A/N: Storytime: I love Tex. I love York. I love York and Tex's friendship. And so, I wondered, "what would happen if they had both survived?" This is going to be a two-shot, but there are sequels incoming. Hope you enjoy!
"No you don't!" Tex's fist slammed into Wyoming's chest piece. Whatever she hit sent off a shatter of sparks.
"Well, bugger," Wyoming muttered. Tex didn't even have time to say anything, didn't have time to even try to punch him again, when suddenly everything began to blur and whirl around her, pulling her away from Wyoming.
"Shit!" Tex yelled, fighting against it, but it was like fighting gravity. It clung to her, yanking her further and further away from Wyoming.
"No!" Tex tried to lunge. She wasn't going to let that bastard get away. He'd killed York, he'd tortured Church, he was trying to kill Tucker, she was going to... she was going to...
She blinked, and reality dissolved into a thousand pieces, breaking apart like a badly generated computer image. Tex tried to move, but her limbs wouldn't cooperate. She tried to project out of it, but she was trapped. She tried not to panic, tried to analyze, but she had absolutely no idea what was happening.
Slowly, way too slowly, the world around her began to sharpen and clarify. She whirled as soon as she could move, looking for Wyoming, ready for the fight that had to be about to break out, but...
"I just brought it up to let you know how kickass I am."
Tex let out a small gasp of breath, staring at the person in front of her. It... it couldn't be. It had to be a dream, a hallucination...
But robots don't dream. AIs don't hallucinate.
York was here. York was alive, kneeling in front of the holographic lock. Her internal chronometers told her it was one week ago, and York was still alive.
Tex set her teeth and closed her eyes for one moment.
Whatever had happened, whatever Wyoming had done...
She had a chance. She could fix things.
"Tex?" York asked, having realized something was wrong. "You're being awfully quiet."
"Equipment problem," she said, quickly finding the piece that had jammed, last time around.
"Yikes," York drawled. "Good thing you found it. That could've been bad."
Tex didn't look at him, quickly swapping it out for her spare. She'd just have to hope it would be enough. She didn't have time to explain. She didn't even know what she'd say.
"There," York said, and the entrance to the teleporter unfolded.
"Okay, I'll take the lead. Give me fifteen seconds then follow, sync?"
"Sync," York said easily. It was like the old days again, fresh after Freelancer. It was just like it had been last time.
"Let's go," she said, only giving herself a moment to linger on him, to be grateful that he was there, that he was okay.
Tex was going to kill Wyoming for this. She knew this in her bones.
She had at least an idea of what Wyoming was going to try to do, of what his plans were. She had the advantage. And this time, she knew what Wyoming's enhancement was, and he wasn't going to take her by surprise.
She raised her gun, and slid the clip into place.
"Right beside you, Tex," York said.
She gave him a quick nod and then leapt through the teleporter, gun blazing, confident in the knowledge that York would be right behind her.
And this time, she was going to watch his back a lot more carefully.
"Watch out!" Tex yelled, tackling York to the ground. Their armor clattered together and her hands were pressed against the ground on either side of him, her gun fallen from her hand, skittering across the ground. She wasn't quite fast enough-the bullet still clipped him in the shoulder, blood beginning to stain the golden armor. Fear flooded her, because no, not again, she couldn't...
"Delta?" She kept her voice steady, she kept herself grounded, because she couldn't lose him again. She couldn't fail him.
"I'm fine, Tex," York grumbled, shifting beneath her. It occurred to her that the position probably should be awkward, but she honestly couldn't bring herself to care.
"York will survive, Tex," Delta intoned, and Tex felt her chest heave slightly in relief.
"Be more careful, dumbass," Tex snapped, because it wasn't like she was about to admit anything of the sort.
"I think you broke a rib," York groaned, one hand raised to his shoulder to try to put pressure on the wound.
"Shut up," Tex said, almost fondly.
"Well then," Wyoming said, suddenly looming over them, sniper rifle in hand. "Isn't this just touching?"
Tex risked a glance at her gun-it too far away to grab easily-and tried to calculate if he could get a fatal shot at York if she lunged for it.
The odds weren't good. Tex gritted her teeth and knew she'd have to risk lunging for Wyoming to throw off his aim.
York, still trapped beneath her, suddenly twisted, raising his gun, which Tex hadn't even realized he'd still been holding and shooting Wyoming right in the face. The bullet glanced off the visor of Wyoming's helmet, but he stumbled backwards with the force of the shot, and Tex leapt to her feet, taking advantage of his unstable footing and distraction and punching him right in the throat. And then she punched him again.
And again.
And again.
And then again, just in case.
After she was done, he was on the ground, unconscious. York was bleeding, but he was going to be okay.
She'd won.
Tex took a deep breath and let herself grin, savoring the moment.
"Uh, Tex?"
Tex looked behind her, and froze at the sight of blood against York's armor. There was a lot more of it than there had been.
"I think I might have made it worse."
Tex lunged forward, putting her hands over the wound, knocking York's own hand aside in the process. "Dee?"
"Blood loss accelerating," Delta said, flickering slightly with the stress. "Healing unit is not operating at full capacity."
"My fault," York muttered, sounding faint and far away. "Haven't been able to keep it in repair..."
"Shut up," Tex said harshly. "You're going to be fine." She pulled out the canister of biofoam, the one she only really carried for the Sim Troopers, because she never needed it herself, and pressed it against the wound.
She stared down at him, and hoped that it would be enough.
"York is unconcious, Tex," Delta sounded worried.
"You administering painkillers?" Tex said, swallowing down the rush of fear, remembering the strangled noise York had made when he begged her not to let Delta put him under. It was different this time, though. It had to be. It had to be enough.
"Yes. However, it is the blood loss that has caused the unconsciousness," Delta said, and Tex felt herself sag slightly in relief. There was a long pause, while Delta collected his thoughts. "Agent Texas, I have an inquiry."
"What is it, Delta?"
"What does it mean, that I am... concerned, for York, even though his projections of survival are well within acceptable parameters?"
Tex snorted without really feeling any amusement, looking at the odd little green AI. He'd always been one of her favorites, even before she'd realized what Sigma and Omega and Gamma really were, what they were doing. "He's good at that. Making us worry."
She checked his vitals on her HUD, and breathed a sigh of relief. It was bad. He wouldn't be using that arm for a while. But he was going to live. And that's what mattered now, really. She shifted York to take some pressure off his wound, propping his head up on her leg as she sat there, his helmet in her lap.
Tex didn't do physical contact that wasn't violent very often. It was... odd, cradling York, checking on him. Usually she'd just punch him for worrying her. But she doubted punching him would help anything right now.
And wasn't that just frustrating?
"I would like a more serious answer," Delta said, sounding peeved. She imagined that he would be frowning if he could.
"Guess you're going native, Dee," Tex said, unable to stop herself from smiling, despite the gravity of the situation. "That sounds like a human thing."
