"I just need to watch this. I think I have a way. A way to bring her back this time."
Delicately, Carolina lowered her hand to the table. Metal eyes pierced easily through the soft darkness, an angled mask to hide her face. Light from the large screen shone through the shadows, reflecting dully off of her aquamarine armour.
"The authorities are hunting you now," she pointed out. "If I found you, they will too." She took a breath of filtered air, the oxygen in her suit tasting somewhat stale.
The Director hunched in his chair, but his eyes remained fixed on the screen above. Desperate orbs filled with an odd sort of compassion. "I just need a bit more time…"
"No!" The angered cry burst out at the same time Epsilon conjured himself onto her shoulder. He walked forward, holographic boots noiseless, until he hovered beside the Director. "You've had your fucking time. You have to answer for what you did. To the Meta, to Washington, to Carolina… to me, and to her. To Texas!"
The Director's response was slow in coming, but when he spoke, it was as though the AI had never uttered a word. But still his gaze did not leave that of Allison's. "Hello, Epsilon." His voice was empty, like that of an echo in a deserted hall. He had fallen so far from the man he had once been. "You came all this way just to see me?"
Was that… hope? The faintest emotion in his voice spoke volumes. Epsilon ignored it with steadfast certainty. "I'm here to remember what you've done." The emphasis on remember was bitter, and left a foul taste in the air. Carolina found herself grateful for the stale air that filled her lungs now. "Somebody has to."
"Church-" she interrupted, but the AI overrode her, his voice increasing in volume until he was almost yelling his accusations.
"Not all of us got off scot-free, Carolina." The familiar phrase struck a chord, and her jaw clamped shut with an almost-audible click. But the AI continued to speak, and they could only watch with muted, horrified sympathy as he remembered. The blue became green, his deep voice rising to a more even pitch. "He was brilliant," Delta whispered, "and we trusted him!" Theta cried, his voice broken and in despair. Their voices dropped, becoming halting and distinctly computer-like. "But he lied, to us," Gamma, master of deception, spoke. "He twisted, and tortured us!" The enraged roar burst from Omega, the pure anger streaming from his holographic body making Carolina want to shudder. "And used us, and manipulated us for his own purposes," Sigma snarled. "And for what? For this?" The different personalities melted and combined, each word dripped in a different aspect of each AI. But they spoke together in haunting harmony. "This, shadow?" They paused, and faded away, until only Epsilon was left. His voice was raw with pain. "He needs to pay."
For a moment, only silence reigned throughout the darkened room. The only noise was the muted playback, Allison's voice reaching through years and miles to speak to them.
Leonard, come on. I have to go. Don't make me hurt you.
Slowly, her movements hesitant and yet undoubtedly sure, Carolina raised her hands. Fingers automatically found the latch under her chin, years of practice and repetitive de-armouring at the end of each exhausting, fight-filled day making her movements familiar, she pulled her helmet free. Red hair tumbled free, still caught in an encircling band. She watched evenly as the Director reached with trembling fingers to remove his glasses.
Vivid green eyes stared back at her, mirroring her own. His mouth pulled to one side, unhappiness and despair etched into every wrinkle. Her father hadn't always been so broken.
"Daddy!" the tiny redhead shrieked, her youthful voice bubbly and excited. She tottered towards him, her hands held out in front of her. "James says that he found a mean doggy in David's backyard. He says it tried to eat him, Daddy! Can I go look?"
Leonardo Church hesitated in the driveway, one hand resting on his car door as he watched his little girl race towards him. No, wait – he shouldn't call her that anymore. Carolina had celebrated her nineth birthday just a week ago. She wasn't quite so little anymore.
Another small shard of his heart broke off and fell, shattering on the diamond-hard floor of his despair. How could he tell his little girl, his sweet little Carolina, that her mother would not be coming home?
Bloodshot eyes followed as the redhead crashed into his legs, wrapping her arms and legs around his. "I missed you, Daddy," she whimpered, her strong and brave façade slipping for just an instant. She was so like Allison. Another shard broke away, and he felt its loss keenly.
