Won't Say You're Sorry

Tucker kept himself rather stiff when Captain Arlene came to pick him up from the hanger bay herself and provide an escort to the Admiral's quarters. When she finally showed up he gave her a nod over a salute after a moments determination. Captain Arlene glanced him over, rolled her eyes, and gestured for him to follow. Throughout the path from the hanger to the Admiral's quarters Tucker kept his hands at his sides, helmet hung off his hip where normally his blade hilt would rest.

"I see you got the message about helmets," Captain Arlene said dryly.

"Loud and clear," Tucker scowled. His nose still hurt, and his pride still stung from the laugh at his expense.

"I trust you won't cause any problems while aboard the Viper's Nest?" Captain Arlene asked.

"No, ma'am," Tucker clenched his hands into fists at his side.

"Good," Captain Arlene replied, then paused when they came upon the elevator shaft that moved between ship levels. "I'm going to be perfectly frank, Private Tucker." Arlene stepped inside, turned around, and waited for Tucker to follow. "I do not like you. I do not like that you are a part of Project Freelancer, even if its just the grunt work and not an Agent. I do not like your attitude. I do not like your service record, and I definitely do not like you aboard my ship."

Your ship? Tucker wanted to laugh; instead he kept his words to himself with a short, "Noted," as the elevator doors slid shut. The lift jolted and began to move. Tucker side-eyed Arlene. "Just as a bit of advice though?" Tucker said dryly. "Stick to armor colors and don't mention Freelancer if you end up picking up any more of us 'grunt workers' 'kay?" Tucker watched how Arlene's face twisted in confusion—her brow furrowed and her mouth opened to ask, but then she seemed to think better of it—and shook his head.

Honestly the UNSC really had no idea what a complete and utter mess Project Freelancer really was, Tucker mused. While he'd never participated within the main project itself, instead as a member of the Simulation Armies, just his tenure on 'Blue Team' and even Blood Gulch told him enough about Project Freelancer. Tucker shuddered.

The flag cultists—zealots—were a prime example; honestly Tucker truly hoped that no one got it in their heads for a revenge kick. Revealing the 'lies' of the colored armies to the lot was the worst idea Tucker could conceive. It'd be a massacre—and Tucker doubted it'd stop at Freelancer.

The lift shuddered to a stop. Arlene took a step forward and finally said, "I will…take your words under consideration." The doors slid open and she led the way out of the elevator and back down the hall.

The rest of the walk to the Admiral's office was spent mostly in silence. Tucker tried to puzzle out why here, why now, because honestly this was a mess and a half waiting to happen. The additional restrained hostility out of Captain Arlene also threw Tucker for a loop. For a moment he wondered if she had some sort of crush on the Admiral—his mind tumbled, as it always did when he had such thoughts—and Tucker withheld a gag.

Ew. No, he was not going there. His nightmare fuel was already full enough, thank you very much. Tucker pulled a face and shook his head—and then frowned contemplatively. Although…Tucker slammed the thoughts down and stopped. He tried to think of something else—anything else—

"Are you okay?" Arlene questioned and Tucker jerked his head up. "You look sick."

Ah, distraction! Tucker shot her a winning smile. "Sorry, sorry. I just…thought of my parents having sex randomly."

Arlene jerked back, her face pinched, and sharply she turned on heel. "Why am I not surprised?" she said, and her tone laced with disgust.

Yeah, lady, you and me both, Tucker thought with a grimace. Parent's having sex? Really? Ugh. He straightened his spine and followed her with a sigh. They couldn't reach the Admiral's quarters quickly enough.

Admiral Christina Odan sighed as she stared at the report and request from HIGHCOM. The first was a rather ridiculous report from some asinine 'field medic' associated with Project Freelancer. This 'DuFresne' set Christina's teeth on edge—something about him just wasn't right—and the ridiculous tale he weaved in the report honestly made her sick to her stomach. DuFresne spoke of some sort of hybrid child, and while Christina resolved herself to containing her disdain for the Sangheili people now that the Great War finally ended and peace talks were for once on the table, this—this nonsense was irritating.

The worst part was that DuFresne claimed this 'hybrid' to be named Lavernius Tucker. That exclamation had brought far more attention her way than Christina ever anticipated, and the mere idea that Lavernius may have gone along with this bullshit scheme drove Christina batty. It didn't help that she had Marius trying to get a hold of her, demanding to know why his company was under such heavy scrutiny all of a sudden. No, between HIGHCOM demanding Lavernius' presence, questioning Christina's every move, and dipping their fingers into Lascivious Aromatics, Christina was not in a good mood.

