Summary: With the end of the world Remy McGinnis finds herself up against an enemy like that she's never really faced before-herself. She knows why Earth is gone. She knows how vengeance works. But along the way to repaying blood for blood she learns some things about life and about herself along the way.

Chapter Summary: Four humans alive and aware. That's all that's left of Earth. The boss, Keith, Kinzie, and Matt struggle to find the balance, struggle to come to terms with the loss of everything, and try to find a way to push toward the next impossible goal looming on the horizon.

And thanks to Jae and Chy for reading parts and pieces of these early chapters. And thanks to Chy for the title idea-hugs and kisses galore.

a/n: This piece will side toward a more serious storytelling approach. There may still be zany moments of fun, but I will not guarantee that this piece will follow the exact same type of experience as the games offer.

Disclaimer: Saint's Row belongs to THQ, Volition, and Deep Silver. I'm only playing with their universe. I do not own the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. I do it for the love of the game, the world, and the characters; and because they stuck with me long after I turned the game off (and back on, and off, ad infinitum).

Free to Be

01 Revelations

-1-

The stars were bright from the vantage point on the bridge of the Zin ship Kinzie Kensington had stolen. Remy McGinnis could not find it in herself to be upset that the computer whiz had dug the vice president out of the simulation first. The President was well aware of the way people saw her. It was an image carefully crafted from the first time she was called mick in kindergarten. Admittedly of the slurs and terms people could use on one another, it was fairly tame, but no one likes to be distinguished by that which clearly denotes them as other, especially if it is something out of their control. So, she found her own collection of "others" and they formed a protective collection of outsiders-essentially making them all the same. Over and over in her life she found and reformed that surrogate family, the place where the only thing that mattered was the color of the flag you wore. Since she was seventeen, that flag had been the same. A Saint was a Saint-they were all purple, they were all family. At least in her mind, that was how things were.

She knew it was idealistic and simplistic. But that was what had drawn her to the life in the first place. Remy McGinnis grew up in Mission Beach, her grandfather ran a little crew of mostly Irish immigrants and their children in the neighborhood. The crew formed only because of the multiple gangs and cops trying to shake down honest businessmen. Her grandfather Patrick saw it get so bad that some businesses were on the verge of closing because of the sheer amount of protection money they were having to pay out to every crooked cop and two-bit thug in a ten block radius. So, McGinnises stood up, and others with them.

Her uncle Ian McGinnis was your typical enforcer, breaking fingers, arms, and kneecaps. Her father was something altogether different. Her father, Liam, had spent time in the service-he was a crack shot and had combat experience he preferred not to talk about. When he came home, he tried to settle down and just run the garage that had been his father's, but life intervened, as it usually does.

Loss is a powerful catalyst. It can drop a person into a bottomless chasm or give them the will and drive to leap that break. For Remy, it had always been the latter. Loss had always pushed her to vengeance and reprisal, but then most of her loss had been caused not by the nameless and faceless, but by man. The cause of her loss usually had an address where she could locate it and return the favor, as was the case this time.

The only difference was that this time she did not know if she could deal a blow that would make up for what was gone, though if she was honest with herself vengeance was never as sweet in practice as it was in theory. Repaying a debt of blood was great for those with an overdeveloped sense of honor. But no amount of blood brought back what you had lost.

In a lot of ways, the Saints' boss knew that this fight would be different. Her battle against the Zin would not be comparable to killing Shogo, Jyunichi, and the Oyabun after Aisha's death, it would not even match the symbolism of literally crushing Philippe Loren like the insect he was after losing Johnny on that fucking plane.

Remy scrubbed her hands through her hair and looked out at the debris, it looked like an asteroid field in that stupid video game her brother played, except that some of the pieces still had molten rivulets skimming over their surface. No number of Zin bodies would make up for the lives lost. Cutting Zinyak's cocky head from his body would not bring Earth back. But that was precisely what McGinnis intended to do just before she blew his wrinkly carcass out of an airlock. She just did not know how to deal with her own part of all of it.

