Delta knew.
Not that York would have expected otherwise, considering the fact that he shared his mind with the AI. He wasn't sure that D understood, considering the fact that his entire frame of reference seemed to be logic-based, but there was no one that knew better than D the way his experiences with the project had changed him.
It wasn't any one thing that did it. The loss of full function in his eye, that was stressful, and a lesser man might have given up. For York that was only reason to push harder, to do more and do it better than he ever had. He was the best at what he did and no one was going to go around saying that he had lost his edge when his vision went bad. A lot of his job depended on being able to see what he was doing, almost as much as depended on feel and instinct. He did have to admit that it had hardened him in a way, but he didn't let that change who he was at his core.
The death of Carolina was harder to endure than his injury. It was such a waste. If she had died for the cause they had all enlisted to defend, he wouldn't have taken it so bitterly, but it was just in the name of those damn experiments. Her death was more than preventable. It was pointless, completely pointless. But even that, after the first cold fingers of bitterness had tried to wrap around his heart, he'd realized what was happening and pushed it back. It was tragic, of course it was, but he still had a job to do.
But Delta knew.
The decision to escape from the Project had been spur-of-the-moment, and he executed it immediately. He escaped with only the weapon in his hand, the armor on his back, and the AI that was implanted in it. At first, he was full of pride in the way he had pulled it off. But now his life had little purpose other than to make it from day-to-day. Find a place to sleep, somehow procure and consume a meal, move on so he wouldn't be found, and do it all again the next morning. That was when that spark within him began to fade. As a soldier he had been complaisant; he always did his job with a smile and a touch of flair. Now there just wasn't much to find joy in, other than the fact that he'd managed to live another day. He was still the same person at his core but he smiled less, laughed less. He used his skills not to further the salvation of mankind but to his own selfish ends.
So Delta knew.
The day that he heard Tex's voice, completely out of the blue, was the first time he'd heard the voice of someone he considered a friend in a very long time. She would expect him to be his old self, that easygoing guy with the ready chuckle, and he immediately slipped into that persona like an old, worn, favorite coat. It didn't take long for it to no longer feel forced, either. Especially when she made it clear she was there to take advantage of his considerable skills at infiltration. The plan was very tempting, and she knew just how to sell it to him. It seemed like this whole descent had started with that eye injury. After all that time spent wandering aimlessly, wondering if he would ever be of use again, he shouldn't have hesitated for an instant to join her. And he wouldn't have, except for that. What a paradox. For just a moment, he wondered whether he still had it. Could he help Tex defeat Omega? Was she right to rely on him?
And Delta knew. So he knew just what to say.
"A little payback would be nice."
York felt more alive during those final moments than he had in months. The rush he always felt the moment when he had cracked a lock, then rushing headlong into battle, invigorated him, and he threw everything he had into performing the operation. The bullets that pierced his chest seemed almost inconsequential. He was wounded, but he had more vitality in him than he had had during that time on the run. He could overcome this. If only he could take a moment to recover.
Delta knew. Delta always knew. So why was he saying that York was mortally wounded? That could be overcome. This could not be the end. He was alive again, for the first time since he'd escaped the Project.
He just needed…a little time…