to mess with a formula that worked.

“Morning,” Wash muttered sleepily.

“Mmm,” was Kai’s contribution. Both of them laughed slightly at that. Wash rolled onto his other side so he could press his forehead against Tucker’s.

“Almost home,” Wash said softly, pressing his lips all-to-briefly against Tucker’s.

“We’re war heroes now,” Tucker grinned, propping himself up as best he could manage without knocking Kai off. “That mean we don’t have to do leg day?”

Wash laughed, and Tucker grinned, savoring the sound, still all-too-rare. “Nope.”

Tucker pouted, but Wash paid no attention to that, instead just brushing Tucker’s hair out of his face, smiling dopily. If Tucker occasionally struggled to believe his luck, Wash almost never believed it. Weeks later and he was still like this, savoring every single touch, every moment, as if he believed it would be snatched away in an instant.

Kai sighed, finally sitting up to wipe at her eyes. “What time is it?”

“Late,” Wash smiled.

“Your-late or my-late?” Kai groused, but she leaned up to peck at Tucker’s cheek. Tucker turned and kissed her properly, tugging her into his lap so that she’d be able to kiss Wash as well once they were done. Sure enough, the second Kai pulled away she reeled Wash in by the straps of the tank top he’d worn to bed, and Tucker laughed as Wash somehow managed to be surprised.

“Come on,” Tucker said, once the two of them were done, because Kai was starting to get that look in her eye that meant “morning sex”, which, although Tucker would normally be all for, he was starving and needed food first. “Let’s go get food.”

“Mmm,” Kai was still eying Wash like she was planning on eating him, so Tucker had to change tactics.

“And coffee?” He added innocently, and there, he had both of their attentions. Their joint addiction to coffee was freaking hilarious.

“Fine,” Kai grumbled, moving off his lap to search for her bra. “But you’re boring.”

“We could always bring the food back—”

“You are not putting maple syrup on my abs,” Wash said blandly, having heard this pitch at least three times by now. “Put on your armor,” he told them. “You know regulations.”

Kai and Tucker both sighed, but grabbed their armor—apparently ships had strict rules about that, due to risks of decompression. They were just starting to head towards the mess hall when the lights started to flash and sirens started to shriek, worse than Donut when Sarge declared a Red Panic.

“I know my ping pong ball trick can move the earth,” Kai yelled, “but this is a seriously delayed reaction!”

“Wait. What?” Wash yelled.

“Well that went fucking horribly,” Epsilon said, hovering over her shoulder.

“Could have been worse,” Carolina said, staring after York. He was different now, so, so different, and she didn’t know how to handle that. She suspected he was the same about her. There was a… heaviness to him she’d never seen before.

There had been a time when being by his side had felt natural, felt normal. They’d fought back-to-back, bantering back and forth, a rare bright spot in the midst of everything else in the world.

But that was gone now. They’d both done their parts to scuttle it, ripping themselves apart just as surely as the Director had. Him by leaving, her by staying away. Carolina was never felt more keenly aware of how long it had actually been since Freelancer had fallen apart than when she looked at York and saw how much he’d changed.

Epsilon nudged her thoughts, trying to pull her out of her gloom, but she ignored him, getting to her feet and moving further down the hallway. It was odd, having another AI in her mind after Eta and Iota. Epsilon was different than them; his presence was steadier, fuller than the other two, who had been buzzing, infrequent, whispering in tandem or in contradictions, sometimes overwhelming her, other times helping her to hit new heights she’d never have been able to hit. It was odd; Epsilon was the last of the fragments, by all rights he shouldn’t be so real, so full, but he managed.

She let her eyes flicker to the side, irritated as she realized he’d succeeded in distracting her. He sent a vague wave of amusement at her, his avatar vanished from view as they moved into the general population of the ship.

<Why’s he so obsessed with being a good guy?> Epsilon demanded. He’d been waiting to ask for a while, she thought, amused. <It’s… really freaking weird.>

Carolina raised one shoulder in a shrug. “He’s always been that way.” Epsilon nudged her mind, asking for permission, and she did the mental equivalent of pushing open a door, letting him explore her memories of “before”. He sorted through them efficiently like he always did, processing things too quickly for her to even notice.

<Still weird,> Epsilon declared when he finished. <You don’t obsess with that stuff.> There was a long pause. <Do you?>

And what a reminder that was, how fresh this partnership was. There was still so much to learn about each other. Had it really only been a few weeks? Carolina drew to a halt, staring out the window as she tried to formulate her thoughts. She frowned, noticing they were drawing close to a planet, but it didn’t look like their destination. “After what I did? What we did?” Carolina shook her head. “Epsilon, I’m not sure if we can ever get all the way back to good. But, I think that we have a chance to do better. And if we wake up everyday and try to make things better, eventually, we might find that better is good enough.”

Epsilon appeared by her side, hovering just over her shoulder, and something stirred inside Carolina that told her that it was right.

“Good enough, huh?” Epsilon mused. “Guess that sounds alright.”

Carolina smiled.

“That was a good little speech there,” he said. “What, did you rehearse it?”

Carolina waved a hand through his projection, a small laugh building in her throat. He snickered, jumping to her other shoulder.

“Look, I’m just saying, I’m pretty sure these things run in the family,” he said, and Carolina felt as if a bolt of electricity had jolted right through her, because…

Carolina threw her hand out wide as the ship suddenly gave a lurch, nearly throwing her off balance. “Epsilon! What’s happening?”

“I—Cee!” Epsilon reappeared in front of her face. “We’ve got to find the guys! The ships crashing!”

Carolina took off at a run, Epsilon throwing the speed boost into full gear, leaving the question of family behind for another day.

The sight of ships crashing was unfortunately common on Chorus, these days. Whatever weapon it was that the Federal Army was using to bring them down was effective. It was incredibly unusual that Kimball would even notice it, but she was outside that day, working with a group of more promising cadets when she saw it.

It wasn’t like most crashes; they happened far away from the Rebel base, far enough away that Kimball wouldn’t know they happened until Felix came back with a few containers of supplies and another grim report of no survivors.

But this time there was a nova in the sky; and Kimball saw everyone’s attention go up as pieces began to fall. Ragged parts of a ship; a big one too.

“Shit,” she breathed.

“That’s new!” Felix said, also staring. “Think the Feds have a new toy?”

Kimball shivered at the idea of them having something that could do that. “God, I hope not,” she said softly. A large piece, still smoking landed nearby. Kimball moved forward to examine it, wondering if she’d be able to tell what had caused the explosion. She kneeled down to examine it, finding nothing particularly distinct, but then again, she didn’t know much about ships. “Do you have time to take a squad and find the crash site?” She asked, glancing up at Felix, who was still standing, helmet turned towards the sky.

“No problem Kimball,” he said lightly. “I’m sure I’ll be back soon. I’ll let you know if I find anything useful!”

Kimball nodded, and ordered her people to gather the fallen pieces. No need to waste perfectly good scrap metal.

She looked at the sky again, and pushed away any thoughts of survivors. There wouldn’t be any. Not from a crash like that.