Delta perched on York's chest and peered at him, as if he could see through the mirrored visor. He probably could to a certain degree, given that he was in York's head. Tex was struck by a ridiculous urge to pull his helmet off, check on him with her eyes. Which was stupid, because Wyoming might wake up any second, and York shouldn't be exposed. She needed to go check on that, now that York was safe. "I am not sure I like this," Delta said.
"Caring's a pain in the ass," Tex agreed, pressing her other hand on York's helmet. "Don't think you can help it though."
Blood Gulch was quite possibly the worst place in the galaxy. York was actually fairly impressed—they'd done an absolutely great job at figuring out where to stash the Alpha. Anyone even thinking of checking here for him would take one look at the place and want to leave immediately. York certainly wouldn't have thought to look here, if Tex hadn't dragged him, bleeding and unconscious, through the teleporter.
Which was why he was sitting in the caves overlooking Blood Gulch, Delta running commentary in his head as he watched Tex attempt to kill the soldiers wearing blue. He wasn't exactly sure what was happening, but he figured that things would resolve themselves. Tex would probably get bored eventually.
Maybe, he thought, after seeing her shoot the cobalt one, and realizing it must be the Alpha.
Finally, Tex came to find him, seething and quiet. "What's wrong?" York asked. He was still sluggish from the painkillers. He wasn't fit for combat, even if he could use his arm. It bothered him, being useless.
"They got another girl," Tex grumbled. He was pretty sure that if she wasn't too stubborn to, she'd be kicking the wall.
York gave her a blank stare. "Tex. There were like four girls on our squad."
"That's not the point," Tex said. She sounded sullen.
York stared at her again, for a long moment. Tex glared back at him, as if daring him to say anything.
"So," York said, opting to change the subject instead of poking that particular disaster. "How long am I going to be hiding up in the cave?"
"Until you're able to stand on your feet," Tex said, nudging him with her foot. York winced-it had been a bit more of a kick than a nudge, honestly. "I'm not inflicting you on these idiots while you're like this."
"And here I thought you'd be inflicting those idiots on me," York said, offering her a grin.
She tilted her helmet in a way that told him she was rolling her eyes, and tossed him a ration bar. "It's not much. I'll break into Grif's stash, get you something better."
"Thank you Tex," Delta said, standing on York's good shoulder. He'd been oddly quiet lately,, and York was honestly worried. "York's blood sugar levels are getting low."
Tex knelt down beside him, grabbing his helmet from where he'd discarded it to check his diagnostics. "How bad is it?"
"Tex," York grabbed her wrist, trying to stop her. "I'm fine."
"You nearly died," Tex snapped. She wasn't quite looking at him, her head still turned towards his helmet. "That's far from fine."
"It's nothing," York said. "I've had worse."
Tex finally turned to face him, and stared for a long moment. "I'll get you supplies," she said.
"Tex!" York called after her when she was at the mouth of the cave. She paused, not turning to face him.
There was a long pause, as York tried to figure out how he was going to say what he had to say. "Thanks," is how it ended up. He winced. It was inadequate and stupid. But he didn't know how to describe it-how alive he felt, for the first time in years. How it felt like he had a purpose again.
How he'd missed her.
"It's my fault you're here in the first place," Tex said. She sounded oddly defensive.
"Still," York said. "I appreciate it. You're a good friend."
Tex froze for a moment, her shoulders actually rising up, as if trying to defend herself from York's words. It was one of the most human things York had ever seen her do. He had no idea what to make of it.
"You're not going to die on me," Tex said fiercely. And then she was gone.
There was still no sign of Wyoming, and Tex's main suspects for Omega's hosts had fallen flat, leaving her with no leads. Meanwhile, York's shoulder was just about healed, at least enough for him to punch someone and shoot a gun. Which meant it was time for him to leave the cave and get to meet Tex's new friends.
He was looking forward to it.
He walked down the steep cliffs that lead into the canyon at Tex's side, shotgun in hand, while they talked over the plan.
"He might…" Tex hesitated, which was worrying. "He remembers bits and pieces, sometimes. It doesn't make sense. But just…"
"Play along?" York asked, tilting his helmet to one side. "Got it." Not like he was about to risk the wrath of Agent Texas to tell the Alpha that he was a computer program instead of a ghost. Even though Delta was mentally despairing about it, but he still agreed with York that it was probably for the best.
Tex nodded at him, before glancing at Delta, who was still projecting between them, on York's good side. "Delta, just… be careful."
Delta sounded affronted. "Always, Agent Texas."
She let out a slight growl, but led the way down to the others. The Blues had realized Tex was coming, and were gathered, including the very terrifying tank who York had already been lectured about calling "Sheila", rather than "FILSS."
"Who the fuck is this?" York blinked as the soldier wearing light blue armor stomped up towards them, sniper rifle gripped tightly in his hand and pointed right at York. Somehow, he'd expected someone who sounded more like the Director. The gun was unexpected too.
"Put that thing away Church, you're more likely to hit Caboose than him. This is York. He's here to help me to stop Wyoming and O'Malley."
Church stared at them for a moment, his head moving quickly between them as he tried to process this. "What, another Freelancer? Great idea Tex, let's solve our Freelancer problem with more of these assholes."
Well, it seems as though we can safely assume that he does not have any memories of you, Delta murmured to York.
"Well, I can definitely see why Tex sticks around," York said, stifling a laugh. "You two must get along famously."
"Seriously, who the fuck is this guy?"
"We worked together at Freelancer," Tex said, exasperated. "He owes me a favor, he actually knows what he's doing, and he's here to help me shut down O'Malley and Wyoming."
"Aw, Tex, you flatter me," York said. "I didn't realize our friendship meant so much to you."
"Shut up York," Tex snapped, which was probably for the best, since York was pretty sure that Church was about to blow a gasket.
"Texas! You came back!" The one in dark blue armor said. He definitely was radiating a smile, even if York couldn't see his face.
"I was gone for half an hour, Caboose," Tex said, but York could have sworn he heard a faintly fond note in her voice.
"Eh, can't blame him for the surprise," the teal one said. York swallowed slightly at the sight of that familiar shade, before making himself look away. "You've fucked off way too many times to be offended by that."
"Not offended, just stating the facts," Tex said. "Where's Kai?"
"She's visiting the Reds," Church said. "Doc's over there too. I don't know what he's doing. I think he might be trying to get blood donations for the abomination."
"Any sign of Wyoming?"
"Like you said, you were gone a half hour," the one who had to be Tucker said, and York wasn't just saying that because he'd spotted the alien child, standing waist high by his side, holding his hand.
Tex sighed. "Let's go talk to the Reds, find out if they've seen anything suspicious."
"What, besides the giant spaceship that landed on Donut?"
"Besides that," Tex agreed.
York frowned. "That guy okay?"
"He's fine," Tex said dismissively as they made their way across the canyon. The Red soldiers had clearly realized something was happening, and were gathering outside of their own base, heavily armed.
"Besides," Church said. "If he died it's not like he wouldn't have come back as a ghost."
York firmly kept his mouth shut, and struggled to keep Dee from saying anything.
"Truce!" Tex yelled as they drew up towards the base.
The red one let out a growl. "Fine," he muttered. "What's the hullabaloo about, Buttercup?"
