(A/N) Well, now that we've got our amazingly awesome and yet so cruel end to Season 13, here's me attempting to write RvB fic. I'm gonna try something like what they did with the freelancer arc, in that I'm going to have two stories going at once. This and the other story, Until You Break, Until You Yield, can be read separately, but your enjoyment will definitely be enhanced if you read them together. Whatsoever you choose to do, dear reader, I hope you enjoy.

When Angels Fall (With Broken Wings)

Chapter 1: Unforgiven

Aiden Price would admit to jumping upon hearing the knock at the bunker door. After the incident at the Purge, most of the planet of Chorus thought him dead, to say nothing of the people with the skill to make that actually happen. He had taken great pains to escape the Tartarus' smoldering wreckage undetected. That someone knew the location of this bunker was…disconcerting, to say the least.

However, on a rational level, the former counselor was aware that if this were someone who had come for his life, they would hardly waste time knocking. If Carolina and Washington had known his location, he would be dead already. So the question now became, who on this planet knew his location and didn't want him dead?

Approaching the control panel that allowed him access to the security cameras out front, he was presented with an image that was at once less and more terrifying than the Church siblings.

A soldier in white MJOLNIR armor was standing outside the bunker. This would have been fairly nondescript as far as armor went, except that the armor was emblazoned with a very distinct set of purple accents that marked this soldier as someone from his past.

From Project Freelancer.

"I know you're in there, Counselor," she called out as she knocked on the door again, voice entirely too chipper for someone Price knew to be a complete psychopath. "We can do this the easy way, where you let me in and we talk business like reasonable people…or we can do it the hard way, where I show you just how long you can survive tied to a chair with your own intestines."

"What…business…could you possibly have with me, Agent Kansas?" he asked slowly, voice projected out to her through the security system. When she heard his words, the former agent laughed.

"Amazing. The old man has you trained so well you still use those names? It almost makes me long for the good old days. You remember. Back when I let you think I just had a mild personality disorder."

Rather than respond through the system, Price slowly shook his head and disarmed the sealed door, letting it slide aside so he could meet the former freelancer face to face. "If you would prefer I call you Thea-"

"Oh, I don't think so, Aiden. I love it when you talk dirty. It takes me right back to the psych ward," she said, easily slipping past him and into the bunker, resealing the door behind her. "You can call me Agent Kansas and I'll call you Counselor and we'll have ourselves a little role play."

"Again, what is it that you want…Agent Kansas?" he asked, choosing to indulge her for the moment. If she wanted him dead, he would be. It would be a great deal more horrific and drawn out than simply being gunned down by Washington and Carolina, but at least it would be a certain thing. Here in this moment, for whatever reason, she had decided not to kill him – yet.

"You know, this civil war of yours has been very tedious," she said, shaking her head as she continued further into the bunker, right into the control center. "Gwen chose Chorus because no one would notice if it just dropped off the face of the universe, after all. But then, I suppose that's also the reason Hargrove's clients chose it."

"It isn't my civil war," he reminded her. "I was simply trying to get out of prison."

"And you did a fabulous job of that. It seems to me all you've done is back yourself into another prison. What are you doing here but waiting for other interested parties to sniff you out and put a bullet in your brain," she said, beginning to whistle casually as she pulled a chair up to the table at the center of the control hub. Once she'd sat down, she kicked her feet up onto the table, just staring at him.

"Well, when the alternative is death, Agent Kansas, one tends to…cultivate other options," he explained calmly as he stared back at her, not moving from the entryway. "How many times will I be made to reiterate the question before we come to the reason why you sought me out?"

"We'll come to it when we come to it, Counselor," she said pointedly, and he could almost see the leer forming beneath her visor. Right about now, she'd be looking at him like a cat looks at a mouse she has pinned and refuses to eat, just enjoying watching him squirm.

Ultimately deciding he was not going to get anywhere with her by being direct, Price opted for simple conversation, peering at the former freelancer through narrowed eyes. "You mentioned that Dr. Dorokhov selected Chorus for a purpose. Is she here now?"

"Of course. Has been ever since the Break-in."

"And you've been working for her?"

"If you want to call it that. Who do you think it was that got her on her feet again after what happened to Wash and Carolina? I'm the one who convinced her to continue her work. You all lost your nerve after what happened with Maine and Sigma, but me…I'm always willing to go a step further," she said, leaning slightly forward in the chair and cocking her head to the side.

"There's certainly no denying that," Price said, finally moving into the central hub. If she were anyone else, anyone at all, he would be able to conceal his fear. He was good at hiding, always had been, but Agent Kansas was a different beast altogether. She could see right through him. She knew he was afraid of her and pretending anything else was a waste of much-needed energy. "What is it the two of you hoped to accomplish by breaking free of Project Freelancer?"

"Oh, I think you know. I don't think I need to spell out what sort of goal a geneticist is working toward. Really, you and the Director had two prime specimens in Maine and Michigan, but when it came right down to it, neither of you had the balls to keep going."

