#maybe she would actually implant delta because she feels so much about york being dead.......

[sabotourist]

Mghmgnhj...... What if....... Wash got Sigma.... And Carolina got Epsilon.............

[renaroo]

Recovery None (59/61)

Disclaimer: Red vs Blue and related characters are the property of Rooster Teeth. Warnings: Language, Canon-typically violence, Psychological torture & manipulation, Mentions of gore, Character death, Minor Sexual content Pairings: Yorkalina, Chex Rating: T Synopsis: [Canon Divergence AU] When the Mother of Invention crashed, Project Freelancer was in shambles, its surviving agents scattered, its equipment stolen, and an impending investigation into the crash from the UNSC was on the horizon. To regain control of the deeply corrupted program, the Director established a new unit from his remaining supplies – the Recovery Unit.

Three former Freelancers were chosen for particular tasks: Zero is to hunt down and destroy the Meta, One is to investigate and recover stolen or missing equipment, and Two is to take down AWOL former agents.

Of course, no one’s motivations are what they seem…

A/N: I have been in a very tough place in my life between updating these chapters, and for that I cannot apologize to all of you and thank you for your patience enough. This story means so very, very much to me, as you all can imagine, and having your support and love through all of this has made both writing this fic and getting out this chapter in a rough time possible. So just... thank you all so much. We’re almost there. 

Special thanks to @analiarvb, @notatroll7, @secretlystephaniebrown, @xhauntedangel, @icefrozenover, @every-survival, LinniLotus, Yin, and @a-taller-tale for the feedback!

Recovery One XVIII: Lying in Pieces

So out of curiosity, are you carrying me over your shoulder out of some low key aggression that’s satisfied to treat me like a sack, or are you trying to save my fragile masculinity by not going full bridal position here?

“You’re an artificial intelligence, Church, you don’t have any masculinity. Just numbers. And annoyance,” Tex informed him as they raced down the halls of the MOI -- racing past memories and horrors and everything in between.

Perhaps it was an act of rare mercy for them that they didn’t have time to stew and reflect on everything around them and what horrific truths they must have meant for them both. 

Maybe. Almost. 

I guess I’m just more surprised you’re bothering to carry it around at all, Church clarified. I’m not really, y’know, using it or anything. 

Tex felt herself scowl as she ignored him and continued forward toward the fight that was sure to come. “Church, we’re not one entity. We’re not one person. Even if at one time we were -- if that’s truly what we were before either of us can even remember that as a possibility -- there’s no way we can be that again now. We’re different. We’ve grown. We’ve had experience outside of ourselves.”

So? Church asked. Didn’t stop the program from shoving tiny pieces of me into completely different people. 

Shaking her head, Tex couldn’t even believe he’d bring that up. “That’s not been working out so great.”

I’ll need citations on that claim, Church said with a scientifically pompous air about him.

“We’re about to go face your ugly side that’s trying to kill everyone you’ve made friends with over the past year, asshole. What more evidence do you need exactly?” she asked critically.

Tex, I’m just trying to say, we’re a part of each other now and it’s stupid to pretend that I’m going to be jumping back into my own skin -- so to speak -- again any time soon. He paused, a little awkwardly. Like I hate to bring this up, but I’m not entirely sure I know... how to untangle us at this point either. Look, I’m new to this whole numbers-and-code thing.

Annoyed, Tex kicked down an obstructing door. “You’re actually not. You’re not new to it at all. That’s part of the problem. And for the record, I never said I was carrying around this husk of a body for you.”

The door she kicked down clattered on the ground and left them staring forward at Caboose who was innocently staring right back before happily waving. 

“Hey, Tex! Glad you found Church! Did you see the little Church man? I’m going to feed him crackers.”

If you let him see me like this I swear to god I’ll delete both of us.

Tex smirked. “Don’t make promises you don’t intend to keep.”

“Okay!” Caboose replied readily. 

Fucksake Church groaned in what attempted to pass as annoyance but radiated through Tex like affection.

“Caboose, our friends need help,” she explained to him.

“Oh no! We need to go!” Caboose announced before hesitating. His head tilted. “Tucker isn’t one of those friends is he? I don’t know about saving Tucker...”

“I don’t... was Tucker even on the camera feed?” Tex asked.

No. Which is its own problem to sort out for later, Church answered nonchalantly. 

“It’s Wash and some of the Reds,” Tex translated. 

“Agent Washington!?” Caboose gasped. “Let’s go help--”

Before the words were finished escaping Caboose’s mouth, there was a rush of air past them. Caboose even wavered on his feet unsteadily. 

“What was that?” Caboose asked, looking after the direction of the gust of wind. 

“The doors opened. Our friends are outside,” Tex answered.

“Right! Go help--” Caboose began to rush forward but Tex grabbed his shoulder to keep him back for a moment.

“Caboose, I want to give you a special job,” she explained.

“Oh?” Caboose asked back.

“I want you to help the white guy,” Tex explained. “Being on the receiving end of your help before has taught me that this is the best course of action we have.”

I double that assessment, Church muttered.

“I’m going to help, Tex!” Caboose assured her. “And then we’re all going to help little Church eat crackers. It’s gonna be great!”

Tex glanced to her shoulder where Church’s body was still hanging over it while Caboose ran for the exit. 

A small, white projection of Church appeared where she was looking. “What? I can feel you smirking.”

“Well, you asked what I was carrying you around for, right?” she asked mischievously. “Now I’m going to show you how you’re going to help us out.”

“Fuck, this is going to make me pissed, isn’t it?” Church groaned. 

As he lived and breathed, it was Maine. 

Washington stared at his former teammate, utterly struck by the fact that yet another Freelancer had come falling into his already crowded and confusing life, shocked by how his old life and new seemed to be consistently at odds. 