-2-

The boss had been segregating herself since the atomization of Earth. No one on the ship blamed her. But in their own ways, they were all concerned. Her time was spent either plugged into the simulation or staring off at the debris field that remained. Since the blast Keith and Kinzie had both tried to probe her state of mind. But the boss was stoic, and removed. She gave them nothing.

The vice president and the former FBI agent were once again whispering about McGinnis: speculating about how long Remy could keep up the pace, worrying that she only really slept when she passed out from near exhaustion, and questioning if there was anything they could do for their friend. Matt Miller knew that they were all reeling from the destruction of the Earth; he was still rocked by the fact that everything was gone except the people on this ship and whoever else might have been abducted by the Zin.

His own reaction had been similar to Remy's; he found a quiet place where people would leave him alone and buried himself in the one thing he could do. He went to the code and the technology, while she went to mayhem and destruction-albeit of a much less visceral type than she was used to. On his rare excursions out of the cargo hold, Miller had caught sight of her, trying to keep her strength up in whatever ways she could. Too often the only sound in the ship was the recurring slap of her knuckles on the leather of the heavy bag as she brutally fought whatever demons were eating at her at the moment.

That was something else, they were all keenly aware of. Keith and Kinzie had heard it firsthand, but Matt had found out by digging through recordings and information in the systems that Kensington hadn't cleaned out yet. Zinyak had told her this would happen if she escaped. But she had done it anyway.

It was hard for him to reconcile. Matt had been party to her self-sacrifice on the mission against Cyrus Temple. He had also seen her put herself on the line in other missions, for much scantier payoffs than preventing an all out nuclear war. He shook his head again at the idea that cropped up. Remy would not have pushed back against the Zin if she thought there was even the remotest chance that would actually happen. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking on his part.

The whistling of the kettle relaxed him slightly.

"I just really wish she would sleep more than a few hours," Kinzie sighed. She sounded just as tired as the rest of them. None of them were sleeping well, the boss least of all. "She's going to run herself dry in a few days, if she doesn't ease back."

Overhearing that statement jogged Matt's brain. His eyes darted around the little kitchen area and he grinned triumphantly when he managed to find everything he would need, mostly. The hacker pulled another mug out the cabinet and prepared the concoction before pouring the hot water over the tea bag and other ingredients. With a shrug, he decided that he could probably benefit from the relaxing properties of the centuries old drink as well.

Kinzie and Keith were huddled in a corner of the big rumpus room, and Matt skittered by as quickly as possible hoping not to draw any undue attention. Though they had worked together a dozen or more times since the Temple mission, the tall lanky MI-6 agent had no illusions about his association with any of the people on this ship. When it all boiled down, he knew that Kinzie still saw him as the punk kid who had framed her and tried to kill the boss, more than once. Peace offering or not, he knew it was just as likely that, given the President's current state of sleep deprivation, he could end up a pink smear on the bulkhead for his action, or McGinnis could just smile and nod without a word.

With an audible swallow, he entered the flight center of the ship. Remy was sitting in the same seat she always did, though this time she was leaning forward staring at nothing.

You can do this. Surely she won't kill you with a coffee mug. You could still be of use, he reasoned successfully enough for his body to finally comply with his wishes and cross the room. She did not even look at him, or acknowledge him in any way until he set the mug down.

It took a minute for the faint hint of cinnamon and lemon to reach her, or at least he guessed that might have been the reason she finally looked up at him with her brow knitted with questions she did not voice.

"My mum made these in winter," he said with a little gesture of his own mug. It did not taste as good as his mother's, but then he had not looked very hard for the ingredients. Even so he doubted he could find cloves or cinnamon sticks in any of the crates in the back of the ship; he felt lucky to have found the lemon, honey, and, surprisingly, Irish whiskey. The ground cinnamon was pure chance, and it wasn't a totally horrible addition.

"What is it?" she asked, her voice gravelly.