"Oh, 'Lina…"
Leonard dropped to his knees, and encircled his little girl within the safety of his arms. He could protect her, couldn't he, for just a few more moments? The news could wait – she deserved to dance in her sweet blissful happiness for as long as he could let her.
"Daddy, James made fun of me again." Carolina whispered her secret quietly into her father's ear. He buried his face in her sleek hair, taking a shuddering breath. It smelt of wildflowers; her mother's scent, too. How much longer could he protect her from the truth? "He said Mummy only stays in the army because she gets tired of me bossing her around, because that's what he'd do if he lived with me."
One more piece shattered on the floor of his broken heart.
Leonard knew that the other kids on their street often made fun of 'Lina because her mother was always away, fighting for their freedom. They didn't understand her sacrifice. And little James, one of Carolina's best friends, had always teased her mercilessly. Leonard and Allison had often joked with 'Lina about why.
"Oh, sweetheart…" Leonardo pulled away, looking his little girl in the eye. It couldn't wait any longer; she would resent him later, for keeping it from her as long as he already had. He only wished that little James had left his teasing for another day. "I'm going to tell you something, okay? And I need you to be strong for me, sweetheart…"
And don't worry; I'll see you again.
Carolina blinked back tears, the memory seared in her mind. After her father had told her, she had run crying down the street, straight into the arms of the only person who she could count on to say nothing and just understand – her best friend.
Ready?
"Just… a bit more time," the Director pleaded. She held his gaze for a moment longer, wondering if he remembered that day in such clarity as she. Perhaps, perhaps he did.
"Come on Church. We're leaving," she told him, and turned to walk away.
"I thought we came all this way to kill him." Church was adamant. But he was fading, the memories as fresh in his mind as they were in hers. Epsilon, after all, had been designed to remember.
"Church, remember what you learned in the memory unit? You need to let go. Your past doesn't define who you are. It just gives you the starting point for who you're going to be."
"Agent Carolina?" The Director's voice pulled her back to the present. She spun slowly.
"Yes, Director?" Somehow, she just couldn't bring herself to call him father. Too much had changed.
"Would you be so kind as to leave me your pistol?"
She unholstered it slowly, and placed it on the table beside him. She knew its destiny, and strangely, that didn't upset her so much as it should have. Her father had been gone for a long time.
"Thank you, Carolina."
"Goodbye, Sir."
Carolina hesitated, and slowly bent down. Her lips brushed against her father's forehead, a final farewell. She walked away, knowing that Church would follow. Her boots clinked repetitively against the metal floor, at time with her slow, even heartbeat. Behind her, they spoke.
"You were my greatest creation."
"I don't know what I am." Church seemed tired, too. Maybe they all needed a good, long rest. "But I do know this: I'm more than just a copy of you. I'm better than you."
The response was slow, but sure. "I wasn't speaking to you."
And then Church joined Carolina's side, and they walked through the dark halls together.
Behind them, in the dark and cool room where the file still played, the shadows began to fall away. In fits and starts, the invisibility unit ran out of charge, and a bleeding silhouette was left in its place.
"Wash! Carolina's back, and so is Church!"
The former Freelancer spun, his heart jumping as he thought that Tucker had spoken of the other Church. But it was not to be; the aquamarine rogue and her AI companion were the only ones to walk towards them.
Wash began to move in their direction, hesitant. So many things could have happened while they waited. His boots brushed against the grass, and Carolina raised a hand in recognition. The sunlight reflected brilliantly off of her visor, but his own darkened to protect his eyes from the harmful ray.
"So…" he began, unsure.
"I guess that's that," Church said, sighing. He seemed… content.
"I guess it is," Carolina answered. Wash looked between them. Had they done the deed?
And then, he decided it didn't matter. The only thing that did was that they needed a fresh start. Somewhere to go, now that this was all over.
But one thing still occupied his mind.
"Carolina, when you found the Director, was… was there someone with you?"
She frowned, hesitant. "No… what do you mean, Wash?"
He let out a huge breath, in one large exhale. "I mean, South. Was she with you?"