And by the fact that apparently Maine had just saved them by ripping Wyoming’s implants violently from his head. 

Which left a lot of questions, but mainly what side was Maine on. 

Slowly raising to his feet, Washington maintained a certain wariness. There was something just inconceivably wrong with the bulky way that Maine moved, with the snarling and huffing that was coming from him that was utterly different from what Wash had known before.

He knew Maine had been a high priority target of the Recovery team -- so high that Wash had not been granted permission to go after him even by the time that whole dynamic fell apart. But he had not received in depth briefings. 

All he knew was that Maine supposedly killed Carolina in the final raid on the Mother of Invention.

But now he knew that Carolina was far from dead. 

“My god, none of us know how to communicate,” he surmised in horror before looking over to York. “Have you got some answers for this!? Good ones?”

“No,” York yelled back. “Just the kind that super suck now that he has another AI and Wyoming’s enhancement.”

Eye twitching in irritation, Wash all but threw up his arms. “Right there! You just screamed out like three things that are need-to-know information that I have absolutely no context for!”

York shook his head and then looked at Wash. “Would you stop screaming at me every three minutes!? Holy fuck, how does your voice reach that high anyway?”

“I believe it’s inferior Blue genetics at play,” Sarge stage whispered. 

“I hate all of you!” Wash hissed.

“We KNOW!” York and the two Reds yelled harmoniously. 

“Jesus this is a shit show and we’re all going to die and I don’t even know what for,” Simmons bemoaned as Maine turned toward them all.

“Okay, fine, everyone, I’ll give you the short and sweet version!” York ground out. “That guy is Maine. He used to be a Freelancer. He got an AI. Now he gets his jollies by going around, killing the rest of us, stealing our AI and equipment, and adding them to his collection. He’s the one who fucked me over real good and took Delta.”

Washington scowled at York. “How is any of that remotely true? That doesn’t sound like Maine at all!”

“Keep up, Wash, that’s not Maine anymore, it’s the Meta, and that’s exactly what he does because I’ve been on the receiving end of it already! Not to mention what he did to Carolina,” York ground out.

“Or what he did just now in front of us,” Simmons piped up. “Not saying I know who this guy is, but we did just see him rip something out of a guy’s spine who was regularly kicking our asses beforehand.”

“Yeah, that, too,” York nodded.

Angrily, Wash clutched his rifle. “Keep up!? How the fuck am I supposed to keep up!? I feel like I have, at most, a third of the information right now and you’re asking me to keep up? Seriously? How about you stop wasting time and tell me how the hell we’re supposed to beat this thing?”

“I don’t know!” York answered. “I just fight it and lose all the time. Why do you think I look like I went through ten rounds with a can opener!?”

“You’re useless!” Wash screeched.

“We’re all each other’s got!!!” York yelled back.

“NO!” Wash said with exaggerated waving toward Sarge and Simmons. “We’re not!”

York paused for a moment before looking to Sarge. “Sir?”

“You have permission to speak, Red Team Freelancer,” Sarge replied cheerfully.

“Right, that’s getting a touch old. Anyway,” York said before turning his own shotgun around so that the butt was facing Sarge. “Would you do me the honor of testing out your new invention? Seeing as how we’re both men of tastes when it comes to our weapons.”

Even through armor, Wash could tell Sarge had never appeared more delighted in his life. 

“What are you doing?” Wash demanded as Maine’s hulking form turned its attention toward the Mother of Invention.

“Our mutual friends in there are next on the menu for obvious reasons,” York pointed out. He then looked seriously toward Wash. “And I’m tired of friends feeling we didn’t do everything in our power to save them.”

There was something tight and painful in Wash’s chest. But, being an expert at ignoring such things thanks to Blue Team at that point, he elected to point at York warningly. “Actions speak louder than words.”

“Then I think it’s time for some action,” York chuckled.

“You get fucking one liners, too!?” Simmons bemoaned.

Washington wanted nothing more than to join Simmons in the disbelief of the moment, but loathe as he was to admit it, York was right, and Maine -- or whatever he had become -- was going straight for the Mother of Invention.

And if there was anything Wash had learned recently it was that anything with that sort of focus on death and destruction had to be heading straight toward Blue Team. 

“What are we doing here?” Wash asked York snappishly.

"We’re putting a wall between the ship and the Meta,” York announced. “I think I can get in close as long as I have cover fire, but basically I just need to round all of us toward those cliffs as much as we can and let me in -- hopefully the Sergeant wasn’t exaggerating about the modifications he put into this gun.”

“Stop calling him the sergeant, he’s just Sarge!” Wash corrected.

York gave an incredulous look in Wash’s direction and shook his gun. “Wash, for fucking real here, are you going to play ball? Alright, I’ve fucked up in the past, but this thing’s going to kill Carolina if it gets a hold of her -- and Tex, too, if you’re right and she’s in there. They already killed Dee. I’d like to get some payback.”

Wash huffed heavily in through his helmet. He absolutely did not appreciate York making any sort of sense. 

But he definitely was. 

“Simmons,” Wash called out, looking to the maroon soldier. “Do you think you can get a line of communication between us and Blood Gulch by using the teleporter?”

Surprised, Simmons stood up straight and shifted in the snow. “I mean, hypothetically it should definitely be possible. It might take me an hour or two to fully reconfigure--”

“I’m going to give you ten minutes,” Wash replied plainly. 

“I can’t do that!” Simmons cried out in protest.

“No? Would you prefer to fight a renegade Freelancer with the rest of us?” Washington asked knowingly. “No? That’s what I thought. Get in contact with Blood Gulch and ask them to send in some able-bodied soldiers immediately. We need help.”

