It was a day of celebration. They had won. Chorus was theirs. Finally the people could be free. Explosives had been rigged into fireworks, lighting the first fires of peace. After years of war, of death and struggle, it was all finally over. Both armies were gathered in the capital, laughing and smiling together. Among them were the reds and blues. They drifted among them, tired and exhausted and exuberant, telling the same stories a million times. No one cared that almost every telling of it was different from the version told by the other colorful solders. Yes, it was a night of celebration, but two presences were missing. No one noticed, just assuming they were somewhere else in the party.
Far away from the festivities sat two figures. They were silent, looking out over the war torn landscape. No words were said, none were needed. Both understood knew what today was. Not for the liberation of Chorus, but for themselves. Neither wanted to admit it, but they couldn't celebrate, not today. It had been the day everything they had known died. So they sat, motionless, finding comfort that they weren't alone. Both wore their armor, it was a part of them now, as much as their skin. There was however, one question both had on their minds. It was something that scared even these two warriors. It was the reason they were there, finding comfort in the presence of another one of their own.
"Do you think we're the only ones left?"
The cyan clad figure sighed before replying.
"I don't know Wash. I don't know."
"That's not an answer," Washington pressed. The frustration in his voice wasn't directed at her, but at everything. He deserved an answer, if not from his comrade, from someone. Staring off into the darkness, into the past, the other freelancer said what she had always believed.
"We were the best." No explanation was needed. More of them had to have survived.
"No." the cyan clad snapped her attention away from the past and to her friend. "We were only told we were the best." She didn't want to believe it. Something deep inside her agreed, so she resisted it. She hated being wrong. Washington spoke again. "It was a lie you believed Carolina."
"We're still alive aren't we?" Carolina's voice was much lower than Wash's."That's got to mean something."
There was silence after that. Washington turned away from her, unable to look her in the eye. The next words he said were forced out.
"Not if everyone else is dead."
Carolina still refused to believe it.
"There was more teams than just ours. Some of them weren't even on the ship when it crashed. We could find them."
"Find them for what?" Washington almost sneered. "To fight Hargrove? It isn't their
fight."
"It was always their fight." She had Wash's attention again. "Our job was to beat the insurrection."
"NO!" Carolina almost flinched. Taking a deep breath, Washington continued. "That was the director's fight." Carolina didn't speak. "Look where it got us Carolina! All our friends are dead!"
Silence again. It was becoming a pattern. This time Carolina was the one to break it.
"Do you ever blame them?" She continued before Wash could ask. "The reds and blues. They killed Wyoming with a bomb, Florida with an allergic reaction, Maine with that stunt with a Warthog, heck even Caboose killed South."
Washington looked uncomfortable.
"Actually, I killed South." Carolina raised an eyebrow but didn't show any rage. "We were being followed by the Meta. She had already betrayed me once and Delta told me she had let North die to make it away from the Meta." To his surprise Carolina nodded.
"Then she got what she deserved."
"Do you forgive them as easily as you forgive me?"
There was a pause.
"No." Washington's head sunk toward the ground. They were his friends. He had forgiven them long ago. Carolina had more to say.
"But I do forgive them." She didn't hear the sigh from Wash. "They did what they thought was right. In the end it was our friends who were on the other side."
Washington was watching her now. He could tell there was more.
"There's someone else you have to forgive."
Tears were in Carolina ' eyes as Wash kept going. "I know the Meta killed the rest. Despite that I can't blame Maine. He wasn't in control." The drops were falling out now. A choked sob made it past her lips as she looked at Wash in shame.
"It wasn't Maine's fault. It was never his fault." Wash knew what she would say before the words came out. There was always someone Carolina would put more responsibility on then she had any right to. "It was my fault." Washington didn't move. "Did you hear me Agent Washington!? I said it was my fault!" Tears blurred her vision as she wept into the night. How could she not? She killed them. North, the most caring person she knew. York. She was why York was dead. With his sucky jokes and his cocky grin and his laugh and. AUGH! She was why he was dead.
Through the explosion of emotion, Carolina felt an arm wrap around her shoulders, pulling her closer to its owner.
"It's not your fault," Washington whispered. His voice was low, but it cut into her like a knife. Tears kept coming. "It's not your fault. It's not your fault." It must have been minutes before she choked back the sobs she had held in for so long. All she asked was a simple question.
"How?" He didn't answer. "It was my AI! If I had just kept it..."
"Then you would have become the Meta."
Carolina's heart almost stopped.
"You think he knew?" There was no debating who the he was.
"How could he not?"
There was silence after that. Both knew Washington was right. Even now though, He was a subject they didn't breach. It was the first step to moving on. Each was willing to take take it, letting the conversation die.
All the two soldiers could do was sit and watch the stars. Carolina didn't bother to move away from Wash, so he stayed. No one was invincible, and right now, they needed each other, they always would. No one else could understand what they survived.
Unless...
"I think your right." Carolina raised an eyebrow at this, but didn't bother to turn toward the other freelancer. His voice was different now, upbeat almost. There was something specific in it though. Something Carolina thought she would never again associate with Freelancer. Hope. "Someone else had to have made it." She was smiling too now. There was hope. "Organ always was a sneak little SOB."
With that the pair laughed, remembering the good about their teammates, their comrades, their friends. All that mattered now was that there was hope.