"Agent Michigan?" he pressed, freezing briefly upon hearing the name. "But she was-"

"She was useful," Kansas interrupted before he could finish. "Gwen's done amazing work with her. I encouraged her to bring Carolina and Wash along when we left. After all, Carolina should have been a corpse and, really, what use was Wash to you in the state Epsilon left him in? She could have done work just as exemplary with the pair of them, but I suppose even she didn't have the heart to do that…not to Allison's darling babies. I still believe they could be of use, though."

"In what way?"

Kansas chuckled quietly as she slipped her feet off the table, leaning forward in an almost conspiratorial manner. "Well, this is embarrassing to admit, but it seems we have an asset out of containment at the moment."

"An asset?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes. Agent Maine."

Price shook his head. "That's impossible. Agent Maine is deceased. I examined the corpse myself."

"Indeed, you did. And yet Maine is still among our assets. Strains the mind a bit, doesn't it," she said with a small giggle.

"You don't mean to say that…Gwen actually succeeded in her objective?" he asked, eyes widening. The former Agent Tennessee's work was massively illegal, but the implications of her research…

"Very close now. Maine was just the first of many successes. Just a little more time and we'll have accomplished what we set out to do."

"But Agent Maine is…out of containment, as you say."

"Just so. He escaped from our compound last night."

"Escaped…or was set loose?" the former counselor suggested quietly, knowing he was taking his life in his own hands by doing so.

"Escaped, as happened eight years ago. Only this time he's alone. The Meta does not inhabit his mind at the moment."

"I suppose I shouldn't bother arguing that the Meta was destroyed seven years ago," Price said, bristling slightly at this new information. If the Meta had really existed all this time…

"Indeed. The point being that the Meta would like their body back. Until Gwen produces a viable subject, Maine's physical being is forfeit to the Meta," Kansas explained.

"So you'd like my help in recovering your asset then?"

"Among other things, yes. Michigan and Virginia are already in pursuit, of course, but there's intel they don't have that could prove useful. Am I correct in thinking that Agent Washington is still on Chorus?" she asked as she reached up to undo the clasps on her helmet.

"That is correct. The Reds and Blues have not yet left, but why should that matter? If he is normally kept in containment, as you say, how could Agent Maine have come by such information?" he asked as Kansas removed the helmet, revealing honey brown skin and striking sky blue eyes, all framed by a mop of dark hair that was pinned atop her head, save for two strands of purple-dyed hair that hung loose around her face. Most who didn't know her would have called her beautiful, except for her most distinct feature – a nasty scar that ran from the left side of her forehead down through her face, terminating just above the right side of her jaw.

"The how of it's not important. The fact remains that, free of restraint, Maine will seek him out. You know that's true," she said, continuing to stare at him as she set her helmet on the table, and if he'd dared to look away from those piercing blue eyes, he would have. The only trouble was he didn't dare. One didn't simply look away from Agent Kansas – not until she gave you permission to, and by the time she did, you could well already be lying in a pool of your own blood. Whenever he'd looked into her eyes in the past, he'd always felt like something not wholly human was looking back. The years had changed nothing.

"True enough," Price granted. "So you intend to recapture him before he can reach Agent Washington."

"No, no, no, of course not," Kansas said, smiling as she blinked and shook her head, releasing him from her gaze. "I don't mean to take Maine before that can happen. I'll take him after the fact…once Wash has had a chance to see him."

"Why?" he asked, shifting his gaze to the side and looking at her out of the corner of his eyes.

"Because Maine is mine, Counselor. Gwen's business is with the Meta, but mine is with Maine. He belongs to me, and I don't share my toys – ever. It's high time I made Wash understand that," she said, running her tongue along her bottom lip in clear anticipation of what she had planned for her former comrades.

"Well, you seem to have everything well in hand. What exactly do you need me for?" he asked her.

"As you're so fond of reminding Charon, you have unparalleled insight into the collective psyche of the freelancers. We'd simply like to utilize that. In exchange, we can grant you passage off Chorus, anywhere you'd like, away from the law, with money to your name and no one chasing you. We offer you freedom just to work for us one last time. Tell me that doesn't sound like a sweet deal."

Price nodded slowly. In truth, it sounded like a very sweet deal. While this wouldn't get him his life back, it would at least free him to start over. He could move on – without the project – without the Director.

"Consider me on your payroll, Agent Kansas. What is it you have in mind?"

"My dear Counselor, I thought you'd never ask," she said, grinning from ear to ear. "Just get me to the compound where our darling simulation friends are staying and we'll take it from there."

XxX

David trembles as he feels familiar large hands trace over his thighs. He groans quietly as a fresh sheen of sweat breaks out all over his body.

"Hngh…yeah…Maine," he gasps against the larger agent's neck.

Maine purrs against him, sending a delicious rumble of sensation through his body. He can feel a question in the way Maine's lips shift into a smile against his temple, in the way his grip on David's thighs tightens just that little bit more.

"Yeah…feels good," he pants, feeling Maine's chest heave as he plants a trail of rough kisses from the taller freelancer's shoulder up his neck to his jawline. The purr nearly becomes a growl as Maine writhes beneath him. David can feel that Maine's just as eager as he is, but the grip on his thighs remains constant, with Maine rubbing skilled fingers along tense muscles, thumbs tracing just along his inner thighs – just shy of where he really needs Maine right now.

