Inside Man
Agent North Dakota stared numbly at the data unit laying flat in his open palm.
A small, dark, and usually silent part of his mind urged him to clench his hand, to curl the fingers into fists that would hide the small and deciding evidence. Goosebumps rode up and down his shoulders, denying the warmth of the gel under-layer in the armour that clung to his skin. But the more dominant part of his mind kept his palm open, as though to close it was to hide it, and to hide it was to throw his lot in with those who had handed him the incriminating data stick.
North peered after Wash's retreating back, one hand resting tensely on the bench beneath him in the locker room as anxiety beat a familiar pattern in his chest. Theta worried too, sitting on his partner's shoulder with his holographic legs dangling as they kicked back and forth. Even after this whole time with his AI companion, North found the weightlessness strange.
With a sigh, he dropped his head into his hands. But his head fell into an awkward position, and he reached up to unclip and throw his helmet aside. It fell with a muted clang of metal, and rolled unsteadily, until finally come to a rest beneath his sister's locker. North eyed it for a moment before deciding just to leave it be.
"You're really beating yourself up about Wash and Epsilon, aren't you?" York's voice interrupted his inner turmoil, and North allowed a bitter grin to spread over his lips as he ground the heels of his hands into his eyes. After a second he removed them, and leveled his gaze at his friend. York had already changed out of his armour and stood before him in civilian clothes; jeans and his favourite orange Grifball shirt.
"Aren't we all?" he asked, tired.
York sighed sympathetically, eyeing the bags underneath North's eyes. The Freelancer winced at his friend's bloodshot gaze, and leaned against the locker at his back. He nodded, slowly. "Yeah, no denying that it's true. But between South, Theta, and Wash… I don't know how you do it."
If he was to be perfectly honest with himself, neither did North. He chuckled weakly. "I wish I knew," he replied. The Freelancer felt Theta look at him quickly as guilt settled over the AI. He was part of the reason that North was always so exhausted. Wandering the halls each night for hours to help Theta relax, constantly watching and guarding South, plus the constant wondering of how to help Wash was… taxing, to say the least. But North's compassion swelled in his mind like waves, and he engulfed Theta with thoughts of quiet comfort. The AI settled quickly, but still felt the tiny shreds of guilt swirl in his holographic stomach. "I just… I just don't understand, York. How could it go so wrong?"
The Freelancer was silent for a long time, and eventually North raised his head. His eyes widened when York locked him with his gaze, determination and desperation burning in his irises. North raised an eyebrow as York lifted himself casually from the metal at his back. "I don't know," he said, but the way York held his gaze was too powerful for the three words to be anything but a lie. "But I guess we'll find out."
North's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline as York sauntered past, walking backwards with his hands shoved deeply into his pockets. The skin of his forehead creased in confusion. York's statement was layered with meaning.
His friend paused, and bent down to retrieve North's helmet from where it rested against the metal locker. He spun it in his hand, breaking North's gaze for just a moment. York sighed, seemingly conflicted, and stepped forward in a hesitant offer.
North rose from the bench, and accepted his helmet with a strange sense of foreboding. As his hand extended towards his friend, York clasped his forearm with his other free hand. Even through the armour, North could feel the strength that stemmed from desperation.
He frowned, not quite sure what York was doing, but remained silent. They locked gazes once more, but this time York's eyes were filled with an indescribable sadness, pain and despair. "I'm sorry," was all he said before spinning on his heel and exiting the locker room.
North and Theta were equally confused as they watched their friend depart. The AI was wordless, scanning York's words for a hidden meaning. But North looked down, into the smooth inner lining of his helmet, and his stomach dropped.
Sitting innocently where York had dropped it was a thin, black data stick.
A slow breath rattled from between his painfully clenched teeth. North was shaken to his very core. What had they done?
Inside his mind, Theta was unusually silent, and North cursed his moment of carelessness. He lowered his rigid shoulders, and took a deep breath. Slowly, North extended his mind towards Theta's presence, an ever-lingering shadow in his thoughts.
Theta was unresponsive, and North began to fear that their traumatizing discovery had shocked him into a heavy, catatonic, perhaps even comatose state.