It was in that moment he realized that outside of the simulation he had not heard her voice since she rescued him. He had not really heard her speak to anyone since just after he came on board. She had stored Kinzie's robot. Or power armor as the former fed pretentiously called it, he could not help but think. Then Remy had come looking for him. It had been a kind gesture, she actually talked to him for a few minutes-asked him how he felt, told him the nausea would subside after about a day, she said that he could feel free to stake claim to a place that made him comfortable but that Kinzie and CID had already kind of taken up residence in certain sections of the ship.

"Don't laugh," he prefaced. Such a silly name. "A Hot Toddy. Tea, lemon, honey, whiskey, and a little cinnamon."

She picked up the cup and held it in both hands. Matt held his breath as she took a sip, but she did not comment. Remy leaned over the cup as if huddling over a fire, as if somehow trying to absorb the warmth from the ceramic or the wispy steam.

"It's really not too bad," he insisted. "I mean it is not as good as my mum's but I did the best I could with what I had."

Her eyes met his again, her gaze sharp, causing him to realize the mistake in what he had said.

"I'm sorry," Matt stammered worried he had upset her. He really did not want to die by tea cup.

The President shook her head. "No, it's fine. Sorry, and thank you for the … uh … I'm just going to call it tea."

"Understandable."

"Your mom made you these?"

"Very rarely. But always on Christmas Eve and New Years. And on really cold nights, as long as there was no school the next day. Though she never put a whole shot in mine back then, of course."

"I'm guessing I got a whole shot?" Remy queried with a sly little smile as she took another sip.

It was the same impish grin she had regularly cast at him when she had tried to teach him to shoot better. It that was years ago, Asha had mentioned his barely passing his evaluation, and Remy swore she could teach anyone to shoot. From what he discovered later, the stakes of the bet were pretty high, and sadly Remy ended up losing the money in the end, though his score had improved the next time Matt qualified.

"Two," Matt replied, smiling at her over his own mug.

The laugh was light, feint, and barely hung on the air before it ended, but it had been there. Her smile, however, lingered, brightening her eyes for a time. They talked about the tea, about the whiskey, about nothing that was happening beyond that space and that moment. Neither of them was in a place to even broach any of the other topics swirling around that space with anyone else yet.

Matt did not understand how she could be in that room. He had glimpsed out the window twice and each time felt his stomach twist in nausea and pain, after that he kept his gaze fixed on her. She was the only safe thing in the room he could look at without his mind taking him down a questionably dark path. He was feeling it, the loss, the grief. Questions nagged at him, and something told him she was in a much darker place than he was.

When she yawned widely, covering her mouth with the back of her hand, Matt could not help the little curve in his lips. Maybe it's working. Maybe she'll give in and sleep. That had been his intention. Deliver a little comfort and maybe even a little much needed slumber.

"Sorry about that," she said before raising her mug again. The angle she lifted it clearly suggested she finished off the concoction he had prepared her.

"You really should try to get some rest. The simulation can be just as draining on the body as the real world," he cautioned as carefully as he could manage.

"I've been noticing that. At first it just seemed like it was just some elaborate dream," Remy noted as she turned the cup around in her hand, watching her own manipulation of the object.

"It was the same way with the chair back in Stilwater, it was incredibly demanding on the body. This is a little bit worse because of how the code works." Matt paused a moment when her pale blue eyes met his. After a quick deep breath, he continued, "The ability to modify the code of your virtual self actually places more strain."

"So the more I exert myself in the simulation, the more I'm going to feel it out here."

Matt nodded. "In a manner of speaking, yes. Eventually your body will get used to it and it will be like second nature, but it will take some time for you to acclimate to it."

"You seemed to take to it pretty easily," she observed as she leaned forward, studying him.

"I've been doing things like this longer than I probably should have," Matt admitted, setting his empty mug on the console he was leaning against. He cast a nervous little grin at her as he crossed his arms over his chest; she continued to look at him like she was studying him. "I'm used to this type of interface. It's a little different from the NEMO chair, but not dramatically so."

"What do I need to do?"

"How do you mean?"

