5
She rounds the corner just in time to see the Director disappear down the corridor. Just in time for her to slam a fist against the locked, heavy doors that cuts her team off from their prey. "He's getting away. Wash, he's getting away!"

"/Don't worry,/" the other Freelancer says over the radio. "/Team Two still has visual on him- he's not going anywhere./"

She slams her fist into the door again, not caring how the Reds flinch and discreetly stay out of reach. "We can't loose him."

"/We won't. I promise. He's got too much to answer for./"

"But we're cut off-"

"/Not for long./" Tex cuts in and once, years ago, her voice would've set Carolina's teeth on edge but now she's just as trusted a teammate as Wash. "/I brought in a specialist, just in case./"

As if on cue the doors open and Carolina's rifle comes up automatically, as does the Reds', trained on the figure on the other side who merely gives them a jaunty nod and says in a heartbreakingly familiar voice, "Evening, folks. I'll be your doorman for this heist."

Sarge- deciding the newcomer was no one of consequence -bellows out, "Let's go, men- and Donut. We've got us a dirty sort-of Blue to rundown!" He lets out a cry of "CHAAAAAARGE" before doing just that, his men following after in varying degrees of enthusiasm.

They leave Carolina standing there, weapon lowered and feeling like she's fallen into a dream that's one second from turning into a nightmare. "York?" She asks because she knows it can't be true.

"Carolina," he tries for jovial but his voice is just as tight and full of as many conflicting emotions as hers.

"Command said you were dead."

"Said that about you, too."

"Wash told them."

"He lied."

For the briefest, craziest moment Carolina is almost ready to forget about the Director, forget everything and just lose herself in York's presence. To remember what it was like to be with him again. But she snaps back into the here and now, hands re-gripping her rifle and spine straightening. She holds out a hand, "Care to join me for one last hunt?"

The memory of his grin is suddenly sharp and pure in her mind. He clasps her forearm and it's almost like the Director had never stolen those years from them. "It'd be my pleasure."

4
The years since he left the Project hadn't been kind to York- he lost weight and muscle mass, his face gaunt and eyes hollow in almost the opposite way Wash's own are haunted. The years had been even less kind to Carolina, locked away deep in Command, practically forgotten by all. When she escaped she was skin and bone fueled by vengeance and York can wrap his fingers easily around her forearm.

He rests his head against her stomach, just as he always used to and she's no longer flat there but concave. Part of him is afraid of accidentally hurting her now which is ridiculous and angers him because Carolina had always been one of the strongest, toughest people he'd ever known. But his fingers fit in the grooves of her ribs, he can feel every notch of her spine and the curve of her hip hard and sharp. He presses his face against her side and bites his lip to keep his thoughts from spilling out I should have known, I should've looked for you, I shouldn't have believed them because he knows it will just make her mad.

Carolina's hand brushes through his hair and she sighs in something that's like contentment- a feeling both had long since given up on ever feeling again. "What are you thinking about?"

A kiss is pressed against her stomach because York can do that now- again -and tells her, "I'm thinking our first date should be at an all-you-can-eat buffet."

Her hand stills. "We never actually did go on dates, did we?"

"Not unless you call missions or clandestine meetings in supply closets dates."

Under York's cheek, Carolina's stomach quivers as she laughs in her throat and oh, York missed that sound so much he has to curl around her even closer. "So does that make me your girlfriend?"

"It makes you whatever you want to be."

"Do you want me to be your girlfriend?"

The question makes York pause before lifting onto his elbows, pushing up until his face is level with Carolina's. A thumb brushes the hair from her face and he tells her seriously, with every modicum of honesty in his entire being, "I don't care what anyone wants to call it, just so long as I get to be with you. I don't ever want to lose you again."

Her hands, fingers long and knuckles knobby, cup the hard angle of his jaw, bringing him down until they rest forehead to forehead. With just as much sincerity Carolina says, "I'm never letting you go."

3
The entire thing is a clusterfuck to end all clusterfucks. There's inquiries and investigations that span all the way to the highest levels of the UNSC and beyond. The media just about implodes as the news comes out and there's protests and demonstrations demanding reparations for the families of simulation troops and calls for resignations on all levels. It takes months just to get the few surviving Freelancers cleared of willful conspiracy, abuse of UNSC equipment, dereliction of duty, misconduct, fraud, assault, homicide and a myriad of other charges. They were deemed just as much victims as the simulation troops they trained on, minds twisted and broken by the Director, the Councilor, the AI they weren't even supposed to have had.

And now they're free and none of them knows what they should be doing with this newfound freedom. After so many years tripping over themselves for the Director's approval, after chasing after him with single-minded determination, none of them have a purpose and they don't know how to handle that.

Not entirely true- Wash is sticking with the trials, at least long enough to convince the courts that both Tex and Church aren't merely equipment but fully sentient beings who should have all the rights any other human has. York thinks that's a noble endeavor, but he's not sure he has the strength to do the same. He's been worn out and wrung through- physically, mentally, emotionally -and he's just so utterly through with everything having to do with the Project he doesn't even want to hear the word one more time.