North sighed, and began to murmur small, incoherent words of comfort and encouragement to the AI. Theta stirred slightly, but was otherwise unresponsive. North guessed that such an innocent AI – especially after learning just why they were so innocent – would be deeply shocked and horrified by what they had seen. Then again, would not anyone? As he sighed, still trying to coax the AI into a calmer state, memories rose unbidden to his mind; those of a little girl and her only reliable protector, her twin.
The girl made no response to his careful ministrations, and simply turned away. Her shoulders presented a shaking wall, and he patted them sympathetically, attempting to ease her tremors.
They did not cease, despite his tender care.
"It's okay, it's okay… they didn't mean it…" His quiet words only caused the girl to wrap herself into a loose fetal position on his bunk bed, her eyes wide open and blind to the tears that leaked slowly onto her cheeks.
The older twin began to move his fingers over her shoulder blades in reassuring circles, attempting resolutely to lift her from the crushing despair.
He felt it beneath his fingers as she took a great, shuddering breath, the air rattling in her shaking lungs. His lips moved continuously as he murmured comfortingly. Snippets of song lyrics, calming words, or even well known phrases; it did not matter what he said, as his twin could not hear him. So tightly wrapped was she in her pain that the only sound reaching her was a quiet, comforting thread of his voice, and yet also the sound of her entire world crashing down on her shoulders.
The fifteen-year-old boy was accustomed to her erratic mood swings, but never in his young life had he seen her so broken. He kept talking, filling the silence of the dark room with his ever-present comfort, hoping their special bond could reach her through the haze of misery.
He knew why she was upset. Father had once again ignored her for the majority of their evening meal, despite his increasing attempts to include her within the conversation. Mother, strained and tense throughout the entire episode, had asked her polite questions, but questions devoid of any real interest or familial love.
All in all, it had been their evening meal as per usual.
His twin had grown increasingly upset throughout the entire dinner, though she continued to use impeccable manners, as they had always been taught. He had watched her carefully; painfully aware of the way she was tearing at the seams.
The final straw would have been almost comical, had he not seen the way her nostrils flared and her eyes began to sparkle with hidden tears, or the way her hand had suddenly clenched around the dainty silverware.
"Would you like dessert, ma'am?" Their butler, Harrison, approached with his eyes downcast and two maids waiting patiently behind him as they watched their mistress cautiously. Her twin had inherited her volatile temper from the woman, after all.
Mother had pursed her lips, eyes thinning to small slits. "Yes, I think I shall," she had replied delicately.
The maids stepped forward in pristine uniforms, and began to place the dishes in front of each member of family. But when they neared her twin, she had frowned slightly, and immediately their movements had ceased. "Ma'am?" One of the maid's spoke hesitantly, seemingly unsure as to whether she could question her employer.
"Is there a problem?" Her tone was sharp.
"None at all, ma'am." Meekly, they curtsied with downcast eyes and backed slowly away. But his twin had frozen, a small crease forming between her eyebrows as she returned her mother's gaze.
"Mother?" she asked, confusion evident throughout her entire voice. The regal woman made a small sound of permission, and so the twin continued. "May I enquire as to why I have been denied dessert?" The formal words were stiff from anger that only he could hear, and a challenge that was noted by all.
He could only watch in muted horror as his mother pouted slightly, and set her fork down ever so delicately. It was placed with a muted tinkle of metal against metal, and as the two females' gazes met, he felt his heart begin to pound in his chest. The small gesture was weighted with ominous foreboding, and he was reminded of the way his mother would prepare herself before firing a displeasing employee, or to turn down an unsavory client.
"Oh, my dear, but you have your cheerleading competition soon. In twenty-three days, if I do recall. We don't want to have to retailor your dress, now do we, hmmm? Not for the second time." Her grey gaze was unflinching, despite the sweetly poisonous words. Blonde hair was pulled back in a brutal ponytail, much like his sister's own.
Their gazes met once again and he felt dread begin to pool in his chest. He would talk to his mother about this, he decided resolutely. She had no reason to continually treat his sister that way.