York let out a choked noise. Tex shot him a glare which managed to convey all the painful ways he would suffer if he ever brought that up.
"Who's your friend?" The orange one asked, glancing at York.
"He's not her friend, dumbass," Church hissed, bristling. York muted his helmet, just in case the temptation to laugh became too much.
"This is York," Tex said, gesturing towards him. "He's a Freelancer like me, here to help me with O'Malley."
"How many of you are there?" The orange one said.
"Forty nine," Tex said. "Don't worry, I'll shoot any of the others."
"I'm flattered, really," York said, only just remembering to unmute himself.
"What can I say? I'm feeling generous today."
"He's kind of hot," The one in yellow armor said, tilting her head as she examined him.
York blinked, bewildered. "I'm in armor."
"Eh," she waved her hand. "Hotness is relative."
York paused to ponder that, still unsure of what she meant. Tex just seemed amused by this whole thing, so he guessed it wasn't that bad.
The Reds all looked at each other, looking like they were conspiring. Or plotting. Or planning. York wasn't really sure of the difference.
"Dibs!" The red one said, his accent a thick caricature of a Southern drawl.
"You can't call dibs on a Freelancer!" Tucker protested. He was currently giving his kid a piggyback ride. "That's not how it works!"
"No, they can," Church spoke up, finally looking happy for the first time since York had met him. "Take him. Please."
The maroon one froze, tilting his helmet. "What's wrong with him?"
Tucker cackled. "Church is jealous 'cuz Tex likes York better."
"She does not!" Church screeched. "Tex is my girlfriend, asshole!" York wasn't sure if the comment was addressed to him or to Tucker.
Tex and York looked at each other, while the Reds and Blues bickered over something called the "intergalactic dibs protocol."
"Well," Tex said, sounding far too amused. "Guess we need to keep the teams even."
"Try not to kick my ass too much," York said. "Remember, I'm still recovering."
"Where's the fun in that?"
York groaned dramatically.
"It's settled then!" The red one said. He clasped York on the shoulder, managing to hit the bullet wound. "Welcome to Red Team, son!"
York looked at Tex and, the thing was, he knew her. Tex had a turn in her posture that had him on edge, and he realized what she was thinking, what she was going to do.
If the war was over, Freelancer was defunct. The Director was powerless. The Reds and the Blues would get shipped home. Church would be safe.
She was going to take the deal. She was going to take it, and basically giftwrap herself to whoever is on the planning side of Wyoming's schemes in the process.
And Tex would say it would be worth it, to stop the war.
And that's what Wyoming was offering, wasn't it? Just kidnap a kid, give him to the right people, and everything was better. All their problems, solved with the wave of a wand.
The thing is, York didn't believe in a magic bullet. Not after Freelancer.
But looking at Tex, he was willing to bet that she did.
And so, for the second time in his life, York realized that he was about to betray one of the most important people in his life.
Last time, it had been for the greater good, had been the Right Thing To Do. Tex had asked, and York had followed her, even though he'd known what it would do to Carolina, what it would do to them. The lighter burned against York's thigh, a reminder of what he'd done, of the choice he'd made.
Last time, York had been the good guy.
Now?
York wasn't sure if he believed in good guys anymore. Lately, it's just been the bad guys and his guys.
He'd lost Carolina to the greater good.
He was not about to lose his best friend.
Delta hummed in agreement in the back of his head. Tex's safety was something even the logical AI couldn't argue with. He showed York the angles, the possibilities.
She will resent this, Delta said.
But at least she'll be alive.
I find it unlikely that they would kill her, York. It is far more likely she will be the subject of study. A Shadow AI would be a scientific curiosity.
I know, Dee.
It had been maybe a moment. Tex still hadn't moved. Her shoulders were hunched, her head still tilted. York wondered where she was looking. At Church, or at Tucker?
She wasn't looking at him, though.
Which was all that really mattered.
York lashed out, bringing the butt of his gun down on Tex's neck-a vulnerable spot on her robot body, one that York only knew about because of Delta. Tex lets out a brief sound-not of pain, or shock, but of rage.
It's rather distinctly a "you're dead" sound.
But what mattered was that Tex crumpled to the dirt like a puppet with cut strings, and everything jumped into rapid motion.
"What the fuck?" Tucker yelped.
"Well," Wyoming said, gun suddenly pointed at York. "That was unexpected."
"We both know what the people you're working for would do to her," York said. They both glanced at Church, who was crouched next to Tex, yelling about how he'd never trusted York, about how he'd known this was going to happen, and questioning York's parentage, sexual history, and mental stability with as many variations of "fuck" as he could possibly manage. "This way, everyone wins."
Wyoming looked at him for a long moment, then let out a small laugh.
"You never were a good liar."
"You know, I really should work on that," York admitted, before throwing himself to one side, just in time to dodge the shot that Wyoming tried to put through his shoulder. The same one as last time, too. Low blow, Wyoming. Low blow.
"York," Tucker grabbed York's arm. His heart was hammering in his throat, and he was fucking terrified-if this was what parenting is like, no wonder his mom had gone grey before Tucker hit middle school. "It's Flowers! He's got Junior, and-"
York glanced over his shoulder clearly spotting what Tucker had seen earlier. "Shit," the Freelancer muttered.
Suddenly, he whipped his head back towards Tucker. "I'll go get him," York said, fiercely. "I'll keep him safe. Just-" Two things were pressed into Tucker's gloved hand. One was a strange looking thing that looked like one of those old-fashioned video-game cartridges, only this one was neon green, with a weird Y and a triangle embossed on it. The other was an old-fashioned cigarette lighter, cheap as fuck and old as balls, the paint peeling. It didn't look like it would even work anymore. Tucker barely had time to process any of these things though, because York was talking again. "Give these to Tex, okay? And tell her I'm sorry." And then he was gone, moving faster than Tucker had ever seen him move.
The last thing Tucker saw of him was York firing his gun and launching himself into the air with a running leap, pulling himself inside. The sound of gunfire echoed through the canyon, and Tucker tried to listen for the sound of Junior's voice, but he couldn't hear anything, and...
"York!" Tex barrelled towards Tucker, practically spitting fire. "York!"
"He's getting Junior!" Tucker told her, having to swallow the urge to leap out of her way. He thought, for a second, that the computer chip in his hand heated up.
Tex's head whipped towards the sky. "York!" She yelled again. Tucker followed her line of sight, and managed to catch a glance of the ship, right before it vanished right before their eyes.
"What the fuck?" Tucker yelled.
"Wyoming's enhancement!" Tex said, pale. "It was on the ship."
"The time travel thing?" Tucker's stomach began to churn. "But that means..."
Tex stared at the sky, hands curled into fists. "They could be anywhere."
"Um, I think it is more of an "anywhen", Tex," Caboose said reproachfully.
Tucker and Tex both sent glares in Caboose's direction.
"They'll be fine," Tucker said. "Right? You said York was one of the best."
"Right," Tex said, still staring at the sky. "That's right. He's... he was one of the best."
Tucker looked down at the items in his hands, and offered them to Tex.