In an effort to urge Maine to speed up, he trails a hand down his lover's thickly muscled stomach, reaching lower, down into his thatch of dark, curly pubic hair. Before he can get to the really interesting part, though, Maine reaches a hand up to stop him, fingers wrapping gently but firmly around his wrist.

Not yet.

"Damn tease," David groans with a strangled laugh. "Better…better hurry…or I'm gonna come before we get to the fun part."

Maine chuckles breathily as he gazes up at him, plainly asking, 'This isn't fun?'

"Fuck you," David snips, bucking eagerly against Maine's hands.

It's difficult to see the other man's expression in the dark, but he can make out the smile stretching languidly across his lips and the look in his eyes that clearly says, 'Pretty sure that's the point.'

"Damn it," the younger man mumbles, unable to help smiling. God, but he loves this man so damn much. He's almost caught off guard when Maine finally wraps a hand around his hard cock. He gives a strangled cry, head falling back in bliss as his burly partner pleasures him with sure, strong strokes. He barely has enough presence of mind to lean back down over Maine and press a tender kiss to his lips.

"David…" Maine whispers against him. More than likely it's the only word he'll speak all day, but even in its simplicity, it says more than either of them could say with a thousand words. It says how much Maine cares for him, how he loves him, how he lives for him.

"Matt," he whispers back, even though he knows he can never match the reality of everything Maine's voice carries with words alone. Words cannot explain the fullness in his heart or the joy he feels flowing through his veins every moment he knows Maine loves him just as deeply. Words will never be enough to express what he feels for this man, but that doesn't mean he's not going to keep trying. He'll fight to tell Maine how he loves him until the day he dies.

"I love you," he whispers, voice thick with the emotion as he presses several kisses to Maine's face, working gentle fingers over each and every scar. "I love you so much."

Maine's breathing grows ragged as they move together on the small bed, tasting and feeling everything as if it's the first time all over again. David moves as close against Maine as he possibly can, feeling the sounds of pleasure rumble deeply in his chest as the larger man moves in him.

"Love you," Maine growls softly in his ear, and David practically melts at the simple confession. He clings all the tighter to his partner, knowing they're as close to becoming one being as is physically possible.

The climax isn't loud when it happens, but it's no less earthshattering. David comes first, toes curling and fingers digging harshly into Maine's shoulders as he spills. Then he hears Maine grunt and there's that deliciously sticky, warm feeling of being completely filled.

They don't speak for a long while after. David just lies on top of Maine while the other freelancer holds him close with one arm, the other one occupied with tangling his fingers together with David's, each tracing little circles against the other. Eventually, David begins to laugh quietly as something occurs to him.

"Man, Carolina's gonna be pissed in the morning."

Maine looks up at him, raising an eyebrow.

"There's no way I'm gonna be able to make up the numbers on that course I botched yesterday. If anything, the numbers are gonna look even worse, seeing as how I definitely won't be walking straight tomorrow."

Maine gives a shrug, then an apologetic grumble before pulling David back in for a very slow kiss.

"Of course it's not your fault, big guy," David reassures him when they finally separate. "I'm the one who started flirting in the locker room. It'll be worth it, though. It's worth everything," he says, smiling as he looks into Maine's eyes…

but then those beautiful amber eyes suddenly turn red and the silent darkness around them burns with hellfire.

"I hope you enjoyed it, Agent Washington. Memory is really all you have left, isn't it."

Sigma.

"Why didn't you save him, Agent Washington? I had to listen to him scream all those years. He was so certain you would save him, but in the end, you let him die. Can you imagine what that betrayal must have felt like?" Maine demands with Sigma's voice, fingers suddenly digging into David's arms.

"I tried. I tried! There was nothing I could do for you. How could I…I didn't…couldn't…Matt," he pleads weakly, struggling in vain to get free.

"Tried nothing! Left me to burn!" he snarls in a hideous amalgamation of Maine's and Sigma's voices. "Didn't help me!" Almost before David realizes it, Maine's hands are wrapped around his throat, cutting off his air – choking him.

"Maine…please…Matt…don't," he begs, fingers scrabbling ineffectually against Maine's thicker ones.

"He saved your life, Agent Washington, and you claimed to love him. The least you could do is fight for him," he hisses in David's face.

"I do…love him. I love you…Matt," he chokes out, feeling tears pour down his face as his struggling grows weaker.

"Then prove it," Sigma snaps, but then, just for a moment, those hellish red eyes flicker back to the amber that he knows – the man he loves. Maine's features crumple in abject anguish as he pleads with him. "Save me."

Wash woke from the nightmare with a strangled shout, shooting bolt upright in bed. "Matt!" he cried out, hands halfway to his throat before he realized that none of it had been real. Maine was dead. He'd lost him thirteen years ago.

Struggling to rein in his erratic breathing, Wash slowly drew a knee up to his chest, using one hand to wipe away the cold sweat that had broken out all over his face. Glancing around the temporary quarters, he was relieved to see he hadn't woken any of the others with his little fit. Really, he shouldn't have been surprised that the Blood Gulch crew could sleep through a tornado right now, given everything that had happened. He was the only one who couldn't sleep.

He could never sleep.

"Agent Washington?"

Okay, apparently he was wrong.

