A/N: This was also written a long time ago, I think before Recreation was released. And it's one of the few RvB things I've written that is centered on a het pairing. Shocker.
The war meant everything to Sarge. It always had.
Ever since he had first joined the army, it had been his entire life. Sarge could barely remember the days when he had had a regular life. And he didn't want to remember those days. He hadn't been happy. He was happy now. Bloodshed, murder, explosions, hating those goddamn Blues...
Sarge lived for it all, and he wouldn't have it any other way. Because the war had meant everything to him.
Then she had appeared in his life.
Freelancer Texas. Or Tex, as she was more often known.
From the very beginning, Sarge had had a grudging respect for her. Sure, she was on the same side as those dirty Blues. That made her his mortal enemy by default. Just like any other Blue or Blue sympathizer. But as a man whose life was dedicated to destroying his enemies, he had to respect anyone who could kill an enemy by ripping out their skull and beating them to death with it.
Not that they'd really had time to talk in the brief time they had captured her. Just threats, mostly. What else was there to say? They were in a war, and that's how war worked.
A few days after that incident, they had managed to have a conversation. Sarge wasn't even sure how he had ended up in a civil conversation instead of blowing out her brains onto the dusty ground. They had both been on patrol, and upon seeing each other had pulled out their weapons. But then Tex had made a comment about his shotgun, and it had turned into a debate on weapons.
Why they had walked away from each other afterwards without even an attempt at murdering the other, neither could explain. Maybe because they were the only two militant people in the canyon, and because it had been a damn long time since someone had been so willing to talk about shotguns.
Perhaps the reason Sarge ended up liking her was because she lived for the fighting too. Besides the army, she had nothing left. Sarge had previously believed that no woman could survive in the army. The army was for tough men, not for women. But Tex just threw that belief of his out the window, and tossed a grenade after it for good measure.
They both lived for war. The war came first for the both of them. And yet, they never fought. Anytime they saw each other, they ended up talking. It got to the point that, when they met, they didn't even bother to raise their weapons.
They both understood that, were they to meet on the battlefield, on their opposite teams, then they would do their best to kill each other. But Sarge was okay with that, and so was Tex. Because the war came first for both of them.
Their relationship, if you could even call it that, was not based on trust. How could you trust the enemy? It was based mostly on banter, bloodshed and weaponry. Not the ideal relationship, to most people. But to Sarge and Tex... it was the best they could hope for, and more than they'd ever expected.
They bantered, they compared weapons, they fired insults at each other and their teams... they hadn't held hands or anything mushy like that... but whatever went on in the caves between them stayed between them.
If Sarge had caught one of his soldiers sneaking off with a Blue, or even just a Freelancer on the Blue's side, he would have declared them a traitor and tied them to the Warthog for a week. But... well, he could hardly tie himself to the Warthog. He'd muttered this around Tex, and Tex had offered to help him. Sarge had offered to let Tex join the Reds, so he technically wouldn't be a traitor. Black is just a very dark shade of red, he had told her. Tex hadn't answered, just shrugged.
Sarge hated Tex a little, because she just confused him so damn much. A woman should not be that tough and badass. And she was on the Blues side, that always warranted some hate. But on the other hand... Tex had grown on him, like some mean, Blue fungus. Sarge probably could find a more flattering description, but like hell he was going to.
Some nights, Sarge stared at the ceiling, vaguely wondering what he'd do if they actually did meet on the battlefield. The war came first, he always maintained that. He never admitted to himself that the prospect of having to kill Tex scared him a little. He would never admit that, but it did. But if he was going to get anywhere in this war, he knew he would have to.
And when the time came, he didn't hesitate.
That dirty blue... Church... had told him. If she got into the ship, stop the ship. And Sarge always went for the solution that would benefit his side of the war the most. Feelings couldn't get in the way of war.
The ship had flown. Tex had stared out the window, down at Blood Gulch, down at them. Down at Sarge. For just that split second, they had stared at each other. Just one instant that seemed to last forever.
And then the ship had exploded.
The war always came first, regardless of what happened. Sarge lived for the war. And they'd won that day, scored for the Reds.
So, why did he feel so empty?
"Sarge?" Simmons asked. "Are we fighting?" He looked at the Blues, who were walking slowly back to their base. Sarge gazed at the sky, where the ship had been. Wisps of smoke. That's all that was left of the ship.
"No, Simmons. I think they've had their asses kicked enough for one day. Let's leave some for tomorrow," Sarge said, trying to sound more like they had scored a victory. They had. Sarge knew they had.
Sometimes... he wished the war didn't matter so much to him.