"Mother-"
He was cut off with a venomous glare. Not from his mother, but from the girl by his side. Her face, so alike that of her mother's, was stiff and emotionless, save for the fury in her eyes.
He felt his heart begin to sink in his chest. Really, his sister knew that dessert had not been such a big deal – but what his mother had implied had been… well, rude.
Suddenly, there was a terrifying screech as his sister stood, her chair scraping against the floor tiles, and her expression masterfully schooled into one of utter calm. Her only betrayer was the slight glitter of water in her steady gaze. "If you'll excuse me," she spoke through stiff lips, "I will retire."
His mother fluttered her hand, granting permission while his father kept his head down, watching them solemnly. But the male twin could only watch in despair as his female counterpart walked away with stiff shoulders.
His jaw clenched, and he too stood abruptly. The chair caught on the end of the rug and snagged before tumbling to the floor with an almighty crash. He did not flinch, and neither did his mother. "You should not have insulted her so," he hissed, feeling the flickers of flames begin to heat his chest. His temper was rare and fleeting, but it was also a most frightful thing to behold.
His mother remained unimpressed, and she simply quirked a perfect eyebrow. Her grey eyes burned in satisfaction, and he stormed out of the room in pursuit of his sister.
North reopened his eyes, feeling utterly empty. He remembered that night vividly; because in the night that followed it, his sister had returned to the table – with her long, luscious hair cropped to shoulder-length and dip-dyed a rich purple. But even that had paled in comparison to the bright diamond stud that had sparkled on her nose.
Their mother had been horrified, though of course she had not shown it.
North could still remember the way South had lounged across her seat, legs swinging over the armrest of her straight-backed chair. He recalled playing with his cutlery as he desperately tried to avoid both females' gazes, caught between their little manipulation game.
South had watched her mother constantly, the smallest of smirks playing about her lips as her grey eyes sparkled with black mirth. Even North had felt vaguely victorious; delighted and yet also nervous of his twin's new confidence.
North sighed, closing his eyes as resignation settled over his shoulders as an old friend. His hand clenched slowly over the little black data stick, hiding it from view. But the only image in his mind was South.
She needs to see this.
North walked slowly through the halls, casually trying to wipe his palms of sweat and breathe evenly. His heart beat quickly in his chest, and he felt the weight of the tiny data stick as though it were made of lead, dragging his body to the floor until North was driven to his knees in despair.
But he would not – no, could not – allow himself to be caught so easily.
Theta sighed in his mind, curled into a tight ball. It had taken North longer than expected to coax the AI from his digital shell, and Theta was still shaken. But he was responsive, and so for that North was grateful.
Metal lined the corridor and clanked rhythmically beneath his feet. North nodded at two Project Freelancer medics as they walked past, smiling at them as he usually did, though this time his grin was nervous. But they did not seem to notice the difference, and passed by him quickly without a second glance.
He had no idea where South was, but he was hoping she was with Wash. And there was only one place where Wash liked to be, ever since the implantation of Epsilon.
Wherever Agent Texas was, so too would be Agent Washington.
North paused outside of the door, and a sigh escaped from his lips before he could catch it. Metal collided with a muted thunk as he allowed himself to fall forward. Apparently, the automatic system had shorted out, as the door held him steadily, without opening. He was just so tired.
"North?"
The door opened and he let out an involuntary yelp as he fell forward. But his twin had always been one with good reflexes, and she stepped nimbly out of the way. Fortunately, North regained his balance a moment later. "Sorry, sis," he muttered, with a slow grin.
She rolled her eyes in response, with just the smallest twitch of her lips to show she had found it amusing. South shut the door behind him, and he felt his palms begin to sweat once again. But the gel on his skin absorbed it readily.
"No! No! Texas!" The frantic cry was accompanied by the sound of a fist crashing regularly into glass. North glanced through the window, at the training room below. It was Texas facing off against York, but… strangely, it seemed like her movements were sluggish. Indeed, York had slowed down as well. Suspicion reared in his chest. Were they… talking? "You're going to fail!" Wash shouted, panicking – oblivious to the signs of their discussion.