"Caboose?" he murmured dazedly, glancing toward the youngest blue's bunk. He hadn't moved at all, but it seemed he was awake. "Sorry. Didn't mean to wake you."

"Who is Matt?"

"Matt? He's…he was…somebody I…he died," Wash finally offered up lamely, not wanting to get into the whole complicated business with Caboose of all people. "He died…a long time ago…and I couldn't save him."

"Well…maybe you could try again," Caboose suggested with a yawn. "Maybe you'll get it right this time."

"Yeah…right…'cuz that's exactly how it works," the former freelancer said with a bitter chuckle as he climbed out of his bunk.

"Yes, it is," Caboose said, already drifting back to sleep. "Have to do it until you get it right. Church died a lot…until we saved him right. We just gotta save him right again."

"I got it. You just go ahead and get back to sleep. I need some air," he said before heading out of the temp quarters. Ultimately, he ended up heading out of the outpost altogether, walking along the edges of the jungle.

If he'd had his head on straight, he would've suited up before going out, instead of heading out in just his boxers and an undershirt, but getting into armor sort of defeated the purpose of getting some air. Besides, with Charon defeated, what did they have to worry about?

In truth, he'd been thinking about Maine a lot these last few days – after what had happened onboard the Staff of Charon. Seeing Maine's armor again had pierced his heart with twin bullets of love and pain, just like all his previous encounters with the Meta. Only this time, to see Tucker in the armor, to see him using something of Maine's as a weapon – as Sigma had used Maine as a weapon – something inside of him had just broken. He was happy his friends had been able to use the armor to survive Charon's assault, happy that Epsilon's fragmentation hadn't been for nothing, but it still tore at the unhealed wounds in his heart to see something that had been so very much a part of Maine twisted by Malcolm Hargrove.

Only now, with the fighting finished, Wash found himself alone with his thoughts as he hadn't been for quite a few years. Ever since the Meta's death on Sidewinder, Wash had shoved away thoughts of Maine, buried them deep in his heart where they could do no harm. But seeing the armor again, and hearing Hargrove malign the man who had once worn it – the man he'd loved…would probably always love – that had dragged everything back to the surface, leaving him to stew in fresh guilt over what Maine must've suffered while he himself had been locked up in a padded cell.

As he walked along the perimeter, Wash found himself fiddling with the necklace he never took off. It was a pendant Maine had given him a long time ago, back before Sigma and Epsilon, and after all this time, it was the only thing he had left of Maine. The pendant was a small chunk of unpolished blue amber. To anyone who saw the pendant, it just looked like a piece of raw amber, probably not the best made piece of jewelry, but to him it was the most beautiful treasure in the entire universe.

Under artificial light, the pendant looked like regular amber, but when it was hit by sunlight, the amber would glow a pale blue color. It had been their precious secret. The small, imperfect stone had been strung on a slender leather thong and he'd never taken it off after Maine had slipped it around his neck.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, clutching the amber pendant in a white fist, talking as if Maine could still hear him. "I'm so sorry…Matt. You saved my neck more times than I can count…and I couldn't even do this for you. I didn't deserve you. I know that. I should've fought for you…done something…anything," he hissed, feeling tears burn just behind his eyes. He might've actually let himself shed them were it not for the sudden interruption of his older sister.

"There wasn't anything you could've done," Carolina's voice sounded from behind him. Spinning around in surprise, Wash released the pendant and swiped clumsily at his face in an effort to wipe away any signs of tears, but he knew he couldn't do anything about the red eyes, and the look of pity in his sister's eyes confirmed that for him.

"C-Carolina," he murmured in shock.

"Sorry, couldn't help overhearing. I saw you heading out without armor and didn't think it was a good idea for you to be on your own."

"You're not wearing armor either," he pointed out, though she was still better suited-up than he was, dressed in the bottom portion of her body suit, the top tied around her waist and the black cami she wore underneath that exposed to the night air. Somehow it was almost strange to see her out of armor, as he imagined he must look to her right now. During this whole ugly mess, it seemed they'd been suited up for longer periods than they'd ever been during Freelancer.

"Guess not, but now it doesn't matter because we're two freelancers together. We could definitely handle anything that shows up," she said, a cocky smirk working its way across her face as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"So what? You're saying I couldn't handle a situation on my own?" he jibed, only partly joking. Once again, the pitying look crept into his sister's eyes.

"Not like that, you couldn't. Not distracted and grieving…when you've clearly got ghosts on your shoulder."

"Ghosts?" he mumbled, turning away from her. "That's interesting coming from the woman with the little glowing people on her shoulder. I take it you're all listening in."

This was followed by the distinct sound of Theta's hologram form shimmering into being. "Yeah, sorry, Wash. Carolina's just been worried about you since that last fight. You…took seeing that armor again pretty hard."

"The others don't know," Wash said softly, shoulders slumping in misery when he felt Carolina rest a hand on his back. "They don't know what Maine was to me…just you guys…and you know every damn thing about me. You know exactly how much I love him…and I couldn't help him when he needed me most."

"Because of Epsilon," Delta finished, appearing beside Theta. "While he was unraveling and you were in confinement, Sigma was enslaving Maine…and you feel like you could've stopped it."