“We shouldn’t limit it to able-bodied if we need help from Blood Gulch,” Simmons pointed out. “That puts us down to... I guess the bodyguard--”

“Do not ask South to come!” York ordered.

“Absolutely tell South to come,” Wash contradicted. 

“She will shoot us in the back first chance she gets! Did you even bother asking her what happened to North!?” York cried out.

“Wouldn’t be the first time a Freelancer shot me in the back,” Wash said plainly. “Besides, she’s going to fight this... Meta over us.”

“How’d you know it was responsible for North?” York asked, amazed.

“I didn’t,” Wash replied, marching toward Sarge. “I just know know South prefers challenges.”

"You play a dangerous game, Agent Washington,” York mused.

“And you play dumb like the rest of the world can’t figure out you’re compensating for something,” Wash fired back. “Now are you going to move forward so I can give you that cover fire or not?”

“Youch,” York mocked before taking a deep breath and racing forward. “Yo! Meta!” Maine’s hulking form stopped momentarily, turning back, his domed helmet gleaning as a low snarl came out from him. “You and I have some unfinished business!”

Washington took aim and waited for the so-called Meta to make its move first, but as he lined up the shot he heard a distinctive sniffing and sobbing from behind him. He glanced over his shoulder and found Sarge wiping at his visor nonsensically.

“Are you crying?” Wash asked critically. 

“I just never thought that the Red Army would produce another soldier as ready to die for its glory as me,” Sarge said between gurgles. “I’m just glad to see the day that Red Team pride his vindicated. It’s like the son I wish I never had.”

“Stop talking, it makes my eye twitch and I need to aim,” Wash ordered.

For an infiltration expert, York had an amazing grasp of hand-to-hand. To the point that even through his anger, Wash was forced to give the man the respect he deserved. 

As the Meta lunged, York ducked below the wide swing and used its exposure to throw an elbow beneath the Meta’s ribs. His momentum carried and he swung around to behind the Meta where he kicked the Meta forward. 

When he watched the balance waver, Wash hesitated. It reminded him of the training room floor. Of a time when he called each of these men and women his teammates. When he didn’t think they could stab each other in the back for more than points on a scoreboard.

When a scoreboard seemed like it was worth stabbing in the back for. 

He stared down his scope and wondered if the Meta was any more a monster than Maine and Wash himself were then. More than any of them were willing to be then. 

And it was about then that Wash realized that he wasn’t saying any of those thoughts out loud but it might as well have been. He hadn’t progressed that much since Doc called him out on it--

“Watch your six, Freelancer!” Sarge yowled out before firing his shotgun right beside Wash, effectively pulling him out of his own existentialism. 

“Shit!” York cried before ducking down into the snow, allowing the Meta to be hit by the spray of buckshot. “That was my three!” he corrected.

"Son, I tend to like you, so I will give you an unprecedented warning about my feelings toward insubordination!” Sage howled out. 

Watching as the Meta spun around to face the source of his attack, Washington took a deep breath and aimed for the helmet before firing. The shot bounced off the protective alloy, but the force was still enough to knock it back. And it was also enough to make the Meta step back toward York once more in order to regain balance. 

Quick on his feet as always, York ducked down and pressed forward, shoulder first, for the back of the Meta’s knees, sending it barreling over himself and then rolling out of the path. 

“Take another shot, Wash!” York yelled.

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Wash yelled back before taking the shot with his rifle just as the Meta began to reach around with the brute shot. 

The Meta snarled again but once more was exposed for York, this time though it wasn’t a cheap shot the former Freelancer was throwing. Instead he took aim with Sarge’s modified shotgun and fired at the Meta’s abdomen -- right where the mesh and metal met. 

“That’ll look great for the Red Army recruitment montage!” Sarge declared.

Wash was almost impressed himself when he saw the Meta drop to one knee, brute shot out of hand. But before York was even on his feet, something drastically changed. 

A multitude of flickering sprites surrounded the Meta’s helmet and, without warning, the Meta became encapsulated in a dome shield.

“He has more modifications!?” Wash yelled out.

York looked back and gave a bodily shrug. “I knew he was collecting them but I wasn’t sure he had--”

“Well we didn’t know and you didn’t share!” Wash cried out. “How the hell were we supposed to know that?”

“Sorry, I’ve been busy being shot at and almost murdered lately, not standing around canyon bases drinking beer and having small talk!” York snapped back.

“There’s room for both!” Wash roared in frustration. “What the hell else can happen!?”

As if summoned, Simmons appeared. “Um, guys--”

“It better be good news,” Wash said flatly without even turning. “Which would be that you were able to contact the others even faster than I told you to.”

“Yeah, no, that’s still going nowhere,” Simmons informed him. “But the bodyguard chick did come through the portal for a minute.”

Wash’s eye began to twitch again. “For a minute?”

“Yeah, I told her what was happening and she said to hold up, then went back,” Simmons explained. “Um... Agent Washington... you seem... pretty unhappy.”

“I’m an emotional shell, Simmons. I don’t get unhappy anymore,” Wash warned. “I just anticipate the worst possible scenarios and find myself disappointed when things are worse than predicted.”

“Oh, hey, you trapped the white guy in a dome,” Simmons pointed out. “That’s pretty good. And now Tex is here.”

“What?” Wash asked before turning and seeing Tex’s familiar figure with a cobalt armor over her shoulder. His heart sunk in his chest as the Meta lowered the dome shield. “Oh, no.”

Tex took in the sight, more than a little shocked at just what a crowd had been gathered around the Meta. Washington, Sarge, Simmons, and--

Hey, that’s your friend, Church pointed out unhelpfully. Jersey or whatever.

It was an easy enough comment to ignore as she stepped out into the snow. “Holy shit. As I live and breathe, Agent York has joined my favorite gaggle of idiots.”