"No, she wasn't. I thought she was with you."
"She was… but then… we found some special ability units, and, well…" He winced. "One of them was an invisibility unit, and South used it to get away."
"No, she wasn't with us." Surprisingly, Carolina was less upset by this news than he had thought she would be.
"Well, she's not with us, either."
"That only leaves one option." Church spoke with surety. "South is still inside."
"Play it again, FILSS."
"Beginning playback."
"Thank you FILSS, and now I would like you to erase all your files except one-"
"I don't think so."
The silhouette limped forward, one hand clasped tightly over her ribs. Dried blood caked her fingers, but at least none escaped from the wound. A dark blue helmet dangled from weak fingertips, and she let it fall onto the table once she was close enough. She staggered to the side and dragged a chair towards her with failing strength.
"Agent South Dakota," FILSS said politely. "It is a pleasure to see you again."
"I'd say the same, FILSS," South answered from between gritted teeth. The pain was almost too much to bear, now that the adrenaline had faded from her system. "But I'm sure you won't be too surprised to hear that I hoped never to run into Project Freelancer again."
"And yet you came here of your own free will." The Director spoke quietly, and South appraised him with her gaze. The driven, calculating mastermind that she remembered was gone. This man was different from the one she had hated.
"I need answers," she replied. The air here was stale and recycled. She sniffed, wrinkling her nose. "And you are the only one who has them."
"Of course," the Director answered. His eyes, slightly unfocused without his glasses, were still fixed on the screen. She noted his green eyes – so alike those of Carolina. It had been no secret that they were father and daughter, but to see the evidence before her, no longer hidden behind grey shades, was… odd. "You have only ever sought that which would benefit yourself. Though I fail to see how the past helps, now."
"Trust me," South whispered. She blinked once, and ran her tongue over her lip anxiously. It tasted of blood, and sweat. "I don't either. I just… I need to know."
"You want to know of your brother." It was a statement, not a question, but South answered anyway.
"Yes," she hissed, her breath hitching slightly. South's fingers tightened, clutching at her ribs. She inhaled, shivering slightly, and ducked her head. Her eyes glistened, pain dripping slowly down her face.
Silence extended between the pair as South struggled to regain control. Her eyes flickered, latching onto the scene that played repetitively above them. Each moment was echoed in the Director's empty eyes. She leant back slowly in her chair, and raised a shaking hand to wipe her face free of blood. But the crimson agony had dried on her face, and South succeeded only in smearing it.
"You… you knew, didn't you? You gave him Theta, because you knew what I would do." Her voice cracked.
"Perhaps." The Director never looked away from his screen. "The effects of jealousy on partnered soldiers was… interesting. The two of you presented an excellent opportunity," he whispered.
"An excellent opportunity," she repeated. South blinked once, slowly. "I… we… were a test?"
"Of a sort," the Director answered, his voice quiet. He seemed reluctant to interrupt the video of Allison before them. South glanced at it again.
"Was I ever going to get one?" she whispered.
It was only then that the Director turned his head. He regarded her cautiously, as one does a wild animal when unsure of its intentions. Slowly, he began to speak. "The Counselour, he wanted… he wanted to see if the rift could be healed. If jealousy was the only thing keeping you apart. If there could be again what once was. The Counselour wanted unity."
"And you – you wanted to divide and conquer," she accused, her voice bitter and stale. South's grey gaze pierced the Director, and he matched with his own.
"Perhaps," he admitted reluctantly. "Some have called it so."
Once again, they both fell silent. South breathed raggedly in and out, repeatedly clenching and unclenching her fist. A slow wave of dizziness swept over her, and she fought back bile. There was only one last thing she wanted to know. One final question, the answer to which she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to know.
Finally, South stood. Her armour creaked as she rose from the chair, and she roughly swiped the dark blue helmet from the table, glancing incuriously at the pistol as she did so. She staggered to the doorway, limping unevenly. South paused, one hand resting on the metal wall. Its frigid touch was oddly steadying, and she looked back.