"What the fuck is this?" Tex asked, glancing at Tucker.
"He said 'sorry'," Tucker told her with a shrug. "And to give these to you."
"Jackass," Tex muttered, before she froze at the sight of the chip, her fingers barely a centimeter away from it.
"Tex?" Tucker looked at her, curious.
Tex let out a laugh. It was harsh, bitter, and long, borderline hysterical, but Tex didn't have hysterics. But it still felt intensely intrusive, standing there, listening. It felt... private, somehow, and not in a fun, naked way.
She reached out and grabbed the two pieces of junk from him, almost gently, cradling them against her chest even as she kept laughing.
"He left me Delta," Tex said, finally stopping to take a breath. "If he survives, I'm going to kill him."
The next time Tucker saw Tex, she had a little glowing green guy in armor hovering over her shoulder. Tucker decided to err on the side of caution, and kept his mouth tightly shut.
The orders had come in. The Reds and Blues of Blood Gulch Canyon were to move out and to report to their reassignments as soon as possible.
"You're seriously coming with me?" Church asked her for what must have been the fifth time that hour.
"I already said yes. Don't make me change my mind."
It was an empty threat, and they both knew it. Tex was going to accompany him, invisible and unseen, and go with him wherever they were going to stash him, now that the war was beginning to wind down.
They were sitting on top of the Blue Base, watching the sun set, slowly sinking in the sky. It was oddly pretty, for Blood Gulch. And oddly peaceful as well, with Kai asleep already and Sarge being suspiciously quiet, and the others all gone.
Tucker had been the last one to leave this morning, shipping out with Donut, grinning widely because Junior was waiting for him at the end of that journey. Tex closed her eyes, and tried to tell herself that if Junior had made it, York probably had too.
But it had been so long, too long, and she hadn't heard so much as a blip on their shared channel.
"He'll be okay," Church said suddenly.
Tex blinked. "What?"
Church shifted, not liking the sudden change in her attention. "I mean... York. He's pretty tough, right? He managed to take that grenade without much problem, remember?"
Tex stared at him, suddenly frozen in place.
Because she had never told him about that.
"And like, he snuck out of the infirmary to go on that mission with the Tower," Church continued, oblivious to Tex's crisis. "He's an idiot, sure, but he's gonna be fine."
Tex's heart might as well have been hammering in her ears. He was remembering.
Tex let out a slight huff of air, not quite a laugh. "Yeah, well, I was around to save his ass those times."
"He can pull his own ass out of the fire for once," Church said with a shrug. "Or, who knows? Maybe Carolina will finally catch up to him. She's his partner, after all, let her do the heavy lifting for once."
And now it was like Tex couldn't breathe, which was stupid, because Tex didn't have lungs.
"Tex?" Church said, sounding concerned.
"Carolina's dead, Church," she said.
Church deflated slightly. "Oh."
She watched him out of the corner of her eye, looking for some indication that he knew who Carolina was, if he felt anything special about that kind of grief. But Church just seemed lost in contemplation.
"We should pack," Tex said, finally. "The ship leaves early tomorrow morning."
"Yeah," Church said, tilting his head. "Probably should."
Neither of them made any move to get up. Church slowly, as if afraid of what she would do, rested his hand on top of hers.
Tex sighed. It wasn't like anyone was here.
She shifted herself closer towards him, and moved her hand, so their fingers twisted around each other.
"You're such a sap," Tex said.
"Shut up," Church said, but he put his head on her shoulder.
They sat there until the sun went down, which was when Kai's rave began.
Everything hurt. York set his teeth to stop himself from yelling. His healing unit was kicking in, but not as effectively without Delta. Florida had managed to get a few good hits in before he'd finally gone down. York wasn't sure where Omega was, either. He was pretty sure the AI had jettisoned when he'd realized the ship was about to crash, but he honestly hadn't been paying all that much attention at the time.
The chronometer on his HUD told him that it had been quite a while since they'd left Blood Gulch. Fucking Wyoming and his fucking time machine. York hadn't wanted to believe it when Tex had told him what Wyoming's enhancement was, but it was pretty hard to deny.
"You okay kid?" York gritted out.
"Honk!" The small alien nudged him. York theoretically knew the language, but his leg was broken right now, so it was hard to focus enough to translate.
"Well, you're walking at least." York forced himself upright, brain screaming at him to stop moving. "Okay kid—Junior, right? We're getting you to safety. Just give me a second."
"Blargh?"
York popped open the front of his armor, and started reaching in for the wires. Theoretically, he wasn't supposed to know about the recovery beacon, but he and Delta had figured it out a few years ago. He managed to disable his beacon relatively quickly, but he knew they'd be looking for him. He had to get Junior to safety soon, otherwise everything would be for nothing. Whatever Wyoming's intentions might have been about stopping the war, there was no way Project Freelancer as an organization was going to let something like that happen. The war was the only reason they'd gotten away with so much shit.
That had been one of the harder truths to learn about Freelancer, back when Tex had approached him with an encrypted data file and a story that should have been completely unbelievable.
"Alright then," he said, heaving himself to his feet. His leg still screamed. "Let's get going."
"Honk!" Junior seemed pretty willing to hold his hand, which… was surprising, given that he'd just been kidnapped. He was a pretty amiable kid. Which, given what he'd seen of Tucker… made a lot of sense, actually.
His leg was mostly healed by the time they made it to the city, which was frankly a relief. There was an embassy there.
"Alright kid. Now you don't mention me, remember? You made it here on your own." York hesitated, but took off his healing unit, offering it to Junior. "And take this. Don't tell anyone about it, okay? They'll probably give you armor, and when they do, attach it. It will keep you safe. And if you see Tex… tell her everything, okay?" He might regret giving up the unit later, but honestly, he didn't want Freelancer to get it back, and there was no way they didn't have an idea where he was at this point.
"Honk honk!"
"Yes, I know. But I promised your dad I'd keep you safe, and I'm keeping that promise." Then he turned around and hobbled away in as dignified of a manner as he could manage, forcing himself only to look over his shoulder twice, to make sure that Junior made it inside.
If he could make it off planet, he'd be home free. Get a message to Tex, heal up, reunite with Delta, come up with a plan.
But he knew, deep down, he wouldn't make it that far.
He stowed away aboard a train, and then another one. They grabbed him from there, locking his armor down with the familiar paint from behind.
He saw the familiar symbol on their armor and a part of him laughed. He was home again.
Wash stared through the mirrored glass at the prisoner on the other side.
York wasn't handcuffed. Apparently he had been at first, but after York had attempted to use them as an improvised weapon after picking the lock, it had been determined that it was best not to bother.
As easy as it was to forget, York was actually a good lockpick. He just had terrible luck with alarms.
"He's the first live capture since the program collapsed," Wash observed out loud. He was proud of how steady his voice was. He sounded cool, calm, and in control.
"Yes. Interestingly, however, he didn't have his AI unit or his armor enhancement with him when our Recovery agents apprehended him," the Counselor observed, glancing up from the tablet he was carrying.