“Was that meant for me? Because I protest,” Wash said simply. “I am absolutely not with York. Or... an idiot. But that went without saying, which is why I didn’t bother -- you know what, just shut up and help us.”

“Shut up and help us, wow you really have become a Blue,” Tex snarked. “And now worry, help’s already here.”

While the Meta snarled, turning on its heels to take in the fact that it was surrounded, Caboose finally caught up with them at the entrance of the ship. He was holding the spike grenade that Tex had found for him. 

“I’m here to help!” Caboose cried out excitedly, flicking the grenade on.

This idea is stupid as fuck, for the record, Church commented.

Just as Caboose was lining up for the Meta, however, he saw Wash and let out a gasp. “Agent Washington! No one let me know that you were here! I would always help Agent Washington over any white guy.”

“Seriously, does no one else hear how that sounds?” York asked.

“We do, we just don’t care,” Simmons retorted.

“Caboose...” Wash said cautiously, eyeing the grenade.

“Caboose, help the right person,” Tex tried to warn. 

“Sure thing, Tex! And the right person to help is my friends!” Caboose yelled out before tossing the grenade straight into the wall beside Tex and Church. 

Everyone, including the Meta, stared for a moment. 

“That was the worst throw. Ever. Of all time,” Wash hissed. 

“Not my fault,” Caboose swore. “Someone put a wall in my way.”

Goddammit, Church bemoaned.

“Everyone down!” Carolina screamed from behind them before tackling both Tex and Caboose, taking them out of the way just before the grenade exploded -- sending shrapnel and snow flying out everywhere in an unseeable storm. 

“You came to help? What about the Director?” Tex asked Carolina. 

“What, like he has anywhere to go in that wreck?” Carolina asked. “I checked the sensors, looks like UNSC ships are on their way here. I made a tactical decision.”

"Was that tactical decision to see us all get arrested?” Tex questioned, gripping onto Church’s body’s wrist.

“That would be an added bonus,” she mocked before looking up. “But it’s more than that. This is about unfinished business. It’s about people I’ve used for my own means, and trying to make up for it. People like Maine.” She looked forward, watching as the Meta found itself upright again and began growling and snarling. “I had opportunity to stop him before. I had chances to reach out to him while I was a Recovery agent. And I didn’t. I let this happen. And it’s done nothing but hurt the people around me ever since.” She looked back meaningfully toward Tex. “And that’s just a little too much like him for my comfort.”

“Or mine,” Epsilon spoke up, appearing on her shoulder. “I... I think I’ve really hurt people in the past. I think it’s time we try to help them.”

Tex looked at them both critically. “Sounds noble enough,” she said stiffly.

Sounds stupid enough, too. Like yeesh, Church answered. 

“But I don’t think there’s anything left of Maine in there for you to apologize too. It’d be best if you let me punch him instead,” Tex pointed out. 

“Only after I’ve tried the... not punching route,” Carolina ordered before moving in toward the Meta. “Agent Maine! This is your commanding officer!” Carolina shouted, getting the creature’s attention. “That’s right, it’s me.”

It snarled and flexed out with the brute shot in its arms. 

Caboose, sitting up with his head tilted, looked toward Tex. “Um. Are we just going to sit here and watch the new Blue Lady do stuff?” Caboose asked. “Or am I still supposed to help?”

“You are definitely not helping!” Tex and Church said at once. 

“We’ve got our own plan, Caboose, sit tight,” Tex assured him before getting to her feet and racing toward where Carolina and the Meta were. 

Despite what they might have anticipated in response to Carolina’s diplomacy, the Meta actually had lowered his dome shield, looking warily toward Carolina as two AI swirled around its helmet -- bright yellow and turquoise.

“I’m not here to hurt you, I’m here to help,” Carolina continued to coax. 

The Meta hesitated for a moment before letting out a horrific roar, multiple AI appearing around its helmet at that time. 

“Carolina!” York called out from where the Reds and Wash had ended up, distracting the former Freelancer leader. 

“York!?” she cried out just before the Meta took a swing at her. Fortunately, her speed boost got her out of harm’s way but not without tripping her up and causing an awkward landing to her side. 

"Why do I ever open my mouth?” York bemoaned.

“Isn’t that the million dollar question we all keep asking ourselves,” Simmons griped.

Hey, Tex, not that I’m the one to be telling you how to hit things... but I can’t help but notice how Mister Tall-and-Growly-and-Hauntingly-Familiar seems a bit distracted at the moment to me. What’cha think? Church fired off.

“I’m thinking you read my mind, cheater,” Tex said, launching herself forward and toward the Meta, redirecting her grip of both of her hands to Church’s body’s left ankle. “Hey, AI conglomerate!” she cried out, turning the Meta around toward her. “Looking for someone?”

On cue, Church showed up over her shoulder. “Miss me?” he asked. 

Immediately the plethora of AI around the Meta’s helmet began swarming around, encircling over and over again as if all attempting to steal a glance as they released a disorganized muttering of “Alpha! Alpha! Alpha!” 

“Holy fuck this is creepy,” Church remarked shortly before Tex skidded to a halt right before the Meta and then took Church’s body into the full swing of her momentum. “Oh shit not the face!” 

Church let out a frighteningly high pitched scream as his body collided with the Meta’s helmet, shattering both of their visors. But Tex was far from done, taking the flailing, empty robotic body and continuing to beat the dazed and distracted Meta with it. 

Though it stumbled, the Meta seemed too stunned -- not wanting to attack either Tex or Church but also not wanting to create the dome shield again either. Which was fine with Tex because she could keep smacking him around for ages. 

Well, until the Meta had enough and grabbed Church’s arm, ripping it from the rest of the robot.