"Build stamina? Strength? Is there some kind of thing … activity, maybe, that I can do? Something that will make this all easier?" she asked, staring at him with a look that revealed the tension she was feeling. There was also a palpable note of desperation in her voice.

He shook his head, and felt bad that there was no solution he could offer her. "There is nothing outside of using the device. But you have to be careful. Too long is just going to strain you. Not long enough and it won't help you build up the connection you need."

For a long time Remy just looked at him, he could see it in her eyes-her mind mulling over the information, weighing all the factors, searching for a decision, a solution.

"Fuck!" she called as she spun out of the chair and paced away from him. Once on the other side of the room she stopped and rubbed at her forehead. "How do you know how long?"

"For?"

"What's the window for interaction? Where's this sweet spot between connection and exhaustion?" she queried with a glance over her shoulder.

"Hard to tell. It would be different for everyone. You usually see it in the vitals."

The half-smile was mischievous and seemed to signal a decision. "Think you can find that sweet spot?"

Matt shrugged and shook his head. "Probably."

McGinnis crossed to him quickly and took his face in her hands as she grinned at him. His breath caught in his throat as he stared down into her eyes, bright with determination. "Good. Then that settles it. You find my sweet spot, and we'll build up the endurance and get this alien bastard in his own house." She patted his cheek, with a wink, then stepped away.

The self-proclaimed cyber god took a long slow breath when she released him. He was not sure this was precisely how he had planned on all this to go. Matt rather hoped that he would leave her on the sandman's doorstep instead he managed to prime her for another pass at the simulation.

"Can we start this now?" she asked as she crossed toward the door.

"It would be best to start with you in a rested state," he said in an attempt to quell her enthusiasm, and perhaps convince her to try to get a little sleep. "With you tired, the readings could be skewed or completely off normal."

Remy nodded for a moment. "You might be right."

Miller grabbed both the mugs he had brought to the bridge. The President slipped back into the chair she had been sitting in when he entered. Uncertain if anything else he said would do more harm than good, the MI-6 agent ducked out of the bridge.

"Thanks again, Matt," she called after him.

"Any time," he replied more honestly than he initially realized.

-3-

Kinzie narrowed her eyes at the pair of them-Remy in the simulator, staring at the ceiling; Miller at the controls, regularly glancing over at the boss. McGinnis had entered from the bridge, where she hid out whenever she was on the ship. Maybe it was wrong to describe it that way, but that was how it felt-Remy was segregating herself from them. The boss had always had a thing for her privacy, but this reaction was starting to seem almost like self-imposed exile as opposed to healthy alone time.

Then there was Matt Miller. Ugh. Just thinking his name, made bile rise in Kensington's stomach. The venerated MI-6 agent skulked around in the bowels of the ship. Kinzie realized he was down there avoiding everyone, not that she could blame him. She alone disliked him enough for the entire crew, if any of them …

Kinzie shook her head clear. Those types of thoughts are off limits. The boss needs you on your game. Focus!

She took a deep breath and looked across the room. Remy did not acknowledge either of them; she had just walked to the interface device and stepped in. As Matt closed the device and set the link, Kinzie shrugged in an attempt to relax some of the tension in her shoulders. For the last few days, every time the boss went into the simulation Miller hovered. She did not understand why he was there, in the interface hub or on the ship period. Kinzie did not know why Remy had insisted that they locate Matt Miller before the others; and she certainly did not get why, all of the sudden, the boss insisted on him being around when she uploaded.

It did not help that McGinnis was still keeping people at arm's length, not that she had not always done that to some extent, but it felt different now. While she always kept to herself, she at least shared her motives with and took counsel from … well, all of her people. And right now the boss was more closed off than she had ever been, to Kinzie's recollection. They needed to get this done, they needed the boss … she needed the boss to … Kinzie screwed her eyes closed tight against the thought of it. No, you will not go there right now. You will maintain your decorum. You will keep it together.