"Director," South began. He stiffened, waiting for a final biting insult or accusation. But South was weary, tired. She wanted nothing more than the answer she had travelled all this way for. "Was it… was it me?" Nothing more than a whisper, but her voice still cracked on that final word. He didn't pause to wonder what she meant. It was all too obvious.
"Agent North Dakota's death… it was not foreseen. The experiment may have had some residual effect, but for it to have extended that far is… unlikely. Your brother's death… the program played no part in that."
Ice spread slowly through her veins as her worst wonderings were confirmed. No… she protested weakly, her limbs freezing as the horror wrapped itself around her mind. She was not responsible. She couldn't be. All those years…
South straightened, and took one more step forward. Her hand was still wrapped around her ribs, but she hesitated before walking more. Her head turned slightly to the side, but she did not look back. "That's…" her voice broke, and she cleared her throat weakly. "That's all I wanted to know."
And then Agent South Dakota walked away.
Two Weeks Later
"Caboose, don't touch that! You'll break it!"
South froze, stiffening in her crouch. Tucker's voice had burst out from some distance away, but still she remained wary. Slowly, she half-rose from her crouch, and glanced over the crates that separated her from the two Blues. Tucker crossed his arms and huffed, staring at Caboose as he fiddled with something South could not see. Her curiosity fulfilled, she glanced back and returned her attention to the matter at hand.
"Oh, no it won't, I just - I broke it."
Frowning slightly, South wielded the delicate, thin piece of metal skillfully, inserting it into the helmet's crack. Slowly, she began to exert pressure on the thin bar.
"Tucker did it," Caboose continued blandly.
"Dude, you can't say that when I'm right here."
She hissed in frustration, and applied even more pressure. Suddenly, the catch broke with a snap! and South smirked. The hidden compartment fell open, and she reached through it with sure fingers.
"Tucker said it." South rolled her eyes, and gripped the even slimmer, smooth metal square, prying it out as delicately as she could. The grey and yellow helmet, discarded amongst the rest of Blue Teams' glared at her solidly.
"Oh my God, just shut up," Tucker complained.
"Both of you shut up!" South jumped, and the slim metal disk flew from her hand. She snarled a quiet curse, and crawled after it, all the while hidden from Washington's view by the stack of crates to her right. "And get back to work!"
"What do you mean, get back to work? That implies previous work," Tucker protested smugly. South could practically hear his eye roll.
"I am putting my back to work," said Caboose determinedly.
South grunted in victory as her smooth gloves closed over the metal. She cupped it in her hand, and, removing her helmet, gently blew the dirt from its shiny surface. She hoped desperately that its brief tumble had not damaged its contents in any way.
Wash huffed in slight annoyance and mild amusement, and she felt the reverberation of his footsteps as they struck the ground. South shifted, and peeked over the rim of the crate. Tucker and Caboose ignored her, and Wash appeared to have moved back into their base. She sighed in relief, and rose to her feet, brushing the gritty dirt from her armoured knees. Her old injuries, healing but still painful, gave her pause as she stood.
South ducked her head, and walked casually away, her hand clenched protectively over the metal she had so delicately extracted from Wash's helmet. Her heartbeat pounded fiercely in triumph, and she was loathe to stop the grin from spreading over her face. It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.
And then South remembered why she had stolen it and the smile faded.
Her pace slowed as she searched the canyon, her gaze probing every corner. But it was not until she rounded a corner for the third time, and Carolina shifted that her armour caught the light and sent a dazzling ray straight into South's visor. She winced, and stepped back into the shadows. But her gaze remained locked on the set of aquamarine armour standing atop the cliff, and South's eyes narrowed. She had just one more thing to steal…
Slowly, Wash straightened from his relaxed stance against the wall, and unfolded his arms. South stood, her arms held slightly away from her body as though prepared for flight, some metres ahead of him. The sun drenched her silhouette in light, and Wash eyed it shrewdly. Something was off, he just knew it. Ever since her visit to the Director – which she still refused to talk about, even to Carolina – South had been… slowed. Her momentum had been lost, her drive forgotten. She had been empty.
And yet now, it seemed she had regained some of her lost purpose.
