"So, did you do it?"

Tucker smiled dazzlingly at the dark blue Freelancer before him. South gave him the finger without moving her gaze from the river that wound through Valhalla. She leant back against a rock, slumping her shoulders.

Tucker was unaffected by her rude gesture, and simply smiled wider.

"Well? Did you?"

South's reply was a low growl.

"Fuck. Off."

"Don't worry, you can tell me."

South didn't respond. Tucker eyed her hesitantly, and then decided to press his luck further; after all, she hadn't drawn her gun. Yet.

"Well?" he asked expectantly. "Did you really try and kill Wash?"

Surprisingly, South smiled. "Yes."

He whistled, and bit back a laugh.

"He wasn't kidding, then."

"Nope."

"You're one crazy bitch."

"Maybe."

Tucker snickered, unable to keep back his laughter at her answer. South sighed, and absently fingered the pistol at her waist.

"When did he tell you?" she asked, not really caring about the answer. Her eyes followed the blue and yellow ex-Freelancer as he paced angrily near the Pelican. Tucker shrugged.

"He didn't. I overheard them talking about it," he explained eagerly.

"Them?"

"Carolina and Wash."

South nodded absently at the information, and eyed the aquamarine soldier before her. His lips were spread in an arrogant grin, his eyes attempting (futilely) to smolder at her.

God, he annoyed the hell out of her.

But, he had information.

"So what's the deal with Washington and the pink guy?" she asked.

Tucker laughed before he answered. "Wash tried to kill him."

South's upper lip rose in a sneer.

"And he failed?"

"Obviously," Tucker answered, still laughing. He trailed off awkwardly when South didn't join him.

For a few minutes, silence reigned. Tucker searched his mind for another question to ask.

"Why do they hate you?"

The question blurted out his mouth before Tucker could stop it. He winced, and waited for her biting response.

He didn't get it.

"What do you mean?" she asked, raising an eyebrow even though she knew exactly what he meant.

"Well, Carolina and Wash are all friends and stuff – even though she's a bitch – and they talk all the time. But you're just left out of it."

South shook her head. "Why do you think, fucktard? I tried to kill him."

Tucker shrugged. "So? Caboose killed Church, but Church doesn't really hate him."

South rolled her eyes. "Right."

"No, really!"

"Uh-huh."

Tucker sighed, annoyed, and decided just to pursue another question.

"Why can't you sleep?"

South growled, suddenly done with the conversation.

"Piss off," she snapped at him.

Tucker hesitated. He kind of wanted to keep the Freelancer talking, and see if he had a shot.

South spun her head around, and rose fluidly to her feet when he didn't move.

"I said, piss off!" she yelled angrily, clenching one fist.

He backed away slowly, palms in the air, and only relaxed when he was out of her arm's reach.

"Jesus Christ, talk about PMS," he muttered, turning away.

South snarled, and drew her pistol. Rapidly, she emptied a round into the air around Tucker's helmet.

He ran, screaming.

Wash watched warily around him as he paced. He glanced towards the pink soldier and purple medic – God, that had been an awkward conversation – as they chatted and laughed in ridiculously high-pitched voices near the three Warthogs. He didn't know if they would be accompanying them on their journey, but so far they hadn't really shown an interest.

His head snapped up to the sound of gunshots.

Tucker was sprinting towards Blue base, screaming in a voice that almost matched Donut's in pitch. Wash watched as South emptied her clip, snarling at Tucker's retreating figure.

Wash had his gun out in a heartbeat, and had in trained on South in two. But then she stopped firing, and he lost his excuse to execute her. If she had kept shooting, he could have told Carolina that he had acted in defense of Tucker. But Freelancers – even ex-Freelancers – never missed, and so South obviously hadn't actually wanted to kill him. Well, no. South probably wanted to kill Tucker – hell, she probably wanted to kill them all - but the desire to stay with them and eventually kill the Director had trumped her anger at Tucker. Wash sighed, annoyed, and dropped his aim on South.