She then glared toward the others. “You all can get off your asses and help any time you want, y’know!?”

“Yeah, fuckers! We’re pulling our weight!” Church yelled. “Some of us literally!”

Washington was almost too stunned to move. He stared at the scene in complete shock. 

“What’s going on?” Sarge asked as York stumbled through the snow to meet Carolina half way. “What just happened? I want a full report!”

“From who? Me?  I have no fucking idea!” Simmons’ voice crackled.

“Maine... the Freelancer... he has all the missing AI fragments,” Wash answered, still working with the pieces himself. “They’re in a late state of Rampancy -- all of them -- the dying stages of an Artificial Intelligence. And they’ve unified somehow... looking for something... or someone,” he then looked to Tex’s shoulder where Church’s sprite shined brightly. “The Alpha... The AI that stated it all.”

“Great, hope they have fun finding him,” Sarge huffed. “We need to grab our Red Freelancer and skiddadle out of here. Doesn’t look like much of a fight for us.” He paused and then put a hand to his chin. “Though, technically, we still have that agreement with Texas.”

“Finding him?” Wash asked, turning on them. “You honestly still don’t get it. There’s no finding the Alpha, the Alpha is already here. He’s Church! Can’t you see that?”

“What? So you’re saying that those AI with the white guy are all pieces of this Alpha. And the Alpha is Church. And Church is being used by Tex to slap the white dude around?” Simmons tried to keep up.

“Yes,” Wash said simply. 

“Heh. The Blue’s hitting himself,” Sarge chuckled. 

“That doesn’t seem physically possible,” Simmons said, scratching at his helmet. 

“Yes, well, none of us seem to fall toward convention, do we?” Wash asked. He then glared at Simmons. “You said South was coming with reinforcements...”

“Oh, yeah, they are,” Simmons nodded. “They just have to figure out how to fit them through the portal first.”

Wash squinted. “What do you mean by fit?”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than there was a loud, crackling, booming sound in the distance, drawing all of their attention around the mountainside to where green electricity was dancing though the air.

“Wonderful,” Wash muttered. 

[arse-blathanna]

always at your six - 6/?

Chapter 6 : daily briefing

[Ao3] [Fic Tag]

Fic Summary: The Mother of Invention went down barely a year ago, and the time in between has been rough for York and Delta. It’s been tough for Tex too, but she has information, and she needs someone to help her get some things before someone can beat her to it.

It’s a good thing York’s out of work.

Rating: M

Relationships: Eventual York/Tex/Delta.

Chapter Summary: York and Tex do their last bit of mission prep before getting to work.

Word Count: 4,620

Author’s Notes: Thank you for reading! 

York wakes up early in the morning, groggy and feeling like he never wants to move. But he’s going to have to, either because his bladder is angry at him for sleeping or because Tex is going to make him get up. He pushes himself upright halfway and looks around the room, only to find that it’s empty. Tex has run off on him, and that's not something that York likes. It leaves him feeling tired and worried. The night before had been a little... weird. Weird enough that York didn’t want to think about it.

Maybe she'd just decided that he was done with him. Or maybe she'd decided that it was just time that she leave him behind because there's no reason for him to help her. Maybe he's outdone his usefulness at this point. It wouldn’t surprise him, with the way that the decryption has gone so far.

[Read it on Ao3]

He hauls himself out of bed and blinks. "Delta?" York asks, hoping to be able to make some sort of contact with the AI. He's being quiet, and while that usually means that Delta is just at work, York's still worried.

"D?" He asks again, when it's still silent.

"York." Delta says, his projection appearing in the room near York. "I apologize."

"It's fine, D." York says, making himself comfortable on the bed again and letting his hand cup the back of his neck where Delta has been implanted. The chip was still there, intact and unmoved. "I just got worried."

"I am aware." Delta says back to him, as calm as ever. "Your heart rate experienced an increase by a percentage of-"

"That's fine, D." York mumbles, blinking and hoping to get the exhaustion to go away from him. "I just don't like getting up alone. You know that.  Where's Tex run off to?"

"Agent Texas went out to get some things before the morning." Delta explains, his voice still calm. "Last night she, myself, and the Omega AI managed to make significant progress with regards to the information that you gathered."

"Thank you." York mumbles, hoping that it'll be enough to make him feel better. He's pretty sure that it won't be, but that's just the way that things go. "So she's going to be back?"

"Affirmative." Delta responds to him. "When she gets back, she will be expecting to do some sort of briefing with you. I would recommend taking the steps necessary to wake yourself up before then."

And yeah, if there is anything about this that York doesn't like, it's that he has to go through a briefing first thing in the morning. That had been a part of life in Project Freelancer that he'd been more than glad to leave behind. Apparently that was where his luck had decided to run out.

Which sucked.

York got up though, since he might as well have gotten himself something to drink to start with. Coffee would be able to put his brain into order. Once that was working, then he and Tex could get ready for what was to come.

As things were, York made a mug of shitty coffee on the motel coffee maker that he definitely didn’t trust (which only had half to do with the fact that it that looked like it was probably older than his parents.) Really not something that he wanted to think about, but seeing as it would be his only chance at waking up, York had to take it. Maybe a shower would have been a better way to wake up, but York wants coffee.

He sits there, drinking his bitter drink and letting Delta run off with anything that he wanted to report. Usually in the mornings it was simply recordings and observations that Delta had gathered that night from York's subconscious. Normally that was something that York didn't like Delta prying into. Somehow it felt like the things that he dreamt about were things that were best left unexamined and unsaid. Besides, there had been a few very uncomfortable conversations from when he’d first gotten Delta and before their rules had been set in place that York desperately never wished to repeat.

When Tex gets back, York is already halfway into his second mug of coffee.

