A/N: Can I just say how much I love this new copy and paste way to upload? This means no more waiting to get on an actual computer to post new fics! Now I can clutter this site up with just as much Carolina/York sadness as I do RvBFics and just as frequently!
Enjoy this one which was written awhile ago, but am only just getting to post now ;)
She'd had enough. Two hours of trying to convince the Red leader that planning to infiltrate the Freelancer storage facility by first running over one of their few soldiers with a steam roller was a bad idea, had been driving her insane.
"Well, if Mrs. Fussy Britches over here would just see reason, she would understand that all plans begin with killing Grif," Sarge huffed to the surrounding group of Reds and wasn't his tone that set her off, he'd called her that again.
"That's it," she shouted, slamming her fist down on the table they'd been gathered at.
"Don't you realize that you've been thrown in this backwater canyon because of your ineptitude! That means that you don't know how to plan and you'll follow my lead!
"There is going to be no killing of any team members, just because all of your useless plans have that idiotic step in them," she rounded on Sarge. "I don't want anymore suggestions from you, and I don't want you to call me that ever again!"
With that she whirled around, leaving everyone at the table to stare after her, speechless. She stopped at the doorway, barely controlling her emotions as she said, "You're dismissed. Report back here tomorrow and I'll tell you how we're going to retrieve the memory unit."
Without so much as a glance behind her, she was down the hallway half walking, half running. She had to get as far from that room as possible. If she hadn't left she wasn't sure if she would have burst into a fit of rage and turned that incompetent sergeant's precious shotgun on him, or broken down into tears. Either way, it wouldn't have been pretty.
It was foolish. She was stronger than this. One word shouldn't affect her like this.
Mrs. Mrs. Mrs.
The title haunted her ever since Sarge had first called her Mrs. Fussy Britches. In fact it had haunted her ever since she had realized that she was never going to be a Mrs. Anything.
As soon as she reached the room she had claimed as her own, she slammed the door behind her and slid down its frame. She couldn't stop the tears that began streaming down her cheeks now that she was alone.
Wash had told her about York's death as soon as she had arrived, and yet any reminder of him struck a new blow through her heart as painful as the first.
She slipped the armored glove off of her left hand and gazed at the slim gold band that encircled the fourth finger. The engagement ring glittered softly through her tears.
She marveled at its simple beauty. She wasn't one for anything flashy and it was not at all. The smooth band twisted elegantly to encase a small diamond which radiated faint shards of light in every direction. It was perfect in every way for her, just as York had been.
She couldn't remember a time when she'd been happier than the day York had proposed to her.
She'd been scheduled for AI implantation the following week and she had been so worried. What if something went wrong? What if it changed her?
As she sat mulling over her worries he'd come up to comfort her, telling her that no matter what happened he would always love her. No matter what the future brought, no matter if she did change, he would always be there for her. He had sealed that promise with the ring she hadn't taken off since.
Her joy over knowing York would always be her's was short lived. It wasn't long before everything started falling apart. Agents were going crazy, rumors of rouge AIs were surfacing and Project Freelancer began to crumble upon itself. Before she knew it she'd found herself separated from York, never to find him again.
He'd broken his promise. He wasn't there for her now when she needed him most of all.
All that the ring entailed was lost. A promise of marriage. A promise of a family. A promise of the future she'd always dreamed about.
As she gently twisted the ring around her finger, she could still picture how it would have been. She'd be standing arm in arm with York on their wrap-around porch, looking out to their yard where their children played. Safe from plots and schemes. Safe from war and strife. Safe in the knowledge of the love they shared.
The fantasy had seemed so close, but life was cruel and it was ripped away before becoming reality.
She knew she'd never take off the ring. Even though she never had the chance to marry York, as far as she was concerned she was now a widow. Her heart would never be open to another man, so why part with one of the few reminders she had left of her soulmate?
If she closed her eyes and forgot where she was, the faint weight of the ring on her finger was enough to bring her back to the days when they were together. Back to the last days she remembered being happy. To a time when she would have loved being called Mrs.