Carolina sits at his side on a bench outside the courthouse, both still in dress uniform and her fingers lace through his. She was never much for public displays but ever since their reunion she's been constantly touching his hands, arms, back. York supposes she needs the physical reassurance that he's there more than he needs it. Maybe she's afraid that this is just a hallucination one of her long-removed AI are playing on her again. Or maybe her own broken psyche. York's hand tightens around hers and what he wouldn't give for five minutes alone with the Director...

"They're not shutting down the Project," she says softly. "Not completely."

"I know." He was unsurprised by the news but it still pissed him off to no end and thinking about it puts a sick, angry roil in his stomach.

"They want to study the training we were put through. Even without the AI, we were still some of the best, most efficient troops in the UNSC."

"I know."

A thumb runs circles over Carolina's knuckles. She's finally back to a healthy weight again- they all are, looking better rested and taken care of for once. Even being detained by the military proper treated them better than the later days of the Project did. "The Chairman asked if I wanted to be one of his officers."

York's thumb freezes. "Oh?" He asks, voice hollow to his own ears.

"You don't like it."

Of course he doesn't it. The entire thing is just ripe for abusing and he seriously doubts the Chairman is above such temptation. It's the last place York wants Carolina to be in.

She tugs at his hand. "What do you want to do?"

"If you want to do this, go ahead. I'm not going to stand in your way."

She tugs harder until York looks her in the eyes, hard and clear. "I've picked the Project over you before. I'm not making that mistake again. Tell me where you want to go and I'll follow you."

He leans in for a kiss, sweet and desperate. "Away," he says against her lips. "As far away from the Project as we can get. And never look back."

Her smile is a soft curve and he's in love with her all over again. "Then let's go."

2
"What."

It sounds less like 'I didn't hear that, could you please repeat' and more like 'You seriously did not just say that' but York says it again anyway. "Will you marry me?"

Carolina looks up at him long and hard and something frighteningly close to anger shadows over her face. "Goddammit, York!" And now he knows she's angry because she's slipped back to using his codename again. "I can't believe you!"

Confused and affronted, York throws his arms wide, "What? What'd I do?" He desperately casts his mind back, trying to think if there had ever, at any moment, been a time suggesting Carolina despised the idea of marriage. He can't come up with any which is the entire reason why he proposed in the first place, so he's at a total loss.

She makes an inarticulate noise somewhere between a scoff and an 'argh' and stomps off to their bedroom and York shoves the engagement ring in his pocket and follows after because he is not letting this whatever-it-is lay between. By the time he reaches the door, Carolina is tossing clothes out of one of her drawers angrily and now York is thoroughly confused as to what this is all about. "What's going on? C'mon- would you talk to me?"

Instead she glares and throws something at him. "You're such an ass."

He catches the object just before it smacks him in the sternum. It's a box, small and velvety and so very much like the one he has in his pocket and that revelation makes York suck in a breath. He looks at Carolina but she's turned away, stewing on the bed. With fingers that slightly tremble, York opens it.

Tucked in the cushion is a white gold band with an intricate design etched delicately on the outside. He can't help being amused with the fact that this engagement ring is so much more elegant than the one he bought for her. Not that he had found any woman's engagement ring very elegant, but he supposed that was the price paid for those that preferred simplicity.

"I bought that months ago," Carolina says. Her arms are crossed and she's slowly flushing, realizing she's throwing a kind of childish tantrum right now. "Four months, three weeks ago, actually. I just... it never felt like the perfect moment so I could never ask." Her petulance makes her pout. "And then you go and steal the opportunity."

York takes out the ring and slips it on and he's really not surprised that it's a perfect fit. His heart swells so much it's all he can do to not tackle Carolina into the bed. "So," he's trying to control the giddiness bubbling up, but he's probably not doing too well, "are you asking me to marry you?"

"Um... yeah," she's turning even redder now. "I am."

"Hmmmm, tempting." He goes to the bed, crawling to Carolina's side with a wide, wide grin. "Fine, but only if you marry me in return."

Carolina's lips twitch and she turns as York kisses his way up her shoulder. "Do I have to?"

"'Fraid so."

She lets out a ragged sigh and presses her forehead against his. "If I must, I must."

York takes the box out of his pocket, opens it up and put the ring on Carolina's hand where it flashes like the joy and future in her eyes. Her arms wrap around his shoulders, drawing him into a kiss and then down to the bed where they share their first of many vows.

1
She pushes her bangs out of her face before switching around two instructors on the training schedule she's finalizing, lulled by the low humming and comfortable presence of her husband at her hip. Her hand drops down and idly twirls a strand of dark hair around a finger as York's hand brushes against her exposed stomach.

He snuggles in closer, close enough for his lips to brush her skin as he says, "Just so you know, you're taking up my favorite spot. But that's okay," the heavy swell of Carolina's belly is warm and beautiful and York can feel a little kick as he presses his cheek to the curve, "I don't mind sharing with you."