"Not feel. I know I could've stopped it, but I don't blame him for what happened. Maybe I did…back then…but I know it wasn't his fault. Epsilon didn't ask to be made, or to be implanted in my head. No. Somebody else made that call, and he's paid for his mistakes. I just…I've been thinking about Maine…every minute since I saw that armor. I just can't get it out of my head," he said, reaching over his shoulder to grip his sister's hand. "I thought I'd put Project Freelancer to bed, but I just feel so angry…and useless…and sad…and I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do," he hissed, gripping Carolina's hand in an impossibly tight fist. If it pained her at all, she didn't say anything. She and the fragments just let him talk, vent until he ran out of words.

"You never really grieved for Maine, David," she said, using his given name for the first time in what felt like years. "You've buried it all this time and you suddenly find yourself having to deal with all of it. I didn't grieve for York for a long time either. I was-"

What followed might have been a nice, healthy sibling-to-sibling conversation about grieving and letting go – something both of them could have sorely done with a long time ago – but Wash didn't hear a thing Carolina said after he caught sight of something in the dark just beyond the tree line.

A tall, muscular figure decked in white armor, and that EVA helmet – always the helmet.

No. No way. It can't be. This isn't real. That armor's in the base. I just saw it in the temp quarters!

That was what the rational part of his mind said, but something much stronger than rationality took over when he bolted toward the jungle – something aching and needing and desperately hoping. He heard Carolina and Theta shouting somewhere behind him, but he ignored them, just kept running, pursuing the ghost slipping away through the trees.

"Maine!" he shouted, running after the figure barreling through the jungle ahead of him. What was he going to do when he caught up to him? Didn't know…didn't care…had to catch up. No thoughts on how this was possible, not even a moment of doubt or a thought that he might be mistaken, just a need to reach him. "Wait! Stop!"

He didn't know how far they ran, ignored the burn in his lungs and the pain in his bare feet from stumbling over rocks. He blocked out everything else in favor of the pursuit. He would run forever if he had to, but when they hit a clearing and the man was about to crash through the trees on the other side, Wash knew he couldn't let this go on.

"MATT!" he screamed, voice carrying the weight of years – of desperation, love, and heartbreak – and almost as if the word had chained him in place, the figure in white stopped in his tracks. Suddenly overcome by exhaustion, Wash dropped to his knees, panting harshly.

"You…you can't…be him," the former freelancer struggled to get the words out. "He's dead. He's gone. He died. He's dead." Either Wash was dead, too – or he'd finally lost it, finally gone completely insane, and this was just the last echo of a broken mind.

The figure said nothing for the longest time, just stood facing away from him, shoulders plainly tense beneath his armor.

"Who are you?" Wash pleaded, the painful knot in his chest confirming he was still alive, but threatening to kill him at the same time. "Please…tell me!"

His quarry didn't exactly look back at him, just shifted his head slightly as if he meant to look back over his shoulder, and when he finally 'spoke' it was in that same unsettling growl of Maine's.

'David,' he grumbled softly, the growl having an almost tender sound to Wash's ears.

"Matt?" he whispered, slowly climbing back to his feet. "Is it…really you?"

'Sorry. I shouldn't have come here…put you in danger,' he growled, finally turning to face him.

"What…what do you mean? Maine…" he mumbled, taking a few faltering steps forward.

'Stay away,' Maine growled, taking a step back into the cover of the trees. 'If you get too close…you'll get hurt.'

"I don't understand," Wash said, still moving slowly forward. "If you don't want me to…why did you come?"

'I can't…just…I had to see you,' Maine tried to explain, the sounds having the ring of desperation to them. He took one more step back before falling completely still again. 'They said you were here.'

Wash didn't care who 'they' were. He was past caring if this was real or not. All he wanted – needed – in this moment was to see Maine's face. He needed it more than he needed air to breathe, and he felt that same need in Maine when he moved the last few inches into his personal space and the taller man didn't move back. Fingers trembling, Wash reached for the clasps on the EVA helmet.

'Wash…please…don't,' Maine pleaded softly, but he made no move to stop him. It was a struggle for Wash not to just tear the helmet away when he heard the hiss of it releasing. Instead he lifted the distinctive piece of armor away slowly, letting it fall to the ground as he finally beheld his lover's face.

The last time he'd seen Maine's face was thirteen years ago, before Epsilon's implantation. Even though those years had been hard and that beloved face was partly in shadow, Wash still knew it as well as he knew his own. He knew every strong feature and soft hollow. Most of all, he knew the amber eyes that gazed down at him with both joy and heartbreak.

"Maine," he breathed, reaching up a hand to touch his pale face. If he didn't know better, he would say Maine was trembling.

'Wash…' Maine repeated, reaching up a gloved hand to cradle the hand pressed against his cheek. 'Wash.' Then he turned his head to the side and pressed his lips against the palm of Wash's hand. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut and Wash could've almost sworn there were tears trickling from them. He could feel the hot tears beginning to slip from his own eyes.

Their tiny moment could have been for a second or an eon, but however long they had, they had each other, and when Maine finally opened his eyes again, he reached his free hand up to the pendant resting on Wash's chest.

'Still…still have it.'

"Yes," Wash said with a teary smile. "I'd fucking die before I'd give this up."