"The Meta?" Wash asked, glancing at York again, examining him closer this time. York looked surprisingly intact to have survived a meeting with Maine. He looked older—the scar over his eye was faded, and a few new ones had joined it, that Wash could see. Particularly noticeable, given the tank top he'd been given to wear, was the large, recent looking bullet scar on his shoulder. It looked puckered, like the only care it had been given was biofoam. But it was still at least two months old. He looked slightly thin, but apart from that, he seemed normal. If Wash ignored the surroundings, it could have been a scene back at Freelancer, York sitting kicked back in a chair in casual clothing, examining his surroundings with a lazy look that Wash knew better than to believe.
"We doubt it. However, he hasn't been answering questions. He's been… rather reluctant to cooperate," the Counselor's voice didn't betray the irritation he surely must be feeling. York potentially had a plethora of answers that they needed.
Ones that Wash needed, if only he could talk to York alone.
"He will," the Director said. Wash couldn't help but show his surprise at the familiar voice behind him, having not heard the quiet, unarmored steps as they had approached. He hadn't seen the Director in person since before the crash. Seeing him here and now...
He shoved down the wave of memories that threatened to overwhelm him, and tried to ignore Epsilon's ghost, screaming about betrayal.
"You have a job to do, Agent Washington," the Director said, not acknowledging Wash's surprise at his presence. "I suggest you get our answers, whatever it takes."
Wash was grateful for his helmet, hiding his expression. "Yes sir," he said, turning and opening the door.
York froze when he walked in. His eyes locked on Wash for a second, and Wash couldn't help but wonder what the older man was thinking.
Then the shocked expression vanished and a grin appeared, as wide as Wash had remembered it. It was as if no time had passed at all.
"Wash! Good to see you. I'd offer you a chair, but I'm sitting on the only one because apparently I'm a danger to others!" York laughed, as if he found the idea hilarious. As if he hadn't tried to garrote a guard with a handcuff chain only three hours ago.
"York," he said briefly, grateful for his own helmet, while York was so exposed and open. He ignored the itching feeling on the back of his neck, where the Counselor and the Director's eyes felt like it was boring right into him. "Where's Delta?" He circled the table slowly, trying to make himself as threatening as possible.
"Right to the chase I see! Well, it's a funny story! I met Wyoming last week, and we got to talking. 'York,' he said to me, 'These knock-knock jokes are starting to get to me', how about we switch AI for a little while?' And I, being the kind and compassionate person that I am, agreed, but Gamma got bored and decided he wanted to hijack a ship instead, and then he decided to crash the ship. Apparently I'm not as entertaining. I don't laugh enough at his jokes." York didn't even turn to keep track of Wash, just chatting casually as if Wash hadn't moved.
"Great. And what really happened?" Wash demanded from behind York. He made himself close his eyes for a second. This was just an interrogation. If York cooperated, it would stay that way.
"Don't have Delta anymore. I traded him for a grape and three rusty washers."
"And your healing unit?" Wash prowled so that he could have an unobscured view of York's expression.
"North mugged me and stole it." York said with a straight face. "Said he needed it for the migraines dealing with South gave him."
"You know North is dead, right? And Wyoming?" Wash snapped, slamming his hands against the table. He was all too aware of the Counselor and Director's gazes on his back. "So why don't you cut the jokes and tell me what I need to know?"
"Wait, North's dead?" Shock flickered across York's face—he honestly hadn't known. "Well shit. We're becoming an endangered species, aren't we?"
"You're not surprised about Wyoming though," Wash said, leaning forward.
"Ah, what can I say? Tex has a temper," York tilted his seat back slightly. Or at least tried to—it was bolted to the floor to prevent him from using it as a weapon.
"So you've been in contact with Texas?" Wash said. It wasn't information he was interested in, but the Director would want to know.
York smirked. "Sure, we had lunch last week."
"Are you going to give me a straight answer?" Wash demanded.
York raised an eyebrow at him. "C'mon Wash," he said. "You should know me better than that."
Wash gritted his teeth, steeling himself. He would be receiving the signal to escalate the interrogation any minute, and he'd have to make the decision... he froze as his radio crackled to life. But instead of the signal, it was an incoming message "Agent Washington," The Counselor said. "I believe we have new information that would make any contribution that Agent York could make… redundant."
Wash stared at York, who had clearly noticed something.
"Well?" York asked, raising the eyebrow over his bad eye.
"We're done here," Wash spat, turning on his heel and leaving the room, trying to believe he'd see York again, alive.
"What is it?" Wash demanded, the minute the door swung shut.
"Agent Texas's AI was just reported being present in Valhalla, which has in turn attracted the Meta. You are to collect several Simulation Troopers with experience with that AI, and then report to the base to attempt to pick up his trail." The Director's eyes were harsh. "You are to stop the Meta at any cost, Agent Washington."
Wash said nothing.
He only saluted.
"And he knows about Freelancer as well?" Talking to Caboose was like talking to a toddler crossed with a walking headache. Wash tried to just focus on what was at hand.
"Yeah, he knows all about your AI game. He dated Tex!"
"Agent Texas?" Wash felt his brain grind to a halt. "Um. How could a person-"
A shot went off, barely missing him. "Fuck!"
"Sniper!" Wash ran for cover, but Caboose just stood there, puzzled.
"Okay! That was your one warning shot! The next one's going right between your eyes!"
"Private Caboose! Get down!" He wasn't moving, Wash wanted to scream. What kind of person had let someone like this in the army, even if it was only a simulation trooper?
"Wait a minute," Caboose said, as if he was realizing something important. Wash blinked, wondering where, exactly, the blue soldier's mind was.
"Alright! I warned ya. Sayonara biatch!" Another shot went off, but Caboose didn't move. "Ah, c'mon, what the fuck!"
"Caboose!" Wash yelled, worried despite himself for the sim trooper.
"I know that voice!" The sniper had missed, apparently. "Church! Church, it's me! Your all-time best friend!" If Wash had thought Caboose had sounded happy before, it was nothing compared to how he sounded now.
"Caboose? Caboose is that you?"
"Yes! Church, it's me!" Another shot went off. "I have missed you so much!" Two more shots. "It has been so long!"
It was at that moment that the name sunk in. This was the guy he'd been sent to recruit? A sniper so incompetent that he couldn't hit the six-feet something, completely stationary target?
Wash had a headache. And he was also confused. This was a mess.
"Did you miss me?"
"Fuck, I missed him!"
"I knew you did!"
"Go. Away!"
"This is your friend?"
"Yeah!"
"And he's shooting at you." And he'd thought the Freelancers had been dysfunctional.
Another couple of shots went off, further off target each time.
"Well, at me, and stuff around me." As if to illustrate his point, a nearby rock cracked under the force of the bullet. "Yeah, this is kind of like our thing. So he acts like he doesn't like me, but he really likes me."
Wash stared.
"Oh, and he might bring up something about me killing him, but that's not really true. Uh, it's a joke." He gasped. "You can play along if you want!"
"Wait, that doesn't make any sense. You did what? You killed him?"