Abruptly, a loud crunch sounded from beneath his armoured left boot. Wash frowned, and crouched down. His hands searched the grass, and eventually he pulled up what had bothered him.

A long metal chain swung from his hand, dogtags hanging from it limply. Wash glanced up, at the wreckage of the Pelican that was now less than three metres away. Could it –

"Washington."

Fuck.

Wash whirled, the fingers of his right hand closing around the chain as he cursed his distraction for allowing her to sneak up on him. Because he knew who it was, before he even saw her; he knew that voice. Knew it, and hated it.

"South," he growled.

She lifted her chin slightly when he said her name. His upper lip curled into a sneer as they both tensed.

Silence expanded between them, neither person willing to break it. He wondered why she had sought him out; this was the first time she had willingly spoken to him, other than the day of her abrupt arrival.

"Well?" he snapped finally, irritated. "What the hell do you want?"

South smirked, and waited another moment before speaking.

"I was wondering," she began slowly, stretching out each word as though he struggled to understand them, "how much longer we're gonna be here."

Wash snickered. "What, you thought this was going to be easy? We're tracking down the Director, bitch. It's gonna take longer than a week."

South glared at him.

"Well, you haven't exactly found anything yet, have you?" she growled. It was more of a statement than a question but he answered it anyway, his fingers tightening around the dogtags in his fist.

"No, we haven't," he lied smoothly. Maybe she'd get bored of it all and leave them behind – presenting him with the perfect opportunity to sink a few bullet holes into her back.

But South's keen eyes had caught his reaction; the slow clench of his hand.

"Liar," she breathed, her eyes flying to his fist. "Show it to me!"

"No!" Wash snapped, and stepped back.

South snarled, baring her teeth slightly. Crazy bitch.

"Give it to me!"

Wash brought his fist to his chest protectively, and snarled back at her: "No!"

South lunged, her hands scrabbling for the dogtags. Wash ducked slightly, and tried to roll away from her sudden attack.

But she grabbed his shoulder as he spun, and he stumbled. Laughing, South swept her leg around in a low arc and Wash's feet flew out from underneath him. He crashed roughly to the ground, and groaned. South pounced onto him, straddling his chest with her pistol pressed to his armoured throat.

She grinned menacingly. Wash snarled and bucked, trying to throw her off. But her grip was iron, and he couldn't escape her. When he stopped, she pulled off her helmet and leant down to whisper victoriously in his ear.

"Give up, cockbite. You always were the worst fighter."

He growled, but her heavy armour kept him pinned. Her lips pulled even further back from her teeth as she sneered.

"Give it to-"

Wash's swift punch interrupted her sentence. In her victory, her grip had loosened ever so slightly. It wasn't much, but it was enough.

He had pulled his fist free, and socked her in the face.

South's head snapped back, and her grip loosened even further. He scrabbled out from underneath her, ripping the pistol out of her hands and throwing it to the side as he did so.

"Bitch," he snarled, once he was upright. His fingers twitched towards his pistol, but the dogtags in his fist – if they belonged to who he thought they did – were more important than even South's death.

She coughed, her hand to her throat, and pulled her helmet back on. Wash laughed at her weakness, and stalked away.

He should have known not to turn his back.

South slammed into him with shocking force. His breath escaped his chest as he went flying, South clinging to him with fierce determination. He fell onto the hard, unforgiving ground and grunted briefly from the pain.

South was fast; in the space of a heartbeat, she shot up and yanked the chain out from between his fingers.

"Asshole," she spat.

She walked away, not taking her eyes off him, and only stopped once she was a safe distance away. Wash climbed slowly to his feet. His hand curled towards the pistol on his hip, but he forced it away. No, he realized. A simple shot to the face or chest wouldn't satisfy him, not now - even if it did kill her. No. Now, he had decided he wanted to do it with his bare hands; to watch the life drain out of her. He wanted her to suffer.