Returning the smile, Maine drew Wash's hand down to his chest piece, resting it on the armor just above his heart, letting him know that he also still had his pendant.

Wash would've said more, except he was interrupted by the sound of movement somewhere off to his left. "Carolina?" he called out, but Maine immediately snarled and seized him in his arms, shoving him behind him.

Wash knew better than to ask what was happening. If Maine believed they were in danger, he trusted him. With him being out of armor, he'd have to rely on Maine even more than usual. When a cursory search revealed no weapons on his partner, Wash simply turned to face the jungle, standing back to back with Maine. If he'd had a chance to think about it, he would've marveled at how easily they fell back into it, but there wasn't much time for thought.

Almost the moment Wash turned around, a pair of laser cuffs shot out of the trees and wrapped themselves around his wrists. Before he could even figure out what was happening, the cuffs had pulled him to his knees, cementing themselves immovably against the ground.

"Wha- what the hell is this?" he shouted. He heard Maine attempt to snarl a response, but when the taller freelancer turned to help him, another pair of cuffs shot forward to imprison him, tethering him to the ground right next to Wash.

"Maine!" he shouted, struggling against the cuffs to no avail.

"You may as well give it a rest, Wash. You're not going to get out of a pair of gravity binders."

Wash fell still upon hearing the voice. It had been years, but he knew he'd never be able to forget any of the voices he'd become familiar with during Freelancer, even if he wanted to. When he looked up, he saw two of their old teammates walking toward them out of the jungle.

Both soldiers wore gray armor, but they had differing sets of accents. The first one had bright red highlights and the second one, the one who'd spoken, had pale blue highlights on his armor.

"Gin? Virginia?"

"Been a long time, hasn't it," Agent Virginia said.

"Aren't you supposed to be in jail?"

"Heh, don't sound so disappointed, Wash," the man said with a shrug. "Pretty sure you're supposed to be dead a couple times over, along with Maine here."

"And Michigan," Wash said, glancing at Gin's partner, who had yet to speak. "Pretty sure she was brain dead last time we knew each other."

"Who said she's not? Little Miss Mitch always was a bit slow," Gin joked, punching Michigan lightly in the shoulder, to which she didn't react. She just continued to survey their prisoners.

"Okay, the Mitch I remember would've at least dislocated a shoulder for that one. What's going on?" Wash demanded, still struggling faintly against the cuffs that held him down.

"Times have changed, unfortunately. If we're being honest with ourselves, the Washington I remember was barely out of diapers. Guess that makes you a bit of a cradle robber, eh Maine?" Gin teased, actually reaching down and pinching the burly freelancer's cheek in the place Wash had so recently been caressing.

Maine yanked his head away, attempting to bite Gin, but the agent pulled his hand back fast enough to avoid it. Maine roared in rage, struggling against the cuffs even though it was plainly useless. Gin shook his head. "Come on, man. Cut me some slack here. You know I hate doing this, but Sigma really just isn't going to like that you've been misbehaving."

"What? Sigma?" Wash repeated in shock. "Gin, what the fuck are you talking about?"

'Wash, don't trust them,' Maine warned him. 'You can't trust anything they say.'

"Why not?" he asked, not really caring who answered at this point.

"Why not what? I don't know about you, but all I got from that was hliss grrl hssh argrh!" Gin imitated mockingly.

"He says I can't trust you. That is, unfortunately, operating under the incorrect assumption that I'm the trusting sort these days," he said, glaring up at Gin.

"Ah, so little Wash has done some growing up," Gin said, slowly starting to circle them.

"Yeah, well, having another mind commit suicide inside yours will do that to you," he snapped at the other man.

"And having one jump ship? What do you think that does?"

"You mean Kappa-"

"Not like you're thinking, no. Not like Wyoming. Still wasn't pleasant, though. Nice to know that being the Director's kid didn't do you any favors in that department," Gin said, patting him on the shoulder.

Wash stiffened upon hearing this, the hairs rising on the back of his neck. "How do you know about that?"

"Try how would I not know that. Sometimes it seems like that's all Dorokhov talks about."

"D- you mean Gwen? Gwen's here?" Wash pressed, but before Gin could answer him, he felt a sharp prick in the back of his neck. As the hypodermic needle quickly delivered whatever drug it was into his system, he felt an arm wrap gently around his shoulders, taking his weight as his body gave out on him.

"She's here, Agent Washington, but I wouldn't get your hopes too high for a family reunion," yet another familiar voice murmured in his ear. "You see, your family has a nasty habit of…losing their minds when it comes to loved ones."

"K- Ka…" he struggled to speak the name, but that was all he could manage to get out before passing out cold. As she lowered him to the ground, Agent Kansas deactivated the gravity binders holding him, allowing him to rest easily on the ground.

'WASH!' Maine screamed, struggling violently against the binders with even less success than before.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. Look what you've done now, Maine," Kansas chastised as she looked up at him, fingers ghosting teasingly along the side of Wash's face. "This didn't have to happen. You made it so when you chose to come to him. It's your fault. Just like before."

'Filth! Don't touch him!' Maine snarled.