"Hey, scram! Get the fuck out of here!" The sniper had finally emerged. He was wearing pale blue armor that was actually upgraded, unlike Caboose who still wore the old issue.
"Hey Church! This is Agent Washington! He needs to speak with you!" Caboose addressed the soldier eagerly, like a puppy presenting its owner with a toy.
"Agent Wa-you brought a Freelancer here? What's wrong with you?"
That was probably the first sensible question that Wash had heard all day, not that he would ever admit that outloud. "Open this gate," he ordered.
"Uh, no can do bud. See, this is a secure facility. Nobody in, nobody out. Sorry! Guess you'll have to come back... never."
Wash wondered if Church had always been like this, or if long-term exposure to Caboose had incited a personality with that much dickishness.
"Oh no. Then I guess we'll just have to walk through the huge hole in your secure wall." Wash pointed his gun at it for good measure.
Wash could hear pure venom as Church snapped. "Fine. I'll open the fucking gate." He rolled his eyes. Sim Troopers.
They barely were inside when Church came down to greet them. "Yeah, well, sorry the place is so messy... Tex no!"
Wash began to turn, only to be met with the butt of a rifle to the helmet. He went down like a sack of bricks, and he stared as the familiar shape of Agent Texas uncloaked from her active camouflage. He stared down the barrel of her gun, and wondered if he was imagining the smile in her voice as she said.
"Hello Wash."
He was dead.
"Tex," he said, trying to keep his voice under control. "Nice to see you again." He should have realized—it had all been in the name. Church. The Alpha was here, and Beta was keeping an eye on him, to make sure that Freelancer couldn't touch him again. His odds of survival had just tanked, and he was nervous.
"What the hell are you doing here, Washington?"
"You're old AI, Omega? The Meta got him. Command said these Blues had some experience with him."
"I see," the gun didn't move away from his face. But she hadn't shot him yet, which was… progress? Probably.
Wash gritted his teeth, trying to figure out what to say. He didn't know Texas, he only remembered Allison, and he knew better than to try to conflate the two of them, but it meant he had no groundwork to work with. It's not like they'd interacted much at Freelancer. "Funny, I wasn't expecting to see you around here. From what York said—"
Apparently that was the wrong thing to say, because Tex leveraged him up to his feet, but only so she could press him against the wall, her hand latched around his throat, squeezing.
"Where's York?" She demanded. Wash grasped desperately at her hand, which was unnaturally strong. Even with the armor, she was doing an excellent job at cutting off his air.
"Agent Texas," the familiar glow of Delta appeared beside her. Wash was already gasping for air, but he felt his mouth fall open even more at the sight. Of course. If York was going to entrust Delta to anyone, it would have been Tex. He wanted to kick himself for not realizing it sooner. "I believe that you would need to decrease pressure by thirteen percent in order for Agent Washington to be able to answer your question."
"Thanks, Delta," Tex said darkly, and suddenly, Wash could breathe again.
"This really isn't necessary," he said, as Tex moved him higher into the air, so his feet were barely scraping the ground. He had to struggle to keep his voice under control. "We're on the same side here, Texas."
"I really doubt that," Tex said. Her hand squeezed slightly, making Wash choke again before loosening. A reminder. "Now where's York?"
"And what the hell's a Meta?" Asked Church.
"I have the coordinates," Wash said, grateful he'd managed to find out what prison York was being transferred to. "And the Meta's Maine, Tex. He's been tracking us down. He got North two months back."
"North's dead?" Tex tilted her head.
"Yes. He's going after AI and armor enhancements." He deliberately moved his head enough to look at Church. "All of them." Her grip on his throat tightened for a moment.
"What do you want, Washington?" Tex demanded.
Wash licked his lips behind the safety of his visor. "I want to make Freelancer pay for everything they've done."
"You're working for them."
"What better way to find out what I need to know?" Wash demanded. "I don't have the tools. But they trust me."
Tex stared at him for a long moment, contemplating what he'd said. "Tell Command about me, and you'll wish you've never been born," she said, her voice sickly sweet. "I'm going to get York, then I'll meet back up with you."
"How will you know where to find us?" Wash said, wincing slightly as she dropped him to the dirt.
Wash could only imagine what Tex's grin looked like, but he had the feeling it had a close resemblance to a shark that had smelled blood in the water.
"Oh, I'll know," she said, which, honestly, would probably give Wash nightmares if he ever slept anymore. As it was…
"Field trip!" Caboose yelled. Wash had honestly forgotten that he was even there. He was surprised at how long the blue soldier had managed to remain quiet.
"What? Why the fuck are we going with that guy?" Church squawked.
"Just do it!" Tex snapped.
"Like fuck! I'm going with you!"
"Not happening, cockbite!"
"Try and stop me, bitch!"
"Well, I'm not coming back here, so…" Tex spun around and vanished from sight.
"Damn it! Tex!"
"Are they always like this?" Wash asked Caboose, forgetting for a minute who he was talking to.
"No. Sometimes they fight."
Wash rubbed his helmet with his hand. He had a headache. He suspected it was only going to get worse before it got better.
"Let's get going," he said, already feeling exhausted to the bone.
York's cell was boring. York wasn't used to being alone in his head anymore—without Delta, running calculations and scenarios, or even to banter with, it felt oddly empty.
He was surprised he was still alive—he knew too much. It was probably because the Director thought he knew where Tex was.
The problem was, of course, that York would rather be dead than let that bastard get his hands on Tex again.
York sighed, staring at the ceiling. He didn't like any of this. No one knew where he was, Wash was working for Freelancer, North was dead, and he hadn't had word from Tex since Blood Gulch.
Tex might even think he was dead, if she heard about the ship crash. He probably should get used to the idea that no one was coming for him.
Of course, that was the exact moment that an armored hand rapped against the steel bars of his cell, alerting him to the presence of a shimmering figure, almost completely hidden.
"Well, aren't you a sight for sore eye," York said, not sitting up and not turning to look at her.
"Really York? You got captured?" York could hear the relief in her voice, relief that he also felt, seeing her again.
"Broke my leg and set off my recovery beacon in the landing," York replied, trying to move his lips as little as he could manage. "Managed to get the kid to safety, along with my healing unit before they caught me."
"Interesting. You know," Tex's voice was oddly conversational. "Apparently you've been declared a liability, and a few guards are supposed to come into your cell and shoot you in—oh, about half an hour?"
"Oh really?" York let his eye flicker towards her, and raised his hands above his head, as if stretching. The familiar feel of a pistol grip was pressed into his palm.
"Yep. So, you fight them off, I start knocking heads together?"
"Let me guess. I'm tragically killed, you kill my murderers, run off with my dead body to bury it properly?"
"One less Freelancer," Tex said.
"Tragic really. We should probably start a support group. All this grief can't be good for us." York tucked the gun under his pillow. "How's Delta?"
"He's good. He can't appear, because of the cameras."
"Good to hear. See you in forty minutes?"
"Thirty three." Tex disappeared.
When he was out, when his armor was recovered, the bad guys were dead, and the prison was far behind them, Tex pressed Delta's chip into his palm. "Don't know how you deal with him," she said. "Pain in the ass, that one."