The cringe at Miller's approach made her shiver at her own dislike of the hacker. In a way she understood that Remy was trying to help her by bringing him on board, and doing so that soon. But it was strange to be working with him. She still did not trust him, no matter what his MI-6 file said. Her eyes fluttered from her console to his as he tapped up readings from the simulation and then pulled up another graphic.

Are those? What the hell? She quickly checked the mic. Off. Good. She turned to Miller quickly. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Trying to help," he said, without even a glance in her direction.

"And why are you monitoring the President's vitals?" she charged with an accusatory tone.

"What?" Keith echoed from the doorway. He closed on the console quickly. "You better have a really good explanation for this, kid."

Matt pushed his chair back away from the console with his hands held up as if someone had pulled a gun on him. "I've heard you both talking. And I agreed that she was spending way too much time in the simulator. So, I kind of"-he tilted his head from side to side-"fabricated a reason to get her to limit her load-in time."

"What?" Kinzie shrilled. Fucking unbelievable bastard. Lying to the boss. Trying to help … Then it hit her like a brick to the forehead. He was trying to help. He was actually trying to help them all. And Remy had been limiting her time in the simulation. The last three times she went in was for less than six hours, and the boss was actually looking a little less haggard, though the dark puffiness under her eyes still suggested she was barely sleeping.

"If we're going to get out of this at all, we need the President. And it's like you said Kinzie, at the pace she was going, she would kill herself before the Zin would even get a real chance at her."

Turning quickly she crossed her arms over her chest and hugged herself tightly for a moment. Fucking Matt Miller. What right does he have? Being all … human. Goddamnit! She reviled the fact that he was making it harder for her to hate him. Kinzie tapped her foot absently for a moment. He was her fucking arch nemesis and he was making himself almost likeable. Asshole!

"What did you do?" Kensington queried. Her brow arched in suspicion as she eyed him, while the vice president continued to look imposing and intimidating. The former FBI agent tried not to smile at the effective combination the two of them seemed to make.

Matt rubbed at his neck nervously. Good. He's uncomfortable. She liked that the two of them had him concerned.

"I just mentioned that acclimating to the simulation and that very different type of activity, might happen more effectively if she limited her time. Told her to think of it like training her body," Matt admitted, looking from one to the other of them.

"Go on," Keith prompted.

"I might have suggested there was a point when her body reached that ideal attunement. And I told her that anything past that window was more detrimental than helpful."

Kinzie stared at him agape. "You lied to the boss?"

"No," he stammered. Miller leaned toward them, gesticulating vibrantly as he tried to explain. "I didn't lie. It's true, mostly. Kind of. Like with the NEMO chairs, there's a point when it is just too much mentally and physically. I'm not sure if these devices are exactly the same yet. But they seem to work along the same lines. So I inferred a hypothesis."

He looked from Keith David back to Kinzie, then his shoulders slumped and he leaned back in his chair, letting his hands fall into his lap. "I just wanted to help. I thought…" Matt trailed off, shaking his head.

Kinzie had been taking watch too much joy out of Miller's reaction. He actually looked frightened. But the defeated look on his face as he slumped back into the chair made her realize that he was in the same boat as the rest of them. She might have been the one to get Keith and the boss out. But none of them were going to be able to do this without Remy. She knew that. The vice president knew that. And it seemed even Matt Miller knew that.

She closed her eyes and shook her head. "I can't believe you lied to the boss," Kinzie said in lieu of anything supportive. She still hated him, mostly. And even if she did not completely hate him, she refused to like him. "If she finds out, she'll probably kill you."

"I am aware," Matt noted, scooting his chair back toward the console.

Keith seemed a little more forgiving. Before he left the room, he patted Miller on the shoulder and quietly said, "You did good, son."

Kinzie could not help but roll her eyes as Matt beamed up at the VP like some idiot fanboy. She redirected her eyes to the code rolling across the screen. Remy seemed oblivious to the fact that they had been ignoring her in favor of intimidating information out of their resident cyber god. She scoffed at the mere idea of the title the man to her left had given himself as a boy. The boss' distraction made Kinzie glad that the list of places she had given Remy to hack had her running all over fake Steelport.