The change had been utterly sudden. In fact, Wash had only noticed her sudden change in mood an hour ago. At first, she had seemed only more downtrodden, but then her excitement had grown and Wash had vowed to keep a watchful eye. For a few minutes, he had lost her, but South had reappeared from behind a few crates. Suspicious, he had retrieved his helmet and followed.
Now, he replaced his helmet over his head, clicking it into place. Wash frowned as he noted the change in HUD – some of the settings he had changed over the years, suiting to his preference, had reverted back to default. He sighed, and made a mental note to change them back later.
But for now, he had a target in his sights and he would not lose her.
South took a deep breath, and carefully took another step. Her feet brushed against grass, and she could see the abrupt flattening of green, but her armour remained unseen.
She smirked, but felt irritation flicker in her chest as she nearly stumbled. Walking without seeing oneself was proving trickier than she had remembered – it distorted her spacial awareness, and made it a hell of a lot easier to fall flat on her face.
The hill she was walking up was on a steep incline, which only served to make her job harder. South frowned, and hissed from between clenched teeth as she focused her mind utterly on trying to run up the hill. It worked for a little while, before she stumbled and fell. South snarled under her breath. How the hell had Tex managed this?!
But finally, South fell to flat, even ground. She gathered her hands beneath her body and groaned, pushing herself to a sitting position. She sighed and deactivated the invisibility unit, saving its charge. But now she was all too visible, and South crawled to a boulder in an attempt to hide.
Silence surrounded her, only the faintest of murmurs caught and carried on the wind. South tipped her head to the side, and adjusted the settings on her HUD; the background noise fell away, and she could suddenly hear in greater clarity the conversation she had come to interrupt.
Though, if she did it right, they would never know she had ever been there.
"Yeah, still, I hate to leave without saying something. They deserve to at least hear goodbye." South's eyebrows shot up, right into her hairline. They were leaving? Was she too late? Did they know?
It was unlikely, but that didn't stop South from worrying. Maybe he had only sent it to her because he thought the others were still Freelancers with capital F's, though if he had kept an ear to the ground like he should then South didn't see how he could make such a mistake…
"My mother had a saying. Did I ever tell you about my mother?"
Oh God, this was gonna be a good one. Probably some great sob-story, some heroic crap the Director had told his little girl to soften the fact that her mother was never coming to see her again, because she was dead. They weren't twins anymore and she was the only one to blame, would only ever be the one to blame, he was dead and she had killed him and oh-god-she-just-wanted-to-cry-where-had-he-gone-oh-north-please-come-back-please-come-back-i-didnt-mean-it-im-so-sorry-
South pulled her thoughts back with a gasp, her entire body frozen with ice. Her heart galloped in her chest, and pins pricked at her eyes. She took a great shuddering breath and tucked her head between her knees, trying desperately just to breathe.
"She wasn't around a lot when I was a kid, and even when she was she could only stay a short time. Seems like she always had somewhere else to be; something important to do. And when she left, she wouldn't say goodbye to me. If you don't say goodbye then you aren't really gone. You just aren't here right now."
A laugh, brought to her on the wind. "Your mother sounds like a smart lady."
"She was. She really was. Had terrible taste in men though."
Footsteps, coming her way. South's eyes shot open and she leapt to her feet. Only one pair, which meant it was Carolina. South waited until the footsteps were about to circle her boulder, and then activated her special unit.
Her body faded as Carolina rounded her hiding place without sparing a glance towards the immobile freelancer. South watched her with shrewd eyes. Dammit. She should have been paying more attention. If she had snuck up while Carolina had been talking to Church…
Carolina started down the hill, out of earshot, and South made to follow, her form glittering slightly as she moved.
"Oof!"
A gasp burst from her lips as someone tackled her from behind. In her mind, South cursed colourfully – this was what came from having your eyes closed. Would she never learn?
But South went with the movement, rolling with her attacker. Their arms encircled her middle, trapping her arms, so she pushed with her legs until she was on top and then slammed her helmeted head down until it cracked on her attacker's head.