South shouldered her brother aside. "It's fine, Wash," she murmured reassuringly. "It's Texas. She's going to win, as always." The statement was dry, but Agent Washington missed the humour.
He turned to glare at her, anger lighting in his eyes. "What do you know of Agent Texas?" he spat, in a voice not his own. North raised an eyebrow, but felt his stomach plummet to his feet. So Connecticut had been correct. Not that North had ever doubted her words.
He ran his thumb reassuringly over the thin data stick in his pocket. "South?" he called, softly. "I need to talk to you."
"Later, North." Her dismissal was cold, but her eyes never left that of Washington's. The grey Freelancer's lip lifted in a sneer, and South responded in kind.
North felt an intense dislike ripple through his chest. It must be Epsilon in there. Wash would never do this.
"South, are you sure? It's really, really important." More than you know, he added silently, the plea all too obvious.
She hesitated, and bit at her lip. North smiled tiredly, and rested a hand on her shoulder as though she needed to be reassured. But Washington laughed lowly, and turned around.
"No," she whispered. North looked down in surprise to see her face molded in fury. "I'm done with this." She spun on her heel and stomped out of the viewing platform, anger burning from every line in her body. His twin threw the door open with a snarl, and disappeared into the hallway. The twin watched her go, frustration and regret battling in his chest.
His eyes narrowed, and North's hands flexed. "Wash?" he asked, coolly.
"Yeah?" The Agent had seemed to deflate as South had walked away, and now he winced, rubbing at his temples.
North thought of the accusations he had been about to fling, but felt only pity instead of rage for the man before him. He sighed, and shook his head. "Be careful. That goes for you as well, Epsilon."
"Sure thing," Wash answered.
North made to turn around, but his friend spoke out again. "North, wait. I think they want you to join their match," he added, confused. Wash waved a hand to the two Agents who waited on the training room floor. Below them, York raised a hand in a hesitant greeting.
North glanced down at his friends. Obviously, they were waiting for him. A bitter half-smile pulled at his lips, and he nodded to them. I'm coming.
"North? Are you with us?"
His gaze was met with a gold visor, hard and inflexible. But Texas watched him, waiting for his answer. York crossed his arms and leaned back, stifling a yawn. "Of course," North replied. "I'm with you." Theta nodded slowly in agreement, his gaze haunted. The innocent AI, though healed from his first initial shock, had aged.
"Good." Texas exhaled, quickly, the sound short and sharp. "Now, we're going to have to leave toni-"
"Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that." North looked up, determination burning in his gaze. He would not abandon her now. "I-I'm staying behind."
"What?" York yelped. Tex shushed him, but he continued. "What about Theta?"
"We'll be fine," North answered, "as long as you get back in time."
Tex considered him, her hands planted solidly on the table. A long moment passed before she spoke. "This is because of her, isn't it?"
North nodded. "I won't leave South behind," he said resolutely.
"What, you haven't told her yet?" York questioned.
North looked down, to the little black USB by Tex's right hand. "No," he muttered, his chest burning at the wasted opportunities.
Texas was disappointed, he knew. But she would also abide to his decision. "Fine," she agreed. But the Beta AI pinned him with her gaze. "North, you'd better be there when we come back."
"I will not go back on my word," he said strongly. "I'll let you both back in to the Mother of Invention."
"Then we're done here." Texas stood straight, and considered them both for a long moment. "Thank you," she said quietly.
They all smiled, and bid each other farewell. York and Tex took off down the long hallways, and North watched them go. When finally they disappeared from sight, he turned back and walked slowly in the direction of his sister.
Because no matter what happened between them, he would always have his sister's back.
A/N: Hey, guys! So a little bit after the end of Season 10, RT told us that North was indeed York and Tex's 'inside man', and so of course I had to write about how they recruited him into their scheme.
This can also be treated as a semi-prequel to my other fic, Just Us Against the World. Take a peek at it after this one, if you have the time.
Anyway, as always, thank you for reading! Let me know what you thought, and especially on what I can improve on. Thank you :)