She knocks on the door, and York mumbles that she can come in. It’s not like he has anything to hide.

Tex comes in, dressed in a new set of civilian clothes that York has never seen before. On her arm there rests a bag or two, and York cranes his neck to get a look. She walks over to where he’s sitting on the bed before dropping one of the plastic bags into his lap.

"What's this?" York asks, poking at the bag and feeling the plastic of it crinkle.

"Clothes." Tex responds, straight faced as always and not wanting to go too far into it. "And your breakfast."

York raises an eyebrow, because Tex bringing him food was always an iffy thing to begin with. He didn't know how to read into it, and her buying him clothes-

It feels like she is trying to tell him something. York doesn't know what, but he has a feeling that he really doesn't like it. Maybe it’s that he smells. Or still looks like a homeless person.

It’s probably that he still looks like a homeless person. York makes a mental note to get a haircut sometime. And to shave before they head out.

"Thanks." He says, digging through the bag until he found a small warm package. He brought it up to his nose. It smells like a gas station breakfast sandwich, which he guessed probably resembled actual food just as much as the gruel they were fed up in space did. "Delta tells me you had an interesting night?"

"We did." Tex says. She drops onto the bed next to York and opens up the second bag. He tries his best to peek, and finds that she has collected a selection of wiring and mechanical pieces. When York gets a good look, he knows exactly what it's for. The thick copper wire is the biggest indicator, followed closely by the battery and the iron rod.

Not something that he would have thought that Tex would have been interested in. It can only mean that she’s expecting trouble.

York blinks. "So, do you care to share with the class why you have the pieces for an induction coil?" York gives Tex a look, not sure that he is actually going to get a good answer out of her. It's going to be risky for them to think about even beginning to touch as a piece of equipment.

"Yeah," Tex answers. "Me, Delta, and Omega got to work last night and finally got those files decrypted."

"Yeah, D mentioned that." York mumbles as he rips open the package of food that he'd been brought. Real cheese and bacon. The egg obviously isn't real, but it's been so long that York doesn't even know if he remembers what real eggs actually taste like.

"Good." Tex mumbles. "We got some does that can get us into the building, and a dossier of some supplies they have on the site. The induction coil is just an insurance policy. I figure between the four of us we can figure it out-" She gives him a look. “Although I’m guessing you’ve done it before.”

York gives Tex a stare and he feels beyond frustrated by it. Because the use of the phrase insurance policy tells York exactly what she wants to build that stuff for. It's because she isn't putting faith in him. Because he screwed up on locks a few times.

"You know, a vote of confidence with the locks would help a lot." York grumbles, setting the sandwich down on its wrapper in front of him. "I know that you found access codes, but-"

"It's to fry the cameras, York." Tex mutters. "I know that you can handle the locks. The fact that there are going to be cameras is what I'm worried about."

"I don't trust that thing." York mutters. "Trust me, I know the value of being able to cook the wiring in something, but I'm not too keen on it when you're robotic, and I have D and the neural implants. Feels risky."

Tex gives York a dead stare, one that he isn’t able to read into that easily because all that he is getting from Tex was that she’s far from amused with him. And sure, that was something that he had dealt with a lot, but that doesn’t meant that York wants it levelled on him. He and Tex are teammates, after all. He doesn’t want to feel like the useless one any more than he already does. Which is a lot.

"You think that I don't know that?" Tex asks him, matching York's gaze. "It's going to be a final line of defense in case something happen."

York eyes the bag of supplies warily. He knows how to rig an induction coil (and if he didn’t, Delta definitely would), but that doesn't mean that he wants to. As things were the situation that they were in was already going to be difficult enough. Adding the chance of them melting their own wiring only made it worse.

"Right." He sighs, doing his best to hide his frown. "So the plan is to go in right now, we get past the doors with the access codes that we have, and then we find the equipment that they're housing there."

"Exactly." Tex says, making herself more comfortable while York nibbles away at his breakfast. "It's going to be up to you and Delta to do a lot of things."

"I figured." York mumbles between bites. "Should I be worrying about your onboard passenger?"

Really, that’s probably the one question that York needs an answer to more than anything else. He can account for himself, and he can do the same for Delta. York has already trusted Tex with his life more times than he can count. But Omega? York doesn’t trust him for a second. Not after what Tex has told him.

Tex shrugs, clearly without a good answer for herself. For just a second, York could have sworn that he'd seen a quick flash of dark purple in her stormy eyes. It makes York's heart skip a beat because it's so wrong and so obviously not Tex. It's something else entirely and something which York very distinctly does not like.

Delta picks up on York's discomfort, and York feels more than hears the pulse that Delta lets out. It runs down York's spine like coolant, not enough to relax him entirely, but enough to calm him. Slowly, he feels his own heartbeat getting a little slower- when he hadn't even realized that he'd started feeling nervous enough to beat hard in the first place.

The amount of control that Delta's using with him is frankly uncomfortable. It leaves York feeling wrong, surprisingly... hollow.

He frowns and lets his hand cup the AI port on the back of his head though. Delta gives him another pulse, and this time it feels as though it does a little bit more for York. It feels more tangible in some ways, which aren't necessarily comfortable for him. But it's Delta, and York can trust Delta. They'll be sure to be having a conversation about this later though.

York swallows hard and rubs at his left eye. "Just promise me-"

"I already have, York." Tex responds before he can even finish what he was saying. "You need to promise me that you can trust my judgement."

"I do trust your judgement!" York responds, feeling a little bit defensive. That was something that he hadn't necessarily been preparing for. "That doesn't make me feel any less nervous."

Tex nods and she pats York's shoulder, getting up and beginning to pace the room even though it probably didn't offer her any real benefits. "We're going to get in," She says, doing what she can to reassure in her own way. "We'll find what we can, and we'll take anything we can get."

