This literally began as an 500 word story. 1 chapter. And that's all I ever wanted it to be. Sucks to be me I guess.

It's the counselor who briefs them on the phrase. Right after the Director, finishes telling them, in that detached uncaring tone, that 'this project has an estimated 50% mortality rate.' Basically its a catchall for the five emotional states a person goes through when they loose someone. They might not get all five, and not always in the same order, but everyone goes through it. Everyone.

Sitting beside Caronlina's slowly dieing form, the Counselor's words were a cold comfort. A bandage on a raw wound, when all he needed was a painkiller. Looking down at her small form, finally stripped of her cyan armor, James couldn't believe it. This was Carolina for fuck's sake. Nothing could stop her. Even on his best day, York hadn't had the chops to beat her. Or even keep up with her. She was a force of nature. A fury. A valkyrie. An avenging fucking angel.

It had been a high-risk mission that quickly turned into a total clusterfuck. The team was in full retreat. He was pinned down while playing rearguard. A dozen well armed bad guys surrounded him and more were closing in. He'd choosing between burial and cremation when it happened.
Carolina dropped out of the sky like a meteor. He had no idea where she came from and neither did the insurrectionists. It didn't matter. She was a blur of deadly, graceful motion. She dropped a sniper with a shot from her magnum. Threw a combat knife in the eye of the big guy on her right. Executed another at point blank range. York could only stare as she sprinted full tilt into another soldier, used him as shield, then threw his body at the next shooter.

"Fire your weapon, York!" Carolina continued her full out charge. She was heading right for him.

York took out a baddie trying to flank on the right.

Carolina never stopped, never even slowed down. York took off behind her, sprinting for the LZ. The entire time, he kept asking where the hell did she come from?

It didn't seem possible to connect that beautiful, dangerous woman from his memory with the one lying before him. It didn't seem right to even say her name. As if saying it would acknowledge the two were one and the same. Carolina wouldn't just give up. And neither would he.

Denial