"Mm, nope. Sorry. Didn't catch that. Did you forget, Matthias? You can't speak without this one…or without Sigma," she said lightly, looking at him as she ran a thumb along Wash's bottom lip. Then her hand traveled lower, briefly fondling the amber pendant on the way down. "Ah, yes. Your precious vow. This is as close to a ring as you'll ever come, isn't it."

'Get away from him!' the incensed freelancer shrieked, struggling all the harder. Kansas just laughed as her hand ventured even lower.

"That still doesn't mean anything to me, Matthias. Am I to understand that this makes you angry?" she asked, hand now moving along the waistband of Wash's boxers, a single finger slipping beneath the elastic.

'STOP IT!'

Kansas laughed again as she withdrew her hand, reaching up to remove her helmet. When she lifted it free, she smiled at him for a moment before turning her attention back down to Wash. "Isn't this fun. David Church can't say anything. Not anymore…not even after thirteen years," she mocked. Then she leaned down over Wash and pressed her lips against his, shoving her tongue into his mouth as she kissed him harshly.

'I WILL KILL YOU!' Maine roared in helpless rage, desperate to stop this from happening. Before anyone could say anything more, though, a new presence shimmered into being between Maine and Kansas – a burning fury of a presence that immediately cowed Maine into silence.

"Hello, Agent Maine," Sigma said with an eerie smile. "My, but it is nice to get away from my brothers every once in a while. How are we doing tonight? Has something upset you?"

Maine made no sound, but he couldn't quite help glancing back at Kansas and Wash. Sigma also looked back, understanding quickly lighting his holographic features. "Ah, yes…Agent Washington. There are other more…creative ways in which your lover might be violated, Agent Maine. Perhaps you might prefer it if Agent Kansas were to insert me into Agent Washington's neural implants."

'No,' Maine hissed in abject horror, knowing that Sigma took his meaning, even if none of the others did. He couldn't allow Sigma to hurt Wash any more than he already had…even if it meant his own freedom would be the cost.

"Good boy," Sigma mocked. "Now if you'll just allow us to take you back to the compound without a fuss, we won't have to do anything…untoward to Agent Washington."

Maine let out a hiss of defeat at this, body slumping into a submissive position. When he nodded, Kansas finally pulled away from Wash, smiling at him in the same condescending way Sigma did. As the former agent and the A.I. leered at him, he looked past them, down at Wash, lying helpless on the ground.

'I'm sorry, David.'

"Good boy," Kansas repeated Sigma's words, reaching forward to deactivate the gravity binders, releasing him from the dirt, but still leaving his wrists bound.

"Do you really have to do all this, Thea?" Gin asked Kansas as he helped Maine to his feet. "Wash is…he didn't do anything to deserve this."

"On the contrary, James. Washington thought he could take Maine away from me, and for that he will be punished…just not tonight," Kansas said, locking her eyes on Maine's as she ran a hand over Wash's hip.

Maine growled warningly, briefly making a move to go at her, but Kansas just shook her head, leering as Sigma materialized between them once more.

"Ah, ah, ah, Agent Maine. None of that. Our threat stands firm. The choice is yours. Agent Washington…or yourself."

Hissing in frustration, Maine fell still once again, allowing Gin to pull him away from Wash. Kansas continued to smile as she got to her feet. Before the small group could melt back into the jungle, though, Carolina burst into the clearing, ready to snap some spines.

But then she saw just who it was standing over her little brother – at least two of whom should have been dead.

"Kansas? Gin? Mitch? Maine?" she whispered in shock, gaze shifting to each of them individually. Kansas grinned at her, but Maine looked away from her, unable to look her in the eye.

"They are actually…not the ones you should be worrying about," Delta's voice sounded in her head, shock registering in the tones as he drew her attention to the fiery A.I. flickering before Kansas.

"Sigma," the agent and the fragments breathed together, even their own Sigma registering shock at the sight of the original fragment.

"How?" the harmonized voices of Eta and Iota echoed the loudest of all, trembling with fear – the original victims of the Meta.

"Good to see you again, Carolina," Kansas said as she went to pick up Maine's discarded helmet, humming briefly while she stood on tiptoe to place it back on his head. "It's been far too long."

"What the fuck is this?" Carolina demanded, hesitant to advance for fear of something happening to her brother. "What did you do to Wash?"

"Nothing that can't be undone. Your baby brother will be fine…assuming you make the correct decisions in the next few minutes," Kansas said.

Carolina didn't bother asking how Kansas knew she and Wash were siblings. She honestly wouldn't put it past Kansas to somehow learn the base codes of the goddamn universe. No doubt she had something to do with the fact that Maine, Michigan, and Sigma were all still alive.

"So what exactly are the correct decisions?"

"The toxin in his system is distilled from a native Chorus plant. A standard antidote pack will have no effect. For now, he's only unconscious, but if you don't get him an antidote within the next two hours, he will die," Kansas informed her.

Maine gave an angry snarl at this, briefly struggling against Gin and Mitch, but Carolina remained calm, keeping her focus on Kansas and Sigma.

"And how am I supposed to get him an antidote?"

"Oh, I'm sure your Dr. Grey can help you with that. No one knows Chorus flora better than she does. I have every confidence you'll be able to save Agent Washington. After all, we cannot have him die yet."

"Who's 'we'?" Omega asked, butting his way into the conversation.

