Sometimes Church would hop out for a few hours and hang out in the motorcycle, or nestle himself into some old computer system.
"We need alone time" was his reasoning, "I don't want you to get headaches from having to share thoughts with me all the time." When she looked at him strangely he assured her it was not the same kind of alone time that Tucker was so fond of and she would laugh it off. Then he would disappear into his own thoughts for awhile. Musing over things he had learned.
Whenever he was alone he flipped through the old freelancer files and tried to figure out what he was supposed to be, or rather who he was supposed to be, for Carolina.
He couldn't figure it out. He didn't know how to act or what to say. He wasn't prepared at all. Had he ever been prepared? Was anyone ever prepared for this? Were their bridges he needed to burn, boys he needed to shoot at, and stories that needed to be read out loud? Or was any of that really his business at all? Maybe he was just an AI working with a human to finish a job efficiently. That was it. Maybe it was cut and dry and there were no feelings attached to it. Either way he didn't know how to act.
But try as he might he could never end the niggling feeling in the back of his mind that she was, in some fucked up way, related to him and that he was responsible for what might happen to her and what had already happened to her. He knew he could be there in the future, but as for the past, that was something much harder to fix.
Sometimes Carolina would have nightmares. People chasing her, people shooting at her, people killing her. But most often it was her watching someone else die after she had killed them. She would stand hovering over the bodies, the gun in her hand, and she was always powerless to stop herself from pulling the trigger. Church knew the faces from the files; all men and women who had died under the project. He wondered if she was blaming herself.
He would sometimes wake her and try to keep her from screaming too loudly. But she always denied that she was in trouble and fell back asleep again. The nightmares always finding her again. No matter how much church pressed she didn't want to talk about it or confront it. But the dreams seemed to be affecting her. She always woke up looking tired and twisted, her mind flooded with guilt and regret. It was like a poison that was slowly killing her.
So he tried something different. After carefully watching he realized he could give her something else to dream about. Instead of a gun he gave her a woman with soft blonde hair and a laugh like wind chimes. Rather than a ship he gave her open fields and rivers and a house full of people. Rather than the sense of slaughter he gave her a green eyed man who was good at telling stories and who loved her more than anything.
Sometimes he would build her these places and see what she wanted from them. The other people from the files sometimes joined. There was one that played a guitar that was almost always there, singing softly. And she was always smiling.
When she finally woke up Carolina would be better rested, although there was often a sad look in her eyes, it wasn't the same as the nauseated anger and dread that had so often been there.
He always imagined if he could get her out of this life, she could live in a real home with people like that to love her. So that's why, when he heard the news that they were pardoned, he was excited.
"We can go home Carolina!" he'd told her, glowing brighter then he had in a long time.
Carolina had noticed when the nightmares ended though, she had been aware of the changes in the scenery and the family and the home that had been built for her. Some nights when she was relaxing and listening to York play a song she would look over her shoulder and see him standing there. Staring at the scene wistfully and she knew that he hadn't just built this place for her but for him as well.
So when he said they could go home the bitter realization hit her that they couldn't. Because he wasn't real. He was just a computer program gone awry, and he would never live in that house with his wife and his daughter. He could never see them all grow old together. He would be taken by the government and then god only knows what would happen to him from then on.
"No," she told him, "I don't want to."
"But why not? We're free, we're the good guys now."
'Because I can't take you with me' is what she thought to herself. She wondered if he heard her. He must have because he didn't respond.
"Come on Church," She smiled, "We have work to do." She could feel him smiling as well.