"Ow! Jesus, South!"
The voice was familiar, but South snickered and kicked out, struggling to get free. Washington avoided her legs easily, and pushed them over until South was face-first in the dirt.
"Let go, asshole," she spat. Wash smirked, releasing his grip on her middle only to push her chest against the ground, leaning all his weight onto her back so she was trapped.
Wash raised a hand and unbuckled his helmet, letting it fall to the ground. In the midday heat, the sun beat down unforgivingly on his back. He wiped his forehead of sweat, and took a breath. "What are you doing here, South?"
"Why do you think? The view, jackass." Sarcasm dripped from her tone and he grinned.
"Nice try. What were you going to do to Carolina?"
A pause, and then; "Nothing!" South protested loudly, and squirmed.
He shook his head ruefully. "Don't lie t – aagh!"
South bucked, throwing her head up and then down until she gained enough momentum to flip them both. She struggled briefly, his grip having slackened in surprise, and ripped herself free.
South sprung to her feet and settled into a guarded, defensive stance. She cocked her head and watched him rise to his feet coolly.
A smirk pulled her lips to one side. "Oh, Wash. You never do learn, do yo-"
Wash tipped his head to one side in response, and raised his fist in response. South froze, her sentence dying in her throat.
South had looked down the barrel of a pistol many times before, but somehow Washington always made it seem so much more final.
"You were saying?" asked Wash, his voice cold.
South licked her lips, nervous. She blinked, willing the memories of the pain and agony that gun had brought her away, and reached with trembling hands to undo the catch on her helmet. Slowly, she lifted it away, baring her face.
South hated feeling this vulnerable.
But if she had expected that to give him pause, South was wrong. Wash made no response, simply watched her. She took a step forward.
"Stop," Wash commanded her. But South's heartbeat was thundering in her veins, and she just didn't want to.
The adrenaline was so addicting.
"South, do not come any closer." But still she kept on walking.
When finally she halted, South had the barrel pressed against her forehead. Her breathing was ragged and halting, but her gaze never moved from his. Wash held his breath.
"Whatcha gonna do, Wash?" Her voice was less than a whisper, and it shook slightly. In fear? "Shoot me?"
Silence.
Whatcha gonna do Wash? Shoot m- BANG!
The memory ran in both of their minds, and Wash sucked in a breath through his teeth. Could he do this?
But South had taken his hesitation for a no. Her lips curled upwards on one side, and she took a step closer, raising one gentle hand to brush his aside. She stepped closer, her grey eyes unfailing.
And then… she leaned closer and kissed him.
Their lips met hesitantly, but Wash soon forgot his hesitation and kissed her back with all the passion he had been saving, so ignorant had he been of what he had wanted all this time-
South ripped the pistol from his hand, and in one smooth movement, spun – breaking the kiss and his heart with it – and slammed the hilt into the side of Wash's head. She danced lightly away, touching one lip hesitantly with the fingers of her free hand. Washington crumpled, and curled reflexively into a ball. He groaned.
"I'm sorry, Wash." Her breathing was quick and ragged. "But I had to do it."
"Why, South?" His cry was one of pain and angered despair. He had failed. Again.
But she paused, and for one moment South appeared torn. And then she gathered herself, and looked him in the eye. This, she resolved, was one thing she could not lie for.
"Because loving you might just kill me," she said.
And then South walked away.
Agent Washington rose groggily from his position in the dirt, clutching at the side of his head. He could already feel a bruise forming beneath the skin, and he winced, remembering the pain that had bloomed across his temple as she had struck.
He took a long, shuddering breath that rattled in his chest. It hurt, and he turned to the side and coughed. He was so stupid. Letting the memories take over his mind, a yearning for what they had had blur his reasoning.
Had Epsilon taught him nothing? Sometimes it was just better not to remember.
Wash rose to one knee, and slowly pushed himself upwards until he swayed unsteadily on two legs. Fingers gently massaged the forming bruise, but then Wash let them fall. His right hand brushed his empty leg; of course, South had taken the pistol. He reached over his shoulder and took the DMR in his arms, cradling it gently.