Thankfully a rather easy way to clean up this mess and get to the bottom of the prank—what else could it be? Christina knew for a fact Lavernius was no hybrid—quickly landed in her lap. A short discussion between the Director of Project Freelancer, HIGHCOM, ONI, and Lord Hood settled Lavernius' relocation orders firmly into her hands. HIGHCOM then demanded she bring Lavernius straight to Earth, and well hopefully Christina could work out a way to mitigate disaster with Lavernius on route instead of leaving the boy to flounder like he rightfully deserved.

Honestly the number of times Christina had to bail Lavernius out of trouble were innumerous. The boy was more troublesome than his older sisters! Christina set the report off to the side and leaned back in her chair in thought. She would get to the bottom of this mess; Lavernius would explain himself to her.

The door to her office slipped open and Christina raised her head and stood to her feet. She eyed the armor, the helmet attached to the hip, and the wiry hair pulled back from his face. It ended in a ball of puff at the back of his head. Not quite military standard anymore, Christina noted, but in the dark eyes and dark skin—small light freckles and a little more worn than Christina last saw—Lavernius stared back at her.

"Mom," Lavernius said dryly. "Did you really have to come and get me personally?"

Christina's gaze slipped from Lavernius to Captain Arlene who hastily masked her surprise at Lavernius' dry response.

"Captain, return to your post," Christina said sharply. "I have everything well in hand here." Arlene stiffened, saluted, and quickly turned and left. Christina glanced to Lavernius. "Sit down, Lavernius."

"So it's going to be like that, then?" Lavernius murmured, shook his head, and snapped into a salute. "Ma'am." He stepped into the room, the door slipped shut behind him, and stood across from Christina's desk. "I'd prefer to stand if it's all the same to you, ma'am."

Christina sighed. "Lavernius…" Lavernius gave her a grin and Christina gave in completely. "Damn it, get over here."

With a laugh Lavernius vaulted the desk and landed in front of Christina. He wrapped his arms around her, and she wrapped her own back around him. Lavernius leaned his head best he could from the armor against her chest and just basked in her presence.

"I missed you, mom," he mumbled.

"I wish you would've joined the Navy," Christina said tiredly and pulled away. Lavernius pulled a face. "Honestly," Christina shook her head. "I wish that this was all just pleasant, but there is a reason I came to retrieve you from Rhodam."

Lavernius frowned. "What's wrong?"

Christina moved around Lavernius and picked up the report from her desk. "HIGHCOM has demanded your presence back on Earth."

Lavernius' eyes widened. "Whoa, wait, what? Why?"

"About six months ago a report was filed from a Field Medic in regards to one Lavernius Tucker," Christina said with forced calm. She watched as Lavernius seemed to pale. "Can you tell me what Medic DuFresne reported, Lavernius?"

Lavernius placed a hand over his face and hissed out, "Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit."

"Lavernius?" Christina murmured, confused. She pulled his hand away and was surprised to find tears. "What—oh my. Tell me about it, sweetheart."

Gently, because Lavernius seemed to be honestly distressed, Christina moved him over to the small couch off to the side of her office. She settled him down and then set herself next to him.

"What did Doc say in the report?" Lavernius asked, and his voice wobbled. Christina filed away the familiar term to dissect later.

"His report detailed a Sangheili-Human hybrid named Lavernius Tucker," Christina said carefully. "It included," and here her tone took on derisive hints, "information about feeding habits, growth—surprisingly detailed."

Lavernius laughed, bitterly. "Most of it's bullshit. Doc doesn't know what he's talking about."

Christina latched onto the connotations there. "Most?"

"Growth, feeding habits—Doc's insane and doesn't understand crap all about Junior," Lavernius leaned forward to bury his face into his hands. "Granted neither do I, really. Big fucking mess." His voice hitched.

"Junior," Christina said carefully.

"Yeah. Junior. My kid," Lavernius' voice trailed off into an almost keen whine. "Fuck."

Christina swallowed down the burst of rage at the thought of Lavernius sleeping with and having a child with some Sangheili. "And where is this…kid?" Christina questioned. "With their mother?"

Lavernius laughed hollowly. "Nah," he said, and Christina noted the tinge of hysteria. "He's dead. Fucking blown up in a pelican after Tex damn kidnapped him to 'end the fucking war."

Christina frowned. How could a hybrid—she huffed. "The war has been over for a month, and we've had a tentative truce with the Sangheili for some time before that."

"Great," Lavernius hissed. "So my kid died for nothing on that fucking pelican. Just fucking perfect."

Christina frowned. "And the mother?"

Lavernius leaned back and grimaced. "Mom…Junior doesn't have a mother," he said plainly. "I…" He looked pained. "I…" His hand slipped down toward his abdomen.

"Lavernius?"