"Right?" York said, as if he wasn't already lifting the chip to his implants. "So much nagging."
York staggered as everything slipped into place once again, as his mind stretched out, filling itself so that it didn't feel quite so empty. Filling itself with Delta.
"York," Delta said. "It is good to see you again."
"You too, Dee," York said, smiling widely.
Tex threw his helmet at his face, which he caught barely after a warning from Delta. "Suit up," she said. "I left Wash alone with Church and Caboose and I don't trust him."
"And you left him alone with them anyway?"
"He won't do anything yet," Tex said dangerously.
York looked at her. "You left Church alone with a strange Freelancer to come get me?" He said again, incredulous.
Tex punched his shoulder. "Shut up."
York grinned, and reached for his armor. "Missed you too, Tex."
"I didn't say I missed you."
"Sorry. Love you too, Tex."
This time York didn't catch his helmet before it hit him.
Trying to get information out of Church about York was like pulling teeth.
Church seemed to hate York, spitting insults every time the name came up. Whenever Wash asked him a direct question, Church would get suspicious, and demand why Wash wanted to know.
Caboose was more forthcoming, but Wash wasn't sure in this instance if "forthcoming" meant "helpful".
"He is Tex's best friend!" Caboose told him, voice muffled as he cheerfully shoved his face full of the rations Wash had brought along for their journey. He'd never seen someone so happy about eating rations.
"Her... best friend," Wash repeated slowly, staring at the man.
Caboose nodded solemnly. "She was very upset when he left," he said. "She called him many names and said she was going to do mean things to him but she did it because she was sad, so it means she missed him loads and loads!"
Wash closed his eyes. "So he's her partner."
"Nooo, Agent Washington, that is not what I said! He is her best friend forever. They are not cowboys. And they also do not dance."
Wash exhaled for a long moment, trying to remember his breathing exercises.
"How long was York in the canyon?" Wash tried instead.
"A very long time," Caboose said. "Tex hid him in a cave. It was fun."
"No she did not, Caboose!" Church yelled. "Stop making shit up!"
Caboose looked offended.
Wash wanted to groan.
He was running in circles, trying to find answers.
He'd found the Alpha, but that was about the only thing that made sense.
And even Alpha didn't make sense, as Wash was about to find out.
Seriously, who jumped to the conclusion of ghost?
Tex would never say it out loud, but it felt right to have York at her back once again. And it was nice to have some peace and quiet in her own head, even if York was cheerfully chatting over the radio.
"So what do you think?" York asked, leaning against the wall. He was facing away from Tex, watching her back, while she was sprawled out on the ground, keeping an eye out through the scope of the sniper rifle she'd picked up. "Can we trust him?"
"I'm not sure," Tex said. "He was working for them."
"Might not have had an out like we did," York pointed out. "Besides, didn't he say he wanted revenge?"
"That's the only reason he's still upright," Tex said flatly, although she couldn't help the smirk on her face as she spotted Wash throwing his hands into the air in a sign of exasperation at Caboose's antics.
"He's not dealing well," Tex said. "Maybe he'd prefer it if I shot him."
York let out a chuckle. "And he's only dealing with two of the four. Any word from Tucker and Kai?"
"Last I heard, Tucker was in the desert. With Junior," she added. "Kai's still at Blood Gulch."
York exhaled sharply. "So it worked then."
"Yes." She set down her rifle. Because they hadn't talked about it, hadn't addressed it, and she needed answers. "Are you going to tell me what the hell you were thinking, pulling that?"
"Making sure you didn't do something you'd regret," York said, turning to face her.
"You don't get to make that call," she snapped. "It was my decision-"
"To kidnap a kid?" York said, incredulous. "To just hand yourself over to whoever it was that Wyoming was working for?"
"I-"
"Best case, you end up in a lab for the rest of your life," York said harshly. "Worst case? The Director."
Tex flinched at the thought. Her skin crawled and every single inch of her rebelled at the idea of what would happen.
Of what he'd try to turn her into.
"It would have been worth it to end the war," she insisted.
"Well, the war ended anyway," York said. "And you're still here. So I'm going to call it a win."
Tex quieted slightly at that, but she was still scowling. "It was a stupid decision," she told him. "You could have gotten yourself killed."
"And if I hadn't done it, you could have gotten yourself killed," York pointed out. "Really, there were no good decisions here."
She slowly felt herself relax.
"Speaking of things we weren't talking about," York said. "You ever going to tell me how you knew Wyoming had the time travel unit?"
Tex froze.
"Because you know, I was thinking, when we talked about it before we went on the mission, we didn't know. But then you did know. And I'm just a little bit confused on that subject," York said, looking at her.
He was too observant by half.
Tex picked up the sniper rifle again, checking on them. "I'd been caught in a loop," she said, quietly.
"Why didn't you tell me?" York asked. "Tex, if you'd known-"
"You were dead," Tex said, cutting him off. Delta flickered into existence, clearly shocked. "You were dead, and Wyoming killed you, and I broke that fucking unit and I... I got to fix things."
York stared at her. "Shit."
Tex snorted. "Yeah. Pretty much."
Delta nudged at her, sending a request for information. Tex ignored him. She wasn't going to share those files. Delta didn't need to share that pain, that grief. Delta sent her an annoyed ping through the radio.
Tex tensed suddenly, distracted from Delta and York. "They're moving. I think something's changed."
"Should we go say hello?"
"Fuck," Tex said, slinging the rifle over her shoulder. "The Reds are here."
"Well shit," York said, peering over her shoulder. "Oh look, it's a party."
"And they started without us," Tex said. "Let's gate crash."
"Memory is the key," Tex repeated again, making a face. "Really Delta? You couldn't have made that sound less pretentious?"
"My apologies, Tex. I shall try to make my statements subtler in the future."
"Will you two stop it? You're killing my groove here," York said, spinning the holographic lock. The two of them were raiding the servers, grabbing as much data as they could manage, to try to fill in the gaps in CT's files. This way, they'd have as complete a picture as possible.
"I didn't realize you had one," Tex said, nudging York slightly. "Are you sure letting Wash and Church go down to the vault was a good idea?"
"Who said it was a good idea? I'm more concerned with leaving the Reds in the control room," York said.
Tex paused, considering. "Good point," she admitted. "Can't wait to see what they do."
York paused thoughtfully. "Should be great," he said. He span it one more time. "Got it."
"Great," Tex said, vanishing from sight. "Give me two minutes, then make some noise."
"On it," York said. "Good luck Tex."
"Thank," Tex said, with that familiar smugness. "I don't need it."
York grinned slightly. It was good to have Tex back.
"Wash has been trying to convince me that I'm an A.I." Church said, and York felt, rather than saw, Tex freeze.
This cannot be good, Delta murmured. York had to agree.
"Why would he do that?" Grif asked.
"Great question," Tex snarled, but it was too quiet for any of the others to hear. York reached out, and placed a hand on her arm, trying to calm her down, although he knew it would likely be useless.
"Something about if I'm the Alpha, I can distract the Meta while he sets off a fucking emp," Church scoffed.