South was oblivious to the hate burning even brighter in his chest, the plan that was forming darkly inside his mind. She was absorbed in the dogtags, her fingers scrubbing roughly at the dirty metal.

No, not now, he decided. He needed to be stronger. South was right; he had always been the weakest fighter on the team – though a weak Freelancer was still far superior to even the strongest of soldiers. She would best him if he tried to kill her now. He needed time; time to become better than her. Time to gain the brute strength it would take to kill her.

So he stalked over to her, willing his patience forward. It came slowly, but eventually calmed his burning fury.

"It's Tex's," Wash growled, limping forward towards South. But she shook her head slowly, staring wide-eyed at the piece of metal in her hands. She didn't seem to notice the blood starting to stream from her nose; undoubtedly from when he had punched her earlier. Had he broken her nose? He hoped so.

"CT," she breathed, eyes glinting.

Wash ripped the dogtags from her grasp, and studied them himself. His heart sank.

Carolina needs to see this, he thought, and looked to the left. She stood a good distance away, arguing heatedly with Epsilon-Church.

South followed his gaze, and her eyes narrowed slightly.

"Washington."

He turned slowly, facing South once more. Her hand moved slightly towards her waist, where the pistol had previously hung, but it stilled when she seemed to remember its absence.

"Yeah?" he grunted.

Her voice was hard when she spoke, and Wash knew that, beneath her helmet, her eyes would be glinting dangerously.

"Tell Carolina that you don't have much longer."

His eyebrows furrowed, and Wash rested a hand ever so casually on his pistol.

"Why? And who doesn't have much longer?"

South eyed him evenly. "You, Wash."

He bit back a snarl. "Explain."

When South spoke, it was with a finality that made it very hard for him not to draw his gun and shoot, his previous plan be damned.

"Because I'm getting impatient."

He knew what she meant the second the words fell out of her mouth.

South was with them for two things; the Director's death first, and eventually – unless he could help it – his own. South was also a very impatient person. She was like fire; burning quickly and without thought. She was also efficiently lazy; she ordered her priorities in order of ease, and occasionally passion.

And killing the Director was proving to be harder than they thought with each day that passed.

And South was getting impatient.

"Carolina!" Wash called, racing towards the aquamarine ex-Freelancer. She looked up at him, her expression still stormy from her and Church's argument.

"What?" she snapped.

"Here," he said, and thrust the dogtags into her hand without further explanation. Carolina raised an eyebrow, and read aloud.

"Agent Connecticut?"

She opened her mouth again, but Church interrupted before she could speak.

"Those aren't dogtags," he told them, confused. "That's some sort of… data unit."

Both ex-Freelancers frowned, and after a moment of indecision Wash thrust it towards the AI.

"Check it out," he instructed.

Church hesitated, and then took a deep breath. Wash rolled his eyes beneath his helmet. AI's didn't need oxygen; they were fucking holograms, for God's sake.

"Oh yeah," Church continued, "if I'm not out again in like, three months don't bother coming in looking for me. Just… move on with your lives."

Carolina smiled, slightly amused, as he disappeared.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. But then Wash took a breath, and tried to speak.

"Carolina, South told me that -"

Suddenly, Church reappeared before he could finish his sentence. Wash gritted his teeth when Carolina ignored him, instead turning to face the AI.

Church's face was grim. Unconsciously, they both edged closer to the blue AI.

"I know where to find the Director," he told them. "I just remembered… everything."

There was a moment of shocked silence. Before any of them could react, Carolina heard someone clear a throat behind them. She whirled, to see that South had come up behind them unnoticed.

"Excellent," she growled, eyes glinting above her vicious grin. Blood dripped from her nose to her upper lip, making her seem feral. "Let's go hunting."

A/N: Yay, the 4th chapter is up! It's a little bit longer than the other ones. I just wanted to thank all the people who are reading this; so, thank you! Hope you're enjoying it so far, and that the small fight scene isn't written too badly. I suck at action scenes, so I apologize if you were gagging when you read that. xD