This is not my favorite piece, and it makes me a little mad at myself but I felt like it needed to be done. Might do a part 2 that's funny (probably) if this gets a good response.
Disclaimer: Thank God I don't own RvB.
Carolina took off her helmet and collapsed on the cot. She didn't want to dwell on the true warrior test again, she really didn't - but she just couldn't help herself as she thought about all of the Freelancers.
She sighed. It had been so long since she had really heard York's voice, to really hear him, but then that was ripped away from her and he was killed again, right in front of her eyes. The thing she had to see, just because she wasn't a true warrior.
She shook her head and rubbed her face. She needed York, she needed her other half. Her edges were frayed and rough - he had always been the one to fix them and smooth them. But now they ran wild without him, knotting themselves up into little balls of frustration, anger, disappointment.
She grit her teeth and sighed, letting out a small hiss of pain. Church popped up beside her, a curious look about him. "Carolina?" He inquired. She shut her eyes.
"Could you just - go into Tucker for a while?" She grunted, the pain inside of her swelling. He seemed as if he didn't want to, but he left her wordlessly. She needed some time alone.
Instantly, her wish was denied as the door to her room clicked and opened. She groaned a bit, not wanting to deal with another one of the endless supply of idiots. They just kept coming and badgering her!
So she was surprised when a soldier with grey and yellow armor walked in and sat in the chair across from her cot. She lifted her head.
"Wash. What's going on? Why are you here?" Wash stayed quiet for a moment before answering.
"Just thought I'd come in and see how you were doing." The sentence struck a pang in her heart - it was something York would do.
Carolina frowned and stuck up her walls again - she couldn't fall apart right now. "Well, I'm fine. You don't have to waste your time." Wash sighed and shook his head.
"No, you're not. Something's been bothering you." She let herself believe for a second that it was York who was bothering her and that it was York who was insisting that she wasn't perfectly okay like she was pretending to be, but she brushed the thought away before it hurt her too deeply.
"I told you, I'm fine." She added a slight edge to her voice, to see if he would back off. He was just too similar to York sometimes.
He replied immediately. "No, you're not. I'm not leaving until you tell me why." She stayed quiet for a while, testing the statement out and seeing if what he said was true. When he didn't give any sign of leaving her, she finally spoke again.
"When I did the whole true warrior test, which I'm sure the others told you about, I saw all of the other Freelancers. Including York. And then I had to watch them die." Wash sat back in his chair, giving out a huff.
He stayed silent too, for a while, before getting up and sitting down next to her on the cot. With a small breath, he quietly spoke. "I miss them too." She hadn't said anything about missing them - he just knew. He knew the same way York had known everything about her, had known what she wanted and what she needed and what she was as a person, and had loved her for it. It was impossible to contain the swell of love and loss that had grown inside of her, but the last straw was when Wash removed his helmet.
He just looked so similar to York - the facial structure, the eye shape, the hairstyle - that she just let it go. She let herself believe that Wash was York, that David was James. And with her feelings bubbling and overflowing, she closed her eyes and let her lips crash on his.
He flinched, shocked by her unexplained reaction and pulled back almost instantly, looking at her with a mix of confusion and sadness. "Carolina! What... What are you doing?" She kept her eyes closed.
"Lying. Now close your eyes and pretend I'm somebody that you want to kiss." Wash appeared hesitant for a moment, but when Carolina crashed her lips upon his for a second time he closed his eyes and gently, hesitantly responded. As they continued, he remembered every detail, every part of her face, the girl he wanted to kiss. He kissed her with a bit more motivation.
Carolina wrapped her arms around him as he began to kiss her like York had - confidently, lovingly, passionately. He put his hand on the back of her head and pressed closer, opening his mouth and allowing her entry.
As they kissed, they got closer together as they envisioned the ones they loved with them, still here, still loving them with everything they had. And as they pulled apart slightly, gasping for air, their eyes remained closed.
Carolina sighed, the love inside her exploding outwards after being buried and bottled up after so many years. She moaned, "York..."
A voice that was low like York's (it was York's, she told herself) answered.
"I need you with me..."
They pressed together again, fingers running through hair and arms racing up and down as they moaned, their breathing getting louder and faster.
As they tumbled backwards onto the bed in a flurry of limbs, Carolina remembered.
She woke up screaming, arms raking through her hair as she looked wildly around at her room. The Mother of Invention had never provided the biggest quarters, but her dark room still felt like a huge cavern at night, cloaking her darkest fears and biggest demons as they snuck towards her, ever closer. She couldn't handle it - being a soldier was sometimes too much. She couldn't bear this much weight on her own.
She hyperventilated, crying silently and curling up in a ball. She needed to sleep so she could train tomorrow, she needed to sleep, but she didn't want to. She didn't want to see what she always saw when she fell asleep.
With a creak, her door opened to let in a stream of soft blue light from the hallway. A tall, wide silhouette blocked some of the artificial light, his shadow moving his arm to rub his eye before slowly walking inside the room and shutting the door.
The figure approached her bed, and came close enough so that she could identify the owner of the warm chocolate brown eyes and brown hair. York.