York nods, remembering the contract that they'd made at the beginning. Tex had promised him whatever he could carry, and that was probably still true. At least, York hoped that it would be true. At the very least he wants a chance to get his things back together and get his gear working at full capacity again.

"Right." He mumbles, finishing off his food and crinkling the wrapper back up. "I should clean up."

"Yeah," Tex says. "You should. We're going to move out later."

"Got it." York responds, sighing. "Thanks, Tex."

He hovers by the bathroom door for a moment too long, looking for words and trying to work through feelings he has no way to actually deal with.

Things are too awkward, York decides as he slips through the door and begins a shower.

The truth is that Tex has tried really hard to be transparent with York about what they're doing. That's the reason that the two of them have gone through countless briefings over the course of the day, and the same reason that she is doing her best to keep Omega in check. It's the same reason that she's spent most of her nights with York pressed up against her with his head resting against her leg.

There's a lot that they need to get used to, and that hasn't changed.

York is ultimately good at his job. Very good at his job, when he wants to be. Tex does what she can to keep him in line, and when thoughts that she really doesn't want to deal with creep up, she ignores them.

Omega hasn't helped much. The last thing that Tex had needed was a constant monologue on how she had some seriously crossed wires when it came to York.

As if she didn't know that it was messed up. He was flesh and blood, he was kind and smart- if a little bit all over the place when it came to the emotional side. He'd had some weird feelings for all sorts of people, and Tex had no right to interfere with York now.

Him apparently having some confused feelings towards Carolina was an issue in itself. It made Tex glad that she didn't have the memories of the woman she was built to emulate.

At least that way she could feel somewhat less guilty for it

York comes out of the shower, with just a towel wrapped around his waist and his hair in complete disarray. He has a second small towel that he is using to pat the back of his head dry, apparently nervous about his AI port. His face is bare. He took the chance to shave.

"Hey," York greets her, like the morning had already been forgotten. He walks over to the bed, apparently not even caring that she's there. "So, what time do you want us to head out?"

‘Your attraction to that fool is pointless,’ Omega taunts in the back of her head, clashing with her own code in all of the most unpleasant ways. ‘You know that some equipment won't keep him alive forever.’

"Shut up, Omega." Tex hisses before glancing back over at York. The towel's been dropped, and for the first time Tex is realizing just how extensive his scar tissue is. It makes her wonder how many times he should have died before without his healing unit to hold him together. She shakes her head, trying to pull her attention from York before he notices.

"He's being a dick again?" York asks, and Tex can hear the sound of what she can only guess is him pulling on some underwear. She glances back over her shoulder, and he's standing there in heather gray boxers, rifling through the bag of clothes that she’d brought him.

"What do you think?" Tex asks, because really, it does seem like it should be a bit obvious.

"Right." York laughs, picking up the shirt that she'd just bought him. He unfolds it and she watches York's face screw up for just a second before he shrugs and pulls it on. "So, about when we're going-"

"Two hours." Tex responds before York can go on anymore. "Please tell me you can be ready for that."

York laughs quietly, but there is obvious nervousness in his tone. "Of course I can." He mumbles, pulling on a pair of pants now. Tex can't help but feel a slight spike of disappointment over him being dressed again, but that is still something she can't be thinking about. "I just... want to know so that I can be ready."

He looks at her, eyes wide and a little bit sad.

Tex nods. "We'll be able to do this. Worst comes to worst-"

"One of us gets shot." York finishes for her, turned away and somehow managing to sound like he's bored. "I should warn you though-"

'This should be good'

"What do you want to warn me about?" Tex asks, already running through possibilities.

"I had D run some numbers earlier." York mumbles. "The healing unit in my armor is functional, but not by much. We can't go relying on it too much. I don’t want to find out what happens if we overdo it."

"Got it." Tex says. It's not promising at all, but it's something that she can keep an eye on. Maybe Omega will be more use to them than they'd originally thought he would be. "But you're going to be good?"

"Yup." York flops back onto the bed, clearly wanting to relax before they have to go and do anything. "Sit with me?"

"Course." Tex responds as she takes the spot next to him. He's too close, and she can feel Delta right there. "Any reason you want this?"

He looks away from her, blushing a little bit and even looking guilty. "It's nice. Being around you."

“That can’t be the only reason.” Tex says, feeling more than a little bit skeptical about York’s explanation.

“Keeps me calm.” York mutters, his one good eye flicking down and then back up, a little too fast. “It helps me keep from only focusing on the things that are going wrong.”

Tex nods and pats his shoulder. “You should get ready.” She says anyways. It’s assuredly not what York wants or needs to hear, but they need to be ready to go anyways. “Armor takes time to get on.”

“It does.” York grumbles before getting up and walking over towards the stack of armor that he'd set in a corner. Tex had chosen a different place for her own gear, and deemed it best to follow her own advice. She too went to her things and began to prepare to put on her own armor.

For a moment, she lingers there with her hands on the undersuit. It's the same material as it has always been, still meant to be a better skin than the synthetic substance that they'd put over her. Without the armor, her skin would tear and she would be left without a way to fix it.

Tex doesn't want to focus on it at all. She just gets up and slips off her shirt. No reason to wear things that will make getting into armor harder.

"Tex?" York says, and he's over on his side of the room, undersuit halfway pulled on and shirtless. "Something wrong?"

"I'm fine." Tex says, turning to York and slipping out of her pants. No need for them either.

York's gaze lingers on her, and she can see him get more nervous. There is a nervous bob of his adam's apple as he swallows. "Right." He says, shaking his head and purposefully turning back away from her.