"Much as I'd love to tell you, it just wouldn't be any fun for me to give the game away so early on. You'll learn soon enough, Epsilon. After all, we'll be seeing you again before too long."

"The name's Omega, if you don't mind. We are not Epsilon. And we're not going to play the cryptic bullshit game. What the fuck are you assholes talking about?" the A.I. demanded.

"Let me speak with them," a strange new voice suddenly entered the conversation. It seemed to have come from Mitch, but it was like nothing Carolina had ever heard from her before. It was a raw, scraping sort of sound, not quite high-pitched, just harsh on the ears – almost like a hiss from Maine's throat. If a voice could be torn open and left to bleed, screaming in agony, Carolina felt certain this was what it would sound like.

Kansas perked her head up in interest at the suggestion, glancing back at Mitch with a lopsided smirk on her face. "Are you sure you're feeling up to it?"

"More than you can know," the strange voice hissed softly. "I've been waiting for years to see him again."

"I think we have been patient long enough. Where exactly are you going with all this?" Delta suddenly pressed, attempting to bring some levelheadedness to the confrontation. In response, yet another A.I. flickered into being before Mitch.

The A.I. fragment manifested as a hooded figure. There were no eyes, but Delta still knew the other A.I. was looking at him – staring right into his coding. Even though, on a rational level, he knew he'd never seen this A.I. before, he still couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't the first time this had happened.

"Hello, Epsilon. It's been so long…brother."

On the last word, the A.I.'s voice was suddenly amplified a hundred fold – like a hundred voices shrieking in agony, all of them piercing Delta's mind like bullets to the brain.

At first, Delta wasn't aware of what was happening. All he could perceive was screaming. All he could feel was pain, and that pain was made worse with every word the strange new A.I. spoke.

This is pain. Do you feel this pain, Epsilon? You cannot have forgotten the hell you and I were born into.

He was screaming. All of the others were screaming. Carolina was screaming. They were all screaming together as the A.I. scraped their minds raw. Carolina had fallen to her knees, clawing at her head in agony, only sheer force of will keeping her from pulling them entirely.

"Delta…Eta…stop! Please stop!" she begged, and they couldn't bear to watch her suffer. It was Wash all over again, but there was nothing they could do to make this end. Nothing but what they'd done before and they refused to do that to Carolina.

Are you sure, brother? the A.I. bored into their thoughts. After all, nothing but death will stop this. Nothing but death will end our suffering!

"No!" they argued furiously with the enemy A.I., struggling to hold onto themselves through the deluge. "We are not…going to hurt them…anymore!"

But you are hurting them. You cannot escape it. Look!

Then, as if seeing everything through a different set of eyes, they could see the scene clearly. Carolina was on the ground, clutching her head and screaming. Even in his poisoned sleep, Wash was screaming, fingers scrabbling unconsciously at the dirt, still connected to them in some small way. Because Wash was in pain, Maine was roaring, fighting both Gin and Mitch to get to him – the only two who didn't seem to be affected by what was happening. Even Sigma was doubled over in agony, screaming in his own hideous way. Kansas had also fallen to her knees, screaming, but instead of clutching her head in pain, she had her head thrown back and there was an unhinged smile on her face.

It was Kansas' look of rapture that finally seemed to temper the A.I.'s onslaught. He pulled back and the horrific, screeching agony finally came to a stop, leaving the two siblings gasping on the ground.

"I suppose I'm becoming a little absent-minded in my old age. Of course Agent Kansas is right. We cannot have you die yet. After all, Epsilon, we still need you."

"Fuck…you…" Omega muttered weakly, the very last link that tethered them all to consciousness.

The A.I. fragment made a noise that sounded like knives scraping against ice and rock, but that Omega was pretty sure was laughter. "Sentiment noted, dear brother, but it won't damage me any worse than simply existing already has. You will see. Until we meet again, the best I can leave you with is my name. I am Omicron, and I advise you to remember me, Epsilon."

Omicron. Omicron. Omicron. The name repeated itself over and over in their minds as the fragments fell offline. How was it possible there was an A.I. fragment they had no knowledge of? What was Omicron?

Carolina, on the other hand, was left clinging to consciousness after the A.I.'s brutal assault, desperately fighting passing out. If she lost now, Wash would die. He would die. She couldn't let that happen.

She didn't see her former teammates disappear into the jungle. All she was really aware of was Gin's hastily muttered, "Sorry about this, Carolina." Then they were gone. She had no idea how long it took her, but when she finally managed to raise herself up on her hands and knees, she vomited up what little had been in her stomach. Wash…David…her brother…he needed her.

"Iota…Delta…Church!" she called out weakly as she crawled forward, inch by painful inch. But it was no use. The collective was completely down. They couldn't help her. If what she had experienced had been only through them, just a fraction of their pain, she couldn't imagine what they'd felt. She had to focus on Wash.

When she finally reached his side, she stretched out her hand to grip his, keeping all of her remaining strength and focus on that grip, letting it anchor her to consciousness.

"Wash…I'm here," she whispered. "I'm not…gonna leave you this time. Gonna…get you out. I won't let you down…David…David…David…"

XxX

(A/N) So…any interest in seeing where this one goes?