He was in nothing but boxers, and she struggled to keep her eyes off of his rather impressive muscles as he rubbed his face again and sat down on the side of her bed without saying a word.
She looked at him, scared. He gave her a soft smile before moving his legs onto the bed and lying back so he was laying beside her, a small smirk now evident on his features.
Her frantic breathing slowed in the slightest, but she didn't lay back yet. His smirk faded, and he began to rub her back. Her lips trembled. He stopped that by slowly sitting up and gently pressing his lips to hers, a small motion, and then continued to rub her back as she fell into his arms.
He kissed her forehead once as she sighed against him, and then he laid back down and she came with him with him.
He kissed her again, and she responded smoothly, their kissing slow and quiet and tired. It held a slow-burning fire, nothing messy or desperate or loud or fast about it. It was passionate and that was all.
They way they fell asleep was with their lips parted just in the slightest, and they woke up in the same way.
Wash remembered too.
He remembered every detail - how she walked into his room and closed the door, not bothering to give him a hello. He looked up from the book he was reading and gave her a small smile accompanied with an imploring look.
Her face held none of his mild-mannered expressions. The only thing he could identify was the desperate hunger in her eyes, so he threw off his covers and rubbed his face, standing up. He was aware that he was only wearing boxers, but also was aware that Connie had her eyes only fixed hungrily on his face, so he wasn't too embarrassed.
With a clang, her helmet dropped to the ground. Her under-armour was still on, which meant she must have just come from training. She took a big step towards him, so that she was barely a centimeter away from him, before roughly reaching up and putting her hand in his hair and bringing his lips to hers.
She kissed him quickly, desperately, hungrily, hands running all over as he burnt up. Her fire consumed him, and he was not aware of anything else except for that they were kissing frantically, and that she was kissing him.
His hands and hers were wandering, running up and down and exploring every part of the person they needed. His head buzzed as they both stripped off her under-armour and fell back onto the bed, still kissing. All he needed was her.
This was so unlike the way she acted, but he didn't care, because if it was her, then that was all that mattered. And the two fell asleep, with Wash's arm around Connie's waist.
As Wash held the person on the cot closer to him, (the person was Connie, he knew) he sighed against her lips, the lips he never thought he'd feel again. This was Connie, this... this was Connie.
He gave a small frown and kissed her harder, hands roaming. He denied it - the person he was kissing was Connie. It was the right small shape, the right lips, the right love. He couldn't let himself think that this wasn't Connie - that would be - that would be fooling himself, right? Connie was right here beside him. After all these years, she was back with him and he wouldn't let himself pretend otherwise. Convinced, he gave a small moan.
But a small voice in the back of his head interrupted. If this is really Connie, then why don't you open your eyes and see? There's nothing to be afraid of. He frowned a bit.
Well, he thought back, I don't need to. I know it's her.
If you know it's her, then it can't hurt just to look at her. He gave small mental shrug, and slowly, slowly pulled away and opened his eyes. A small sigh escaped - he knew he would see her short, brown hair and beautiful eyes, the perfect, perfect lips that fit his so well.
So why was Carolina here, not Connie?
Was - was it Carolina the whole time?
Oh god, it had been.
It had been Carolina and he had let himself pretend it was Connie. Oh god, he had taken advantage of her. And... they had almost gone past what was... er... appropriate. Oh god.
A wave of pain attacked him brutally. Connie was dead. Connie had been dead for years now, and in the end she hadn't even been his. Connie was dead, and Carolina was here.
He sucked in a sharp breath of air, shaking his head and willing himself not to cry. His voice came out cracked and wavering. "C-Carolina?"
Carolina snapped from her warm daze, the wonderful pleasure that had taken over. Why was Wash here? She was busy with York, so she opened her eyes to tell him off when she saw that the person on the cot with her wasn't James.
Oh, no. James, York, he was dead. York was gone and she had let herself believe he wasn't. How could she have done this?! As she moved away from him and sat up quickly, she put her hand on her lips. No, how could she have done this?
"Wash?" She croaked.
He averted her gaze, lips trembling. Finally, putting his head in his hands, he murmured. "You're not Connie."
She laid her head against the wall. "And you're not York."
There was a small moment of silence, and then Wash gave a frustrated grunt. "How could we have let this happen?! We - we had already let them go, and now we dragged them back only to hurt ourselves again. And - we both took advantage of each other. Oh my god..."
Carolina sighed, her eyes brimming with tears. "You did a good job of pretending to be York, you know." Her voice was a little thick.
Wash gave a watery smile. "Are you telling me I'm a good kisser?"
Carolina gave a small chuckle. "In a way. It was good while it lasted, but... let's never, ever do that again. I don't think I could take it."
Wash sighed and hid his face. "I can't take it. I - I saw her... remembered her... God, I miss her so much. This - this hurts." Carolina sighed and looked down at her feet, a tear trickling down.
"Yeah, it does, Wash." And she moved to him and wrapped her arms around him, and he did the same. They cried together for the people they had lost, now for the second time.