Washington glanced over his shoulder, at the bases he would leave behind. I'm sorry, he whispered in his mind.
But then he turned his gaze to the front, and with a quick signal, his HUD changed. Faded orange struck a path through the grass, leading… south. How ironic, Wash noted with a snort. But a smirk pulled at the edges of his lips. He would find her, he was sure of it. And after that… well, Wash decided he wouldn't make up his mind about that quite yet.
After all, he had a long way to go. She had a head-start, and Wash was dead-set on catching up.
And so Washington raced after the fading ghosts, the heat signatures faint in his HUD.
And he never said goodbye.
South Dakota was running.
Strange, she had forgotten how much she loved to run. She could not feel the wind nipping at her skin or tugging at her hair, but South thought it a fair price for the added speed her armour lent her. She flew through the grasses, leaping over the dips and trenches.
It was still incredibly slow, but South relished the freedom. Eventually, she knew she would steal and hotwire a car or motorbike, but for now South reveled in the physical release. Back in high school, before the day where it all changed, she had run track. Of course, that hadn't been her only sport – tennis, competitive swimming, soccer, netball and volleyball to name a few she had excelled in – but she had enjoyed it the most. North, of course, had been a quarterback.
She'd even been a cheerleader for a couple years, back before she threw her hands in the air and decided, fuck it. She'd been at his every game, watching her twin shine. It hadn't been so bad at the beginning… but then the rope had tightened around her neck, and South had started to struggle.
South slowed to a walk, her chest heaving. She decided it was time for a few minutes rest – after all, she could hardly run the whole way to… wherever the hell she was going.
South frowned, her forehead creasing. Her pace slowed, and she quickly navigated through her HUD with a few signals. In a pocket, the metal disc she had stolen rattled. That had turned out to be entirely useless. She just hoped Carolina's data unit was just as barren.
South's eyebrows drew together as she reread the message. It had seemed gibberish to her the first day she had received it, but after decoding it - which, despite being an essential Freelancer ability, had taken her a few days – she had realized it was not a message, but a set of co-ordinates.
Ordinarily, South wouldn't have cared. She would have chosen to stay with Carolina, Wash, the Blues and the Reds. Stay somewhere peaceful, for a while. Reflect on what she had learnt, and perhaps she would have eventually probed the bleeding hole in her chest where her twin had once resided.
But one thing about the message had given her pause, and ignited the burning desire that had propelled her to steal Wash's data unit, attempt to take Carolina's, and run away. She didn't want them to find him first. She needed to… explain.
They had been close, once. Not as close as he and North had been, exactly, but friends. She had trusted him.
And now she just hoped he could trust her.
South took a deep breath, and broke into a sprint. She needed to find him, and she didn't care if she broke her body in the process. But as she ran, her eyes read over and over again the signature at the bottom of the message, once she had decoded it.
Foxtrot-12.
End Of Part I
A/N: Hey guys :) Once again, this is gonna be a long author's note, but please read it all the way this time.
(Except for this bit, unless you are the mysterious Guest.)
Guest: Thank you, once again, for your kind words :) Hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as you did the previous ones.
(Okay, now I need you guys to tune back in.)
Anyway, so despite the cliff-hanger ending, I am unsure whether or not to continue this fic when Season 11 of RvB comes out. I'm sitting on the fence, if you will. I do know exactly what I want to do with Part II (as by now, you probably do too), but it's extremely hard to write each chapter well, week-by-week, with no greater idea of what's going on than anyone else. So, basically, I want/need your opinions on this, just so I know how you guys feel about it.
I also have another fairly large, multi-chapter Red vs. Blue fic coming out soon-ish, which would make it also harder to write quality chapters of this. It's gonna be called 'Sonder', and the details are on my profile if you want to take a peek.
So, yeah. Opinions, please? :)
And as this is the final chapter of Part I, I want to take the time to thank you guys for reading this – all of you readers; reviewers, alert-ers, favourite-ers, and the lurkers too. Thank you guys so much, for sticking with me all through Part I. :)
Have a good one, you guys :)