Tex wonders what he saw that was so wrong, stepping into her undersuit and beginning to pull it up on her legs. She tries not to think about how she can see the obvious differences in her body and York's, or anyone else's.

She doesn't have pores and she doesn't sweat. Her joints don't always look quite right, and her lack of a proper ribcage is obvious. In some ways she was put together to be the perfect copy of a real woman, but there were some things which her frame couldn't account for.

"I wanted to know if you wanted some baby powder." York says, his voice hesitant and him clearly taking his time as he pulls on the rest of his undersuit. "For your skin."

"Baby powder?" Tex asks, zipping things up to her neck. "Are you really that sensitive?"

"No." York grumbles. "It just makes it easier to get in and out of."

Tex hasn't heard that one before, but she figures that this is the first time she and York have actually had access to that sort of thing. "If you say so, York." She mutters as she reaches for her leg armor.

"This is weird, right?" York says, almost laughing while he does the same. "All of this?"

"Is it?"

"I dunno." York says with a shake of his head. His hair flops forward with the motion, still soft from his shower. "I think I just want to get this over with. Missions at Freelancer never felt so weird though."

"Because it's just us?"

"Because I don't feel like I have to compete with anyone."

That wasn't the answer that Tex had been expecting. She figures that is a big change for York. Freelancer had made it so that for a lot of people all that existed was competition. She knew that, she'd heard the stories and seen some of it firsthand. It's part of the reason that she and York are there now.

But she was never actually made to compete. Instead it all had felt more like games than real competition.

York lost an eye over a game that he never even had a chance of winning.

Tex wishes that she had something good that she could actually say to York over that.

"I mean," York shakes his head, obviously frustrated and his brow furrowing. "It's just weird is all." He swallows, and Tex sees his expression changes, like he's talking to Delta again. Whatever they're talking about, it's private- that much is obvious. "I like working with you though."

"You aren't completely terrible yourself." Tex says, pulling on her breastplate now. It feels like it weighs absolutely nothing, but for York it is clearly a little bit more of a struggle. "Just try to worry about what will happen tonight."

"I am." York says, stretching. He bounces nervously a little bit as he pulls on his own gear. She watches him take a deep breath like he was trying to calm himself down. Whether or not it would actually work seemed to be up in the air. "Delta's ready to sync for all of this."

"I figured." Tex says, and she feels the push of Omega against her once again. "I can't really speak for Omega."

"I figured." A little laugh escapes York at that. "He seems like he's a lot to handle."

"You have no idea." Tex snaps the breastplate in place and then goes for her shoulder guards next. They go on easily, followed by her gauntlets and then finally her boots are the thing that she needs to top it all off.

York is ready, aside from his gloves and his helmet. He's turning a glove over in his hand, checking for rips or something. Tex doesn't know exactly what.

“Is there something wrong?” Tex asks, craning her neck.

York’s head jolts up, whatever he was looking for probably figured out at that point. Not that Tex knows what he was looking for. He stands up, looking a little bit unsteady and taps his fingertips together, like that will be able to help him concentrate.

“Yeah, I’m good.” York says, beginning to slip the gloves on. “I was checking for holes.”

“Holes, York?”

“Yeah, I mean-” York stretches his hands out again, shaking them out like he is trying to get something to get away from him. “I need them in the field is all. They help me feel out what we’re-” He shakes his hand. “They’re sensory, that’s all..”

Tex cocks her head to the side, because while York had offered an explanation for her, it wasn't really what she wanted to know. She looks down at York's hands as he pulls on a second glove, stretching his hands out a little bit more.

York looks at her and took a breath. "They help me feel when I'm picking locks. Not because there's something wrong with me but-"

"But you work with holograms."

"Yeah." York smiles a little bit, visible relief showing on his face. "They aren't my only thing to help me with that,  but I still like to know that they're working and in good shape. Wouldn’t want to have to try and find a way to replace them."

Tex pats his shoulder, as gently as she can manage. "I trust you, York." She sighs, feeling a push from Omega for her to get moving. "Just get ready."

"What's our plan to get in?"

"Pelican drop." Tex says with a shrug. "I know that-"

"We don't have a pilot-"

"I know." Tex reiterates. "But it's a chance for us to cause a distraction while we get in through another way."

York nods, stretching and finally pulling his armor on a little bit more and double checking his kit over. "I figure we can get D to set the trajectories, if that's the way that we're doing things. Sound good to you?"

"I trust Delta." Tex says. "Just... make sure that you're ready."

"I am." York sighs, getting in close to Tex again. He's a little bit too close to comfort and she can practically hear him thinking of things that he wants to get out into the open. There are things that he wants to say, that's obvious. Maybe it's some joke, maybe it's something else. Perhaps he's just got nervousness thrumming through his entire body that won't go away.

Tex doesn't know.

She pats his shoulder once more and doesn't get the feeling that he's relaxing at all. That's fine, it's just a sign that the two of them need to be ready for what was to come that evening.

York doesn't let himself relax at all, instead more interested in busying himself in the room and looking for things that could distract him away from what he was doing. He spends his time stripping his shotgun, or counting ammunition, or doing just about anything other than talking for some time.

Tex makes a point to herself that she needs to do the same, for his sake more than anyone else's.

At the end of the day, Tex knows what she is. York is something more precious.

'You worry too much for him.' Omega growls in the back of her mind, forcing himself to the front of her consciousness. There's a rough push against her own thoughts, that makes Tex grit her mechanical teeth even though she has no need to do so.

'I'm just looking out for him.' Tex responds, not wanting to give Omega too much to play with. That would be too dangerous, and Omega would only use it as a chance to get further under her skin and make things worse. 'I'm not worried about us.'

'That's a mistake, Texas.'

'Yeah,' Tex squeezes her eyes shut. 'I know.'