A/N: Thanks to the great and wonderful 42IsTheMeaningOfLife, and the helpful, yet sexy PrivateTucker. Without them, this fic would be rotting in my documents folder, or half as long. Thanks a lot guys!
Reviews are loved more than orange juice and cookies.
When Wash came to, he was sprawled face down on the ground. His helmet had rolled a short distance away, and he could feel where the rocky ground had made an imprint on his face.
His head throbbed painfully when he tried to sit up, and the walls around him spun. His chest ached when he took several deep breathes to clear his head. He winced slightly, trying to remember what had happened, and why he was lying face down in the dirt.
Something with the Meta... and South.
He suddenly sat bolt upright, his chest and back protesting.
South! That bitch shot him in the back!
He felt the all too familiar stickiness of dried blood on his back. How could he be still alive? South had always been a good shot. Even during Basic Training, she'd manage to kick his ass every time when it came to target practice.
So how the hell was he still alive? It was obvious she had hit her mark; the blood on his back was proof of that. He shuddered at the memory of sharp pain from her bullets tearing through his flesh; the way they seemed to make everything else freeze. He had no clue that she would do that. He trusted her with Delta, for God's sake!
What had happened to South and Delta? There was no way she could have survived. There was little chance when he was distracting the Meta himself. He stood shakily, his body still weak. Picking up his helmet, he surveyed the room. There was no sign of South or the Meta. Frowning, he quickly ran an all systems scan of his armor. Besides being desperately low on energy, and being hit several times in the back and shoulder area, something else was wrong. His armor enhancement was missing.
South must have used it as a bargain with the Meta, he realized. Shooting him in the back not only prevented him from taking Delta back, but also a way to keep the Meta distracted while she made her great escape in the ship.
It was time for a call to Command, even if sometimes they were less than helpful. Hopefully his radio still worked. They needed to know South was still out there with Delta.
"Come in Command, this is Recovery One." There was a short pause, and then Command replied hesitantly, "This is Command. Agent Washington? We were told you were KIA."
"By who?" He had a feeling who it was, and just needed Command to confirm it.
"Agent South Dakota."
"Of course." His voice was bitter. Of course. She had probably been working with Command the whole time.
"What do you mean by 'of course'? She was supposed to be disposed of by you, if you don't remember."
"Yea. Sure. I should have killed her when I had the chance. She shot me in the back while I was trying to distract the Meta for her and Delta to get away."
"You gave Delta to her? She hasn't been rated for implantation!"
"What else was I suppose to do with Delta? He certainly wasn't going to go in my head, if that's what you're thinking. And thanks for your concern over my supposed death. It's really quite touching."
"Wash, this is important. You just gave Delta to her?"
"Yes. The Meta was attacking. It was the only way I could make sure that he would stay safe."
"She got Delta, shot you, and then tried to take the Meta on herself? How is she still alive?"
"That's what exactly what I asked myself. My armor enhancement is missing. She used it as a distraction for the Meta."
"Then how are you still alive?"
"I don't know. She definitely hit her mark. I have blood all over my back, and a bullet holes scattered all over my back."
"Do you have any healing mechanisms?"
"No. Why would I... Wait. I have Agent York's healing unit."
"And that was not taken by the Meta?"
"No."
"Why?"
"How would I know? I just woke up after God knows how long of being unconscious. I can barely stand, and I have the worst headache. You aren't helping said headache with all of your useless questions."
"Fine, Agent Washington. Just get back to base as soon as you can. We'll get you patched up, and then give you your next directive."
"What? My next directive?"
"Good luck, Agent Washington. A Recovery team was already on their way in response to your Recovery Beacon. They should be there within a couple hours." With that, the radio clicked off.
"Well, that's just great," he announced out loud. "I was betrayed by someone I thought was a friend, shot in the fuckin' back by said 'friend', and now the Meta's gone and jacked my armor enhancement. Just fuckin' great."
Frustration swept through Wash. How had all of this happened? His life had been looking up. No longer would he be the butt of crazy jokes, or hear people whispering as he went by. And now this had happened. He had disobeyed a direct order from Command, had an AI lie about it, been shot by the person he was suppose to kill, and then had gotten the AI stolen, perhaps gone forever. His life hadn't perfect, but it was definitely better than before.
Epsilon still haunted him. He still had nightmares about that stretch of time when Epsilon's mind was unraveling. He couldn't distinguish whose thoughts were whose. Memories of the Alpha being tortured had burned through his mind, and he remembered screaming at anyone, anyone at all to make it stop; to get Epsilon out of his head. They had eventually, but it took a long time to recover from it. Maybe he still wasn't.
The memories brought back the pain. His hands were shaking, perhaps from the mental pain, or maybe because he had been shot in the back.
If he ever met South again, that bitch was screwed. He would make sure that she would never, ever, shoot him in the back again. He had trusted her, and she had stabbed him in the back.
Never again.