And oh shit.
"He said what?" Tex whirled to face Wash, who took several steps back, as if only just realizing he might have just made a very large mistake.
"It's a legitimate strategy!" Wash said, forcing himself forward again. "He's the only thing-person-" Wash corrected himself, clearly sensing the danger he was in. "Who can distract the Meta long enough to allow me to set off the EMP."
"Which puts him in the blast range!" Tex lunged at Wash. Wash managed to dodge right at the initial attack, but Tex wasn't the top of the leaderboard for nothing. She pivoted on the spot, and her hand shot out, snagging Wash by the throat and slamming him to the ground.
"Tex!" York shouted at the same time as Church did, but Tex wasn't listening to either of them.
"That is not happening." Tex snarled to Wash, their helmets close together. "That bastard got Carolina, he doesn't get Church too!"
York felt as if he'd been suckerpunched, hearing that name. "Tex," York said, quietly, forcing himself to speak, because no, he wasn't going to let this go. "It wasn't your fault."
Tex didn't look at him. "This is for her. But I'm not losing anyone else."
"Who the fuck is Carolina?" Simmons asked.
"An old friend," Church, surprisingly, was the one to answer. "A Freelancer."
York desperately stopped himself from asking if Church remembered her. He'd heard other snippets of Church's memories of Freelancer; vague, odd snippets interspersed with awful little pieces of the truth that made York and Tex pause in their tracks.
"Then how do you suggest we do it?" Wash demanded, hands fruitlessly pulling at Tex's grip on his neck.
York shrugged. "Easy. You and I go in."
"York," Tex said, almost protesting.
"No, Tex. You're not going near that thing," York said. "Wash and I can handle this. You take the guys and get out of here."
"Wait, this plan is running away? I'm suddenly on board," Grif said, visibly perking up. Sarge was still riding high on deleting the Blues, and so didn't even have any protests about being left behind for the fighting.
Instead he just pointed at York. "Do us proud, son."
York gave a lazy salute. "Suck it blue, sir."
Tex grabbed his arm, having finally let go of Wash and straightened up. "York-"
"I'll get him, Tex," York promised.
"-be careful."
He stared at her. "... you too, Tex." He held out Delta's chip. "Last time?"
"Last time." Delta blinked into existence as Tex implanted him. It wasn't getting easier, parting with Delta. York closed his eye, and tried to mentally align himself for this.
"Do remember to compensate for your injured side," Delta said.
York laughed. "Got it, Dee."
It had been weeks, and there was still nothing. Wash was still in prison.
He paced the length of his cell again, trying to think of what had happened, of what had gone wrong. Had they not made it far enough? Had Epsilon and Tex been destroyed in the EMP blast? Where was York?
The wall shook, and then suddenly Wash stared as Tex was on the other side, standing among the rubbled remains of the cell wall. "Found you," she said, sounding incredibly satisfied with herself. "Oh, they left you with your armor? That makes things easier." Suddenly a gun was thrown at him. "Great, let's go."
"Tex?" Wash squeaked, even as he automatically loaded the rifle.
"Do I have to spell it out for you, dumbass? This is a break out."
"Where's York?"
"How do you think I got this far?" Tex demanded. "Now, move! You know how bad York is with alarms!"
They made it halfway down the corridor before the alarms started blazing, true to form. Before long, Wash and Tex were pinned down by gunfire, Wash was bleeding, and Tex was sparking slightly. "This is the worst rescue ever. Of all time."
Tex snorted. "You just say that because the Reds and Blues haven't ever rescued you."
"I'm bleeding out!"
"Jeeze, you're such a whiny bitch," Tex said. "Get down!" She tossed a grenade over their cover, and then launched herself over after it, gun blazing. Cursing whatever awful luck had gotten him stuck with a freaking fearless lunatic as his only hope of getting out of prison, Wash rolled to the side, providing her with cover fire.
That was when York rammed through the side of the building with a warthog, nearly hitting Wash in the process. "Get in!" York yelled.
"What do you two have against walls?" Wash wondered, before Tex picked him up and threw him bodily into the vehicle.
"York, healing unit!" She yelled, reaching out her hand.
"I'm reversing!"
"So?"
"I need both hands, Tex!"
"Gunner," Wash muttered.
"Oh, so now you can handle a fucking leg wound," Tex said, managing to reach up and grabbing the healing unit right out of York's armor before slapping it on to Wash. Wash sagged in relief as the unit began to do its job, administering painkillers and stopping the flow of blood. "Stay down," she ordered, before swinging herself up into the gunner position.
"I don't take orders from you," Wash muttered, despite himself.
"Sorry we took so long, Wash," York said conversationally, as if Tex wasn't in the middle of determinedly slaughtering half of the base's security forces with a chaingun. "Took us forever to figure out where they'd stashed you."
"Why weren't you with me?" Wash demanded, managing to sit up slightly as the healing unit began to heal the worst of the damage. He was still slightly dizzy from blood loss, but he could handle it.
"Told them I was a Sim Trooper."
"And they bought that?" Wash asked, horrified and awed.
"I'm on the books as one because of Blood Gulch, I didn't have an AI or a mod, and Agent York is dead," York said with a shrug. "And then when Caboose wouldn't let us turn in Epsilon..."
Wash banged his head on the seat as he tried to sit up too fast. "He what?"
"He gets attached. Very easily."
Wash took a deep breath. He took several. He reminded himself that Tex was currently in control of a gun that could easily kill him in an instant and had already proven herself to be protective of York. "And you let him?"
York looked over his shoulder to stare at Wash. "This, right here? It's proving you're still new to all this. We don't let Caboose do anything. We occasionally succeed at stopping him."
"So you let me go to prison instead," Wash said bitterly.
"Oh, shut up Wash," Tex said. "We broke you out."
"Weeks later!"
"You big baby, you left York in prison for longer than that."
Wash closed his mouth.
"We got you out, didn't we?"
Wash stared at her for a long moment. He glanced back at York, who was talking quietly with Delta.
He closed his eyes.
They had. They'd come.
"Yeah," he said quietly. "Guess you did."
Tex gave him a weird look. "Were you always so fucking dramatic or was that a side effect of having Church in your brain?"
"Oh no, he was always like this," York said. "Just a lot less serious. Also less competent. How did Church exposure make you more competent?"
"I did what I had to do to survive."
It was York's turn to be shamed into silence. Tex, meanwhile, leaned against the gun, bored now that the combat was over.
"So what now?" Wash finally asked.
"Now," Tex said cheerfully. "We lose the UNSC, change your armor color, and then you can go wherever the fuck you want."
Wash stared at her. "What?"
"Missions over, Washington." Tex said lazily. "Freelancer's gone. The Reds and Blues are dicking around a canyon."
"That reminds me," York said over his shoulder. "We're supposed to swing by the desert and rescue Tucker."
"Did we figure out what was attacking him?"
"Nah, Delta couldn't figure it out."
"Your friend is being attacked? Shouldn't you be more concerned about this?"
York and Tex began to laugh at him.
Wash wondered just what he was missing this time.