Lavernius swallowed heavily. "The asshole impregnated me," he said weakly. "Somehow. Fuck if I know." He rocked forward and Christina tried to fight down the thought of how insane this sounded.

"And you…chose that?"

"I chose that?" Lavernius huffed. "No, mom. I didn't choose any of it." He looked back at her, and Christina felt her gut churn. She hoped the next words out of his mouth wouldn't be what she thought they would. "I was raped and not even given a damned choice!"

Christina clenched her fists and closed her eyes. She really hoped that wouldn't be the words out of Lavernius' mouth. She really hoped—after a second of forced calming breaths and the recited reminder that they had a truce now, she couldn't go and hunt down the nearest Sangheili ships and blow them sky high. That would be improper and would get her nothing but put in front of a trial for crimes. Not to mention they might just end back up at war with the Sangheili all over again and no one wanted that; not now with the tentative truce and the believed end of the Covenant.

"We'll…talk about this later," Christina said. "For now let's—let's just get you settled in, sweetheart. We have a couple of months before we reach Earth."

Later, Tucker thankfully realized, would not come soon. His mom seemed rather resolved to get Tucker to relax and catch up on the news of the galaxy away from the backwards little planet he'd been stationed to. While everyone knew how Master Chief blew up a halo ring with all of the aliens upon it, almost no one in their sector of space that worked for Project Freelancer had heard about the mess that happened on Earth.

After Tucker learned what he could from his mom and the network, he spent most of his time in relaxation. With a single-minded focus to forget what happened recently and just bask in his mom's presence, Tucker caught up on everything that involved his family. His two older sister's business pursuits together—the fact that Mariah had a new boyfriend, or that Angelique found yet another strange creature to adopt as a pet—and even very briefly touched upon Lascivious Aromatics and his father's recent dealings.

"Please don't tell me he knows about Junior," Tucker groaned as he flipped through business reports that he'd rather not be reading.

"Hm, well not Junior exactly," Christina mused tiredly over a cup of tea. When Tucker placed the reports over his face in an attempt to hide his own embarrassment she twittered in amusement back. "Honestly Lavernius he had to be told something. HIGHCOM began investigating Marius' dealings. No one had a damned clue what was going on, and you know your father."

"Anyone sticking their nose into the damned company raises all sorts of red flags," Tucker drowned. "Ugh. Fuckberries."

"Language." Christina slapped him against the thigh and Tucker jolted with a yelp.

"Mom!"

Christina laughed, and for a while Tucker could forget the mess of shit he'd found himself in. Honestly his anger at Church seemed more and more well-founded since this bullhockey could be laid solely at his feet. His and goddamn Project Freelancer. Of course not everything remained relaxing—Tucker knew eventually he'd have to face the music about—about Junior and tell his mom everything. She needled the story out of him in bits and pieces, thankfully; allowed him respite between recollections. Tucker saw the way she marked little notes out of the corner of his eye while he hollowly recited what happened—interspersed with brief moments of levity because no mother liked to see their child look so haunted.

"This…blade?" Christina frowned. "That was the start of it?"

Tucker waved his hand. "Well, yeah, I guess. I mean Tex seemed damn interested in it, and why wouldn't she? It was a goddamn fucking plasma sword! How cool is that?!"

"Yes," Christina murmured. "We've…seen something like it. Among the Elites."

Tucker sat up in surprise. "What, really? Everything I heard made it out to be something rare. Like even that—even the damned alien acted like it was some sort of holy relic or something."

"Like Forerunner technology?" Christina frowned. "That doesn't make any sense."

Tucker shrugged. "I dunno, mom. All I know is I'm the only one that can wield the damn thing. Tex tried, and so did Caboose—asshole didn't think I noticed. And so did the—so did the alien. Wouldn't activate for them."

Christina leaned back. "Odd. Not of the plasma swords we've encountered had such a limitation. Perhaps it was unique then. What did the…sangheili say it was meant to do?"

Tucker looked down at his hands. "I—some sort of key? Honestly it was vague, and I'm…not sure how much I trust the source, anyway." Christina reached out a hand.

"Take your time, Lavernius."

Tucker breathed out heavily and shook his head. "Nah, it's not—it's not tough to say mom. More just…completely crazy." He laughed. "But shit, what wasn't crazy about that fucking assignment anyway?" Christina squeezed his thigh. "Alright, alright. So Tex somehow created a bomb with an AI attached, see?"

"Wait, what?" Christina sat stiff. "How in the—"

Tucker turned to face her and gave her a wry sort of grin. "Oh that's not the half of it." With that he launched happily into the Freelancer bullshit that he'd been dragged into once Tex arrived. Anything to take his mind off of—off of Junior and the whole journey and—and that.

Tucker ignored the way his lower back throbbed.

(it wasn't there)

(it wasn't there)